My goal was to paint a simple landscape.
What I ended up capturing was unexpected… and far more meaningful.

Every fall, I like to paint plein air at Backbone, Iowa’s first state park, near Manchester. I really enjoy painting outside, but I rarely make the time to do it. Devoting 3+ hours to a single canvas can feel self-indulgent on a busy fall weekend. But the time absolutely flies by when I paint.

This year, I found a visually appealing location along the lake. I set up my easel on a picnic table near the beach house. I really liked this composition—with the sunlight, the long shadows and the curve of the beach, echoed by the sidewalk and the parking lot above.

I started painting late in the afternoon. My goal was to paint a simple landscape. What I ended up capturing was unexpected… and far more meaningful.

On September 25, 2021, there were not one but two weddings at Backbone. That in itself is not surprising—it’s a beautiful place. What was surprising—these weddings occurred simultaneously, roughly 100 yards apart. The ceremonies were a contrast in differences.

Somehow, I managed to set up my canvas smack-dab in the middle, between both weddings. From my vantage point, I had a choice: I could face south, and paint the wedding by the beach house. Or I could face north and paint an Amish wedding, which took place by the lake in front of the boathouse.

I chose to paint the Amish wedding.

It was interesting for a variety of reasons. The wedding party was out of my direct view, but the bride wore a blue dress, and the groom wore a simple black suit. Of the wedding guests that I could see, there were 5 women standing together, watching the ceremony with great interest. They wore blue dresses like the bride, but with black coats. Several boys and young men were relaxing by the boat dock. They seemed to be disinterested in the festivities. One young man was in a small boat.

A state park appeared to be a very non-traditional location for an Amish wedding. Admittedly, I am not an expert on Amish culture, however, I thought that most Amish weddings took place in a church or in the home of the bride. Also, it seemed odd that there was not a horse and buggy to be seen anywhere around the park. This particular group seemed more progressive than expected.

Non-Amish are referred to as “English” by the Amish Folk. So at the “english” wedding, the bridesmaids arrived in colorful burgundy dresses. The ring bearer, a smart-looking chap of 5 or 6, wore suspenders and a bow tie. He stopped by to comment on my painting several times. One of the bridesmaids displayed an impressive tattoo on her arm and shoulder. All were in a happy mood.

As the “english” wedding ceremony came to a close, a great cheer echoed across the lake. Then the reception began, and throughout the afternoon, wedding guests would stop by and comment on my painting. Some were in various states of intoxication, but all were positive and friendly.

A woman who described herself as one of the mothers of the bride chatted with me for awhile. We talked about the creative process. She shared that her hobby was writing country music songs, but depression had caused her to put lyric writing on hold. (I honestly don’t know why, but this is not the first time people have opened up to me while I’m painting). I told her that anything creative, like writing music, is an excellent form of therapy and she shouldn’t quit.

While the wedding that took place to the south was a boisterous affair, the Amish wedding was simple and quiet.

I admire the Amish. In our modern, high-volume, high speed internet world, the concept of simplicity, serenity and quiet contemplation seems almost foreign. But it is, perhaps, something that’s lacking from our contemporary, ‘English’ lives.

It was fascinating to find myself between two important events. But I was fortunate to capture this beautiful location, and in an unexpected, surreptitious way, the beautiful occasion of an Amish wedding.