A rock – all of those minerals smashed together – a solid piece of earth. I imagine that this unusual green-hued mound has sat there awash in salt water, kelp, sand, sun and wind, since before my ancestors landed on this continent. And there it is. It certainly has been on this spot the four decades that I’ve meandered this beach on Puget Sound.
I have walked past this rock many times, absorbed in conversation with a companion – or “making time” to cover the four mile distance, out and back. The rock is unconcerned with my passing…sitting there, as I hike my round trips.
Other times, I have walked to the rock – slowing and stopping – surprised by it. This is how any good encounter in the wild hits me. By chance, I saw it and stayed for a while.
Its color, softened by fog-filtered sun – I wonder, how did it come to be all of those shades of green? Why is it right here? I don’t know. I’m drawn to it, to sit on it – run my hands over its smoothness while it’s here…and I’m here. My sense of time slowed – connected for some minutes to a beautiful rock that doesn’t care about my schedule.
This connection is good – it’s real – to sit on a rock and feel the tide move slowly around me…while I race through my life.
I have painted one of these moments. I have looked – sometimes I see. You can look too. Of course, I hope to build my audience for my art work, but more than that, I hope to awaken a sense of seeing and connection to the natural world. Awareness and knowledge lead to care and conservation.
The rock is a physical place to land, to pause and just be. I hope that place will always be there. Maybe my painting can offer a place to land – to feel a stirring, or to just be…in the fog, on a beach, on a good rock.
Here are the stages of this small painting as I worked in my studio.
Any questions or interest in my work? I also work on commissions and would love to interpret a special place of yours. Please contact me here or at email@example.com
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