The Plein Air Painter

I have often wondered about the source of artistic inspiration. Where does it come from? How do we acquire it? How do we express it? I think this photograph and the poem that follows offer some possible answers to these questions. Consider the artist, shown here, who chooses to paint nature while standing within it.

I paint the things we cannot see,

I paint the wind that moves my hand,

Across the canvas and through the land.

I paint the light that shows me the way,

I paint the love that shines upon me,

A whispered plea to keep us all free.

I paint a palette of promises to keep

Beneath the umbrella’s shade,

A shimmer of hope in a summer glade.

The canvas reveals my inner thoughts.

Shapes take form as the colors grow.

The path opens, the message clear.

Then I know, you are with me now.

What guides my strokes, I cannot say,

Only truth drips from my brush this day.

But I know when the work is done.

The light begins to fade.

My promises kept in the summer glade,

I look upon the finished work and smile,

For the gift you have made.