". . . a brush with nature"

Awhile back I read the following statement and it is absolutely true for any practicing artist, whether a professional or painting just for personal enjoyment.

“There’s no such thing as a failed painting … embrace it, see it for what it is and learn from it … then apply what you’ve learned to the next painting… and then to the next.”

At first, a painting that doesn’t end up quite like you envisioned it might be difficult to recognize as a good thing . . . but it actually is. It just takes some time to move past what we feel is a failure, a complete disaster or a huge waste of time, to give it another look before destroying it. If an honest evaluation of the piece can be done, minus all the frustration and disappointment you initially feel, there is so much to be learned there. 

When looking at the painting with honesty and none of those initial strong emotions, you will be able to see more clearly the parts that didn’t work out. You will also, most likely, be able to discover why they didn’t work this time and what you can do differently next time to improve the outcome of your new piece.

Storing all the learned information you acquire from each piece of art you create, be it a “keeper” or not, will become useful to you at some point in the future. So just keep painting, just keep “practicing” your art, just keep learning from each experience and then apply your knowledge and skills to your next new painting . . . and the next one after that.

To be sensitive is to feel for people, for birds, for flowers, for trees - not because they are yours, but just because you are awake to the extraordinary beauty of things. ~ J Krishnamurti

I love this quote for so many reasons . . . not the least being that we are surrounded by extraordinary beauty every day. I am surrounded by extraordinary beauty every day. 

The birds and the beasts of the forest, and the woodlands themselves take my breath away. I live and create in a place where I witness on a daily basis the pure magic of nature.  I live where I hear the melodic whispering of the birds as their wings brush softly through the trees above and I witness face to face the wild creatures many only read about in books. I live where the night is quiet enough to really experience all the sounds of the forest (if you take the time to listen) and the canvas of the night sky is painted with millions of twinkling stars invisible to city dwellers. I live in a place still touched by magic. . . where you can still “listen to the wild”. 

This is where I paint.