These Days of Grace

It’s not often that a sense of magic and ethereal serenity blesses your existence, but when it does, time evaporates and you become the center of the universe. It happened to me years ago in Idaho, where I was invited to a week-long painting salon in early Spring with renowned landscape painter Scott L. Christensen at his Craftsman studio. The other participant, Don Howard, was a tall, lanky painter from Oregon. I was a busy police chief back then, and landscape painting was how I escaped the stress, politics, and anxiety of my career.I had taken past workshops with Scott, whose paintings I greatly admire. At the end of an advanced workshop, Scott asked if I’d like to return to Idaho for a private salon with one other artist.

At the time, Scott’s home included a 10,000 square foot Craftsman-style studio, with an exhibition space and upstairs living quarters. The walls were filled with Scott’s exquisite oil paintings.Our salon days were filled with lectures, demonstrations by Scott, painting exercises, close study of other artists’ work, and deep discussions about composition, values, color, design, tonalism, and more. The evenings included fine meals and easy conversation.We’d hike or drive to stunning locations where the snow-dusted Cottonwoods swayed in the breeze, wildlife darted from hidden burrows, and the clouds floated by as we set up our easels.Sometimes Scott would inspire us with a short painting demo, and then we’d trudge off on our own to paint. I chose a spot near the river’s edge and began painting a copse of trees in the distance.

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