This was a very exciting piece to design. It was a commission, but the best sort, where I was asked to pitch a few ideas for things I already wanted to paint. They only indicated the most vague outlines of their preferred subjects: either waterfall(s), ocean, or if possible, both. This is definitely within my comfortable realm of painting subjects, but also held enough challenge to be intriguing. I wanted to deliver both a waterfall and the ocean, and I knew it was possible. I have stood at Seven Sacred Pools and watched the waves crash into the pools at the base of waterfalls. I have been to a swimming hole where a rope swing is tied near a waterfall, and it delivers an exciting jump into an ocean bay. I have seen waterfalls flowing to the ocean on both windward and leeward sides of the island. The trick is just to get an angle where you can see it all clearly. Sometimes itʻs just too wide of a landscape. Often, the waterfalls are behind you as you look at the oceanscape.
In the recent past when I was designing the concept for this painting, I had taken a flight to Maui in one of those tiny planes that only has 8 or so seats, on Mokulele Airlines. At first I was a little afraid to fly in such a tiny plane, but it turned out to be charming. We flew very low, just a little higher than a helicopter. Lucky me, it was a rainy day that had just cleared up and we were flying past Molokaʻi. I witnessed several of the tallest waterfalls in the entire U.S. flowing into the sea over the verdant cliffs. I used this firsthand vision as inspiration to show an angle in which waterfalls and ocean would play an equal role.
This is not Molokaʻi. I took the coast of Hamakua on the Big Island, and I changed the weather. The coast was clear in my source photos, but island geology contains clues. The shape of the cliffs has tell-tale water erosion indicating rain-dependent waterfalls. I painted them into the empty flumes, making sure I had enough mist/residual clouds in the sky, and the right level of water flow for a plausible clearing storm. I added indigenous birds and plants in a foreground cliff on which you, the viewer, are standing, looking out over the sea. I “gardened” to assure the plants had the right focal points, and allowed the birds to be less territorial. They are accurate in species to the area, just grouped tighter than they would normally prefer. The foreground helps establish scale and allows for intricate close-up beauty that accents the distance of the perspective. It lets the viewer see the contrast between the individual plants that are near, and the greenery of the cliffs in the background.
The composition is a celebration of the beauty of Hawaiʻi Island, and a painting that focuses on capturing the sense of depth from looking out over the ocean from the cliffs. It is able to show you things you would see over a few hours of observation, but all in the same scene, like compressed time.
I count these sorts of hiking vistas among my own peak life experiences. To hike high enough to watch the ocean from a breathtaking perch thousands of feet above the water is a gift I do not take for granted. Itʻs something I have been lucky to do more than a few times on multiple islands. Thereʻs nothing quite like that feeling of perspective while watching the waves roll in from the horizon, and looking over the reefs and the cliffs as the sunlight travels across the surface of the water. The beaches all look small like a map from above. You can see “seperate” beach areas merge into one cohesive shoreline. I really wanted to capture that feeling of standing in awe surrounded with the beauty of the ancient tropics. This type of view removes the cares of everyday life and places me into a timeless realm of childlike observation. Everything slows down and the joy of being alive takes over my senses. I hope you feel something peaceful and personal to you as you view the painting.