Behind the Brush: Celebrating Spring
"For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land."
Song of Solomon 2:11-12
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Sweet friend, spring has arrived — hallelujah and praise the Lord!
Now don’t get me wrong, winter has its perks (no mosquitos, no pollen, and plenty of cozy evenings), but spring? Spring stirs the soul in a way few other seasons can — especially for an artist.
As the earth wakes from its winter slumber, there’s a sacred shift in the air — a renewal that’s not only visible but deeply felt. The balmy breeze, the endless Carolina blue skies, and birds flitting (and flirting!) among budding branches… these are the moments where my heart lifts and my creativity blooms.
Simply put, I feel more ALIVE this time of year.
Side note: While I’m over here swooning over every petal and pink blossom, my poor husband is grumbling behind a cloud of yellow. Here in Summerville, SC, we’ve officially entered high pollen season — and some days it really does look like drifts of golden dust are rolling down the street. He jokes that he’d prefer we live in a frozen tundra year-round. But hey… we have FLOWERS! 😄🌸
A Season of Inspiration
Each year, as the first signs of spring emerge, I feel an irresistible pull to step outside — camera in hand, heart wide-open.
The bright yellow jasmine spilling over our Southern fences, the tender pink of azaleas waving in the breeze — each bloom seems to beckon, not just to be captured through the lens, but to be honored on canvas. Their colors, their forms, their fleeting beauty — they speak.
As I wander, I’m not just chasing light or composition. I’m listening — attentively — for the Father’s voice, because I’ve come to know He teaches me through His creation. And sometimes, His lessons bloom in the quietest of places.
One story in particular still lingers in my spirit.
Many years ago, when my kids were small (and I was enjoying a much-needed moment of quiet), I found myself sitting on the front porch watching the rain gently fall over my garden. Aggressive weeds had sprung up and were starting to choke out the tender new shoots of my good plants.
As I watched the rain soften the earth, I heard Abba whisper:
“It is easier to pull up weeds after a soaking rain, as the roots come apart from the soil and the good plants without much effort.”
Then He added,
“It is the same with you. When you have distractions, unforgiveness, and other things that begin to choke the tender seedlings of your faith, sit with Me. Allow Holy Spirit to water the ground of your heart. You’ll find those weeds much easier for Me to remove as well.”
That moment marked me. Over the years, I’ve discovered the truth in His words again and again — not only in life, but in art. When I feel stuck, whether creatively or spiritually, I’ve learned to pause. To let the Spirit soften what’s hardened. To sit, not strive.
Because when I allow Him to tend the soil of my heart, those weeds — the doubts, distractions, and disappointments — loosen their grip. And suddenly, what I’m trying to grow begins to flourish again.
Fruitfulness always begins with the soil.
And the soil of our hearts is worth tending — gently, honestly, and often.
From Garden to Canvas
Transforming snapshots into paintings is a sacred and joyful journey.
It begins with choosing just the right image — the one that stirs something in my spirit, that captures not only color and form, but a whisper of the Divine. I’m drawn to photos that feel alive, as if they’re already telling a story of hope, renewal, or quiet strength.
Once selected, the real fun begins. I play with composition, carefully cropping and adjusting the perspective to highlight the flower’s most captivating posture — the tilt of a petal, the way light kisses its edge, or how it reaches toward the sky. I'm not just looking to replicate beauty, but to reveal it.
From there, the process becomes an intimate dance: sketching the outlines, mixing color with intuition and prayer, and laying down those first, intentional brushstrokes. Each mark feels like a response — a reverent echo of the Creator’s design. It’s in this unfolding that I’m reminded: I’m not just painting flowers, I’m celebrating the One who made them.
As I paint, I’m reminded that the same God who clothes the fields with wildflowers is the One who watches over every detail of our lives. There is comfort in that — in knowing that we are seen, nurtured, and invited to bloom in our own season.
“Consider the wildflowers, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”
— Luke 12:27 (ESV)
A Painting Process Rooted in Prayer
My painting process is a slow unfolding — a conversation between pigment, patience, and prayer.
I begin by layering colors, building depth and movement one brushstroke at a time in hopes of capturing the vibrancy and nuance of nature’s palette.
Depending on the subject, I choose between acrylics — bold, versatile, and luminous — or watercolors, which offer a softness and transparency that feels almost ethereal, like light passing through glass. Each medium speaks in its own voice, and I try to listen.
Every brushstroke is intentional, crafted to bring texture, dimension, and life to the canvas. And yet, no two paintings ever come to life in quite the same way. Some pour out with ease, others require wrestling — asking me to pause, to step back, to wait.
There are moments I’ve had to set a piece aside and allow the vision to marinate, trusting that clarity will come in time. And it always does — not by force, but by surrender. I know a painting is complete when a deep, settled peace washes over me — a quiet “yes” in my spirit.
It has become a sacred practice of patience — learning not to rush the process, but to move at the pace of peace. I’ve discovered that art, like faith, is less about perfection and more about presence — being fully open to the unfolding and allowing the Spirit to lead.
As new life blossoms outside, it’s also blooming in the studio...
What's Blooming in the Studio
I’m currently working on a commission piece, and I’m anxious to share it once it is finished. It is the largest watercolor painting I’ve created to date, inspired by one of my favorite scripture verses found in Psalm 92:12-15:
"The righteous will flourish like a palm tree,
they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon
planted in the house of the Lord,
they will flourish in the courts of our God.
They will still bear fruit in old age,
they will stay fresh and green,
proclaiming, 'The Lord is upright;
He is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in Him.'"
I’m also excited to return to my Year of Grace series of floral paintings.
Each piece in this series will represent a different flower of the month, along with the spiritual significance behind the blossom. So far I've completed January thru April, and plans are underway to begin working on the May piece.
January - Hope in Bloom
February - Strength, Dignity & Grace
March - Light of Glory
April - Winter is Past
Are you a May baby? I can’t wait to share my next painting with you! Make sure you’re following me on Facebook, Instagram, and here at LoriDatusFineArt.com.
In Closing…
Stay tuned for sneak peeks of what’s blooming behind the brush — and who knows, you might just find a piece that brings joy to your walls and refreshment to your spirit every day.
You can explore my current collection of original paintings, fine art Giclée prints, and canvas pieces over in the shop. Each one is a celebration of beauty, faith, and the everyday wonder that spring brings.
As this new season unfolds, I hope you’ll carve out time to truly embrace it — to get your hands in the soil, breathe deep the scent of fresh blooms, and let joy find you in the simplest of ways. Take a walk down a new trail. Pick a bundle of wildflowers and display them proudly on your kitchen table. Do a little spring-cleaning of your heart, your home, and your thoughts.
Play hopscotch in the driveway.
Swing on the porch with your sweetheart.
And if you live here in the South, don’t forget your Claritin. 😉
But most of all, I pray you’ll find a few quiet moments to sit in the wonder of the season with the Father. His presence is all around — whispering through the wind, bursting forth in bloom, and waiting to meet you with tenderness and truth.
Just like the Song of Solomon declares, the winter is past, the flowers appear on the earth, and the time of singing has come…may you notice and delight in every bloom He brings your way.
With joy,
Lori