What is it about mountains that captures the attention and takes the breath away to such an extent that we begin to feel very small in awe of their magnificence? There were two specific examples of this in my life which led me to paint this picture, although the painting doesn’t look very much like either of them.
The first is Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, where I visited for a weekend while spending a month volunteering in a children’s home about six years ago. It is quite possibly the most beautiful view I have ever seen. The lake itself is clear and blue, and is surrounded on all sides by volcanoes, some of them still active. And the beautiful little cafes, restaurants and shops immediately surrounding the lake seem to exaggerate the size of the volcanos, and compliment their colours with bright multicoloured decorations in traditional Latin American styles. The scent of cinnamon and other similar spices filled the warm air and the sound of children playing and laughing could be heard everywhere.
The other mountainous region that took my breath away in a similar manner was the French Alps: a few years ago I spent a week in Summer staying in a ski resort and helping out with a walking holiday. Every morning I would wake up, shower, and go to the communal breakfast area where the view would suddenly strike me through the large windows, and I would once again stand there in awe, in stunned silence at the wonder of God’s creation. I didn’t get used to it at all, even though we were out walking in it every day: each morning I would notice the mountains and be just as amazed as the previous morning. Perhaps this painting depicts a little of the amazement and joy that comes from gazing upon such magnificent mountains.
Oil on 12″x16″ wooden board, framed and ready to hang.
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