I am so easily influenced by where I am and what I see. I absorb it. It becomes part of my thoughts and drives my impulse to create.

Our early mornings here are filled with the ocean. And atmosphere. Sometimes sunlight. Sometimes rain. And more often than not, especially over the last week … fog.

Fog creates such a beautiful feeling of seclusion as it wraps around everything in the landscape, including us. The mystery, the softness, the dreaminess of it is all consuming. I don’t want to paint anything else when it surrounds me.

I’m mesmerized each morning by the movement of the waves. The repetitive rolling nature of ocean waves has always pulled me in. Time disappears and my mind empties, just watching the movement. The water pulling back, the pattern of the foam, the sheer color illuminated at the crest just before it tips over and crashes down. Each morning it is different. Each moment it is different.

The fog seems to add another dimension to the surf. Color is muted because there is no sky color to reflect in the water. Warm yellows and greens and steel blues make up the color of the water. But the foam! The foam is magnificent in the fog. Whipped and thick and luxurious, almost like fresh cream. Such a delight to behold. And such fun to paint.