Some paintings are quiet conversations with a place. This one started with a chorus. So, I’m standing at my plein air easel on a steep, narrow bank, our parrot balanced on my left arm giving editorial commentary, my husband and dog happily fishing and barking somewhere upstream, and a determined cloud of mosquitoes and no-see-ums insisting on front row seats. In the midst of that buzzing, barking, clucking chaos, the creek steadfastly chuckled over the rocks as if it had seen this circus a thousand times before.
What caught me first was the dappled light. Sunlight slipped through the dense forest canopy, laying shifting lacework patterns across the water and river rocks. That light became as important a character in this painting as the water itself—the way it sparked off ripples, softened the edges of rocks and winked at me from the cool depths. I used soft pastels to layer those greens, browns, and blues, building up the shimmer of moving water against the steady trunks and tangled branches beyond. This painting quickly stopped being all about water and became a chorus of the forest and its many interconnections.
This 9x12 inch pastel, done entirely on location captures that moment when moving water, patterned light and deep woods share the same breath. It’s a piece for anyone who hears the sound of a creek in their memory, who finds peace in watching water dance over stone, who knows that the forest is constantly whispering with life.
“Water Lace” brings a window of nature's calm indoors with the hush of a forest stream, the play of light, and the gentle reminder that even in the middle of life’s buzzing distractions, there’s always a quiet place to rest your eyes and your spirit.
Disclaimer: A great number of mosquitoes were harmed in the making of this painting up in the wilderness of Northeastern New Mexico
