My love for drawing in the woods was established during my first two years at art school. I loved drawing class and especially loved going outside to draw. I also loved drawing from the model. Actually, I love all drawing and still do. At art school, one of my fondest memories was drawing with black and white gauche. It was much like painting with the oil paint we were training with but much less laborious.
The creative process, for me, has a mind of its own. I don’t know where I will end up next and I don’t think it matters. One of my favorite things to do is make images on two dimensional surfaces, no matter what things may look like. As I have always drawn in the woods, I haven’t always painted in the woods. About 30 years ago, I bought a French easel. It was a remarkable investment at the time. Though recently, when full of paint and supplies it proves to be quite heavy on long jaunts through the woods. None-the-less, I am finding myself unable to resist afternoon plein air painting sessions in the woods. The light, this time of year, early fall, is impossible not to love. Combined with the beauty of the woods, in late afternoon and a pallet of paint I am helpless and find myself enthralled to be standing in the woods, among the majesty of nature with brush and panel.
As I begin to compose the picture I really have no idea what will happen. I find it almost too challenging to think I can make a facsimile of what I am seeing in front of me. But, as I muster my nerve, I pursue what I could consider impossible and begin work. Three quarters of the time spent is laying down colors, making adjustments and feeling like I have taken on too much as I wonder if I have just wasted my time. Occasionally the answer is yes! Time wasted! What keeps bringing me back, however, is when something begins to take shape and I see a reflection of nature being created right before my eyes. Somehow through my emotions, through my body and through my hands the paint flows from the tip of the brush and I begin to feel excited and hopeful and in love with the process. Toward the conclusion of the painting. there is always a balancing act. The painting wants to appear fresh and vibrant and it is so easy to overwork, to suffocate the vitality of the colors. At this point it is incumbent on me to stop at exactly the right place with only intuition as my guide. I cannot trust my eyes because they go to my head before my heart. It is only later back in the studio, after a brief time of not looking at the painting I can reevaluate the it—look at it with fresh eyes. And likely make a few final adjustments.
