Illustration © D. Yael Bernhard
This was one of the last illustrations I did for a Christian publisher who I worked for for almost twenty years. As usual, the assignment involved an element of design, as the illustration also showed text. Printed on the blue area to the left were the words “The Wisdom that comes from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle.” I enjoy graphic design, and liked this added challenge.
I pondered the meaning of the words – why “first pure, then peaceable”? The progression was puzzling to me, but when I thought of pure and peaceful, an image came to mind of tending a young sapling. That’s what I was doing at the time, as my work for this publisher always came in the spring, and I had just transplanted a Rose of Sharon bush to my yard. It had sprung up beside its parent bush in my neighbor’s yard, but was too close to the foundation of their house. I had admired their Rose of Sharon, so they offered the little sapling to me.
At first it seemed like a mere twig, so slight and vulnerable. I cut out the bottom of a basket and placed it around the sapling like a collar, so that it wouldn’t accidentally get trampled or mowed down. That whole year it barely seemed alive, as all its growth was underground in the roots – but the following year it grew a foot taller, and the first flowers bloomed! I was thrilled. Now in its third year, the little bush is well on its way, and the basket has broken apart, no longer needed.
Nature is actually not pure – meaning, of a single substance. Plants thrive in good, healthy dirt that’s infiltrated by mycelium and all kinds of microbes. But there’s a purity of feeling in the innocence of growing plants and baby animals (and humans) – a feeling of freshness and renewal. That’s what I wanted to convey in my illustration – both in the plant itself, and what it offers to the human who tends it.
In fact, there was something therapeutic in creating this image for myself. The pale yellow, green, and sky blue colors in the sunlight are soothing to my eye. The contrast between the straight lines of the radiating light and the curved panels that hold the words is satisfying, suggesting some kind of relationship – it’s hard to explain, but sometimes my pencil just rolls down the page while I’m working on a sketch, and there’s no need for revisions. Simplicity seemed essential here, given the theme of the image, so I tried not to overthink or second guess my first inclination.
This past week I was out in my garden again, planting seeds and watering little beet and kale seedlings. My Rose of Sharon bush, now up to my waist, is starting to sprout new leaves. Life begins in such a pure and peaceful way, fed by the light of the sun. I’ve never thought of it as “wisdom from above,” but why not? Perhaps I can rethink my definition of “wisdom.” There’s certainly a higher intelligence in nature’s design, though not of the cerebral sort. I’ll think about that while I’m planting beans next week.
A good week to all!
D. Yael Bernhard
https://dyaelbernhard.com
Have you seen my other Substack, The Art of Health? In addition to being a visual artist, I’m also a certified integrative health & nutrition coach with a lifelong passion for natural food cooking and herbal medicine. Now in its second year, this illustrated newsletter explores cutting-edge concepts of nutrition. I strive to make relevant information clear and accessible, and to anchor essential health concepts in unique images. Check it out, and if you like it, please subscribe and help spread the word. Your support keeps my work going!