Artist Eyes

This past weekend, Spencer, Rudder, and I were driving back from Trempealeau, Wisconsin after a weekend with family on the Mississippi River. I love riding up and down those rolling Wisconsin hills. The driftless area never ceases to take my breath away. As I was gazing out the window, I gasped, “Look at all the flowers!” There was an open field, bursting with daisies, buttercups, hawkweed, and the way the light was dancing over the field in the late afternoon sun made me want to capture it and take it with me forever.

It was in this moment that I realized something — painting has transformed the way that I look at the world around me. It’s not to say that I didn’t used to love gazing at beautiful landscapes, that’s something I’ve practiced since I was a small child. But, having the eyes of an artist does something special to the way you see the world around you. I know exactly where a reflection would fall on a lake depending on where the sun is in the sky. I’ve memorized the ultramarine hue of shadows on snow in the winter. How a blue sky is lighter at the horizon than when I look all the way up. The way the wind flips leaves to expose their silvery bellies so they shimmer in a summer breeze. Everything I see, I think to myself, “how would I paint that?” It happens constantly, sometimes unconsciously. It’s simply the way I experience the world around me.

The longer I paint and the more detail I witness, the more I am completely mesmerized by the way nature moves, acts, feels.

It’s a blessing, really. Artist eyes are another gift I’ve received from following this path. It stills me, holds me to each moment, slows me down in a world that demands attention be short and fast and fleeting. Noticing everything in this way has put beauty in my world often when I least expect it. I hope to be gasping at the sight of wildflower fields to the end of my days.