Tall fields of corn offer an occasional break leading down a mowed pathway winding out of sight. It was off of these corridors that I would decide, as a kid, to take a shortcut and end up lost in a corn maze. Thousands of squeaking stocks would grab at my legs as the dew soaked my jeans. Stopping would give respite from the deafening noise of forward movement, without offering any escape. I can’t drive past a field today without reminiscing about the corn maze.
original oil on panel. 12 x 9 inches. Thanks for looking!