Beautiful writing, and I can relate very much. Christina Baker Kline wrote a novel about this painting - called A Piece of the World. She recreates a scenario that led to the creation of the Wyeth painting, keeping that same peaceful energy from the painting in the novel. There’s also a Wyeth museum in Maine worth visiting.
Gregory, thank you. I appreciate the recommended reading and the mention of the museum. Peaceful energy is a beautifully apt way of describing the painting x
I loved your post. Thought provoking. Sometimes I feel in limbo especially when I am travelling from one place to another. I no longer own a house, a car or a caravan. I am an international house sitter. Home is wherever I am at the present time. Right now I am in Devon, UK feeling very much at home in a wee seaside village. All the best.
Rosie I love this, thank you so much for your response to my writing. Devon is beautiful, and the nomadic life sounds liberating when it is something that you have chosen. I don't feel that I have found 'home' because there is always something inside telling me 'there is more than this'. I'm learning to navigate what that voice means x
My Mom had Andrew Wyeth paintings framed all around our home growing up. This piece was above her bed. As I was scrolling substack this morning, your essay popped into my feed and seeing this painting flushed so many memories back into my body. To this day, I still have dreams about Christina where I’m debilitated laying in a field, but still somehow content in the field on a sunny, summer day. I’m glad to know this piece makes other people feel as deeply as it made me feel ❤️
Months earlier. I had found her too. Not, in the greens as you have. In the stroll past galleries or caffeine induced hazes. But, in the pit. In the dark ashen of black and white. In midnight blues of my longing. A way out of this pit. Didn't know her name was Cristina. So, glad I do. Thanks for that..
And this line.. hit 🎯 me.
“thought I’d have found it by now. Not just a house, but a life that felt like mine, a love that stayed, a certainty that didn’t slip through my fingers. But instead, I keep stretching toward it, dragging myself through every version of the future I thought I’d have.”
Wow! Sounds like you found home. Inside of you: the way you write about recognising a woman in a painting as if it were a person . . . that is pure art. Thank you! ✨🍀
Yes. That quiet jolt of recognition. The way something small and unassuming can find the softest part of you and stay there. I know that crawl. I think a lot of us do. You held it with such care. Thank you for letting us sit beside it.
I love this story, thank you for sharing. I too am in my mid-40s now and I desperately can relate to it. Our 40s feel transformative as women (maybe as men too) - I see it in so many friends.
Beautifully written! I relate to this a lot! Got to visit "home" a few years ago, Crimea (currently occupied by Russia), and I had not lived there since 2016. Interesting that it doesn't quite feel like home. Still holds a special place in my heart, but not quite "home."
Wow, this moved me so much. Thank you for putting words to that feeling... The quiet ache of still searching, still moving. I related to so much of what you shared, especially the part about thinking we would have "arrived" by now, but still finding ourselves reaching.
Art has done the same for me many times — cracked me open when I least expected it.
I love paintings and art galleries. This story really moved me like it moved you, trying to be in the woman's position and feeling the longing. Beautiful read 💯❤️
Oh my god, this spoke to my soul so much. Your words are like a mirror to my own heart, my specific place in life:, “Crawling toward something I still hadn’t reached. Searching for home, for a place where I could finally say: This is it. This is where I belong.
I thought I’d have found it by now. Not just a house, but a life that felt like mine, a love that stayed, a certainty that didn’t slip through my fingers. But instead, I keep stretching toward it, dragging myself through every version of the future I thought I’d have.”
Oh Rachel, I appreciate so much when people like yourself leave these beautiful comments, it means a lot that you took the time to do so, thank you. I also am still a monadic soul, looking for home, I hope that you find yours x
Beautiful writing, and I can relate very much. Christina Baker Kline wrote a novel about this painting - called A Piece of the World. She recreates a scenario that led to the creation of the Wyeth painting, keeping that same peaceful energy from the painting in the novel. There’s also a Wyeth museum in Maine worth visiting.
G
Gregory, thank you. I appreciate the recommended reading and the mention of the museum. Peaceful energy is a beautifully apt way of describing the painting x
Thank you! That sounds like something I would like to read.
I loved your post. Thought provoking. Sometimes I feel in limbo especially when I am travelling from one place to another. I no longer own a house, a car or a caravan. I am an international house sitter. Home is wherever I am at the present time. Right now I am in Devon, UK feeling very much at home in a wee seaside village. All the best.
Rosie I love this, thank you so much for your response to my writing. Devon is beautiful, and the nomadic life sounds liberating when it is something that you have chosen. I don't feel that I have found 'home' because there is always something inside telling me 'there is more than this'. I'm learning to navigate what that voice means x
My Mom had Andrew Wyeth paintings framed all around our home growing up. This piece was above her bed. As I was scrolling substack this morning, your essay popped into my feed and seeing this painting flushed so many memories back into my body. To this day, I still have dreams about Christina where I’m debilitated laying in a field, but still somehow content in the field on a sunny, summer day. I’m glad to know this piece makes other people feel as deeply as it made me feel ❤️
Thank you for taking the time to reply x
Months earlier. I had found her too. Not, in the greens as you have. In the stroll past galleries or caffeine induced hazes. But, in the pit. In the dark ashen of black and white. In midnight blues of my longing. A way out of this pit. Didn't know her name was Cristina. So, glad I do. Thanks for that..
And this line.. hit 🎯 me.
“thought I’d have found it by now. Not just a house, but a life that felt like mine, a love that stayed, a certainty that didn’t slip through my fingers. But instead, I keep stretching toward it, dragging myself through every version of the future I thought I’d have.”
What a a great summation..
This speaks to me so much, thank you for sharing🤍
Wow! Sounds like you found home. Inside of you: the way you write about recognising a woman in a painting as if it were a person . . . that is pure art. Thank you! ✨🍀
This is so true. We are all searching for something that never seems attainable. Beautiful writing!
Yes. That quiet jolt of recognition. The way something small and unassuming can find the softest part of you and stay there. I know that crawl. I think a lot of us do. You held it with such care. Thank you for letting us sit beside it.
That response is beautiful. Thank you
What a beautiful way to experience art through your eyes and heart.
The best way x thank you
I love this story, thank you for sharing. I too am in my mid-40s now and I desperately can relate to it. Our 40s feel transformative as women (maybe as men too) - I see it in so many friends.
Beautifully written! I relate to this a lot! Got to visit "home" a few years ago, Crimea (currently occupied by Russia), and I had not lived there since 2016. Interesting that it doesn't quite feel like home. Still holds a special place in my heart, but not quite "home."
Thank you so much for these words
Wow, this moved me so much. Thank you for putting words to that feeling... The quiet ache of still searching, still moving. I related to so much of what you shared, especially the part about thinking we would have "arrived" by now, but still finding ourselves reaching.
Art has done the same for me many times — cracked me open when I least expected it.
I love paintings and art galleries. This story really moved me like it moved you, trying to be in the woman's position and feeling the longing. Beautiful read 💯❤️
Thank you Astrid. I'm new to this so comments like yours are so appreciated . I'm thrilled that you enjoyed it 😊
I love the way you write. Thanks for this piece.
Absolutely beautiful thank you for sharing. It
Thank you Prudence, many thanks for taking the time to comment, I am so warmed by the fact that you enjoyed it x
Oh my god, this spoke to my soul so much. Your words are like a mirror to my own heart, my specific place in life:, “Crawling toward something I still hadn’t reached. Searching for home, for a place where I could finally say: This is it. This is where I belong.
I thought I’d have found it by now. Not just a house, but a life that felt like mine, a love that stayed, a certainty that didn’t slip through my fingers. But instead, I keep stretching toward it, dragging myself through every version of the future I thought I’d have.”
I’m 39 and don’t know if I’ll ever be home.
Oh Rachel, I appreciate so much when people like yourself leave these beautiful comments, it means a lot that you took the time to do so, thank you. I also am still a monadic soul, looking for home, I hope that you find yours x