What I love about murals is the way they draw you into a space. When I paint historical scenes, they transport you back in time. When I do a full-room installation, it just wraps around you and carries you away, to a quiet, peaceful place.
When somebody asks me to create a mural, the first thing I do, if at all possible, is to physically GO there and visit the space. My murals represent a slice of time in a place that is deeply important to the homeowner. I have only done one mural project where I didn’t have the luxury of visiting the space before creating the piece. That was in California, and I managed to get through it successfully by referring to TONS of photos, lots of talk on the phone, and many versions of sketches. It’s important to me to get a sense of the place and the people who love it and live in it. I need to know why they love it; what is most important to them and why they want to immortalize it. If capturing a scene from a moment in history is requested, I will do research to learn as much as I can about that time. I talk with local historical societies and search online databases. Old photos help me and I also gain inspiration from paintings from the period. if I can transport myself to that time, then I can usually get the painting to go there as well.
This week I finished up a 5′ X 15′ mural for a dining room of an 18th century tavern-turned-home in nearby Hartland, VT. Over a year ago, when Jamie and her husband, Thatcher, first contacted me, I went to the house with my camera in hand. I saw the dining room where they want the mural, took some measurements and then we chatted over tea about what they wanted depicted on their mural. Jamie and Thatcher have built their beautiful farm up to a lovely place where horses graze while guinnea hens are underfoot. Jamie and her daughters ride through the fields and woods and Thatcher works diligently to create a sanctuary for plants and animals. Part of the charm and history of the setting is an original cider mill, where a working waterwheel helps them create their annual batch of cider. But most important to both of them is the view from the (in winter, sledding) hill just above their house. We took the dogs and hiked up and I got a great view of the place. The only trouble was that the leaves were full on the trees so I couldn’t see the details of the house and barn, and the cider mill was completely hidden.
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