On Monday, I drove to Reading, PA in a snow storm. Only one lane of the highway was visible in the blowing snow and our line of cars advanced slowly and cautiously. Impatient drivers occasionally roared by in the snow covered left lane. We passed quite a few of those off in the ditch farther down.
What was worth risking my life?
I was supposed to judge an art show at the Goggleworks, but that wasn’t the only reason I was keen to brave the weather. I wanted to take photos of “small town America” in the snow. I particularly wanted photos of interesting old buildings that I could use in future watercolor paintings.
After arriving safely, I walked up and down the blocks, taking photos. Even with my best cold weather clothing, I could only stay out a few minutes before frostbite started nibbling on my fingers and cheeks. I would run into the Goggleworks to thaw out, then go back out for more.
The wind was bitter and I felt like I was being shot with a pellet gun. I worried about ruining my camera and tried to stay in the shelter of the buildings, or at least keep my back to the wind.
I’m thrilled with the photos I got. People were out and about, cleaning off their cars and shoveling their steps. Lots were going to work—jobs that don’t take snow for an answer.
Anyone can take photos on a nice day, and most watercolor artists do, judging from the number of “nice” watercolor paintings everywhere. But if you want more life in your watercolor paintings, take photos when life is really happening—wind, rain, sleet or snow.
The worst of times can make the strongest statements
I’m not advising watercolor artists to risk their lives, but this is my dream. I want to capture small town America in compelling watercolor paintings that show the beauty and humanity of life here and now. And I’m going to make it happen, even if it means going the distance. A dream can be a powerful thing.
