Sand in Paint

Nothing can prepare us for the passing of time.

“A work of art is not an end point in itself.

It’s a station on a journey.
A chapter in our lives.
We acknowledge these transitions
by documenting each of them” – Rick Rubin

Yesterday I packed up my paints and hiked down to the beach. We’re staying in a house on the Oregon coast to celebrate my mom’s 70th birthday. The sky is a brilliant blue.

I had imagined spending a peaceful afternoon responding to the subtle color shifts and dappled light. Watery reflections would dance off of the huge majestic rocks that tower up like castles on the sands of the Bandon coastline.

Instead, I found myself entangled in a battle royale with nature. The wind flys across those coastal sands at close to 30 mph all… day…long. The whipping sand was relentless. Sunlight ricocheted off the beach and through the glassy waves. I felt like a bug looking for shade under a magnifying glass. My shades saved my eyes, but the oil paints on my palette looked like a cupcake in a sandbox. Still, a deal is a deal and I had already packed my bag, so I set up against one of the larger boulders in hopes of avoiding at least some of the wind, and got to work.

The wind is like the creative spirit. 

When the paint comes out, everything gets quiet for me. The wind falls short of my ears. The sand fails to reach my face. Each new mark is a celebration of what I see in front of me. Each brushstroke is a discovery. I get to see where I am for the first time.

Life doesn’t make plans, and it rarely waits for the perfect moment. The faster it moves, the more important it is for each of us to slow down and take it all in. My mom is 70 and I am 48, and I still feel like a kid who can’t hold still. The wind continues to whip through my life.

There is a fine dusting of sand all over the finished painting, and at the end of the day, that will be what I remember most. That’s what makes this painting unique.

How do you respond when sand gets in your paints?

Can you feel the life you’ve lived through your paintings?

When the wind roars do you still paint?