A few weeks ago, I packed up my easel and paints, grabbed my trusty hat, and headed outdoors to paint en plein air for the first time in what felt like forever.
I set my easel up under the trees, ran through my tried-and-true motions of making sure things were in place so I could get into my flow...then I paused.
I took a deep breath in, feeling the fresh air filling my lungs.
I quieted my thoughts and heard only the birds singing.
I caught a bunny hopping by out of the corner of my eye one minute, then saw the glistening droplets of water left over from the morning dew on the leaves the next.
As I began painting, fully immersed in this world I've missed so much during winter, the spring rains, and the ongoing pandemic, I found something even more amazing:
I discovered color in the shadows.
Having been confined indoors for months on end as the 2020 calendar year progressed, I turned to painting from photos I'd taken outdoors, a trusty practice that has served me well in the past.
I still created, but there was something missing. My senses weren't filled with the smells and sounds of the outdoors. My eye couldn't easily detect the depth and detail of the scene that I can when I'm standing amongst it. My mind couldn't quiet the thoughts that undoubtedly take over when I'm not fully engaged.
Photos, while a necessary enabler for painting year round, are flat. The feelings elicited from the scene are a heck of a lot harder to come by. The shadows are shallow.
Upon standing in the scene again and discovering the colors in the shadows, a light within me turned back on.
For the last few months — and perhaps even more so right now — it feels a lot like we're living in the shallow shadows.
Weeks of quarantine turned into months.
Inhumane acts of racial injustice came to the forefront, highlighting a systemic reality those of us who have white privilege haven't had to examine for far too long.
The economy started opening back up, but the pandemic hasn't decreased in its pervasiveness.
In short, uncertainty reigns. And for me, the uncertainty of these particular days has lent itself to a greater sense of anxiety and sadness than ever before.
At the beginning of the pandemic, my Irish roots shown through: I put my metaphorical boots on, did my best to trudge through the mud, and set my aims on "saving" the world (in my small ways).
It worked for a while, but as things have worn on, I've felt many moments of powerlessness.
In these moments of darkness; of anxiety; of sadness, there's only one thing I can do: Focus on being present.
For me, that's stepping outside to immerse myself in the scenes I so love to paint. It's taking note of the details that are so easy to miss. It's expanding my awareness and finding the color in the shadows, and, most importantly, forfeiting control.
None of us can know what's ahead.
But if we can pause and truly be present in the moment, we have a much better chance of seeing the color and depth we desperately need in our present shadows.