It’s so strange that I am attracted to painting architecture, particularly cityscapes. It’s certainly not because I love the din and bustle of a large city. Nor is it the drone of traffic and continual honking, or the crowds moving along below the buildings, armies of ants relentlessly pushing their way forward en masse.
If you ask me where I am most at peace, I would describe a place, one of many, high on a mesa or mountain in the four corners area. It’s quiet, except for the cry of an occasional hawk. I can see forever in all directions.
And none of it is man made. And in this perfect place there is no other person.
However, there is a certain order to the skyline of a city. Each building was created and built with a great deal of thought. Everything in its structure has a purpose. It is designed for beauty, built to endure earthquakes and floods, and fashioned especially for the human factor. Carefully drawn to blend with the city skyline, each building stands alone, and yet united with its city sisters.
Geometric shapes are comforting to me. They’re solid and unmoving. But shifting shadows from the clouds, sun glints on the windows, and textures on the walls, breathe life into each building. Constant subtle movements and quiet creeping change become the breath of the structure.
Each one has its own integral shape and personality, depending on the architect and their individual view of life. Every moment of every day, in every season, the building lives. Mercurial moods of the weather constantly alter the appearance of its moods. The city at night is a different personality than the city that lives in the day.
This is the part I love about cityscapes.
