Watertower Fog
If you’re interested, I encourage you to click on the button below and enjoy Steven Isserlis and Mishka Rushde Momen playing a cello piece I love written by Ernest Bloch that’s entitled “Prayer.” A lot is going on in our world and in our own personal lives right now, and this work brings me comfort and hope.
Good morning from Fort Bragg.
It’s a glorious day here today, and I hope you are all doing well. I’m excited to share with you another painting, and I hope you are all finding ways to express your own creativity.
I don’t say that lightly. I really believe expressing yourself creatively can be therapeutic, bringing a smile to your face and warmth to your heart in good and darker moments, filling the soul in its own unique way.
This painting was inspired by a day my husband, Vern, and I spent in Mendocino. We’d had a wonderful day. Usually, we like to go for breakfast at a local cafe. It’s fun to relax with a cup of hot coffee and a warm pastry and people watch.
Then we stretch our legs and walk around the charming streets and through the narrow passageways that make up this village. We like to fill our lungs with the coastal ocean air and relax in the ambience of the quaint village, and I can’t resist a photoshoot of this favorite haunt.
After poking in a few of the local stores and exploring some of the rugged ocean bluffs, our Mendo cup is full once again. The charm of this village always is therapeutic, and we feel so very lucky to be locals and to get to bask in the joy of this environment most weekends.
We had just hopped in our car and headed out towards the bluffs on the road that would take us back to Fort Bragg. I looked over my shoulder and asked Vern to slow down so I could take a photo. I’m always looking for new ways of seeing my world, and I was captivated by the view on this particular day.
One thing that’s fun about art is the ability to create your own reality. I took this moment and created the kind of world I felt, more so than what was visually there. In the painting, you will see more color and texture in the field foreground and experience the ambience of a foggier day.
“Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful, for beauty is God’s handwriting — a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every fair flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing.”
I particularly love the water towers that dot Mendocino. It’s interesting that these utilitarian redwood towers that pierce the sky above the Victorian grand and not-so-grand homes and provided the woodsmen and their families with water for survival of the village around the turn of the century would become something so iconic, things of beauty and artistic inspiration.
I had a lot of fun creating the emotion of the fields. When you walk through them, the variety of colors and textures envelopes you. I wanted to express this feeling artistically. It was fun to splash pigment, salt and water, and then wait to see the magic happen.
It’s not the same as creating an actual field, where the maker has thrown out dirt, and seed and water to create their masterpiece. But in a small way, it’s fun to try to capture that experience in watercolor and see what develops. In this particular case, it took quite a while for the miracle to happen.
The salt didn’t dry. Usually, the salt dries hard on the cotton rag paper. But for the first time in my years of experience, the salt just dissolved on the paper. I’d never really had that happen before, so I just watched and waited to see what would happen.
It’s been over three weeks since I first painted this, and the paper was still wet this morning. It was a chemical mystery. But after taking a hairdryer to it, I was able to finally take the painting off the board. What a fun journey!
As I leave you with another painting to enjoy this month, I realize that, between the music and the painting, this is a melancholier blog than usual. I hope that’s okay with you. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, and at times the edges press together.
I’m sending you hope and gratitude. These are the things I cling to as I face my reality. I offer them to you this month with open arms. XX
