brush stokes to keystrokes

I went to the Hidden Glen Art Festival today. If you were to ignore the sloshing of the mud underneath your feet and the lapping of the tents from the intense wind, it really was a beautiful setting for such an event. After parking, we hopped on a trolley and came to a gorgeous valley surrounded by lush trees and a mildly violent, rushing river from the weekend storms.

It proved to be a great source of inspiration for me. There was one older man with a white, fluffy beard that I conversed with over technique and color and such. He had a calm demeanor that I noticed was reflected in his pieces. I also loved the texture in a lot of his landscapes. They make you want to reach out and touch them, further igniting interest, almost asking the on-looker to jump right into the painting and, for lack of a better word, frolic. The feeling reminded me of a Billy Collins poem where he asks the reader to ski across the surface of the words and let the momentum take you places…anywhere.

When it comes to inspiration though, at the end of the day, I find it most in my mom. I know she’s biased with my work, but she reminds me that I’m capable and, most importantly, not to stray from the style I began with. Sometimes I get caught up in trying something different when, really, there’s no need to change it. I also have an email from my big brother that I read before a big undertaking. It’s like an injection of confidence straight to the bloodstream.

My next piece will be a sort of abstract, beach scene that’s split between three smaller, rectangularly shaped canvas’. I can see it in my head but very rarely does it translate the way I want it to. There’s only one way to find out! I hope my fingers can recreate the magnificence.

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