Blind to the familiar

Watercolor on paper from fieldsketch.
Sometimes the familiar is exceptional and we contemplate, fascinated, what we thought we knew. I am crossing this blizzard to join the observatory. Four days now that I am counting migratory birds here on the coast of southern Norway. - 3°C, 100 km/hour of wind gust: there will be no birds this morning. And yet, behind that white wall, light shadows appear and disappear in plumes of snow. The violence of this struggle suggests the strength of their determination. Metre after metre, these gulls are migrating in the storm. Yes, gulls, simple mundane gulls. We no longer look at these birds because they are terribly common and not particularly remarkable. Yet this morning, looking at this scene, I am speechless. I do a quick sketch of the scene that I paint a few hours later sheltered inside.