Sometimes the best way to start a painting is not to paint.
One sunny morning I found myself driving along the long and windy road to Whistler. The bare winter trees allowed a playful dance of light to shine on to the roadside cliffs as well as a peek over the adjacent ocean to the west. The small semi circles of islands stood above the glowing horizon disappearing into the distance in a veil of mist.
“I want to paint that” I thought but continued along the road while my tunes beckoned me on. I soon found myself pulling over to watch the waves pound amongst the graveyard of white washed logs and smooth stone shore. “I want to paint that” I thought and carried on working over the obstacles of the slippery ground back to my car. Later in the day I ended up hiking along a mountain lake that a kind local couple brought me to. The unusual rock striations and boulders were just too much for a painters eye and I thought “I want to paint that”. But by now the sun was going down.
What I realized that day was that I was painting – for my mind and for my soul.
It wasn’t until the next day, after resting in the morning and taking a peaceful stroll in the valley of Pemberton, that I decided to take out my paints. I was not in any spectacular natural setting but in a gravel parking lot. It didn’t matter. The forms of the nearby mountains had embraced me the whole trip and it was time to paint them. I couldn’t contain the emotion they evoked any longer; feeling attached to nothing and forgetting where I was I held that moment in my brush and in that place. A painting was born.
May you too find yourself a moment of joy in whatever place you find yourself in, while being open to what may inspire you in your parking lot of life.