artist - amy j greving
Remember it is me and I'm allowed a few spelling, punctuation and sentence structure errors now and then.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Went out for a sunset and got something so much more...
Last Saturday evening I poured a glass of wine, bundled up, and when outside to watch the sunset. I wanted to sit there for at least an hour this time. The temperature was fairly mild so I thought I would take advantage of the evening. The sky had been clear all day so I was looking forward to a pure clear calm sunset photo. I was hoping to sit for an extra half hour after the sun was completely down because that is when the most vibrant colors come. The oranges and the reds are so spectacular.
As the sun was slowly setting I had noticed the reflection of the sun on the waves near the shore. I checked the sun and said to myself, "I have plenty of time to go and take those shots before the sun sets.!" Here are a few examples. When finished I then went back to my spot to wait for the perfect moment. I sat down, looked up, and was bummed! Clouds had suddenly appeared at the horizon. Some clouds usually make for a more stunning photo, but these clouds hung low making it impossible for me to get that clean pure photo of the sun setting into the horizon. Bummer!
Sitting there and still waiting for the sun to set despite the clouds, I realized I wasn't meant to get a photo of the sunset that evening, I was supposed to get the reflections of these waves calmly turning up on the shore.
How often to we set out to do something only to find out it turned out differently. Am I bummed I didn't get that sunset photo? No way...I'm so glad I took the time to notice these waves! Do you see the reflection in the sand from the wave in the third photo down?
My art often begins with a single photograph, a reflection of my eye—an eye that is deeply attracted to the texture, pattern, and shape found in nature. Whether it is the intricate pattern on the bark of a tree, the gentle curve of a woman’s breast, or the smooth, shiny shapes of pebbles along the shores of Lake Superior, I seek to display the wonder of creation in its purest form.
From a single photograph, a single vision or impression, my art charts its own course. From photograph to canvas to sculpture, my hands become dirty, my fingernails caked with the mediums of art, and my heart becomes filled with joy as each piece blossoms, quite organically, into what it was meant to be.
I hope to help those who view my art to feel connected to nature. Perhaps it is not always obvious. But, quite possibly, the viewer will see in a new way and will feel a new appreciation for the organic elements around us.