Earlier this year I committed to creating four scenic paintings for each natural season. This feels like a huge stretch for me because I adore painting people primarily, while trees, architecture, leaves and twigs, I enjoy less, to put it lightly. Last fall I took a huge step and dove into a large 24"x48" painting of two deer in the woods. It took forever and I wanted to throw it away several times. But, I made it through. I guess overcoming the challenge has inspired me to keep pushing further and deeper into this content called "scenery". I am grateful, because I am feeling my apathy about layering in rocks, over bushes, over trees, over sky, slowly transform into a deep respect for each part. Nature, in all its grace and composure, speaks a truth in a way no other thing can.
Yesterday I was talking to my friend Kathryn about animals and their spirits, which I guess makes us both dorks. Anyways, our conversing resulted in a winding dialogue about creation and its immunity to disillusionment. Maybe cats and birds are inferior thinkers, but I believe they have an inherent knowing of the order of things, of God even, in a pure way that humans just seem to miss. It is with that awareness and the desire to see more clearly that I press on in my journey of creating paintings of the seasons.
Here, I present my very first piece. I took this photo myself in the backlot of a thrift store in Denver called the Arc. It was one of the first snows of the season and in that moment it taught me how snow can dress anything, even a junkyard, and make it breathtaking and worthy of a long look.