Anna Parrish Studio

Thick overgrowth brushes my ankles, cicadas buzz in my ears, light through the leaves dances before my eyes, and the distinctive smell of an afternoon rainstorm hits me in the face.  Since I was a young girl, I have been awestruck by Central Florida's lush, green landscapes. I have spent hours playing pretend in my overgrown backyard, paddleboarding the canals of Winter Park, and taking family bike rides along the Cady Way Trail. As I grew older, this wonder at my home found its way into my drawings and paintings.

As I travel or move, Central Florida comes with me. Though I am not limited by this familiarity, I always search for  dense undergrowth, untangling branches and weeds to discover a kind of whole. This process includes a longing for what is known and already loved, but it also stirs excitement for the discovery of new shapes and colors in each landscape that I encounter.

My paintings explore the relationship between memory, place, and landscape. Often balancing organic forms with geometry, I work from direct observation, paying close attention to the shifting light and evolving color around me. Although I paint directly from life, I abstract aspects of the landscape, disentangling what I see and adjusting the composition while I retain something familiar. I hope to stir up wonder for my viewers, leading them to ask: Have I been here before? 

In this way, my landscape paintings become repositories – spaces where memory can be revisited and held. At the same time, these works encourage sustained investigation. They ask viewers to notice ordinary scenes and details – the light reflected on the road, the weeds growing between bricks, or the intertwining of tree branches overhead. Landscapes often become just ordinary scenes as we become accustomed to seeing them day after day. Sustained attention transforms these mundane rhythms into something strange and beautiful.