How far do you see on an ordinary day?
The artist, painting in Ballachullish, Scotland. 2013.
Our busy lives force us to focus on what's immediately in front of us: the tail lights of the car ahead, the computer screen at the end of our noses, the people coming toward us on the sidewalk. When I find myself wanting a rest from all this up-closeness, I look up and search for the farthest point--the vista. In the presence of a vista, the everyday tasks and anxieties shrink. My paintings are a way for me to savor the vista.
I work exclusively "en plein air": outdoors, in front of the vista, in the moment. I sometimes have to carry my 25 lbs of equipment up trails and down gullies to get the best view of a vista. The temperature can be 40 degrees or 95. It can be so windy that my easel blows over, and, in most of my paintings, you'll find bugs and dirt embedded in the paint. I must work fast to capture the light and shadows because, at the end of two hours, they will have changed so much that I have to stop working on one painting and start working on another. I return to the same spot at the same time each day as weather permits until I have finished a painting, often over several months.
Why do I eschew the comforts of painting in a studio? Because vistas produce a lot of emotions: awe, joy, patriotism, a desire to conserve, a sense of connecting to our world--and the only way to capture those emotions on canvas is to be in the moment. You can see, in plein air paintings, an energy that is not present in studio paintings made from a photograph.
I hope that the vistas in my paintings will remind you to take a moment, even on an ordinary day, to look into the distance.
I work exclusively "en plein air": outdoors, in front of the vista, in the moment. I sometimes have to carry my 25 lbs of equipment up trails and down gullies to get the best view of a vista. The temperature can be 40 degrees or 95. It can be so windy that my easel blows over, and, in most of my paintings, you'll find bugs and dirt embedded in the paint. I must work fast to capture the light and shadows because, at the end of two hours, they will have changed so much that I have to stop working on one painting and start working on another. I return to the same spot at the same time each day as weather permits until I have finished a painting, often over several months.
Why do I eschew the comforts of painting in a studio? Because vistas produce a lot of emotions: awe, joy, patriotism, a desire to conserve, a sense of connecting to our world--and the only way to capture those emotions on canvas is to be in the moment. You can see, in plein air paintings, an energy that is not present in studio paintings made from a photograph.
I hope that the vistas in my paintings will remind you to take a moment, even on an ordinary day, to look into the distance.
Loch Lynne (2013) Oil on Canvas Panel 8" x 12"
My husband and I had been driving around northern Scotland for two weeks and had not seen the sun once! One morning, there was a clear, bright patch of blue sky begging to be captured in paint. It was 40 degrees, and I threw on every piece of clothing I had brought on the trip. By the time I had set up across the road from our hotel, the clouds had covered the blue patch; then the rain started and I had to put up my umbrella--the one I had brought for SHADE; then there was a ray of sunshine; then a tour bus of German tourists unloaded right by my easel . . . . This painting reminds me of the rewards of perseverance.
