Where I Belong

Pieces of my Mind #4

A rudderless ship is one that can sputter along under its own power but lacks the capability to choose its direction. It stays afloat, but has lost its purpose—or rather, lost its ability to fulfill its purpose.

Hi, I’m Victor, and I’m that ship.

Thankfully, I’ve regained control before I ripped open my hull on the serrated rocks just beneath the choppy surface. But it was no small doings and required a healthy dose of introspection and bravery to Save Our (my) Soul. Let me back paddle a bit. (That’s all the boat stuff I know, so you needn’t worry about me continuing with this).

I don’t belong indoors. It’s just a fact. People can get mad at it. They can raise hell about it. They can even try to stop me. But I’ll find a way to be outdoors as sure as I take my next breath.

I’ve hiked thousands upon thousands of miles, camped beneath the stars, waded rivers, seen the sun rise and set more than most people will see in a lifetime, and have watched meteors laser beam across the black void. I’ve built fires from scratch thirty miles from civilization to cook a steak, only to realize that I had no eating utensils beyond on my bare hands. 

It. Was. Awesome.

I was extremely fortunate to find a career outdoors with nature photography. This gave me a legitimate reason, which society demands, to spend all day and night outdoors. And I did. I had a great time and more success than I ever imagined would be possible. My love for the subject was so great, so evident in my work, that people were helpless against its gravitational pull.

But all good things must come to an end, and so it did with my photography career. My family needed me, and so I chose what was more important.

Since then, I’ve been utterly rudderless. No direction. I’ve had plenty of success—from blacksmithing to concept art—but little happiness or fulfillment. On the surface, life was grand. But I felt like I’d been tagged with a poisoned dart. With each passing year, my life force dwindled as the toxin worked its way deeper into my soul. 

Dramatic? Maybe. But for all the good in my life, I was missing a major piece that made me me—I wasn’t out there, where I belong.

Sneak peek at my most recently finished oil painting. I really enjoy twilight and night scenes which became my signature subject during my photography career. I’m sure it’ll become a staple in my paintings, as well.

In POMM #3, I mentioned that I needed to shakeup my painting style in order to speed up my process. Going in a whole new direction from what I’ve known all my life is one the scariest things I’ve done. Painting alla prima, or all at once, is about as far from my safe, slow and easy canvases of many layers than I can get.

But I did it.

The transition took only 2-3 5x7 panels for me to feel comfortable, but with a considerable amount of relearning, I’m now able to finish a painting in a day, depending on the surface size. This is huge for me because my output can finally catch up with my input—I’ve always had more ideas than time to paint them. Now I have the looser, more expressive style I’ve always wanted.

However, illustrative painting inside a studio wasn’t getting me where I belonged anymore than hammering glowing metal into wall hooks.

Learning a new painting style not only increased the amount of fully realized artwork that I can share with the world, but it it also cracked open an unexpected door of opportunity—one that takes me back outdoors where I belong.

Plein air is a French expression for painting outdoors, and it’s a natural evolution for my new alla prima painting style. My time will be split between creating art based on the thousands of photos I’ve taken as a professional nature photographer and working outdoors on location.

My plein air box. Strapped to a tripod (See? This all was meant to be!), this tiny box provides all I need to capture nature on location.

The new direction of my work has returned my life’s purpose—to stir the curiosity and imagination while encouraging exploration and appreciation for nature. 

For those who are familiar with my photography years, this is just a return to form with a new medium.

A study of bears. I also create nature inspired artwork in graphite and ink, from small vignettes to fully realized scenes.

Every brushstroke, every word, every mark on paper carries the weight of a lifetime of experiences outdoors. I believe my intimate knowledge with my subject shines through in my work and I’m fired up to share it with you.

This is me in my natural state of being. This is where I belong.

-Victor

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