On a frosty morning in Ptuj, I woke up at 5 a.m. to go outside and paint. The subject that caught my interest was a cut wheat field I had seen the day before. So, with the chill in my bones, I pulled on my boots, packed my backpack, and headed out into the ruthless world to battle with colored mud and hairy sticks.
The second I stepped on that field, I sensed a strange energy in the air. I looked up and saw a huge black cloud right above me. It was so dark and ominous, it felt like Zeus personally was coming down for some kind of vengeance. That cloud felt very oppressive. I tried to transmit some of that feeling into the painting.
The whole time I was painting this, I thought about how small I am. How little meaning my life will probably hold in the course of history, and how tiny a speck I am in the universe. Really, just an iota.
While I was having these existential thoughts, I flipped on autopilot and kept on painting. I have to say, I’m very satisfied with the results; it came out exactly as moody as I wanted it to be. I also entertained thoughts of Van Gogh. I was wondering if this is how he felt while he did some of his more dramatic works. I really felt quite close to him in that moment. That happens sometimes: I feel close to artists throughout history, based on what I’m working on, the subject, technique, or whatever else. It’s really like the connection you feel with an author when you’re reading some of their more vulnerable works.
To summarize, that frosty morning in Ptuj reminded me of my own insignificance. I’m very glad it did, because it left one hell of an impression on me.
You can find the painting in the store here.
