| Winter is a grand time to be walking
the beaches of the Pacific Northwest. From Washington to Northern
California, wind, rain and yes, even snow has delighted the hearty traveler
that visits these shores. For the first time in decades, Haystack
rock near Cannon Beach, Oregon wore a snowy cap just a few weeks ago.
It was a testament to the uncertainty of the weather. Even the salt
air was not sufficient to keep off the chill of the season. Photographers
and artists were thrilled to be able to see this phenomenon and record
it for future reference.
“Photographers and artists were
thrilled“
Soon the temperatures moderated and the snow disappeared. The
winds returned. Huge rolling breakers smashed themselves into foaming
fury. I stood in awe as I observed the ferocity of the rushing ocean.
Captivated as I was, I knew instinctively that this force of nature was
one to be respected and experienced from a distance. My husband drove
the truck to high ground. I pulled out the binoculars and we watched
the power of the sea with wonder and admiration.
The stormy ocean is one of my favorite moods to depict with oil
on canvas. The tempestuousness of the open sea is an intriguing
challenge. Enormous amounts of rolling pillows of foam bob along
the shoreline, driven by fierce winds. The sky is dark and foreboding.
Soon copious amounts of rain will drive the seals, sanderlings, gulls,
and people to shelter to watch the scene from the protection of warmth
and height.
This, then is the opportunity I wait for. To observe the roiling
sea. To lock it in my memory to paint later in my |
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studio. The storm soon unleashes it’s
fury upon beach, rocks and buildings. I make notes. I draw
quick sketches. I memorize the mood, the colors, the shapes and size
of the stormy sea.
After the storm, as we wend our way back to Olympia, I
sit and ponder the awesome beauty of the scene just passed. A rainbow
stretches before me as the late day sunshine captures the last mist of
the maelstrom as it dissipates.
“A rainbow stretches before me”
I set up a large canvas on my easel, spread out the luscious
colors of oil paint onto my palette. I gaze at the blank whiteness.
Holding a brush loaded with a grey mixture, I attempt to recall the lines,
shapes and mood of the storm of which I had so recently been an intimate
part. I begin with the horizon, slightly bumpy due to the heavy wave
action. The waves are high and rolling. Here will be a huge
splash of pure white foam on the rocks. Here will be the foreground
turbulence, the lacy foam patterns so intricate it is nearly ephemeral.
I sketch the scene and begin to paint. There is a somber caste to
the whole tableau. I shall brighten the setting with the highlights
on the top of the breaking waves, and finish the pageant with a slight
hint of sunshine beginning to break through the heavy overcast. And
so, the painting forms in my head and is transferred to canvas.
I have experienced a wonderful adventure. I have painted
my impression of the sea that stormy day, and I have committed it to canvas
to share with the world. Life is good.
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