Sperry Gardens c. 1936

George Stonehill’s “Sperry Gardens” is a drawing, and it feels like a plan, a layout maybe made by a gardener with pencil in hand. The muted palette, heavy on greens and earthy browns, makes me think of seed packets and the comforting smell of soil. I’m drawn to the marks that make up the foliage – the way each little tree or bush is rendered with tiny strokes, almost obsessive in their repetition. There's a tenderness in this act of close observation, a connection to the organic world. The paint isn't thick here, it's more like thin washes allowing the paper to breathe through, a delicate balance between representation and pure material presence. It reminds me of some of Alfred Wallis’s paintings, where the composition feels like a map of an interior landscape, a memory made visible. Ultimately, this is the feeling that stays with me: not just the layout of a garden, but a vision of one, blooming in the artist’s mind.