"I would like to paint the way a bird sings."
Claude Monet

In Giverny, France, in 1883, the artist Claude Monet dug a new pond and planted his water lilies. He waited six years, then he began to paint them. 125 years later, I sit in the domed L’Orangerie Museum in Paris, surrounded by Monet’s impressions of the water lilies—reflecting the shifting light of varied seasons, embracing and shaping the shimmering pool in which they live. The hypnotic colors draw me deeper into his garden, and I find myself thinking of my children—how they change and grow in both shadow and light. I marvel at the artist’s ability and patience—sitting in the shadows and observing his garden, quietly capturing images of his beautiful flowers in their darkest and brightest moments.

"Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love." (Claude Monet)

As Monet’s eyesight faltered, he continued painting the lilies. He wrote: “My bad sight means that I see everything through a mist. Even so it is beautiful, and that's what I would like to show.”

Visiting Monet's garden in Giverny and seeing the panels in Paris inspired me to write the solo piano composition called "Water Lily," one of the pieces on my lastest recording: Songs from the Castle.