Sky Arcs Statement:
I first experienced a cloud arc when I was out painting an approaching cold front from the floodplain north of Lawrence where I live. The leading edge of the cloud deck was extensive and unusually straight—I thought. As I was attempting to paint it on a panel that wasn’t nearly long enough—24 inches—I noticed that the cloud was gently curving overhead and out of sight.
Was I actually seeing the curve of the Earth? I abandoned the painting and frantically began scratching it out in my sketchbook to make sense of what I was seeing. I concluded that yes, given a long-enough, straight-enough cloud, I could actually see the curve of the earth mirrored in the clouds. By necessity, the cloud bows to the shape of the atmosphere, which of course conforms to the shape of the Earth. Wow.
Open spaces have given me a tremendous gift—they remind me again and again of the vast planet we inhabit. In one sense it’s so huge and in another, so small. Seeing cloud arcs is surely the most immediate and powerful way to connect viscerally with our immense sphere. Now that I know what they are I see them all the time. If we make a practice of sharpening of our awareness to such things—reaching out with our minds and our senses, I believe it’s possible to develop a sense of expansiveness that enfolds the planet. At least I hope.
These arcs are so immense and so subtle that I’ve failed many times to represent them in larger pieces. No matter how long I could make a canvas, it wouldn’t come close to the size needed to describe the gentle arc. So I thought I’d try the opposite—tiny arcs. I found that this a more effective way to convey the fullness of the visible arc, an expanse of 180 degrees or more.