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| My old GPS unit. Coordinates noted on the panel. |
One year, at one of the many plein air painting events I've been invited to, I decided to scribble GPS coordinates on the back of each painting. I figured it'd be one more "talking point" I could use during the sales event: "And here," I'd say, proudly pointing to the coordinates, "is the exact location where I stood when I painted this."
The occasion was the invitational Celebration of Art at Grand Canyon National Park. Although the GPS unit—an old, bulky Magellan that I'd decommissioned from my car—added just one more complexity to a very busy event, I committed myself. Each time I found my painting spot, I wrestled it out of my backpack and put it on the ground. It always took a few minutes for it to lock onto the satellites, so I'd turn it on even before setting up my easel. Once it locked, I took out my black Magic Marker and noted the coordinates on the back of the panel I'd chosen to paint on. I felt rather smart and smug about it all.
But after a week of this, at the culminating sales event, I discovered no one really cared.
So, at the next year's event, I ditched the GPS. I also decided to make larger paintings, ones that would require me to visit a location two or three times in order to complete them. For my first painting, I found the ideal spot. It had a beautiful composition of weathered rocks and storm-blasted junipers. I painted away happily, stopping after a couple of hours with the understanding that I would finish it the next day. Knowing it would be important to find the exact same spot, I carefully memorized details of the location. I even took a photo of the scene as a memory aid with my Canon point-and-shoot. (It did not have a GPS feature.)
Now, if you've ever hiked the South Rim, you might have noted that the view doesn't change much; the buttes and mesas are far enough away that, unless you hike a long distance, you see basically the same features all along the way. And as you hike, you pass by many similar-looking patches of junipers and rocky outcrops. It's easy to lose your way, especially if you're hiking off-trail, which I always do when hunting a painting spot.
The next day, despite my close observation of the scene and having a reference photo, I could not for the life of me find the spot. I regretted not having a GPS.
Today, of course, I have a smartphone with an excellent GPS, and it goes with me everywhere. I've used it many times on hikes to mark a location that I thought would be a good painting spot and wanted to return to. It's also been great for helping me find my way back to civilization. But I still don't bother to put the coordinates on my paintings.
As I mentioned, buyers aren't interested—but other painters, photographers and hikers sure are, especially when they see my work on social media. They are eager to visit the same beautiful spot so they can paint it, photograph it or hike it. And they can do exactly this, if I tag the location or upload the image with the location metadata intact. But as a "steward of the land," I find this practice troubling—and I'll tell you why in a future blog.
