The life of artist, photographer, traveler, and writer Steven Boone. Steven was born in Chicago but now lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA. His paintings are widely collected, and also included in the permanent collections of the US Department of Interior and The Foundation Van Gogh D'Arles, in Arles, France.
Boone lost his daughter to cancer when she was nineteen. His award-winning book, called "A Heart Traced in Sand" recall his experiences with her living and dying.
Sunday, June 08, 2014
See Things Differently
Golden Gate Bridge, viewed from the Sausalito side
There is something about travel—new
places bring new vision. That is, when we leave what we are
accustomed to and set forth into the unknown, we will be surprised
and see things differently. For some, this is dreadful . . . and for
others, like me, it is necessary. My mother has not been away from
her home for thirty years. She reads five books a week, watches the
birds outside of her dining room window, smells the roses that are
freshly cut and brought indoors from her garden, and sleeps whenever
she feels like it. All comfortable to her so that she stays relaxed.
When I went to San Francisco last
Tuesday, I took only sandals and a few light clothes to pack in my
suitcase with art supplies. When the plane landed, the temperature
was cool and moist, and because my favorite hotel is near the Pacific
by the Golden Gate Bridge, it was even cooler, and foggy. OK, I was a
bit cold, and wondered why I did not pack shoes. Even so, I love the
place so much that during the next several days, wearing sandals with socks,
I set about going forth to places that stimulate me and also hold
memory from my last days with Naomi before she died.
Painting of Muir Beach, oil on board, 12x9 inches
Wednesday, after coffee at my favorite
java joint along Ocean beach, down the hill from my hotel, I drove
across the Golden Gate Bridge toward Sausalito. It was cold and foggy
but I knew that likely, the sun would be shining warmly on the other
side. Sure enough, across the bridge, the clouds dissipated, and I
was cruising through the hills in picturesque brilliance, arriving at
Muir Beach. Flowers bloomed along the rugged coast and I set up my
easel to paint in the early afternoon. I had the place to my self and
worked undisturbed for a couple hours, listening to the breaking
waves, smelling the sage and scented earth, feeling my primitive
earth connection, and letting the spectacular scenery fill my eyes.
While painting, the joy of giving freedom to impulse through art
holds me to one place, and rather than be bored, I am struggling to
express and give birth to art.