I have learned that working with more than one medium can capture emotions and experiences through my painting in a more comprehensive way.

I mainly work in watercolor, but sometimes oil - I love the contrast that exists between the two.

Watercolor allows me to be reflective and fully engaged in a process of slow, but intentional movements of water and color. I love the inherent calm in guiding the tinted water across textured paper and canvases. There is something ceremonial about the preparation and execution of water based painting. A preciousness exists in how I hold the brush, merge colors, and generate soft, layered washes. 

There are times, however, when I am impatient, and can not hold my emotions within myself in a soft way.

When the desire arises to be more expressive - by using larger, passionate strokes and gestures that call on my whole body to strike, jab and push color and texture into paper or canvas, oil sticks are what I reach for. I have not found a way to hold an oil stick delicately - and I like that. You pretty much have to grab it like a child would a crayon whose coordination has not matured. You have to surrender to a 'primal' way of communicating. With this medium, it is hard to be precious. 

While my "M.O."  is watercolor, introducing another medium invites another type of expression. This dichotomy allows me to express a distinct creative voice while  highlighting the inherent characteristics of each medium.

Last year, I began a minimally expressive watercolor by mixing of soft colors and allowing them to soak into the canvas. While this was an interesting process that produced a few notable moments, I was never certain of the composition.  Not because it was minimal, but because the subject and composition never seemed to "gel". 

So I let the painting rest. And time, as it does, went on.

After letting the painting rest for a month or two, I had an idea to create a color field painting and began to saturate the canvas with blues, purples and greens. Having the colors merge together to form a 'ground' was satisfying. While I did feel like I was getting closer to a more cohesive composition, and therefore conclusion, I knew this wasn't the final iteration. Without having an idea of my next move, I allowed the work to rest.

As with much of my work, the idea of a landscape came to mind a few weeks ago. Not a still, quiet or dormant landscape, but a landscape that was alive - blooming, sprouting due to a divine call over it. The inexhaustible study of God's word and the conceptual idea of a landscape merged in a lovely way for the conclusion of this iterative painting: 

"Though its roots have grown old in the earth and its stump decays, at the scent of water it will bud and sprout again like a new seedling." -Job 14:9

I found the command in the scripture stating, "at the scent of water" stunning.  It read as a delicate, yet powerful image to communicate and stuck with me during the final  iteration of gestural work with oil sticks. The speed at which the two mediums interact is evident - the patient and careful layers of watercolor are balanced with the  quick, passionate gestures and jabs of the oil stick. The final painting, literally layered with time and mediums, reference a predictable cycle of renewal - forever within landscapes and within ourselves. 

After many iterations and processes, "At the Scent of Water" is complete. 

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