Before the current proliferation of plein air painters populated the planet. Long before we had instant access to unlimited information, when my world was a little simpler, I took my watercolor paints outdoors and tried to capture the light of the day.
Lacking formal art training, I struggled with a burning desire to capture what I saw and felt. I simply called these modest efforts field studies, and stuffed them in boxes and under seats of rusty old trucks.
Inspired by naturalist/artists such as William Bartram, James Audubon I explored the Florida wilds, sketching and taking notes. Later in the local library, I discovered a large portfolio book on Andrew Wyeth. I would spend hours pouring over his stark images, then walk out in to the bright Florida sunshine feeling somewhat depressed. His images moved me in profound ways disturbingly beautiful and haunting. Like the naturalist/artists, he too worked from life, recording observations of the world around him, but he also infused his work with his inner world, imagination and life experiences flowed into his studies. Wyeth took from nature only what he needed, to express what he felt, what moved him- he had something to say besides what he just saw. I realized the power art can have to speak to us on the deepest levels, decades later those images still resonate in me.
So I began asking myself, how does this bird, this old Cracker house, marsh or day make me feel? I honed in on the intangible emotion and associations the motif conjured up in me. But I also realized that in order to express what I felt in a convincing manner, I needed to understand how things were put together, the bricks and bones of things. So I studied residential architecture and animal anatomy, and for many years painted wildlife and built things.
My field studies made en plein air (and indoors) were and still are a way for me to record the world we live in. I paint them for different reasons; some are a frantic slapping down of paint, quickly noting a few minutes of amazing color or cloud effect that will soon fade and never return. Some are more detailed drawings to understand anatomy or structure. Many are memory joggers painted to remember a scene, color relationships, time of day or year. I have difficulty parting with all of them. They are like memories of a treasured place that you may never visit again, something you want to remember forever- a part of your life. But the act of doing, the process is the important thing, the journey not the destination is often when you learn and grow to discover the real truths of life. So I let them go . . . like my children.
Meanwhile, I am still out there like many other artists, making observations trying to understand the world around me, making sketches and notes in my journal, and painting Field Studies.
ormond by the sea
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Daniel,
I just discovered your blog and enjoyed reading your beautiful posts. So inspiring and gentle, like a soft voice in my ear. Thank you. This post resonated with me. I too make sketches in my journals – and “journal paintings” sometimes en plein air and sometimes in my studio, in watercolor. Sometimes the sketches are done while driving with my husband – that I call “drive-by sketching” – putting in color later, like coloring in a coloring book. Fun. I wouldn’t mind keeping in touch with you too!
Rosemary
Rosemary,
Your kind words are inspiring, thank you.
Daniel