“Learning to draw is really a matter of learning to see – to see correctly –
and that means a good deal more than merely looking with the eye”.

Kimon Nicolaides, The Natural Way to Draw

Louise Jalbert, “Study of the garden, October”, 2014, Felt markers on paper, 4.5 x 6 inches

The Falling Snow

Watching falling snow is always a bit magical.
Unless you are driving, of course.

But if for a few minutes, I put aside the idea of any inconveniences it may bring,
and simply look at this phenomena, it becomes fascinating. Just as fun and captivating as watching the release of white specks on little winter scenes in snowglobes. Only now you are under a much bigger globe.

Though they are part of the charm, I won’t expand here on the beauty of silvery snowflakes. What I observe is that suddenly the air becomes more visible, revealed by the floating crystals. The closer ones are larger, the farther ones are smaller, creating a sense of depth.
They do so dynamically: whirling in bursts, or descending quietly, and they form a silent choreography orchestrated by the clouds and the wind, constantly recreating itself in front of my eyes. The sky is white, colors are muted, and forms of buildings, cars, trees become blurred.

This creates altogether another sense of space, because now air is not a void, but a space that is inhabited, alive and animated.
It has a presence.

That is always the case, but with falling snow, we get to see it.

Louise Jalbert, “Falling Snow, January, 2018”, Gouache on paper, 9 x 12 inches