There are times I envy the painter and the poet. What beauty they express through strokes of hushed color or lines of soft cadence, brilliantly arranged.
Vermont's Dale Blodget set up an easel in the sand at Oregon's Arch Cape one day in October, opening her box of enchanting colors and selecting her magic wand. I set a chair nearby and opened a notebook, intending to write, but soon became enthralled with the painting process. I expected clear, crisp lines to color in later, as with coloring books. Instead an undercoat of color in vague shapes splotched onto the canvas. Slowly, like building tension within a scene, small amounts of detail appeared. Colors began to take shape and make sense. Trees emerged. Rocks formed. White foam rode colorful water. Several hours passed and my page remained empty as I watched the canvas become full, pulsing, vibrant.
A woman stopped by, "G'day. Is that available for purchase?"
Dale, engrossed in the creation, looked up. "Yes."
The woman stepped back and watched for a few minutes. "How much?" she finally asked.
Dale glanced back at the woman. "I don't know yet."
Very few artists are known for their marketing. They are known for the silent poetry they commit to canvas. She could have sold that painting, right there on the beach, but it wasn't complete. How can one price it until it is complete?
But she did sell it on that cloudy, chilly day, with the wind whipping softly and cold sand crunching under bare feet as we packed our possessions and padded back to our car.
I own it. This photo of the painting does not do it justice. Looking at the original you feel the mist, smell the salt, hear the harsh cry of the pelicans and pray the tiny opening in the clouds widens until the rays of sunshine warm the sand.Artwork copyrighted and used by permission from the artist. Dale's paintings can be viewed at various galleries or by visiting her blog daleblodgetpaintings.blogspot.com