After re-watching the Perspectives series on Impressionists, especially since they recently combined all of them into one, long, 3+ hour video, I realized what it was that I admired the most about that movement.
Sure, the art is lovely, but I find that to be the case with pretty much all art - every movement or region or other category has something wonderful about it. For the most part. There are certainly some that I struggle with (mainly some of the contemporary ones, because it seems like the actual art is in the statement that they believe art is pointless and not meant to say anything at all, which is a statement in and of itself. Wow, so smart, but I digress…).
I think the thing that I find most inspiring about impressionism is that all creature comforts be damned, we will get out of the studio and paint life! Anybody who enjoys plein aire has the impressionists to thank, because they're the ones who truly made it a thing. However, they did not concern themselves necessarily with the enjoyment, because they pushed the limits. Dangerous locales and situations, extreme temperatures, wild weather - it was not always a walk in the park on a breezy, sunny day.
I will say, however, that while I can understand the obsession with oil paints (even though I dont work with them), I dont understand why it took the invention of paint tubes to lead to plein aire? Watercolors are incredibly portable and had existed for years. Not that hard to make a palette. I am sure they could have bound some watercolor paper as well? You don't have to always work in oils. The stories of Monet carting canvasses in a wheelbarrow or digging pits to make it easier to paint the top crack me up - he really was a bit intense, and thats coming from me (who has been described as intense on more than one occasion).
So keeping all of that in mind, I put on my new loggers (I am breaking them in before a planned hike next week), grabbed my daily paintbook, and the rest of my supplies, and headed out into the woodsy part of our yard - of course in the middle of a heat wave. I was dripping with sweat in a few spots, and I don't normally do that, so it is hot. I headed to the boggy part of the woods, where despite the drought, I knew to expect some cardinal flowers in bloom.
Yes, this area is quite overgrown and would require some work to create a path.
What is unsettling about dripping with sweat while painting in a boggy area is the constant battle being waged in my mind as to whether or not I should assume it is sweat, and not a bug crawling on me. I got as close as I could to the flowers, balancing on a fallen log which was now partially blocked by another fallen branch, squatted down to sit on my heels, and got to painting.
When it isn’t my kids that are rushing me, it's the sense of feeling slowly escaping my feet. Maybe that's the other reason behind the messy, dreamlike character of impressionist work - getting something down before one can no longer tolerate the conditions. One does learn how to get the essentials down.
Here is the photo for evidence, of me squatting on a log in a bog trying to paint. I wore the smock I made maybe a year or two ago, because it is hot, and this thing has pockets. I think I will make a prairie skirt or patchwork out of the remaining fabric. It definitely will have pockets for art supplies.
Last but not least, this is having me think honestly about ideas on how to carry my supplies with me. I need to come up with some additional solutions, and maybe a stool. I am also starting to think along the lines of Monet, and need to start planning out my own, paintable garden. Just maybe not in the middle of a heat wave…
P.S. I did spot a tiny treat as a reward on my way back - there were a few perfectly ripe ones on there, hiding behind the leaves.