at the water's edge

The place I live does affect my work. I could argue that I live a lot in my head and that most of my work comes from that place; however, while that is true, the physical place I live in must affect the imaginative one to quite a degree. In Missoula, there are three things going on. One is that my eyes have a great expanse of sky to retreat in. By retreat, I mean that my eyes spend an inordinate amount of time checking details. I'm an editor, I write, I read, and I draw. So the expanse I'm afforded here is a way for my eyes to retreat into space and away from the minutiae. This makes them rested and able for any work I do with text and any work I do with art.

The second aspect is that the colors are subdued and pale, somewhat dry and dusty. I can work with these colors or no color at all. I love all colors. Color is life. But color can be so distracting to me and should be viewed in short durations. Just like being in places that I love, love, love for short periods of time, if I view color that way, it won't overwhelm me. But if I use color in my art, I always make it muddy.

(I went to Butchart Gardens in Victoria, British Columbia once at the end of the summer. The vibrant colors of the multitude of flowers screamed at me. Really screamed!! By the end of a several hour walk through the gardens, I was dizzy and could barely keep my eyes open. But it is the most beautiful gardens I've ever seen.)

And the final aspect (I'm sure there are more but I'm trying to keep it somewhat simple for myself.) is that once my eyes bounce back from their scan of the skies, of the mountains in the distance, they focus once again on that which is near. Besides what resides in my head, there is so much little stuff here that I like to examine - lichen, bugs, mushrooms, bark, stones, water.

Well, now. I've forgotten about aerial views. I guess they're not really of Missoula, so I can't say that they are an aspect of Missoula that influences my art. Or are they? I fly in and out of Missoula several times a year, over the Rockies. I always get a window seat. I look at the mountains, ridges, roads, and rivers. They become a small detail to examine, albeit from quite a far.

So this physical place in, around, and above me has yes, greatly influenced my art to this point. The question is how it might continue to do so without becoming stale or if place will matter less once the place has really sunk in.