"What I Actually Mean When I Say ‘I’m Inspired by Nature’"

©Elizabeth Domogala

 

 

I was walking with an artist friend along the beach one day, and she asked what inspires my creative energy. I looked around and said, "I’m so inspired by God’s creations." Then she asked what that looks like for me.

It’s a common thing for artists to say: "I’m inspired by nature." Most of us are, artist or not. But here’s what it means for me.

I had very vivid dreams in color and pattern as a child — and I still do. I think it’s because on every walk, I studied the details of each plant: the leaves, stems, buds, flowers, and seeds. I’d sit and sketch and paint them into my sketchbook, curious about size, shape, texture, and color. 

I was also surrounded by patterns in those early years — helping my father dress windows on Madison Avenue with luscious fabrics, and learning to baste drapery hems and find pattern repeats from my next-door neighbor. Decades of sketching, journaling, painting, and playing with fabrics means my brain is now deeply familiar with forms, color, and repeat.

So when I close my eyes to sleep, I see shapes and patterns in color. Sometimes they’re just okay — but when they’re really good, I wake up, grab my iPad, and sketch color and pattern notes before I forget them. That’s how my brain thinks all the time.

Here are some patterns I created as a result of dreaming and being nature-inspired.

       

       

Next time: a real client project — a nursery that came to life from a walk in my garden.

Thanks for reading, I'm glad you're here! (Back to my website HERE)

Beginnings Part 1: Bullfrog Weddings and Pocket Critters

Growing up outdoors in the '70s, learning to see the natural world, and setting up my first "still lifes" on Mom's kitchen table.

Wavy House - tempera on butcher paper Age 7

Sketching and painting started as far back as I can remember. When I was seven, my mother sign me up for weekly after-school art classes, and the picture to the right is one of my first paintings from that class. It was the '70s, and the neighborhood kids and I practically lived outside.

I loved birds, flowers, and frogs. They had such wonderful personalities. Birds were captivating with their distinct colors, songs, and attitudes. Toads were especially cute, cocking their heads up at me flashing their shiny golden eyes as if to say, "How much longer shall I tolerate you?" Frogs--especially the leopard frogs--were long, slick, quick, and could jump three feet!

Bullfrogs, though, were my absolute favorite. My uncle was a mason, and one day while working on a pool nearby, he brought me an entire bucket full of them. Such Fun! My freind and I even threw a full bullfrog wedding for two of them, Freddy and Gertrude. I fashioned Gertrude a lace veil and tied a little grass bow tie on Freddy. it was a lovely day.

Walking home from school, I regularly picked wildflowers along the road. Daisies stood happy and cheerful in the sun, while asters were more shy, hiding out along shaded wooded paths with their soft lavender hue--a sure sign autumn was on its way. I carefully arranged these God-given gifts on our kitchen table (except the birds), on our kitchen table o I could paint them in their "natural habitat," trying my best to make the scene resemble the illustrations in my field guides.  

My poor mother would spin me around on the back porch to inspect my pockets before letting me inside, making sure I wasn't smuggling any creeping creatures into the house. Mom encouraged my artistic streak, but she drew the line at live critters on her tables. She tolerated frogs and toads in moderation, but tadpoles, bugs, and caterpillars were an absolute no-go. 

Little did she know, this childhood curiosity was about to collide with some truly wonderful teachers and makers in our family.  

In Part 2, I'll share how window displays on 5th Avenue, a seaside garage, and a pair of artist sisters taught me to truly "see".

 

As always, thanks for reading.