"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times".

The famous opening line from Dickens sums up the past 12 months of my life rather succinctly, as I'm sure it does for many. The isolation and fear of Covid; the despair and anger over the news cycle; the unknown effects a pandemic would have on my career; all balanced by a year at home with my family and pets and the opportunity to reach more artistic souls from all corners of the globe through the wonder of Zoom. 

I received my first dose of vaccine this week, bringing a sense of closure to a year where we found new ways to connect, and reconnect, with each other. I thought it might be a good time to finally start a blog, for several reasons. Mostly because, while I'm looking forward to seeing old friends and meeting new ones again, I also feel a sense of sadness that this time I had to slow down and appreciate my world is about to end in a flurry of workshops, hotels and airports.  I chose to title my blog 'As the Crow Flies', because this is one my personal favorite paintings, purchased by a friend and fellow painter who had to overcome severe medical issues in order to continue his artistic life, and his story of perseverance seems more relevant these days as more and more of us struggle with physical and emotional strains.  At the time I painted this, I remember feeling completely overwhelmed with travels and obligations, longing for a chance to simply enjoy the quiet beauty of winter for a couple months.  My schedule left little time to wander; just get to the next place as quickly as possible.  Now that I've had that opportunity I'm going to miss it. 

There's been a shift in my paintings this year. I struggled to find the energy to paint at all at times, and when I did get inspired it often had more to do with what was going on in my head versus what was happening out in the landscape. While I've always attempted to paint subjects with perhaps a less obvious beauty, being locked down in Vermillion, Minnesota forced me to look deeper for potential subjects in a flat landscape. (I had lunch with a friend last week and after showing him some recent work he commented "this isn't meant to be a back-handed compliment, but if you can paint that you can paint anything"). With all the chaos going on in the world and particularly here in Minnesota, ground zero for the racial tensions last summer, I came to appreciate the relative isolation provided by living in 'farm country'. I took long walks to clear my head.  I went for drives and discovered roads I'd never been on before. I began to notice subtle changes in the fields and trees as I saw them on a daily basis for the first time in my 23 years of living here, and I found myself getting excited by the prospect of recording it all.  I also enjoyed the relative uniqueness of what I was painting.  This was my world, and while there are obviously many artists painting the farmlands of the midwest, no one else was painting this particular plot of land. I feel like I found my voice at long last. And so, as many others are pining for the day when travel becomes the norm again, I'm already regretting the moments I'll miss. Time to fly.