I am greatly blessed with the gift of a visual mind. When I read, the scenes described in a book loom large before my eyes in living color. Although I dearly love words, it’s actually the pictures which words evoke that thrill me—or terrify me, whatever the subject of the text may be. Plot and character development are “biggies” in successful fiction, but for me it is a sense of place and the scenery which rise up larger than life. I’m perfectly happy with a virtually plot-less novel and one with few characters, if the book abounds in adjectives and adverbs which delineate a scene so vividly that I think I am really there—en plein air!
Visually oriented people are tremendously contented with being “armchair travelers”. I can take extensive voyages, pilgrimages, and treks anywhere in the world—all from the comfort of my sofa or my “read in bed” 1/2 armchair which serves as a sit-up pillow. (What an economical way to go!!! 🙂 )
One of my favorite American recent writers is Louis L’Amour. Yes, Louis was tremendously skillful at plotting, and his characters are amazingly individualistic—never the fare of “canned” formula fiction. But most of all, I love this author for his painterly writing. And he is my first assignment in my self-programmed Autumn Painting Agenda of painting en plein air via literature. With words before me, I can pick up my brush and render my take on the scene described.
The above watercolor on Arches (pronounced “ARSH”—it’s French) 140 lb. cold press paper was inspired by the following description in Louis L’Amour’s SACKETT BRAND: “The sun was just below the horizon and the red rock cliffs were weirdly lit. Out of the west a tiny puff of dust lifted, grew, and became a fast running horse.”
I’m very excited about painting passages of literature. Additional Louis L’Amour scenes may be forthcoming, plus quotes from painterly poems—including my own poems. From long before I found the courage to pick up a paint brush—in fact for most of my life since early childhood—I have happily painted with words.
Margaret L. Been, 2013
The Messy Palette . . . 