Last week I found myself hauling a pack along a granite ridge at 8000 feet in Oregon’s Elkhorn Mountains. Though the air was thin, and drifts of snow gave way under my feet, I felt alive and present. Views rose up on all sides, and when we reached a pass, still more views splashed across our dazzled eyes. And even so, there were moments in those mountains when the spirit really came out. Light played in a certain way on the land – cliff, forest, lake and meadow – and said “here I am, this is it.”
In those moments, which were many, all I could do was stand in awe, grateful to be alive and present. It didn’t matter what else was happening in the world, I suddenly felt good, connected, cared for, and hopeful. I couldn’t help but think about the sunlight, the growth of plants, the food on my table, and the gift of land, forests and streams that sustain us. The feeling still lingers, days later. It totally filled me up.
One of our favorite things to do as a family is hike and backpack in the wilderness. The big draw for us is being in the presence of incredible beauty – seeking out these sublime experiences. Years ago, during one of our epic adventures, my daughter started calling these moments “snow globe” moments, when all you can do is stand in awe. Just by being what I’d call “actively” present (some would call it intention), it’s possible to anchor that feeling, like a scene in a snow globe. Later, you can pick it up, give it a little shake, and feel at least some part of that experience for the rest of your life.
I think that within these moments a place reveals its true self. Some moments are breathtakingly beautiful while others are moody and mysterious. Some moments are fleeting and some last for hours. But what they all have in common is a special intersection of time and place in the natural world that, for some reason, speaks to us as humans. The ancient Romans called it the “genius loci” or in modern, western tradition it is the “spirit of place.”
As an artist, I spend a lot of time in wild places searching for that kind of inspiration. You might say, beauty is everywhere in the natural world, why not just set up somewhere and start painting? In some ways, that’s absolutely true and sometimes I do. In the wild, gifts of beauty are everywhere, but I think the essential qualities of a place don’t reveal themselves all the time. I find it takes a lot of patience, attention, and most of all being open to what you see.
The land may be generous with its gifts of life and beauty, but it’s also huge and powerful and humbling. Expressing the essential qualities of the natural world is one of the most challenging and meaningful things I could do. One of my greatest goals as an artist is revealing the true nature of special places. I want to do them justice.
But it’s not all about pretty pictures. Yes, beauty is incredibly essential and valuable, and nature certainly has the power to move us and heal us. But for me that’s only part of the story.
I could paint cities, people, horses, still life, fantasy, and abstracts. I could paint cultural memes and provocation. I have, and someday maybe I will again. These are all absolutely wonderful creations, beautiful and worthy of painting and admiration. So why do I paint landscapes?
I paint the natural world because it’s the first and foremost, the deepest, oldest, and the most nourishing of everything the world contains. We’re of the land, from the land, no matter who we love, how we pray, where we call home, or how we live. The land is our common ancestor. The land connects everyone. And so, I feel it’s my first duty and the greatest honor for me to paint it, because the land gave us life and it feels good to give something back.
What would it be like if we could connect to meaningful places every day? How much would that enrich our lives? How would that affect our health and wellbeing? And what if making that connection could help preserve the land we love?
As an artist, that’s my aim. If I’m successful, then as a conservationist and a human being, maybe I can help more people feel connected to the natural world in our everyday lives. My hope is, this may strengthen our sense of gratitude and responsibility towards the land that sustains us.
If I’m honest, I’d say the path is a little scary, and it’s hard to feel worthy. But it feels right to me. I’m committed to being open, curious, and moving forward together with other passionate people who love art and care about the land.
This blog is all about the journey. I’m writing it because the work feels important and the story is part of that work. In future posts, I plan to share some philosophy and back story, what it’s like to be an artist, successes, failures, and what I learn along the way. I’ll also share posts about how I work, what’s going on in my studio, events, partnerships, and maybe some links to books, music and other inspiration. For example, if you’d like to know why a guy would leave a thriving career to become an artist, how your eyes play tricks on you, and how humans and baby chicks are alike, you won’t be disappointed.
If that speaks to you, stay tuned and please share this with anyone and everyone who might feel the same! This is a shared journey and the more people who join, the more we’ll succeed together.
