I am not, by nature, a landscape painter. Odd, huh? You would think that an artist would paint pretty much anything and in one respect, I do. But my artistic heart is on subjects...people and animals especially. Or a tree. Now THAT I can get a grasp on-a big, impressive or gnarled subject! But a landscape? No. To look at a beautiful landscape has always held a wonder for me. The oceans, the the pastoral farm settings, a pasture with cows, the mountains of the Blue Ridge. But to paint those scenes? Actually.....no. Sometimes I look at all the green in all its variations and think "No, I don't wish to paint each leaf." But of course I miss the point don't I? In memory, one remembers with a softness, not with clarity and that is probably why the Impressionist movement has such a following. I am quite fond of my husband's work as he loves his landscapes and perhaps has the essence of what I just said-light, color and generalities to combine into a beautiful coherent scene. But having said all that, maybe, just maybe, after wandering through my yard yesterday and looking at the once a year amazing burst of colors from the wold and heirloom roses that surround the house, studio and pastures, I might be persuaded to pick up a brush and boldly go where I usually don't go! Into a landscape!
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