The time for traveling is upon us. The average American family saves their money all year for a one or two week vacation at a favorite destination - one which happens to be my island. We see travelers from all over the world, marveling at our beautiful beaches, eating our fresh catch of the day, hang gliding from the largest sand dune on the east coast, and wandering the maritime forests and marshland. Personally, I don't enjoy traveling more than a day or two. I get homesick; wondering what changes are happening to the dunes and wetlands while I'm away.
Andrew Wyeth said, "I feel limited if I travel. I feel freer in surroundings that I don't have to be conscious of. I'll say that I love this object or I love that hill. But that hill sets me free. I could wander over the countless hills. But this one hill becomes thousands of hills to me. In finding this one object, I find a world."
I feel the same way. I have miles of beach, parks, forests and refuges that cradle every imaginable bird, amphibian, mammal, reptile, insect and plant I could ever desire to sketch. We have the most glorious skies offering a new show every day. And I have a front row seat for free.
The thing is, that hill, or tree or dune morphs into a new object depending on the time of day, weather and season. I have more to explore and paint than is possible in one lifetime. Other artists may paint my marshes but they have no idea about the changes in water level making the "wet" change color. They don't notice the new tree sprouting up in the very place that old snag stood where the hawk would perch each afternoon. And they will miss that scat from the resident bobcat. All those things take time to explore and make a place worthy of observation. That time to get intimate with a location doesn't exist while traveling unless you spend months in one place.
Friends look at me quizzically, insisting I'm missing out by not traveling. I think they are missing out by not getting to know their own backyard more, especially a backyard that draws thousands of people to its shores each year. But I respect their choices and listen attentively to their stories. All I ask is that they do the same for me.
My friendships and close relationships with places take time because they have lots to share. It's about the experience of being there and then translating that to your work. It can't be rushed. So I will continue to travel over the bridge to Alligator River, up the road to Sandy Run Park, over the inlet to Pea Island and along the coast to Coquina Beach. And I won't have to worry about lost baggage because everything I need fits right into my field kit.