
I often dream of plein air-painting trips to exotic lands. Tracing the curve of the Amur River through Mongolia. Filling the pages of a worn watercolor journal with sketches of women in cerulean blue saris or rippling grass-green áo dàis. Painting the song of a skylark as it ripples across blue Irish skies and the howl of a monkey crashing through deep Guatemalan jungles.
Those are my dreams. I would have gladly traveled like that when I was young, a happy vagabond artist sleeping in hostels and riding on trains (and I did, some, but without the artistic skill and drive—or money—of middle age).
But would I do it these days? I am not so sure, especially when the sun warms my studio, or I curl up in our den with a book. Andrew Loomis’ Creative Illustration would be awfully heavy to carry in a back pack.
But sometimes ultramarine blue and viridian green precipitates onto the paper and glimmers like the ocean. Those are days I long to be on a cargo ship headed to Greece.
This post is in response to a prompt from WordPress University Writing 101: A Room with a View
I’ve heard comedians say that they have nothing to say unless they get out there and live life. I’m assuming artists behave much the same way. You may not get to travel the world, but try to see something new whenever possible. Nice post for the prompt.
You’re right, badwolfrob. It’s taken me a long time to amass enough life experiences.
Lucky for you there’s always new experiences just around the bend to prove that there are never enough. 🙂
We must dream…..for our dreams to come true.
Indeed.