I woke this morning to glorious sunshine. When I opened the shutters, the sky was a clear pale blue, not the rich cobalt blue of a Hawkes Bay summer's day, but a cool, clear pale blue. Not a cloud in the sky, and sun glistening on the fresh snow on hilltops on both sides of the valley. The sun had kept its promise of yesterday.
Despite the rain, much needed to fill the wells after the long hot draught last summer, leaves are still clinging to the trees, or crunching underfoot, painting the landscape in rich hues. How I manage to stay safe on the roads I don't know, my eyes are never where they should be.
The sun is low in the sky, and as I came home from the gym, thinking completely different thoughts about what I would write today, a shepherd and his flock (no fences here, small closely watched flocks) were near the road. The sun behind them cast them into autumn-coloured shadows, rimmed with clear, pale fire.
Lesson one: never go out without your camera.
I raced home to get my camera and retracked, overshooting the spot as the flock had moved. With some good Italian driving I dodged trucks, pedestrians and roadside stalls and found them again. I crossed the soggy field, and asked permission to photograph the sheep. Good, I have reference photos.
Lesson two: reference photos are just that. For reference only. They are not a composition. They are not a source for colour matching. They are flat, dead, lifeless, and no matter how wonderful, always two-dimensional.
Now here is the challenge. I must paint this scene. Like the rain on the cobblestones, the feelings, the mood, the magic of this scene is etched in brilliant colour and detail in my mind. When I paint, it is not the photos I must call on. It is the memory, the image imprinted within me, that will serve me best. Only this image carries with it the magic that I must try to capture in paint.
I thought I was over being a landscape painter. I thought I had moved on. The sun, the dark, the rain think differently. Perhaps I have really only just begun.
A New Season Begins – March 2024
8 months ago
3 comments:
A camera can capture the scene but only the heart can capture the vision
Glad to hear you are recording images for future reference. I'm looking forward to seeing the artwork that comes out of your Italian experience...
I think it is quite posible for a photograph to capture all the meaning and emotion the photographer intends it to, but in your case as a painter you will no doubt want to take your creativity into a more personal direction.
Butterfly
Where do butterflies go when it rains?
A little book I read once asked
Where do butterflies go?
And I can’t remember if they told us where
And in the end, I don’t really care.
Because I wear my butterfly into town
Strapped to my chest, and people stare.
It’s made of sequins, and it’s purple
And everything rhymes with that.
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