Jenna Leigh Design Co.

I think the Lord has been gently teaching me to slow down this past week.

I’ve found myself running like a madwoman from one obligation to the next, leaving just enough time to take care of my responsibilities, attend appointments, run errands, eat, sleep, and keep up with my smidge of a social life. I like to keep myself organized, but it’s the end of the semester, and I can feel myself slipping steadily into chaos mode.

Which leads me to yesterday, my fifth plein air outing:

Flashback to me, the night before, bringing my bag with all my oil painting supplies upstairs so I wouldn’t forget to bring it with me when I left the next morning.

(Can you tell what’s coming?)

I woke up, got ready, and left the house in blissful ignorance of my negligent mistake, rushing off, as usual, with just enough time to spare. After attending class that morning, I left campus, changed, ate lunch, and headed to the location that my friends and I had decided on for this week’s session.

I opened my trunk.

I froze. No bag.

No paint! No brushes! No mineral spirits or paper towels!

Only an easel, a square canvas (which I hadn’t planned on using), and a random pad of palette paper.

What was I to do?! Driving home and back to get the supplies would take an hour, and the clock was already ticking on my painting session.

Of course, I vented my frustrations to my friends, and they graciously shared their supplies with me for the day.

By God’s grace, I successfully completed another plein air, despite my utter exasperation with myself and my endless rushing about.

Here’s how it went:

Painting Process

We chose to paint at Poplar Forest, a beautiful historic landmark in Forest, Virginia: Thomas Jefferson’s retreat plantation. It was a clear, sunny day, and we found refuge under the shade of a line of trees which followed the path up to the house. The surrounding landscape offered a plethora of scenes to paint, and each of us chose something different. I wanted to paint a pastoral landscape, capturing the softness of the fields and trees from a distance.

Once again, the dappled light on my canvas presented a challenge, and as the sun moved further westward, the blinding brightness of the sun made mixing accurate colors quite difficult. I tend to oversaturate my greens, especially when painting in sunny afternoon light.

I followed my usual process, beginning with a burnt sienna underpainting, then blocking in major masses of color. Since this week’s focus was on color temperature and atmospheric perspective, I found it helpful to be painting a scene with such clear division between foreground, middle ground, and background. Here’s a basic map of how I divided my color temperatures:

The distance between the immediate foreground and distant field was significant, so I kept the foreground very bright and warm and made the far grass lighter and cooler, which added some atmospheric perspective.

Here’s the piece when I finished working on location (again, the sun makes the warm greens VERY vibrant):

And here it is after I painted in a few finer branches and tree trunks at home:

Reflection

The Lord could have reminded me about that bag in the morning.

He also could have reminded me later, when I was on my way to Poplar Forest and drove very close by my neighborhood.

But He didn’t. He allowed me to discover my mistake when I arrived and to rely on the generosity and kindness of my friends.

I’ve grown quite accustomed to my plein air painting setup, and after painting for four sessions, I’ve become more and more comfortable with my process and technique. I use the same color palette every time, usually the same four brushes, and LOTS of paper towels. I know my preferences: glass palette, mineral spirits, a combination of synthetic and bristle brushes.

But when borrowing oil painting supplies from friends, you must be grateful for what you’re given. My sweet friend lent me plenty of paint, brushes of my choice, paper towels, and some oil medium (which I realized I had never used before).

Though I felt less than prepared, frazzled, and frustrated with myself, and though I was unacquainted with some of my borrowed supplies, thrown out of my usual, comfortable rhythm, I was grateful to have produced a little pastoral study I was relatively satisfied with.

And I was reminded:

Circumstances aren’t always perfect. In fact, they rarely EVER are.

But we can’t wait for perfect circumstances to create beautiful works of art.

If we did, we would never create them!

The grass is always greener on the other side. I could always have brought something else, or tried a different technique, or tried harder, at least. I could have used different brushes, different paint; a better palette, a nicer canvas.

The weather could have been cooler. The trees could have provided more shade.

I could have remembered to bring that singular bag of supplies sitting in my living room!

But I didn’t, and it’s not, and it never will be perfect.

Yesterday, I told myself to relax. I told myself to make do with what I’d been given.

And guess what?

I was fine.

So from now on, I’ll try not to stress too much about the perfect scenario. (Though I will be double checking that I’ve grabbed everything I need before heading out the door.)

The grass isn’t greener on the other side. It’s green right here, right where I’m standing, in a verdant sea of imperfection.

I have wonderful friends. And I have a loving Father, who gives me what I need, when I need it, often in a different way than I expect.

But somehow His way always ends up being better.