 So, I was outdoors painting in the cool of the morning. I decided to paint this country road because the reflections in the puddles caught my eye. Halfway into the painting, there was some movement on my right, and a furry, black-and-white head poked up from the roadside grass. It ducked back down, then poked up again a few times, checking me out. Then a fabulously fluffy, black-and-white skunk emerged from the roadside ditch and studied me with bright, curious eyes. It must have decided I was harmless, because it ambled out onto the road and made a couple of trips across and back, sat up and studied me some more, then trundled off into the grass on the other side. I would have loved to get a picture, but I didn’t want to make any sudden moves that might be misinterpreted by the skunk. I had never seen a live skunk. They sure are cute.
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 You might think that a landscape painting is just a record of what was there--That a painter finds a beautiful place and tells you all about it. But that isn’t the case. Reality is big and a painting is small. Every painting ever made represents a choice made by the painter to tell you about something in particular. Painters are devious people. Even me. I see something that touches my heart and that seems important to me, then I create a composition that highlights that thing. It isn’t a broad sum of facts, it’s a process of focusing in on something--on the shapes, movement, or the moment of light-- that has inspired me. There are many ways to do that. Value, line, placement, color, can all direct your eyes to what the artist wants you to see. Other features can be altered to play supporting roles for that main idea. Like Mr. Coelho (see below), I am attempting to build a bridge. To share my story, my vision, with you.
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AuthorI'm a painter. I find joy in mimicking the world around me in oil paint. Go figure. Archives
October 2018
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