Paints, fishing tackle and a picnic was packed. We headed a few miles down the valley towards Sixt.
A breathtaking spot was found. High snow capped mountain peaks, a turquoise river running through and wild flowers and beautiful towering trees.
So the scene is set, I set up paints, do a little headless chicken act with so much to paint. Number One art critic wades into the water with the illusion he may catch a fish. I settle down and with a small piece of paper try to capture just a tiny bit of this magical place.
Number one art critic is now a tiny spec in this vast landscape, I'm trying to figure how to paint all of these trees! Why did I think I should paint each one, the sheer scale of the job was on my shoulders.
Taking a breather, enjoying the peace and quiet the birds singing, oh this is just heaven
Then around the corner come the tribes, it's like a scene form the wild west. For some reason a farmer has lit a bonfire of hay, suddenly the fish are no more, good excuse! The trees are forgotten and the swallows are frightened away. Time for the picnic and a reflection of the days work.
The river is very fast flowing which means the fish swim faster, ie harder to catch.
I should had softened a little more and found a way through the trees, but eh ho what a gorgeous day
A quick Dandelion and buttercup study, wet in wet and a touch of gouache.