The Art of Travel: Drawing Inspiration from the Land

I love to travel to wilderness locations such as the ones I described in my previous blog post, where one can be overwhelmed by the size of the landscape and feel for a time, completely alone, lost in the vastness. It's partly to do with the silence in such landscapes, where you can almost hear your heartbeat.

Northern Sweden

I consider the idea of visiting remote places an aid to helping artists develop a more mindful response to the land, and as well, to find a visual vocabulary to express that connection. Mindfulness is the key. Not only being mindful of your own body, feelings and thoughts, but becoming mindfully aware of nature. And then, finding ways to creatively express that connection. I find it so easy when I go for a walk to forget about where I am and think about my problems, or worries or get lost in daydreams.

Iona, Scotland

Iceland

There are many ways of developing a sense of place. One way to connect that I've discussed in previous blog posts, is to spend time in one location, a practice called Sit Spots. The idea is to choose a spot in nature that you respond to in some way and to sit in this same spot daily or on a regular basis. We only have 4 or 5 days in a workshop for this exercise. But it's a beginning. For the sit spot exercise in my workshops, I suggest sitting outdoors in the same spot each day for 20 minutes, just observing, and then, perhaps painting or sketching in a journal for another 15 or 20 minutes, abstractly recording feelings and experiences.

Iceland

Another way of relating to place is through the Japanese concept of Shinrin-Yoku, a term coined by the Japanese government in 1982, which translates as 'Forest Bathing". It involves quietly walking and exploring, with all senses open to every sound, colour and feel of the forest. In this practice, mindfulness meets nature and the goal is to 'bathe' yourself fully in the essence of the forest. You wander very slowly, breathing deeply and mindfully and stopping to fully experience what deeply interests you, the texture of the bark on the trees, a mushroom or wildflower.

Rockwood, Ontario

Today, the research database PubMed lists 85 studies on the health impact of forest bathing, including studies indicating that it significantly lowers blood pressure, heart rate, cortisol levels and sympathetic nerve activity compared with city walks, while also alleviating stress and depression.1 The most provocative of these studies conclude that exposure to phytoncides, the airborne, aromatic chemicals/oils emitted by many trees, have a long-lasting impact on people’s immune system markers, boosting natural killer cells and anticancer proteins by 40 percent.

Working with this idea, I'm in the process of booking a wilderness lodge that is deep in a forest for a workshop in 2020 that includes a forest bathing program, led by a naturalist. So exciting.

But besides the idea of nature healing us, I wonder; what if we were all more mindful of this earth? What if we gave back?

"To be struck by the magnificence of nature is to be returned again and again, in all-too-brief moments, to the innocence in which we were born. Awe. Wonder. Humility. We draw them into us and are altered forever by the unquestionable presence of Creator. All things ringing true together. If we carry that deep sense of communion back into our workaday lives, everyone we meet benefits. That is what we are here for: to remind each other of where the truth lies and the power of simple ceremony." Richard Wagamese, from the book, Embers

Meet the Owners of a Scottish Castle

Anne Tristine Nguyen, Ali Orr Ewing, their children, Ava, Atticus and their dog, Harriet Beecher Stowe. Dunskey Estate, Portpatrick, Scotland Anne Tristine Nguyen and her husband, Alistair Orr Ewing are the owners of Dunskey Estate near Portpatrick, Scotland where I will teach a painting workshop in September. Dunskey is a splendid Edwardian castle on 2000 acres of ocean-front land with miles of walking trails. As well as daily workshop sessions in the studio on the top floor of the castle, our small group of artists will enjoy breathtaking hikes, superb accommodation and fabulous meals. Not having met owners of a castle before, I asked Anne if I could interview her to hear a little of their background story and that of the castle. Can you tell me a little of your personal story and that of your husband, Alistair Orr Ewing? Anne emigrated to America when she was ten years old, but it was at an art gallery in Saigon, her birthplace, where she met Al

The Importance of Silence in Art

Gathering Light 60x60" Oil on canvas © 2014 Janice Mason Steeves Michael David Rosenberg, the musician known as Passenger, sings, "See all I need is a whisper in a world that only shouts." In the workshops I teach, I find that one of the most common problems with paintings is that they shout. Most have too much going on: too many small shapes, too much texture, extremes of colour, too many lines, too much, too much. One thing I say most often as I walk around the classroom working with students individually, is 'make bigger shapes'. But not only bigger shapes. Quiet shapes. Where can your eye go and rest in the painting? That isn't a consideration in much of contemporary painting or much of contemporary life. Ours is a noisy world both visually and auditorily. Ours is a world that shouts. People are afraid of silence. I wrote a blog post 3 years ago about planning a retreat in my own home, where I shut off the computer and the phon

Liminal Time

The word liminal comes from the Latin, limen meaning threshold. an in-between place, a place of transition, a time of waiting and not knowing. Dawn and dusk are considered liminal places. Crepuscular animals, like foxes and coyotes are most active at this time of day, a time that is considered a magical time in Celtic spirituality and to Indigenous people which is perhaps the origin of their designation as tricksters. As I write this, the northern hemisphere has just passed the vernal equinox, where day and night are of equal length.We are in a liminal space between winter and spring right now, unsure if we will have one more storm or snowfall before spring finally settles in. We're also in a liminal place as we live through this pandemic with the anxiety and discomfort of not knowing. A time of great transition for the entire world, wondering what we've learned from this and what lessons we'll carry forward. Author and Franciscan friar Richard Rohr describes limi

Janice Mason Steeves

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