Fiji Time: Absorbing Beauty and Transcending Moments into Art
Arriving in Fiji: Where Time Moves Differently
The plane door opens and Fiji breathes into the cabin—thick and damp, heavy with salt and green growing things. Not the aggressive heat that makes you recoil, but something that settles on your skin immediately, claiming you.
At the airport, no one rushes. The immigration officer takes my passport with both hands, smiles—a real smile, the kind that reaches the eyes—and stamps it with the unhurried precision of someone who knows there's nowhere more important to be than right here, right now. I'm still operating on departure-gate time, that frantic energy of connections and boarding zones, but it's already starting to drain away.
The Journey to the Coral Coast: Observing Life Through an Artist's Lens
The bus winds through roads I can barely see. Dusk came quickly, the way it does near the equator, no long golden hour, just day and then not-day. But there's life everywhere in the darkness. Dogs trot along the road's edge with purpose, their routes as familiar as the back of their paws. They don't scatter or slink—they belong here, part of the evening's choreography.
People walk home. Alone, in pairs, whole families strung out along the shoulder. No streetlights for long stretches, just the shapes of bodies moving through blue-black air, and somehow it doesn't feel dangerous or strange. There's a trust here I'd forgotten existed—in the road, in the night, in the assumption that you'll make it home because of course you will.
Through open doorways and unshuttered windows, I catch glimpses: families gathered around mats on the floor, possessions sparse, love immense. Children leaning into their parents. Someone passing a bowl, sharing a meal, connected by nothing more important than that moment. My eyes gaze into their homes as long as the moving bus will allow, searching for clues and connections to the people and the land. The openness isn't accidental. This is how life happens here—not hidden behind security systems and drawn blinds, but spilling out into the shared space of the neighbourhood, the street, the night air.
By the time I reach where I'm staying, my shoulders have dropped two inches. The urgency I carried from the airport, from the flight, from whatever I was leaving behind—it's still there somewhere, but muted, less insistent. Fiji time, they call it. Not lazy, not inefficient. Just calibrated to a different understanding of what matters.
Traveling Light: An Artist's Approach to Gathering Inspiration
I travel light when I'm gathering inspiration—a small sketchbook, a handful of pencils, watercolours that fit in my palm. This isn't about creating finished pieces on location; it's about capturing the essence, the bones of what I'm experiencing. Quick sketches of the way palm fronds intersect against the sky, colour notes scribbled in the margins about the exact shade of turquoise where shallow water meets sand, compositional thumbnails that will later inform my larger works.
These sketches are seeds. They're visual memories that will bloom into larger paintings once I'm back in my studio in Australia. There, with proper canvas and the luxury of time, I can revisit these moments—not to replicate them exactly, but to channel the feeling they evoked. The sketch of a sunrise becomes a 36x48 canvas where I can explore the full symphony of colour I witnessed. The quick watercolour study of tropical foliage transforms into a detailed exploration of light filtering through layers of green.
Traveling light means traveling present. Without the burden of heavy equipment, I'm free to absorb more deeply, to feel the tropical breeze on my skin while I work, to let Fiji seep into my consciousness in a way that will inform not just one painting, but an entire body of work. The real art happens in the absorption—the studio work is simply the translation of what my soul collected here.
Dawn at Warwick Fiji: When Mornings Deliver Symphonies
There are mornings that whisper promises, and then there are mornings that deliver them in symphonies. My very first day at this stunning resort was the latter. I arrived eager and curious, keen to explore the jewels this place has to offer, and from the moment I woke before dawn, I knew I was somewhere extraordinary.
I rose before the sun, drawn by something I couldn't name but had to follow. The Warwick Fiji Resort on the Coral Coast had already proven itself a sanctuary, but what awaited me in those pre-dawn moments was nothing short of magical.
Absorbing the Landscape: How Artists See Beauty Differently
The resort's lush green lawns stretched out like nature's own carpet, dotted with frangipani trees releasing their sweet perfume into the tropical air. Palm trees swayed in the gentle morning breeze, their fronds creating a rustling percussion. But it was the sound beneath that rhythm that captured me completely: the gentle roar of ocean waves meeting the reef, several kilometres out. The acoustics were extraordinary, as though the landscape itself had been designed as an amphitheatre for the soul.
I found myself scampering from one vantage point to the next like an excited child, chasing the perfect view through the throng of palms. Each angle offered something different, each perspective a new gift. Then, glancing down at the warm shallows, I spotted fish teeming in the crystalline water, their scales catching the first hints of golden light. I turned to my right, and there it was: a small island, intimate and inviting, with a restaurant perched upon it like a jewel in the sea. I remember thinking how lovely it would be to dine there, surrounded by all this beauty.
Sometimes the heart knows before the mind does—that wish whispered at sunrise would become my evening's reality.
Lazy Days in Paradise: Embracing Fiji Time
The day unfolded in lazy luxury. Pool hours filled with laughter, family moments that felt suspended in amber, the kind you know you'll return to in memory again and again. As the afternoon light began to soften and the sky started its slow transformation, I knew the true crescendo was approaching.
Sunset Symphony: Transcending the Moment into Art
The sky transformed into an artist's fever dream. Purples melted into pinks, which bled into reds, each hue more audacious than the last. Clouds hung like dancers mid-leap, gracefully positioned as if choreographed, with the sea below serving as their grand stage, the symphony to their ballet.
And then, dinner. That restaurant I'd admired from the shore in the morning became our evening sanctuary. The food tasted like it had been sent straight from heaven, each bite infused with the care and skill that makes Fijian cuisine so special. But it wasn't just the food that nourished us. We sat fully immersed in nature, the gentle lull of the ocean our soundtrack, the warmth and genuine care of the Fijian people wrapping around us like the tropical breeze.
From Sunrise to Sunset: A Day That Transforms the Soul
From sunrise to sunset, from solitary wonder to shared joy, that first day was a reminder of why we travel, why we seek, why we open ourselves to places that can transform an ordinary day into something transcendent.
The Coral Coast has claimed a piece of my heart, and I suspect it won't be giving it back anytime soon.
Vinaka vaka levu, Fiji. Thank you for the magic.
Judith Rose
If you would like to know more about my work, please contact me at judithrose.art
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