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Continuing Story of Impressionistic Artwork and Southern Living Journey

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I t's December and memories of Christmas past and growing up Southern are fun, silly and dramatic.  We had traditions and one was attending Midnight Mass.  It was different growing up Catholic in a Protestant community.  No one else made the 15 mile journey to church at Midnight on Christmas Eve.  My dad only went to church with us twice a year, once was Christmas Eve and the other was Easter.  He was a Southern Baptist who didn't go to church.  My stepmother was the Catholic.  That was unusual too in a small Southern town to grow up with a stepparent.  We would travel the road to church, such a memorable ride as I remember it.  The stars so bright and the night so dark with thought of a Holy Night so long ago and so far, away.  The music was beautiful, I loved the music, I felt the "Joy to the World" and "Ava Maria" as I listened to the choir.  The church was brightly decorated, and it was crowded.  I always loved the angels....
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Trish Gober Impressionistic Fine Art

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  My creative journey began early on. As a shy child, adventure stories captivated me, and my imagination took flight. I found myself immersed in nature, envisioning the Tennessee Walker I adored as Black Beauty and our German Shepherd as Rin-Tin-Tin. Nature was my companion, and I spent countless hours cloud-watching, shape-finding, and seeking four-leaf clovers. My imaginary friends and daydreams guided my world within and beyond my books. My father, a profound influence on my appreciation for nature, would often be away for work, but upon his return, we'd escape to the farm. His happy place full of adventure. He instilled in me a deep respect for the land as a precious gift. This blog post reflects the foundation of my artistic endeavors. I paint the scenes before me, allowing my imagination to guide the evolution of each piece into impressionistic art. Often, the direction of my art unfolds spontaneously as I paint. Adhering to rules is a challenge for a daydreamer like me...
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