I have been painting the snow for about 20 years. My early paintings were of nighttime snow and they were dark and moody, lots of Payne’s Grey and lights in the distance. I became fascinated with the look of the snow covered fields on my drives back and forth from Devils Lake to Grand Forks to visit family. I would drive home to Grand Forks late nights in a black mood from dealing with the never ending abuse and drama of a toxic family. I loved the lights of the farms and small town’s orange and yellow lights shining in the distance. I would think, are the folks who live there, as miserable as my family. I would make up stories as I drove home. Stories of happy homes in the dark, cold North Dakota night. Those tiny lights became symbols of happiness; of the home I never had and never would if I stayed in touch with my parents.
My paintings of the snow now-a-days aren’t as black or moody; I severed ties with my abusive father and finally allowed myself to heal. I still find meaning and beauty in the peaceful, pristine snow of North Dakota but it somehow seems more hopeful. Maybe I am too.
