Summer has its own rhythm
The light is softer; the air smells of sunscreen, apricots and long evenings. Inspiration is never far – sometimes it’s the morning sun slipping through the blinds, a bumblebee on the PST trail (Pot spominov in tovarištva), or the whiff of chicken wings the neighbour has just slapped onto the grill. 😛
In summer my palette shifts: colours get bolder, strokes loosen up, feelings soften. It’s my season – it brings a sense of lightness, endless possibility and daydreams.
When the school year ends, a calmer creative rhythm begins. There’s less Ljubljana… it feels emptied out. Comfortable. Quiet. (Yes, I’m pretending there are no tourists… my text, my rules!!) The phone finally calms down (in theory at least) and I have space for colour. The light arrives early and lingers.
I think we experience the seasons through childhood filters – those old warm feelings of carefree days, watermelons, fireflies, elastic skipping games and long unplanned afternoons. That’s exactly what sets off my creative wave each year.
Summer’s colour palette
In summer I gravitate to saturated, vivid colours: pink, red, orange, yellow. Sometimes a deep navy – for sea and sky. I use neutrals less, earthy tones even less. Everything needs to feel fuller, clearer. Less washy watercolour, more defined.
Inspiration in the surroundings
In summer the world becomes my moodboard. Olive tree shadows turn almost graphic, bougainvillea dances over a wall. In a Dalmatian village it’s the details that catch me more than the view – a scuffed door, a tiny lemon tree, laundry drying. And then comes the smell. A scent that tells me more than the image.
Scent often sketches the colour first – pine trees, salt on skin, a ripe peach. These aren’t shades you squeeze from a tube – they’re feelings.
Textures tell stories too: the skin of an apricot, hot ground under bare feet, a cold glass of lemonade. All of it pours into a drawing – sometimes obvious, sometimes just a tone, a hush, a glint of light.
Creating – the summer way
I don’t sketch outside. I’m just present there. I snap a photo; sometimes I’d rather jot a note. The sketchbook fills with words, associations, fragments. Colour comes later – at home, in the quiet, once things settle.
And music. Almost always classical. It gives the thought space to breathe.
How about you?
Next time you step onto the balcony, go for a walk or reach the sea – don’t just look.
Pause, breathe, listen, touch.
Which colour, which scent or sound stays with you?
Write it down. You don’t have to sketch. One thought, one word is enough.
Inspiration doesn’t need fanfares. Just a moment.
For extra inspiration have a peek at the other blog posts.
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