Day 13/30… or, And Now For Something Completely Different!

So…

I started this painting of a gravel road southwest of town, and I was going to do it in my usual way. Try and stay loose and free and let it flow out. Well… I did let it flow and stayed loose but I also let my head go for a walk and just painted. Colours where I normally wouldn’t use them, shapes that were more emotional than representational. More feel and less think resulted in something that looks pretty tight which is not what I expected. I peeled the tape off after giving it a couple of hours and smiled – not necessarily because I thought it was great, but because it was different.

Grant Waddell Oil on Canvas

Crisp October Road
8.5×11
Oil on Canvas

Day 11/30…

Day 11/30

At the very end of HWY 66 past Bragg Creek is a great little spot in the Shadow of Forgetmenot Mt. beside Little Elbow Campground. I was up there last year to get some reference and came across this happy little scene. Hard tom paint as there is lots of stuff going on. Keeping in mind that these are designed to be sketches.

Grant Waddell Oil on Canvas

The Stand
8.5×11
Oil on Canvas

The Long Winter…

The Long WinterYes, it’s been a bloody long winter. This was shot just outside of Waterton Nation Park in Southern Alberta. One of the most beautiful places on the earth. The clouds on this day were striking and were begging to be shot. I spotted this small stand of trees alone on the hill and, with the dramatic sky behind, I couldn’t resist. I love trees and plan to do a series on them.

Walking on Water…

“Snowshoes on, we walk over hard pack till we feel the blanket thicken and soften, as we wade, through the cold surf, where nature laps against the open space, our feet sinking, till we walk on water”

Snow Shoe

The car stopped, engine off, we climb from heated leather seats into the cool mountain air. A sense of peace, and the anticipation of adventure, are held softly by the white silence.

Snow crunches underfoot as we prepare, toque and gloves warm. Scanning the edges of the flat man made island in a sea of trees dressed in winters coat, like icing sugar, light on the pastry we enjoyed for breakfast, but much sweeter.

Snowshoes on, we walk over hard pack till we feel the blanket thicken and soften, as we wade, through the cold surf, where nature laps against the open space, our feet sinking, till we walk on water. This place, this place, holds my heart gently, brushing up against the sides of my soul and for a moment, blend. This place, this nature, this one, seem to step away and have a conversation like dear friends with too much time between them.

A walk through white woods never travelled, but deeply familiar, of belonging, of knowing, seeing a small glimpse into the mystery, but somehow, without effort, deeply understood.