Last week I was talking with a highly-motivated student about the composition of her painting. It started as three t-shirts and morphed into prayer flags. She works in her basement and it’s hard there to gin drapery up with wind or sky, although she could probably do something with a pattern of pipes or stairs. The contrast between the hopefulness of prayer and the pedestrian nature of plumbing has potential.
Of course, it’s always about me, so I got to reminiscing about a painting I did three years ago. It was October, 2021. Russia was massing troops on the Ukrainian border in anticipation of the current phase of the Russo-Ukrainian War. (We’re about to observe the third anniversary of their assault in February, 2021. Nobody knows what the casualty count is.) I was just sick reading the news.
The Amitabha Stupa and Peace Park in Sedona is a place dedicated to peace, with hundreds of chains of prayer flags. It’s not my faith, but I can pray anywhere. I painted and prayed, prayed and painted. I don’t know what impact my prayers have had, or how many other people prayed earnestly for peace. The beautiful thing about prayer is, that we will never know in this lifetime, nor must we.
Some of the stupa’s prayer flags are threadbare and sunbleached almost grey; some are almost new. I have no idea who hangs them in the piñons and junipers along the trails but from an aesthetic standpoint they’re very lovely, fluttering in the breeze. They curve in long drooping lines, set against dark greens, a deep blue sky and red rock.
We painters can always find something to hate in our own work, but as a result of the profound emotional, spiritual and aesthetic nexus of that moment, I’ve had an abiding love for this painting. It’s sold now, but I don’t I know if I ever explained my feelings about it to its new owner.
The experiences where faith, beauty and practice intersect are very rare, I told my student. I doubt I’ve had more than half a dozen of them in my career. Saying that pulled me up short. I’d never have had them at all if I weren’t a painter. And if that isn’t a privilege, I don’t know what is.
My two classes starting next week are:
Zoom Class: Beyond realism to expressive painting
Tuesdays, 6 PM – 9 PM EST
February 18, 25
March 4, 18, 25
April 1
This class focuses on design and composition for expressive painting. Students will be encouraged to develop their own personal creative vision while working on refining their artistic skills through traditional studies.
This class is targeted toward more advanced painters who’ve already mastered the basics of paint application. It’s open to students in watercolor, gouache, oils, and pastel. Learn More
Zoom class: design and drawing
Mondays, 6 PM – 9 PM EST
February 17, 24,
March 3,
March 17, 24, 31
This class improves on the skills learned in Fundamentals of Drawing. We’ll use a pencil but all of these concepts are transferrable to painting; experienced painters are encouraged to try them in paint as well.
This class is targeted to the learner who has mastered measurement, shading, and perspective and wants to further develop skills in design and rendering. Learn More
Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:
- Canyon Color for the Painter, Sedona, AZ, March 10-14, 2025
- Advanced Plein Air Painting, Rockport, ME, July 7-11, 2025.
- Sea and Sky at Acadia National Park, August 3-8, 2025.
- Find Your Authentic Voice in Plein Air, Berkshires, MA, August 11-15, 2025.
- Immersive In-Person Fall Workshop, Rockport, ME, October 6-10, 2025.