Art and The Artist By James Repshire November 29, 2002

There was a time when I would have been fooled by what I was seeing, but not this day. I had seen it before and I had a good inkling of what was to come. Yes, I had been fooled and left with feelings of disappointment at this sight on previous trips, but this time I had the benefit of past experiences that gave me to know what I was in for. As I watched it take shape before me, I even got a slight twinge of butterflies in my stomach. I knew I was in for a tremendous show.
 
It’s amazing how much we take for granted when we have something right in front of us on a regular basis. Western Kansas has a bit of a reputation for not being much to look at. Between Junction City and the Colorado border the lay of the land doesn’t necessarily lend itself to many “calendar” photos. The term “flat as a board” is often the best that can be mustered to describe this rolling plain state. Trees are a scarcity and water of any kind—whether in the form of lakes, creeks or rivers—is a sight not often seen in this barren land. The dry climate isn’t conducive to a lot of green vegetation and after the endless miles of wheat fields turn to a golden hue in early summer, other than the beauty of those “amber waves of grain,” western Kansas tends to be a bit of a humble sight. Having grown up in that little corner of the world, now living in the eastern end of the “middle” state, I must confess I have only recently become aware that there is a beauty in Western Kansas that I have never seen anywhere else I have traveled. A beauty that is for the most part, a well kept secret; a “secret” that I had managed to never really be aware of during my childhood and early adult years. You see, it is the flatness and the barrenness of the land that makes it the perfect setting for what must be some of the most beautiful sunsets in the world. In the past few years I have come to realize what I had scarcely noticed in those years of watching the sun go down over the horizon that seems to stretch forever. There is a beauty in those sunsets that truly has to be seen to be appreciated.
 
This day as I was driving west on I-70, I had timed my departure so that I would be able to witness the setting sun during my trip. I’ve grown to find great contentment in time spent alone in the quietness of the cab of my pickup truck as I drive toward that never-ending landscape and the perfect ending for these brief “sabbaticals” has often been one of those fantastic visions created by the setting sun. As the afternoon hours dwindled and the time drew near for this greatly anticipated moment, I took note of the mostly overcast sky in front of me. Low lying clouds were the dominant factor and for a split second I caught myself feeling a bit disenchanted. I couldn’t see the sun as it was making its final descent on this November afternoon and logic seemed to suggest if the sun weren’t visible a colorful sunset might not be in order after all. Just a few seconds after I had these feelings of misgiving, I remembered similar incidents on past trips. At the same time I noticed what seemed to be a sliver of clear sky right on the horizon. It was then that my stomach began to flutter a bit and I realized that not only would there be a sunset, but I was in for a real treat. As the sun was doing its part and moving into position, I watched the pattern that the clouds began to form. The more I watched, the more excited I began to feel. I realized that the moisture in these clouds was the very component needed to magnify the reflection of those rays casting upon them. “This is going to be a good one,” I said to myself.  

I suppose having absolutely no artistic skills whatsoever leaves me more in awe of good art than someone who can whip up an image in a matter of minutes. I’ve watched artists at work as they start with a “blank slate” and turn what started out as nothing into a picture that tells a story or takes one to a time or place that the artist has created. This kind of “magic” never ceases to amaze me. The Artist I had the privilege of watching this day obviously has some distinct advantages over the artists I have viewed on television or on the corner sidewalk. The Artist’s easel, the setting, the backdrop, the texture, the tools, all with infinite possibilities, create an artwork that simply cannot be duplicated by any mortal artist. I’m convinced there are colors in those sunsets that are seen only in those sunsets. While every true artist knows the theory of the spectrum of colors and knows how to combine all those different hues to make new hues, if for no other reason, the average artist is limited in his or her attempt at making new colors by the presence of time. The Artist who creates new and wonderful sunsets all around the world each day is not limited by time or any other mortal factor. Each sunset is new, unique, and has no need of copyrights. Duplication would be impossible.

Sometimes a great sense of anticipation can lead to a great let down. Sometimes when we expect too much we can be disillusioned by our own longings. To the contrary, despite some of the wonderful sunsets I have had the honor of viewing on past trips, nothing could have prepared me for what took place during the last few minutes of this early winter evening. Like a conductor raising the baton to get the attention of his orchestra, there was suddenly, instantly a very distinguishable bright yellow beacon of light that reached from the point of its origin to some point a few hundred miles toward the eastern sky. I can’t describe how it got there. It wasn’t as if it slowly etched its way across the sky. It was more like the curtain was immediately parted for the opening act of a play and there was the spotlight highlighting the first scene. That first glorious image would have, in and of itself, been an unforgettable scene and would have been well worth the price of admission, but it was just the beginning of a show I won’t soon forget. Some artists have turned their efforts to the science of mixing the colors of the spectrum with the reflection of water by creating colorful shows with fountains and the like. I suppose that might be as close as any artist could hope to come in imitating the constant changing shapes, colors and images one can observe during a divine showcase like the one that was taking place in front of me. To try to describe the colors that were a part of this showcase would be futile. Beginning with a yellow that could have almost been an off white, going through the various shades of pink, red, and even purple, I’m convinced I saw colors that evening that I have never seen before and will never see again. 

While the Performance began with a very dramatic and instant opening, the closing was far more subtle. Long after the climatic culmination that I can only begin to describe as resembling a fire burning throughout the entire skyline in every direction, the aftermath slowly faded like embers of hot coals. Time did, for a bit, seem to stand still. I think I managed to stay on the road as I watched this display, but I’m not sure. I could have driven “over the river and through the woods” and not noticed. The splendid rays from the sun that shot into the air and were reflected off of the low lying clouds seconds after the sun dipped below the horizon seemed like the actors at the end of the play coming out to take a curtain call. But even more importantly, the image seemed to state the message the Artist would have us to understand, “I am with you always, even unto the end of the age.” Matthew 28:20

There aren’t a lot of tourist attractions in western Kansas and I doubt that sunset lovers will begin to flock to that particular spot on the map. If you aren’t a pheasant hunter I can’t offer you very many reasons for making the trek to that end of the state. But if you want to see a sunset that will take your breath away, take a drive west on I-70 some nice winter day. If you get the pleasure of seeing one like I witnessed on that trip I’m guessing that pleasure alone would make the trip worthwhile. It did for me.  

See ya.
James
:>)


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