Tuesday, July 8, 2008

The wind is howling from the north. All along the pathway down the south cliffs, painters have set up camp. The rock scouped against our backs is like a reflector oven. I feel almost, but not quite, warm.
The rocks have arranged themselves wonderfully for my painting. A fog drifts in, shifting the colors to violets and greens. I capture the color notes in the fog, ignoring the brightening colors when it burns away.

In the afternoon, I join my friend Carol on the sand. We both paint the scupted sand cliffs above us. The sands are so full of color, from soft blue-grays to deep rust. The sand is everywhere, in my equipment, in my palette, and embedded in my painting. Evidence that it was painted en plein air.

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