My fascination with winged creatures continue. Of course, these wings are probably useless due to their diminutive size. I imagine the sow hopping along, her weight only momentarily being carried off by her tiny wings. I find this to be one of my happiest and tender images. It makes me smile. The mundane meets the magical.
I began to paint people with wings and then pigs with wings as a response to one of my favorite short stories by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings.” Are there angels or saints among us or are wings as ordinary as abnormal growths? A physical anomaly? For myself, they symbolize an abnormality that has turned into something optimistic and wonderful. Even when my little wings may not support flight, there is fervent hope and possibility.