ENERGY TO CREATE HWY 58 by North Carolina Painter Susan Scoggins

Hwy 58

Other than the soul of the human spirit, nothing inspires me like landscape. The little french farmhouse on the road, the cabin in the woods, the barn in a golden field. I suppose after all the experimenting I’ve done, and not being very good at it, I always find myself landing right back outdoors in the midst of the creative masterpieces done by the Master Creator himself. There’s no reproducing it realistically.  Only expressions or impressions of the effect it has on me.

People ask, "How long does it take you to do a painting?" It may look like it's easy.  It takes energy to create. Think calculus exam…problem solving, shapes, formulas, colors, juxtaposition, brilliance, toning down, vibration, impression, intention. Think music…notes, crescendo, staccato, phrases, tone, emotion, expression. All of those components are stuffed down into a neat little intuitive package, until it's about to explode, then carefully allowed to flow.   It’s exhilarating and exhausting. 

For this painter, ME, it takes hours, even days of silence. Silence uninterrupted by texts, pings, dings, idol chatter, 24 hour news..even eating.  Silence.  Yet something has to stimulate the creative flow. The last two weeks have been spent with mind-numbing Netflix binging due to the flu. Not only no physical energy but no mental energy. 

Today was the day. I got up as the sun rose and prepared myself for a day of inspiration. After filling my personal tank with coffee, my little white car with gas, charging my phone for a plethora of images, I set off to the flat farmlands of Eastern North Carolina. Three hours and a thousand sneezes later my mind was completely filled with blue green flatlands, blooming white pear trees and little white barns with shiny sunlit roofs. What some people may see as  torn down sheds in fields of grey nothingness, I see as something to capture. Yes, there was a lot of backing up, u-turns, and photos for reference but now all these visions are jumbling off each other in all the crevices of my mind. They are charging each other up like sparks of electrical current, priming themselves for the perfect time to ignite.  When they ignite, they will explode.  

All of this is BEFORE ever putting a brush to canvas