Paco

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This past week turned into a bit of a whirlwind, but for all the best reasons. I've connected with more familiar faces while in Washington than I did in the entirety of last year, and that has been absolutely wonderful.  The van also got its first flat tire, which is pretty good, considering some of the roads we've been on. I admit, I felt pretty accomplished about changing it myself. 💪 It also gave me a reason to stay in one place over the entire weekend while waiting for the tire shop to open on Monday, and boy did I need the rest.  One more friend to hug, and then Paco and I will retreat to the forests again and let nature refuel us.
Day 1 of Mount Rainier National Park did not disappoint. The skies were a clear, bold, blue and all other colors seemed to explode beneath it. The campsite gods were smiling on us after a long day in the park. We found a spot along the banks of the Ohanapecosh River after venturing down a road that didn't exist on any of my maps. The color of the water took my breath away. Completely unexpected, and wonderful. We even had a smaller, tamer creek a stones throw from our site where Paco fished for hours. I never fail to be amazed and awed by it all. I didn't even add any filters to any of these photos. Nature had already turned up the saturation levels on everything.
What a magical place this is! I could easily spend another two weeks exploring all this area has to offer. 😍
Paco and I have been exploring the Olympic peninsula of Washington state. I hadn't anticipated we'd move quite this slowly through the area, but it's too beautiful to be rushed. We've ventured in and out of Olympic National Park, and still have the entire southern and coastal sides to explore. I found a fabulous campsite tucked deep into the mossy forest and decided to spend the weekend there. We hiked along quiet forest roads where it felt like we were in the park without the crowds. We even had our own private creek access. I pulled the paints out and dabbled a little more with those. Still getting used to an outdoor studio with varying temperatures, constant shifting of light, and tree debris raining down onto wet paint, but it fills me with jubilation. There's nothing quite like falling into the flow of creativity and looking up to realize hours had passed in what felt like a feverish blink of the eye.
When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say that they save me, and daily. I am so distant from the hope of myself, in which I have goodness, and discernment, and never hurry through the world but walk slowly, and bow often. Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “Stay awhile.” The light flows from their branches. And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say, “and you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.” WHEN I AM AMONG THE TREES by Mary Oliver
New paintings! These may still go through more changes before I decide they're "finished," but it's fun trying new styles, making up imaginary landscapes, and blending paints again. The smoke-filled skies that hang heavy overhead have definitely influenced me.  Today, I had to pack up the paints earlier than I'd hoped because so much ash was falling from the sky. ☹ (see last pic) These are painted on small 5x5" pine panels. I'd purchased 24 to get me started, and have been in such a painting frenzy I'm already about to use them all up!
It's been two years since I've painted.  I used to paint because I loved it. But then, it changed. Painting stopped being fun. Maybe I'd attached too many expectations to it or took it too seriously. I let external opinions and comparisons seep in, and then chose to believe them.  When I moved into the van, I left painting behind. The few art supplies I brought have mostly gone unused. I needed a break. Time to clear out and strip away all the false beliefs and 'shoulds' I'd attached to art and my identity as an Artist. The spark never stopped smoldering though. My mind still mixed colors and converted landscapes and faces into brushstrokes. An ache that turned into longing, until it turned into a feeling I could no longer neglect. All the excuses and limitations I'd created about why I couldn't travel with oil paints suddenly felt like minor inconveniences, or simply didn't exist at all. I phoned my parents and dad wheeled out my paint cabinet currently stored at their house, then mom photographed every tube of paint (that's a lot, by the way). I marked up photos indicating colors I wanted (far too many), and she shipped them the next day.  Like everything related to van life, I've had to get creative with storage solutions and rearrange things, but I couldn't be happier. My old small, cramped, spare bedroom studios have been usurped by majestic forests, vast lakes, and wide open skies.  I've spent countless hours these past few days painting and painting and painting. Reacquainting myself with materials, getting used to working in heat, faster dry times, flies, pine needles, and various other things hurling themselves against wet panels. Pure bliss. The smell of fresh paint and turpentine feels like home. It's still a constant battle to quiet the inner critic whispering in my ear. So, I've decided I'll start sharing photos of my work more frequently: the good, the bad, the ugly, because, why not? Isn't that the best way to stand up to a bully? Even if said bully is an imaginary voice in your head that has been with you your whole life? I think it's at least a good place to start.
It has been warm and smoky, but that hasn't stopped us from exploring all the beauty NW Montana has to offer.
Added a new feather to my hat.