A pattern has appeared. When I have finally loaded the car with my supplies and I approach the end of the driveway that connects to the street, I must decide whether to turn left or right. I consider this decision in bed before rising; trying to ‘map out’ my destination for the morning.
If I turn left, in twenty minutes the ancient baked clay of the city surrounds me. Pastel colours in unlimited tones from building walls form juxtaposed planes under the solid blue sky. Patches of green; half hidden and half flourishing, sparkle in the earth tones. Sharp hills define spaces which lead the eye through meandering ground planes.
If I turn right, in the same time, I find myself immersed in rolling green hills with thundering pines and pastures of poppies. Spots of light: warm tones that define the structures of the suburbs speckle the different green tones. My eye can roam along the far horizon defined by a lavender mountain many miles away.
So this is my choice: whether to paint ‘inside’ the city, with all of the chaos and distraction, or to set up my easel by climbing a fence and clearing my way through high weeds in a country pasture of some unknown landowner.
It’s not an easy decision to make. I like the results of both.
