The act of sketching or painting in plein air is the most fundamental, skills-oriented artistic exercise I can imagine. Still, I see it as I see it: Mountains, vineyards and shrubby forests bear a striking resemblance to the ocean. 

 

I can only hope that an audience might see these landscapes in the same way that I do: To see an oak tree in New England flaming with color (it may last weeks, it may be gone in hours, if the wind is up). Or to see the way the light dapples through the leaves, and casts shadows on other trees, the fence, a building, etc. Or to see a frozen, leafless tree illuminated by the brilliant lights of a ski resort on a snowy, frozen January night. These are sacred moments that are almost impossible to see, unless you're lucky enough to slow down at just the right time.