Abby Zanoni created this masterpiece, and I was struck with curiosity the first time I admired it. My eye couldn’t get enough of the soft, piercing pinks and purples. Then, the elephant in the room: The Ear. What does it stand for?

 

Abby, The word means to listen in Japanese.
 

Listen — with a big ear right in the center. Words shout off the page: “LISTEN.” It feels like it’s screaming at me. But what do you want me to listen to?

 

Let your eye drift just above the bottom left corner... Do you see the hummingbirds? The leaves, softly worked into the outer lining of the painting? Sometimes it takes a shout for us to pause — to really take a second. 

 

Listening is a hard thing to do. I struggle with it daily. In every conversation, I can choose to listen — or not. But this kind of listening feels different. It’s quieter. Slower. It asks nothing from me except presence.

 

It's the kind that removes you from the ambitions of the moment.

 

That’s what happened the first time I sat with this painting — alone in my apartment. I let it pull me in. I stopped scrolling, stopped thinking about what was next. I just looked. I listened. I felt still.

And in that stillness, something shifted. I noticed the sound of cars in the distance, the hum of the fridge, my roommates talking softly down the hall. I didn’t need to move or speak — I just listened. And for a moment, I felt completely at ease. Removed and relieved. Like something loosened.

 

Abby shared, My house in Japan is where my childhood lies still in time. Looking at the backyard, I got inspired by nature to create this work — by being quiet and listening to my surroundings.

 

After that quote, the circles of color on the left side mean so much more. They feel like moments of piercing silence, followed by awakenings of the wind, the birds, the bristles of bushes, the hues of colors. Listening is usually seen as passive, but it’s actually one of the most active things we can do. It’s choosing to be present. To be available.

 

To let something outside ourselves in.

 

I know art is good when it takes my mind somewhere else. Abby’s work brought me to bliss in my own apartment — and somehow, halfway across the world, to a quiet childhood yard in Japan.

 

What a wonderful experience.
 

Thank you for sharing your work with us, Abby.

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