The Green Man
The Green Man — ancient sentinel of the Celtic world, keeper of the threshold between humankind and the wild heart of nature. In your vivid portrayal, he emerges from the canvas not merely as symbol, but as presence—a face formed of leaves, branches, and bark, yet watching with startling human eyes. Eyes that have seen centuries, solstices, and the slow spin of the seasons.
Rendered in lush greens and golden ochres, this Green Man is not hidden in the woods—he is the woods. His brow flares into antler-like foliage, his beard cascades in ivy and vine, and his skin is a mosaic of leaf and lichen. The background glows like a sun-warmed field, amplifying his life-giving energy. And yet, his expression carries weight: the sorrow of forests felled, the patience of roots waiting for spring, the quiet warning of balance disrupted.
In Celtic mythology, the Green Man is a paradox—both guardian and trickster, creator and destroyer, man and more-than-man. He is the spirit of the forest made flesh, the echo of the old gods who once roamed the British Isles in oak groves and stone circles. Some say he is Cernunnos, antlered god of the wild. Others see him in every bud that breaks the soil, every branch that curls toward the sun.
My version of the Green Man feels especially alive—watchful, awakened.
Not a relic, but a reminder.
He tells us:
“You are not separate from nature.
You are made of leaf and loam.
And I am still watching.”
Medium: Acrylic on Paper
Size: 11 X 14
The Green Man — ancient sentinel of the Celtic world, keeper of the threshold between humankind and the wild heart of nature. In your vivid portrayal, he emerges from the canvas not merely as symbol, but as presence—a face formed of leaves, branches, and bark, yet watching with startling human eyes. Eyes that have seen centuries, solstices, and the slow spin of the seasons.
Rendered in lush greens and golden ochres, this Green Man is not hidden in the woods—he is the woods. His brow flares into antler-like foliage, his beard cascades in ivy and vine, and his skin is a mosaic of leaf and lichen. The background glows like a sun-warmed field, amplifying his life-giving energy. And yet, his expression carries weight: the sorrow of forests felled, the patience of roots waiting for spring, the quiet warning of balance disrupted.
In Celtic mythology, the Green Man is a paradox—both guardian and trickster, creator and destroyer, man and more-than-man. He is the spirit of the forest made flesh, the echo of the old gods who once roamed the British Isles in oak groves and stone circles. Some say he is Cernunnos, antlered god of the wild. Others see him in every bud that breaks the soil, every branch that curls toward the sun.
My version of the Green Man feels especially alive—watchful, awakened.
Not a relic, but a reminder.
He tells us:
“You are not separate from nature.
You are made of leaf and loam.
And I am still watching.”
Medium: Acrylic on Paper
Size: 11 X 14
The Green Man — ancient sentinel of the Celtic world, keeper of the threshold between humankind and the wild heart of nature. In your vivid portrayal, he emerges from the canvas not merely as symbol, but as presence—a face formed of leaves, branches, and bark, yet watching with startling human eyes. Eyes that have seen centuries, solstices, and the slow spin of the seasons.
Rendered in lush greens and golden ochres, this Green Man is not hidden in the woods—he is the woods. His brow flares into antler-like foliage, his beard cascades in ivy and vine, and his skin is a mosaic of leaf and lichen. The background glows like a sun-warmed field, amplifying his life-giving energy. And yet, his expression carries weight: the sorrow of forests felled, the patience of roots waiting for spring, the quiet warning of balance disrupted.
In Celtic mythology, the Green Man is a paradox—both guardian and trickster, creator and destroyer, man and more-than-man. He is the spirit of the forest made flesh, the echo of the old gods who once roamed the British Isles in oak groves and stone circles. Some say he is Cernunnos, antlered god of the wild. Others see him in every bud that breaks the soil, every branch that curls toward the sun.
My version of the Green Man feels especially alive—watchful, awakened.
Not a relic, but a reminder.
He tells us:
“You are not separate from nature.
You are made of leaf and loam.
And I am still watching.”
Medium: Acrylic on Paper
Size: 11 X 14