This is my first painting since the last set you saw from the workshop. It’s the first Plein Air ( in plain light) that I’ve ever done. Part of a evening outing with a group of fine people hosted by Doug Swinton. We only had about an hour as a storm was starting to move in.
This week I’ll be cuddling up to an easel and oil paints for the start of an eight week painting class with Robert Wood. Should be a great time. I’ve seen Robert when he was doing a Plein Air demo at the Leighton Art Center as well as a demo in Swintons Art Supplies here in Calgary. Looking forward to it. Here’s a sample of his work.
“I believe we all receive glimpses into the mystery, and are simply not tuned in to that frequency within our world. We’re much more aware of that, which will never matter”
I sat quietly in one of the two Adirondack chairs that sat on the small wooden porch. Part of a cabin built in the 1940’s on Jackson Lake at the foot of the Tetons. I couldn’t see these magnificent mountains not only because night had fallen, but also due to the simple fact that the cabin faced the other direction, towards a black asphalt driveway that wound it’s way around the Signal Mountain Lodge Resort.
The forecast called for rain. there was a dampness in the air, a chill that I welcomed. I sipped my rye and coke slowly, scanning left and right looking and listening for what, I wasn’t sure, but it must be out there, somewhere.
I could feel it…
I could sense it…
I let my thoughts wander. Time passed and the rye, sweet, slowly left, leaving nothing but the last sip. It was time to go in.
I leaned forward and felt a calm drape itself over my tense shoulders. I looked down at my glass, resting on the broad arm of the chair which held nothing, except cold ice. My right hand wrapped softly around it.
Looking up one last time, I cast the ice out over the inky black of the driveway and it scattered in a broad arc before me.
I sat mesmerized by what I saw…
I stopped breathing…
Reflecting the porch light behind me, the ice became a thousand stars against the black of dark bituminous pitch and gravel. It sparkled and shone in the silent night. It was beautiful.
And in a second, I felt like I could see pure understanding. It seemed to breath knowing into my soul. As if this small fragile universe that had opened before me was the answer to every question I had ever had. Like I was staring into a mystical world that very few people had ever seen. The truth.
I was in awe, and I watched this fragile gift slowly melt into small pools, and fade gently into memory. The window closed. I sat for a while longer, thinking, and wondering if what I had felt was real. It was. I wondered if this had happened countless times before and I had always ignored it. Not present enough in the moment and let it slip by, not knowing how precious it was,
but never really wasted as it just is.
We choose to see it or we don’t.