Talking Paintings

When I was 8 or 9 years old and growing up in the country near Ottawa, ON, occasionally on Saturdays a kind neighbour would drive a group of us downtown to visit the national museums. I clearly remember the day that we visited the National Art Gallery, situated on Elgin Street back then. While we were there, our tour guide sat us down before a large painting (it turned out to be Lake Superior-Georgian Bay by F. M. Varley) and asked us what we liked most about the painting. I came up with some inane comment, like ‘the trees’. To my surprise, the guide’s own suggestion was ‘the wind’. I went home thinking that he was just making something up. You can’t see wind, I said to myself, right? Right!


Some years later, I came up with another answer. Some pictures remind me of somewhere I have been. Seeing the Mona Lisa prompted me to wonder what was on her mind. I gradually came to understand that a person could experience strong feelings from observing art; that when an artist develops a narrative in their work, in a way that motivates a viewer, it can create strong observer impressions. When we pass through a gallery, giving each painting a few seconds of our attention, it’s the ones that strike a personal connection that draw us to look further. They are the ones we will remember.


When I am painting, I become totally absorbed in the process. I loose track of time and when I sense that I can go no further, I put down my brush and I become aware of my surroundings. If I feel that my painting is in some ways capturing my original perceptions, then I know I have some measure of success and I feel exuberant and exhausted.


Hopefully some of my paintings at my booth in the Ten-Collective Exhibition will exhibit the energy that comes to me from plein air painting.




Charlie
April 2025


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