No, really, it makes me sick. I came down with a cold yesterday after painting outside in the freezing wind two days ago. (no wonder I was so tired the other night when all I had for dinner was buttered popcorn, some of my black licorice, and coffee...now that I think about it, maybe that didn´t help my immune system very much either).
The weather keeps us guessing- just when I think it might rain, the clouds part and beautiful rays of sunshine beam from the heavens. And just when I think it might be sunny, rain pours down like the sky´s main water pipe broke. The studio offers shelter and light when the Icelandic climate doesn´t feel like cooperating. I have beautiful vistas from the studio windows where I draw inspiration. Hecla, the giant Icelandic volcano that might just blow its top sometime this decade, sits right outside the window with a small lake in front. If a person can´t find something to paint here, they´re not going to find it anywhere.
The Icelandic landscape always changes. With craters bubbling, geysers exploding, steam rising, the ground shifting, it feels like you´re on a piece of land that isn´t anchored into the Earth. As Ana, a Russian resident, said,. ´the earth and sky are alive´. I agree. I have never in my life felt so tiny compared to this planet. I feel like an ant trying to hang on to Shaquille O´Neal´s jersey hemline.
With the power and majesty of the landscape comes a sense of intimidation. How does an artist try to represent what they see with a finite color palette, half a dozen brushes, and some canvas? The truth is, an artist can´t. There´s no possible way for him or her or me to give the a viewer an accurate rendition of what is seen here in Iceland. After spending about two days trying my hardest to ´capture´the scenes before me, I decided to leave the ´capturing´to a camera and start painting to hint rather than tell. By giving myself permission not to paint exactly what´s seen with the eye, a sense of freedom and artistic inspiration took over. By painting this way, I can let what´s on my inside shine through on the canvas and give the view a glimpse of what Iceland is like with me as their traveling companion. A piece of me is left on each canvas and that´s the way it should. If viewers want an accurate 'every leaf and twig is accounted for' painting, I´m not their kind of artist- and I don´t want to be.
Wow- I guess I´ll put my soapbox away now.
One of my resident housemates, Joe, just came in from painting outside. It just started pouring down rain and the water demolished the painting he's been working on for a good hour and a half. Poor guy, talk about discouraging. Maybe I´ll go make us both some coffee and get that black licorice out of the cupboard for a little afternoon snack.
Tomorrow, I head to Reykjavik for a quick trip to the store and a little plein air painting on the way back (if the weather cooperates). Happy Friday, everyone!
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