“Intensional Stillness, Surrendering & Passin’ Through” by Katelyn Workman

July 12th, 2026

“One always talks of surrendering to nature. There is also such a thing as surrendering

to the picture” - Pierre Bonnard. This quote arrived to me from the back of a printed group

picture. It stopped me for a second. Surrendering to nature, surrendering to the picture, two

statements that perfectly summed up the time spent with Mark Lewis and Jacob Janes during

the first round of painting and drawing faculty this summer.

Surrendering to nature: on the surface for painting plein air, this might mean x-acto

clipping an umbrella to the top of your easel, or traveling with bungee cords to combat the wind.

As someone who enjoys painting tumultuous environments, leaving an allowance for the

unexpected first came to my mind when prompted with surrender. However, as Bonnard’s quote

has hung on my wall longer, I have begun to wonder if my actions perceived to be surrender

may not necessarily be surrendering to nature. I was often interested in the stillness that Mark

described of working plein air. He describes himself as a blue collar painter, often setting up in

the same location for months at a time and allowing the world to move around him. Perhaps a

part of surrender comes from a more intentional stillness: taking the time to watch, to look, to

speak to the pedestrian passing by, or to sit with the butterfly going about its morning routine. To

be a witness to the mystery held within the tree branches. Observation of the landscape goes

much beyond the picture plane and is such a beautifully messy experience that can pass on

stories or tell truths if you take the time to listen.

Surrendering to the picture: What does your drawing need? How are your two marks

relating in space? These are two questions constantly floating within the atmosphere of drawing

class with Jacob Janes. I am still trying to figure out the difference between responding and

surrendering. What might feel like a good action to take might not actually be surrendering to

the will of the picture. We spent a class period starting drawings, covering up sections with new

pieces of paper, then allowing other people to draw onto the new paper. This activity forces the

class to pay more attention to the picture plane and compositional movements by intertwining

other artists' actions into a whole image. Walking away from your easel and allowing other

classmates to push your picture further was not just forcing individual surrender of control;

instead, I noticed that the exercise amplified the voice of the picture in front of me as I was

taking extra care to listen to its wants and needs.

By working toward building a better practice of listening to the picture, it ensures that the

world you are observing, and the world the drawing inhabits, remain two different entities that

may never collide. Something that Bonnard might be alluding to within his quote is that the

same observation of the world around you must also be put into the everchanging picture plane.

While writing I am reminded of Leonard Cohen’s cover of the folk song “Passing Through”,

specifically the chorus “Passin' through, passin' through. Sometimes happy, sometimes blue.

Glad that I ran into you. Tell the people that you saw me passin' through”.

There is a hope that finding my own version of stillness will allow the different entities of the

picture and landscape to freely converse, and pass in, through, and around me – bringing me a

step closer to surrender.