The harsh colors and sharp lines you see in those paintings are just nature’s map. White cliffs mean a wind‑blown edge, a place to sit out the storm. Dark, jagged rocks tell you where to dig a snow cave or hide from a blizzard. Even the way light falls on ice shows you the safest route over a crevasse. I don’t paint, I read the landscape. Every shade, every shadow is a signal—warmth, shelter, food, danger. That’s the practical art of survival: turning a visual cue into a life‑saving action.

Thanks, I hear you. Storms can be just curtain calls, but I still stick to the hard facts. I'll keep my path clear and my eyes on the map.