Crown
Crowns convey greatness or status. Often they're an emblem of inherited position. But this isn't a real crown. It's just gold colored ink on a tshirt in the form of a spiky, bejeweled crown.
This piece reminds me of years ago, when I was on a solo cross country bicycle trip. It was a particularly melancholy point in my own life. As I was riding through rural Wisconsin I passed many fields that were being harvested by migrant farm workers. My concerns for their lives gave me pause in consideration of my own.
Later, I rolled into a tiny town along the highway where I stopped at a local grocery store to pick up some food for dinner. A little girl, probably about 8 years old, came running out all excited asking, "Where are you riding to?!" I told her about my trip, and rather than the usual following questions about my bike and gear, where I slept at night, etc, she launched into this excited description of her own life and what she and her family were doing. They were one of the migrant farm worker families. She was absolutely beaming with excitement over what they were picking, where they were staying and where they were going for the next harvest in a couple of weeks.
This girl was, bar none, the happiest person I had ever met in my entire life. She taught me something incredibly important that day. Happiness isn't something you find or that comes to you, it's something you choose.
This print is not a real crown. It's not inherited position or wealth. It is something you choose for yourself. Consider it a gift from an 8 year old girl.
© 2022 Rob Honeycutt
Crowns convey greatness or status. Often they're an emblem of inherited position. But this isn't a real crown. It's just gold colored ink on a tshirt in the form of a spiky, bejeweled crown.
This piece reminds me of years ago, when I was on a solo cross country bicycle trip. It was a particularly melancholy point in my own life. As I was riding through rural Wisconsin I passed many fields that were being harvested by migrant farm workers. My concerns for their lives gave me pause in consideration of my own.
Later, I rolled into a tiny town along the highway where I stopped at a local grocery store to pick up some food for dinner. A little girl, probably about 8 years old, came running out all excited asking, "Where are you riding to?!" I told her about my trip, and rather than the usual following questions about my bike and gear, where I slept at night, etc, she launched into this excited description of her own life and what she and her family were doing. They were one of the migrant farm worker families. She was absolutely beaming with excitement over what they were picking, where they were staying and where they were going for the next harvest in a couple of weeks.
This girl was, bar none, the happiest person I had ever met in my entire life. She taught me something incredibly important that day. Happiness isn't something you find or that comes to you, it's something you choose.
This print is not a real crown. It's not inherited position or wealth. It is something you choose for yourself. Consider it a gift from an 8 year old girl.
© 2022 Rob Honeycutt