Hare in the Meadow

The story behind the painting

Harry There is a moment in the meadow when everything becomes still. Harry had been running through the grasses when instinct told him to stop. His body becomes motionless, but everything else is working. His ears rise high, catching sounds we cannot hear. His eye searches the distance. For a hare, survival depends upon knowing when to run—but just as importantly, knowing when to be still and listen. That is the moment I wanted to capture in Harry. The soft, muted meadow surrounding him contrasts with his alert expression. Nothing threatening is visible. We don't know what Harry has heard, and neither does he. There is only that brief space between uncertainty and decision. I think there is something very relatable in that. We often think courage means continuing forward, but nature tells us otherwise. Sometimes the wisest response is to stop. To listen. To notice what has changed before deciding which direction to take. Harry isn't frightened. He is aware. And there is a difference. His enormous ears, bright eye and delicate whiskers aren't simply beautiful features—they are the tools that allow him to understand his world. What makes him vulnerable also makes him remarkably equipped to survive within it. There is also a quiet intimacy to the portrait. We are close enough to Harry to share his pause, almost as though we too have stopped in the meadow and are waiting to discover what he has heard. Harry is a portrait of instinct, awareness and the quiet intelligence of an animal completely attuned to the world around him. For just a moment, the meadow is silent. Harry listens. And perhaps we should too. — Barbara J. Demers