LILACS AND PAINTING

Lilacs have an almost mysterious way of always being present in my life. I seem to find them everywhere: on canvases painted in oil, on watercolor paper where pigments softly blend into water, in the courtyard near my home or wherever I happen to be—on errands, visiting someone, or simply passing by. In bouquets, in decorative details, even in floral prints on dresses suggested in shops. Lilacs are always with me.
 

There is a calming kind of magic in this lilac presence. I do not know—and have never really tried to learn—what lilacs symbolize in the language of flowers. Yet I have always felt them to be something bright, kind, and quietly joyful. I never searched for five-petaled blossoms or made wishes upon them, because the feeling itself has always been enough: a sense that life is beautiful, and that everything my heart truly longs for will come into my life in its own time, in the way it is meant to unfold.
 

My grandmother and great-grandmother both loved lilacs deeply. At their summer house, lilac bushes grew abundantly. I still remember the large, beautiful bouquets on the table, filling the home with a special, unmistakable sense of warmth and comfort.

Given a choice, I would choose lilacs over many other flowers—even over my favorite wildflowers. For me, lilacs are something almost sacred, something that cannot be fully expressed in words. And perhaps that is why this feeling becomes even more precious, and paintings of lilacs become even more tender.