Living Mother Earth.
The mountains tremble and and heave. They pour forth water, mud, soil,
rock. They break open into gullies, caves, or they burst with boiling lava.
Mountains are alive with power and beauty.
When I paint, the first moments are taken by
breathing in the sense of awesome majesty. It is my humblest moment, to feel myself drawn into the divinity of the mountain.
To blend, to merge as one.
When I first drove from back east
across Kansas to
Colorado, when Pikes Peak suddenly loomed into
view, I was breathless in awe of the mountains' grandeur. They were magnetic, drawing me to them, mesmerizing.
I devoted two years to painting the mountains of Colorado.
Glorious day trips to sketch and paint. Each time, at the moment of envisioning the mountainscape that
I was about to paint, I felt the same reverence. A hesitance, as if we must nod and hum and chat together a bit first and
get to know each other. Only then would the stately, gracious formations permit me to touch their life force with my pencil
or art brush.