After the Rain by Chikara Umihara

Greetings from scenic Yachats, Oregon, where I'm enjoying a working vacation with my fella and his family. Today's edition, After the Rain—our third from Chikara Umihara—has been on my mind all week.

Being on the Oregon Coast, and hiking in its adjacent forests that are criss-crossed with rivers and streams, I've been thinking a lot about what it is exactly that's so gratifying about the simple act of gazing at ocean, sea or stream. Chikara's shimmering lake is perhaps as different from Oregon's churning coast as a body of water can be, but they're kindred in soothing constancy.

Sara and I both did quite a bit of oohing and ahhing over Chikara's sun-dappled surface, albeit somewhat sheepishly. Being the discerning contemporary art ladies that we are, we're well aware that the current cognoscenti often take a dim view of falling for the pleasures of a natural landscape. But, like ice cream for dinner (another pleasure I am absolutely guilty of), I stand strongly in favor of such sybaritic enjoyments! The art snobbiest will argue that art always has to be about something—perhaps the sort of something that Chikara explores in his Aggressive Girls series? Obviously I share that belief, too, but being so post-everything that we're robbed of making meaning from the pleasures of natural beauty seems kind of absurd.

As Chikara describes in his artist statement, these are the things that are often hard to describe in writing, so we write them off. While the essence of this kind of looking and feeling is difficult to put into words, I never want to be so post-anything that I deny myself (or any of our collectors) those sorts of basic, yet vital pleasures.

Speaking of which, with trails to hit, seals to watch and microbrews to sip, I'll take my leave for now. But look for me tomorrow with another watery edition from a legendary artist.

— Jen