Kansas Wheat I. Oil on canvas, 8x10, $100
I've inched through Kansas, slowed mainly by my fascination with the wheat fields here. They are gorgeous. There's nothing in them, really, but there's everything in them. There are colors and movement, light and shadow, delicacy and power - and at the same time, they are empty and plain, something to drive by and get through... but not for me.
I have come to realize that, as much as it is the wheat itself, what truly attracts me is the light, and how it works its way through these white-gold fields. At noon, at 2 p.m., the fields are not as stunning as they are at 5 or 6 or 7. As the sun sinks in this clear, clean air, it colors the wheat fields to a point where I find myself yelping with pleasure when I round a curve and find a western-facing slope.
The people of these small towns in Kansas must think I'm a nut, standing at the side of the road, painting an empty field. But I'd bet a lot of them love these so-called empty fields, too.