Bryce Canyon outlets Print

You can't paint the first time you saw the desert when your eyes went dry because you didn't want to blink.
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You can't paint hair bleached brittle, a record of days spent under hot, arid skies.
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You can't paint the discovery of a lizard tail slinking in your peripheral when you awake from a mid day nap, cheek imprinted in the sand.
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You can't paint the breath that suspends in front of your face as you make coffee from your sleeping bag in filtered morning light.
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You can't paint how it feels to be like a child running barefoot through playgrounds of hoodoos.
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You can't paint the smell of rain soaked sage fields nor the feeling of storms sweeping the horizon in every direction, enveloping you in a room of lightening and verga.
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Still, I like to think that all of that gets in there somehow. I like to think that those experiences are what you filter your gaze through as you put pigment to brush to paper. outlets