(373)Capturing the Beauty of Life ~ Isn’t It about far more than Painting? (3)

For someone like me who has never really understood painting, I have always looked upon painters with nothing but admiration and envy. How on earth can they take an object, an image, or a person and, with just a few strokes of the brush and touches of color, bring the subject so vividly to life on canvas? What kind of secret magic do they possess?
Even though I have a boyfriend, Charles who has spent his entire life painting, I have never seriously asked him about it. Yet, somehow, after learning about the noble artistic spirit of Lithuania’s great painter A.Z. and the way he devoted his entire life to painting, I suddenly felt that, deep down, these artists share the same quality of purity and innocence—as if they were born simply to do one thing well: paint!

Perhaps this is precisely the gift of fate that brought artists from different parts of the world together in this ancient village. It has allowed me to glimpse something I had never noticed before. Each artist has a completely different way of observing, capturing, and expressing what lies before them. But perhaps what matters most is not the finished painting at all. What truly captivates me is the artist’s state of mind when facing the scene—the countless ways in which body and mind become one while they are “in motion,” creating.
Every now and then, I would see Charles sitting as still as a plaster statue. After more than ten minutes, I could not help asking, “Are you all right? Are you meditating?”
“Madam, creation requires thinking! It’s certainly not a matter of standing in front of a canvas and everything magically falling into place. You know nothing about this, so please don’t disturb me!”
Hmm… I suppose this must be what they call an artist’s temperament!
That immediately reminded me of the past few days I had spent deeply immersed in reading about A.Z.’s life and his philosophy of painting...

A.Z. emphasized that when creativity first emerges and inspiration suddenly bursts forth, “There is nothing outside the mind; the whole person becomes completely immersed in it. Every painter encounters moments of pain and struggle, especially when painting outdoors in nature. When something feels wrong during the process of expression, it means that the structure may have a problem, and the work must be repainted or radically changed. At such a moment, he asked: “Are you willing to let go?”
Not a single brushstroke should ever be made carelessly."
Hearing the master’s profound words, I began to understand just how difficult it must be to be a painter like Charles.

But why was A.Z. so deeply drawn to this ancient village?
Ruta did not elaborate. Perhaps she was leaving me more room to discover the answer for myself. How lovely it is that whenever something occupies the heart, the answer often comes quietly drifting in on its own.

One morning, we went to a neighbor’s home for breakfast. Everything was homemade, with fresh produce picked straight from the backyard—naturally delicious and full of life.
The old objects scattered around the dining room, in the corners and along the walls, were steeped in an ancient atmosphere that fascinated me. After breakfast, our hostess, Juste, enthusiastically began explaining everything to us.
With a playful smile, she first asked, “Do you know where linen comes from? What do you think these tools hanging on the wall were used for? And how old do you think this house is?”
Faced with such questions, I could only shake my head in complete ignorance.
Patiently, Juste gave us a fascinating little lesson.
“The little blue flowers growing in the backyard are flax plants. After harvesting, the flax is bundled up and dried. It is then processed with special tools, and repeatedly pulled through this large, needle-like comb. After that, the fibers are attached to this spinning wheel, spun into thread, and eventually woven into cloth…”
One single plant, she explained, could be used in its entirety. What an extraordinary example of sustainability and respect for nature!
Listening with half understanding, I asked, “Is it something like the traditional weaving methods used in ancient China?”
She burst out laughing.
“Yes... something like that! This house was left by my grandparents. In the old days, this dining room was actually where the livestock lived. Right where you are standing, there used to be cows and pigs. Over there were several sheep, and chickens too…”
My eyes lit up with delight.
“How wonderful! People here used to weave cloth and raise chickens all under the same roof. You can almost still breathe in the atmosphere of those days.”
The warm, rich energy I felt was not merely nostalgia. It was the deep, enduring atmosphere of a family that had lived here for generations—the love and warmth that had seeped into the very wood of the house. It felt like the loving protection passed down from one generation to the next.
Juste then took us around to see the stove from her grandmother’s time, the chimney, the well, the linen textiles, and various other old household objects. Every single item looked like an exhibit in a museum.
In fact, every home in this ancient village seemed to be a living testimony to history. Even an elderly grandmother simply standing outside her doorway could become a beautiful scene in itself. There was an abundance of subjects and inspiration everywhere.
I began to understand why a great painter like A.Z. was so attracted to this place.

Just as I stood there gazing in amazement, Charles suddenly became as excited as a child. “No wonder every corner here is breathtaking! Look at this light—the way it slants across the scene, bringing out such a lively, vibrant character! And look at the tree and its shadow… Quick! The sun won’t wait. I have to get this onto the canvas before the light changes. No time to talk!”
Before I could even respond, he had already dashed off to fetch his painting gear. That, I suppose, is the professional attitude of a painter!

How grateful I am that this ancient village has opened my eyes and taught me so much.
I finally began to understand that beauty grows where there is love for a home and a piece of land. It quietly emerges without our noticing, and then, almost imperceptibly, is brought into being through someone’s hands. Wave after wave, it continues to unfold; generation after generation, it continues to be passed on.
How wondrous. How truly wondrous!

Charles worked intensely throughout that one week and completed ten paintings. He chuckled to himself: “I honestly never imagined I would end up with ten paintings.” I quickly chimed in, “Did it feel as though you had some divine help?”
He simply smiled without answering.

So I added, “Perhaps it was because I have been consulting the great painter A.Z. from afar every single day. Surely some of his invisible support must have rubbed off on you!”
From the bottom of my heart, I am grateful for A.Z.’s invisible guidance. It feels as though, all this time, I had never truly noticed how to capture the beauty of life. Ah… and isn’t that about far more than painting?