September Sky
Sitting on the steps on my front porch, I was mesmerized by the path of the clouds through the evening sky. It’s September, so the sun is setting earlier now. Soon after dinner, the light changes from brilliant blue of early fall to lavender, then takes on long streaks of gold. I watched the clouds stretch out over the horizon, glowing yellow, then orange and light cadmium red through the trees across the street.
Come, let’s walk to the river with me. I want to see the sunset.
Ok, I’ll finish what I’m doing here.
No, no, the dishes can wait. The sun won’t!
Begrudgingly, my husband put on his shoes and joined me outside. We walked through the path leading down to the Ottawa River, a short walk from our house. From the path we could see a small slice of the darkening sky. We walked faster.
We went down to the beach, and followed the shoreline. The brilliant light reflected onto the water’s surface. Everything around it became just a dark outline, in honour of the spectacular decline of the sun. As the evening deepened, we left the beach and strolled home the long way.
When I got home, I decided to choose one of my photos for a painting. When I learned to paint, I learned to use oils to render the landscape I love. Although my work has evolved, I was tempted to take out my oils again to explore what I had seen that night.
The next day, I set myself up in the garden with a small canvas and took my oil paints out of their bin. It had been a long time. I’d always loved the smell, no matter how toxic. The smell oil had come to mean time for myself. I spent the afternoon playing around with my paints, and as always, I enjoyed my time art-making. But I came to realize soon enough that the process of attempting to render a landscape was unsatisfying now. I loved mixing the colours, and I loved the beautiful texture and light of the paint, but I had no interest in reproducing anything. What I really wanted to do was express the way this landscape made me fee.
So I kept my photos, but they are not guiding my work the way they used to. I realize now that it’s the colours and the light I respond to, but it is the experience in this place that guides my hand.
