When I begin a painting, I start by blocking out the large shapes using thin oil paint. This helps me quickly establish the structure and movement of the composition. On a canvas this size, 3 by 4 feet, nearly as tall as I am, it becomes a full-body experience. I don’t just paint it, it feels like I step into it. I move my arm in wide arcs, stretched across the surface, and feel as though I’m entering the landscape with every mark.
This particular scene Davis Creek at sunset, was so visually powerful I knew immediately I had to work large. The still, reflective water below and the open bay beyond shimmered with light in a way that felt magical. The calmness of the water, the sensation of light changing by the second, and the depth of the view reached a part of my mind that words can’t quite access. Added to that was the timeless sensation of what I was looking at, it could have been 100 years ago and the view would have been unchanged in its essence.
The moment reminded me of my favorite Japanese prints. I’ve studied them for years, their use of space and subtle atmosphere, and the way they distill nature into abstract shapes and lines. Standing there in the golden stillness of Davis Creek, I felt like I had stepped into one of those prints.
This painting is still unfinished, but I wanted to share the process. Working large helps me to feel immersed as I hope the viewer will be. Of course seeing it on a screen isn’t the same as standing right in front of it. Taking in a painting in real life hits you in some other part of your mind.
Let me know if you want to see it,
Casey
