Every year as March approaches here on the west coast of Canada, Mother Nature has a way of teasing and tantalizing. In between those inevitable stretches of winter wind and rain, the warming sun visits on every lengthening days and the buds and flowers begin what will be their annual explosion. Those of us who have lived elsewhere in this country don’t take these days for granted, rather we use them much as one would squander a found dollar. We enjoy these days for what they are, natures little extra gift to those of us lucky enough to live here.
On one such day in 2004 my friend Blaine Orloff, a former art student of one of my classes, escaped with me for a sojourn of driving and exploring. We were searching for something we knew was out there. We were answering the call of a painting, an image just waiting to be found. As the day began to bring the curtain down on what had been a coastal day of perfection, we found ourselves parking in Sargent’s Bay Provincial Park just above Sechelt. Somehow the beach summoned us. Rather than the forest trails, we walked directly to the beach to witness the last minutes of the sun’s performance.
As we walked out onto the beach trail I immediately was drawn magnetically to the huge rock point at the south end of the beach. Having never been to this park before, I was transfixed by its stately presence. Surely, from its summit, I’d find the image I could feel calling me. We crunched our way closer through the beach gravel and rocks and I’d already scouted out my route to the top of the rock from the distance. I knew how I’d clamber to the top to watch the final sun show. Only when we were adjacent to the rock did I see the sign – “PRIVATE PROPERTY”. Obviously that rock had been a magnetic draw to others, too many others.
Disappointed, we stood studying the beautiful prominence from afar only wishing we could be on its summit. Then, the image that had been calling me showed itself. The sun had already set for us. It was below the tree line to the north and west of us. The rock though was just now catching those final minutes of radiant sun and it reflected the glow towards us. It was then that the faint whisper of a sea breeze caused the leaves of the Arbutus to shimmer. Like some gossamer fabric wafting in the sea air, the shiny leaves reflected the brilliance of the sun’s final performance of the day. The red bark and twisting posture of the tree, contrasted by the rigid and angular position of the rocks created a compelling image for me. That was my painting. I had seen the sunset through that composition. It was nature reflecting nature.
In pondering how I’d found this image I realize now that I would not have seen it had I been able to climb that rock that day. Rather, I’d have squinted glimpses of the final sun show from its summit. No, I’d found the image by slowing down and standing back. I’d found the image accepting where I was and watching dutifully for what I knew was out there. I’d never have found that image that day had I not heeded the sign that I had first resented. I’d found the image only because of the sign that said – “PRIVATE PROPERTY”
