5 American Painters Who Made Me Fall in Love With America

Araci Almeida
8 min readJul 24, 2022
Summer Evening, 1947 by Edward Hopper

“To be an artist is to believe in life” —Henry Moore

I did not grow up surrounded by art. My art, the touch of the sublime, came from the smell of yellow flowers that bloomed in May and whose scent flew throughout the village; the rain that feel and hit the windows of my parent's house’ from where I could watch the sunrise and the fog in the morning; the cockerel crowing in the morning, and the snow that, as a child, covered my mountains.

All that wasn’t man-made art, but it was art, even without my knowing it. It was art because it aroused feelings in me that were difficult to give a name to — even today, it is. And that’s what art is, something that awakens in us a divine feeling, transversal perhaps to our human condition. Many poets and artists have tried and still try to bring out the beauty of the sublime.

I, therefore, have a more classical and traditionalist perspective of art. I think, and it is my belief, that art should represent human beauty. Whether through painting or writing, music or cinema, art is there to elevate us and eternalize our human condition, making us live beyond the short space of time that our life is.

For many years I despised art because perhaps all I saw was contemporary art, spoken with a lot of pseudo-intellectualisms as if it had to be thought, studied, described, and seen in a world full of money, made by people with a doubtful taste for aesthetics. I was not attracted by this world that I identified with the city. And I, a country girl, looked with great contempt and suspicion at everything made in the city.

But then life made me meet people who made me look at a painting — one of the many forms of art available — in a new way. A beautiful way of seeing colors and figures as telling stories. And I, so fond of storytelling, finally got carried away by it all.

These are some of the artists who have inspired me most and continue to do so:

1- Edward Hopper

Hopper was an American artist born in beautiful New York City at the turn of the century in 1882. His death is almost non-existent because his memory endures beyond his mortal condition. Like so many, his influence and art live on in us.



Araci Almeida

9 Times Top Writer, but it doesn't matter anymore. I write about Portugal, I think.