Mighty fine agave watercolor.

Waaaaay back in June, Gadora posted a lil something about my love of the Century Plant. I’d recently accompanied a certain highfalutin Roller Gal to a gallery opening at Gallery Shoal Creek that a client of hers was a part of, and fell in love with the work of Alexey Krasnovsky.

Maguey (diptych) by Alexey Krasnovsky

In person his “Maguey” oils were so vibrant. So alive and layered. I wanted to put a little Gadora spin on an agave watercolor of my own. I teased you with a mention about a recent watercolor completion and a big reveal. Well here it is… (click on image to enlarge it).

Gadora's Agave Watercolor

In person, mine is vibrant and layered too. And I’m rather pleased with how it turned out. On a recent trip to Marfa, Gadora set her eyes on many a Century Plant in bloom. I even discovered a squatty black-tipped agave I’d not seen before. The unusual rain here, gave the West Texas desert an opportunity to be alive much later than typical. There’s a good chance Gadora has already sold this first agave watercolor, but I promise to do more.

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Longtime love: The Century Plant.

Austin has had an exceptional* rainy season. Besides the full-bodied trees and the flashes of color blanketing the roadside (Thank you Lady Bird), many Century Plants have been in full bloom. Their stalks are proud with patches of vibrant yellow flowers. Gadora’s Grandmother’s house boasted a gargantuan Century Plant. And it utterly mesmerized me.

Agave Americana

It was so out-of-place at her house, I remember thinking—I don’t recall there being another anywhere around. Hers was a Southern yard. Several stately Oak trees canopied the drive. A hearty row of bushes between her house and Uncle P’s provided plenty of fort-like excursions for we imaginative country kids. There was the spindly tree that bloomed the greenest figs. That is still my favorite color. And there was that Century Plant,** snugged so tight to the house I thought it might uproot it.

Adrienne C. Jones "Agave"

There was something magical about the way it unfolded, and those little needle marks left on the leaf closest. I’d run my hands up and down its soft, dense leaf-like appendages and play chicken with its quills. It stood taller than me. A Century Plant. It grows a hundred years. That’s like… forever. I thought.

Continue reading “Longtime love: The Century Plant.”