9×12″ watercolor on paper
August 1, 2012
Inspired by the following passage from At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald:
All the winds of heaven seemed to lay hold upon him, and buffet him hither and thither….
Her voice was like the bass of a deep organ, without the groan in it; like the most delicate of violin tones without the wail in it; like the most glorious of trumpet-ejaculations without the defiance in it; it was like all of them and neither of them — all of them without their faults, each of them without its peculiarity: after all, it was more like his mother’s voice than anything else in the world.