2024
Dusklight filters through ink-dark wings, casting otherworldly shadows on a sea of cornstalks below. A feline passenger, obsidian as midnight and unperturbed by its lofty perch, gazes intently ahead. Its makeshift carriage? A witch’s hat, upended and suspended by gossamer threads from a cloud of fluttering bats. The field below teems with tiny, watchful eyes—mice perhaps, or spirits of the harvest, bearing witness to this fantastical journey.
Welcome to the bewitching scenes of the twilight tableau, “Straight On Till Morning,” where we realize that some creative brain out there has dreamed up the enchanted chiropteran taxi service that we didn’t even know we needed in the world! That big, beautiful, creative brain, as it happens, belongs to artist Maggie Vandewalle, a master of watercolor whimsy whose paintings transport us to a world where the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and the impossible seems just within reach.
The hijinks in Maggie’s paintings often center around her animal subjects’ delightful misadventures and whimsical reveries.
In “Joyriding,” a quartet of cats finds themselves airborne on a witch’s broom, though their expressions suggest this is hardly cause for alarm. True to feline nature, they appear utterly nonplussed by their unusual mode of transportation. They’re not so much commandeering the broom as they are lazily draped across it, as if it were nothing more than an oddly shaped, floating cat tree. Adding to the whimsy, a tiny Siamese cat has made itself comfortable among the broom’s frizzly bristles, fast asleep and oblivious to the aerial escapade. It’s a scene that perfectly captures the essence of cats – even amid magic and mischief, they maintain their air of complete indifference and their unerring ability to make themselves comfortable in the most unlikely of situations.
In stark contrast to the aerial antics of “Joyriding,” “Constellations” invites us into a moment of quiet wonder. Here, an unlikely gathering of woodland creatures—a bear cub, a raccoon, a hare, and a mouse—sit in companionable silence, their gazes fixed upon the vast night sky above. The scene captures that universal moment of awe when one first truly sees the stars, their twinkling magnitude humbling and thrilling all at once. Each animal’s posture and expression is a study in rapt attention, reminding us that the capacity for wonder knows no species.
Maggie’s talent for visual storytelling and playful misdirection shines in “Obsession.” At first glance, we’re presented with a rust-stained concrete wall that serves as nature’s own curio cabinet. A dazzling array of insects—iridescent beetles, delicate butterflies, and mysterious moths—have alighted upon this urban canvas, creating a living mosaic of entomological wonders. Our eyes dance from one exquisite creature to the next, lost in a glittering sea of chitinous marvels and papery wings.
But as our gaze wanders downward, expectation gives way to delightful surprise. There, at the bottom of the painting, we discover a pair of bats, their furry faces buried in a feast of insects. What we initially perceived as an artist’s obsessive collection reveals itself to be nature’s own buffet, the bats’ rumbling tummies the true curators of this display. Vandewalle’s clever composition transforms our interpretation from aesthetic appreciation to ecological observation, reminding us with a wink that beauty in nature often serves a practical purpose. In “Obsession,” she invites us to look closer, to question our assumptions, and to find humor in the unexpected intersections of art and appetite.
From insects to flora, Maggie’s attention to detail never wavers. In “Thicket,” her mastery of texture comes to the fore in a breathtaking autumnal scene. A rustle of colorful birds flock around dying sunflowers, their wings a symphony of delicate brushstrokes that seem to flutter on the page. The lacy, spent florets of the sunflowers are rendered with exquisite detail, their intricate patterns a testament to nature’s fading beauty. Brown leaves curl at the edges, almost crackling with dryness, while the tufted seed heads of various Asteraceae add a softness to the composition. Concealed among the dying blooms, a tiny fae creature observes us with curious eyes, her delicate form melding with the stem she embraces—an enchanted detail awaiting discovery by the imaginative soul.
Her landscapes, too, carry this sense of enchantment. “Brume II” offers a glimpse of a mountain ridge beyond a fog-shrouded tree line, the scene suffused with a delightfully moody atmosphere. Yet, true to Vandewalle’s style, it never veers into the realm of the creepy or unsettling. Instead, it evokes a sense of cozy mystery, inviting the viewer to wrap themselves in the mist and dream of what might lie beyond.
This ability to balance the otherworldly with the comforting is what I love about Maggie’s work! Her paintings embody the spirit of eternal Octobers, capturing a unique emotional landscape that’s not quite melancholy, yet tinged with a gentle wistfulness. It’s a world too good-natured to be spooky, where even the fading of summer into autumn feels like a warm embrace rather than a chilling portent.
This is art that speaks to the child in me, sweet little Sarah (my grandmother always used to say, “Here comes little Sarah!” and sometimes that is still how I think of myself!), who still believes in the rustle of faerie wings in garden shadows and the possibility of stepping through a mirror into another world. A world where cats lounge nonchalantly on flying broomsticks, where woodland creatures gather under starlit skies, and mist-cloaked trees whisper secrets of hidden glades where time stands still. It’s a place where the impossible becomes probable, where whimsy reigns supreme in each bustling brushstroke and dreamy detail.
The scamper of tiny paws across attic floorboards, the scurry of leaves chasing each other down empty streets, the shiver that runs down our spine when we glimpse something just out of sight—these are the moments Maggie Vandewalle captures and magnifies, reminding us that the world is stranger and more wonderful than we dare to believe. Through her art, we’re shown that magic isn’t something we grow out of but something we grow deeper into, if only we keep our hearts and eyes open.
…And I believe in Maggie’s magic, I really do! Now, where’s my midnight palanquin of bats? My body is ready for a haunted nightwing rideshare!
Extra tidbits! The fabulous, fantastical (and featured in The Art of Fantasy) “Straight On Til Morning” is currently a finalist for the RAYMAR Traditional Art Award, which is amazing–well done, Maggie, and best of luck! Read more about this over at Beautiful Bizarre Magazine.
And…you know I had to ask about perfume! Maggie revealed that her favorite perfume is Light Blue by Dolce and Gabbana, with patchouli oil a close second. Additionally, I learned that she is a Magic: The Gathering enthusiast…and like me, nearly all her decks are green & black! I already felt a kinship with this wonderful artist through the happily haunted magics she conjures in her paintings, and this bit of intel sealed the deal.
Find Maggie Vandewalle: Website // Shop // Instagram // YouTube
If you enjoy posts like these or if you have ever enjoyed or been inspired by something I have written, and you would like to support this blog, consider buying the author a coffee?
