Growing up, the beach was a place my mother took my siblings and I. My mom would wake all three of us up early in the morning, pile us in the car and head to the beach. As a child, these summer days felt magical. We would always be the first to arrive which gave us the opportunity to find the perfect spot to lay down our territory for the day. We loved having the ocean to ourselves for an hour or two. My mom always made the best sandwiches, which were promptly eaten no later then 10am for some reason.
I observed, from my mother, that the ocean was a place where time stood still. I would watch my mom walk to the oceans edge and let the water run across and over her feet. The color blue will always remind me of the warmth on my skin and my siblings laughter as we would catch waves with our boogie boards. The color blue will always remind me of long walks with my mom while looking for seaglass and other treasures. And the color blue will always remind me of the drive home from the beach. I’m not sure why, but I always felt like my spirit was full of something really good as we left the ocean.
Now, when I paint with the color blue, it brings several memories and moments to life. I think about the color of my sons eyes, which makes me think of the sound of his laughter. I think about the California sky and how when the ocean and sky meet it looks like it never ends. I remember riding my bike down the old dirt road in Vermont, following my brother who had a dark blue helmet. My grandmothers car with the light blue exterior and an interior that always smelt like spearmint, lipstick and White Linen by Este Lauder.
Remembering colors, memories, and feelings and putting them into a painting is a way to make sense of things. Textures and patterns evolve from color, at least in my process.
Over and out.