The Woodland Scene Has No Balloons

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I feed my soul every day with the good things in life. My soul is where my art comes from. Taking in the moon every evening on my way home, seeing it in the deep indigo sky with the cross atop St. Michael's church steeple reflecting the warm, vanishing glow of the sun, feeds my soul for the next day's challenge in my studio. Seeing neighbors shoveling snowing as I pass or the hum of a distant lawnmower are the morsels that bring color to my canvas. Rain clouds, the streets silver with rain drops. Waiting for a break in the downpour, I watch the trees dance. These little things energize the juices that lift my hand to lay a stroke of color on my canvas. Holding a door for a stranger and smiling when things are not going right.

Painting brings these moments to life again. These little things make me see a bit clearer . My studio is full of plants and cut flowers that add to paintings absent of such things. The light on a leaf in the studio is placed on a model's hand, though no light is on her hand. Still-lifes not intended to be painted are everywhere around me to submerge me in light and color while painting. Textures of every kind catch the light flowing in from the west windows of my studio. I treat myself to fresh flowers every now and then, and balloons that bounce on the celling. The woodland scene before has no balloons or glass balls, they're just in the studio to fill me with smiles as I paint fallen trees and moss covered rocks. Painting - creating is a total experience for me.