You’d think I’d get tired of painting row crops and foothills, but there's something about it—the geometry, the rhythms, the grit. There's a certain pride in capturing the toil and care that go into these fields, something that speaks to a deeper relationship between people and this earth. It’s a far cry from the tech-driven, fast-paced stuff people get wrapped up in. Farming is old-school. It’s about sweat and soil, not screens and clicks.
A Bit of Color, A Lot of Heart
If you look close, you'll notice the textures, the layers, the bursts of color. Every swipe of the knife has a purpose, yet it’s loose, like the fields themselves just moving with the breeze. The colors aren’t the literal greens and browns you’d expect either. There’s blue, hints of rust, and even a splash of teal here and there. It might not make sense at first, but it’s what the fields feel like to me on a certain day. It’s the land’s energy captured in colors, not just the look of it.
More Than Just a Landscape
"Facing West" is more than a bunch of lines and colors slapped on canvas. It’s my nod to the people who work this land. Farmers have a kind of resilience that’s just... well, it's rare these days. There's a stubborn determination to it, a patience. I try to pour a bit of that into each stroke—honoring the time, the effort, and the love that goes into feeding all of us. It’s kind of like my little “thank you” to those who keep this rhythm going.
Why It Matters
For me, this painting is a reminder of something real, something enduring. It’s about that relationship—the one between people and the earth. There’s a beauty in that connection that goes beyond what you see on the surface. It’s timeless, like the fields themselves, just standing there, season after season, doing their thing. And in a world that’s always in a hurry, I think there’s something comforting in that.
