Moving along....

"At The Crossing" 8x10; oil
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Difficult decision behind, I needed to clear my head...

A familiar spot...but different view. Some might consider it sacrilegious to depict Red Rock Crossing without showing some semblance of the iconic Cathedral Rock. I figure I'm going to be painting this spot for a long, long time.....there will be plenty of time for Cathedral Rock paintings.

"At The Crossing" 8x10, oil

One of those days....

"Perkinsville Road" 8x10; oil
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Gotta be honest, folks....been one hell of a sh**ty day.

...painting seems to be going nowhere, hung out to dry by a long-time friend, myself and wife insulted by a colleague, and professional integrity questioned by a client....some days you just want to wander off into the forest and tell the world to f**k off.

....but then I remember, others have it worse (please see previous post).....

Rediscover....

Oak Creek Boulders
8x10, oil

Had an interesting thing happen this evening as I was packing up to leave the studio. A couple pulled in to the OJHS (Old Jerome High School) parking lot with an Airstream in tow and asked if I knew of a good place to camp for the night. I informed them that there were a couple of places nearby, but that the best place was about a half hour away in Sedona. Right on Oak Creek, base o Schnebly Hill, amongst the red rocks, etc...I might be a bit partial because I live there full-time, nevertheless....I told them I was heading that way if they wanted to follow me.

As I got in the truck to head down the hill, through the town of Cottonwood, and out into the Verde Valley to Sedona, it struck me how extraordinary a thing it was that not only would I offer to lead somebody over twenty miles across the valley, but that they would trust me enough to follow a stranger down a road they clearly had never driven, to a place they had never been. Just a couple of years ago, I might have eyed these folks with suspicion wondering "what's this guy's angle?" And I would've assumed they were doing the same.

With this in the front of my mind, we set off towards Sedona. As we got closer, I realized how it must have looked to them; traveling down this strange piece of highway, the landscape changing from scrub and grasses to juniper and pinion, each curve revealing an ever-changing series of red rock cliffs and formations until you're sitting at the very base of these amazing monuments while waiting for a red light near New Frontiers grocery.

It's not that I take our unbelievable natural surroundings for granted. Each day I drive to the grocery store, it's all I can do to not pull over and gaze at the rocks -- often I don't make it and I think "I live here!"...But it's different when you consider it in terms of a first timer. Tonight, an even stronger level of thankfulness swept over me as I remembered that, come tomorrow, I don't have to leave this place. That I get to go back to Jerome and paint. And I don't have to go back to being suspicious of everyone's motives every moment of every day. That even though there is still ugliness and danger out there....right now, in this place...as the brilliant Michael Workman puts it, "There are still good things."

Plein air study: "Oak Creek Boulders" 8x10, oil on panel

White Rock in shadow

"Wilson Mountain"
8x10; oil

Not as easy as it sounds.....

No revelations -- when I get one about this, you'll be the first to know

Plein air study: "Wilson Mountain"

Near Home.....

"Home Away From Home"
8x10 study; oil

In need of a break from red rock madness, I looked around for something a little different. At this point in my fledgling painting life, I'm just looking to paint anything from life....but in this case, after four days baking in the Arizona sun, I was being a wimp. What I was really looking for was: what can I paint without leaving the cover of my patio?

Since we live full-time in our RV in a beautiful park on the banks of Oak Creek, the most obvious choice was: an RV. Not all that exciting...but it made for a good exercise.

A friend and I always talk about critical elements to paintings. In landscapes, it seems important to me that someone viewing the painting should feel that it would be someplace they might like to spend some time. Several months ago, I saw a painting of an RV park in American Artist magazine that had exactly that feel to it....I tried to capture a modicum of this as best I could in this little sketch. It will definitely be a guiding concept when I do some future paintings from the comfort of home....

sketch: "Home Away From Home" 8x10; oil

Insanity of Red Rocks

From Schnebly Hill
6x8

Don't get me wrong...I'm having a great time trying to figure these guys out. But as anyone who has been to Sedona - or the rest of the Colorado plateau for that matter - these rocks screw with you. The light changes about every twenty minutes, you start to lose yourself in the cracks and crags, and then there's the whole temperature thing.

I'm not talking about the desert heat. I'm talking about the fact that there are cool green colors in front of warm red colors -- something quite different than the usual cool colors receding into the background.

Second study: from Schnebly Hill

Martini time...

Sometimes it's just about the painting... My mind was strangely quiet this weekend. Perhaps being in awe of the slew of great painters I've been studying. So many brilliant painters, so much paint to place Pear Martini: 8x10 oil on canvas panel

Fear

The concept of an open studio is an interesting one. The idea of course being that while you are working in your studio, anyone can walk in and watch you while you're in the midst of your process -- in this case, fencing with a canvas. Painting can be such a solitary pursuit, especially for those that seek the solitude of outdoors and the tradition of plein-air.

Being new to this, the fact that at any time, a stranger can walk into my studio and look over my shoulder as I put paint on the canvas, mix paint on the pallet, or just stare at the spot where I intend to place paint while I'm figuring out the next move in this game of chess, can be very disconcerting.

Today, a nice gentleman walked into my studio, and unlike most visitors that linger at the front of the room and tentatively tip-toe about so as to not disturb "the process," this fellow greeted me very boldy and walked right up to the easel. I was in the middle of mixing several different values for an attempt at a Bosc pear. As I placed my first value on the canvas - darkest dark, of course - he shook his head and said, "I just don't know how you guys do that...I'd be terrified...I'm just not creatively inclined."

I thought...well...I am terrified...trust me...but I have to finish this painting ....cause, you know, it's what I do now...and in order to finish it...I have to start the bloody thing....so take a deep breath and....after the first stroke, it gets instantly easier...and before I know it, it's fun....(not to mention, being new at this, I don't really feel like I know what the hell I'm doing half the time)...

...and this is the way I've always worked. In music, I was always fearful when starting a new composition. I just had to get that first note on the page and then it became about the fun. That's when the real creativity begins.

In truth, I could just close the door and work in privacy...but what fun would that be?

Offered: Pansies and Vase; 8x10 oil on canvas

Age and energy

The topic of age was in the air the other night. Listening to NPR, the programs "All Things Considered" and "Fresh Air" were discussing artists and age. A question posed was this: does an artist create more lasting and meaningful works of art because they are advanced in age?

One person mentioned was Monet, who arguably created his best work during his advanced years in his garden at Giverny. Also J.S. Bach, who completed singular works including the B Minor Mass at a point in his late fifties -- advanced age for the 18th century.

While the list of aging geniuses is long, so too is the list of highly accomplished youngsters creating their seminal works before the age of forty.

Does then, the maturity and experience of age surpass the energy and risk-taking of youth when it comes to art? Ironically, the question may be itself a victim of infancy. Consider that only in the last 80 or so years has the average life expectancy increased beyond fifty. A relatively short amount of time in the history of human artistic endeavors. In short, we maybe haven't been living long enough yet to arrive at an accurate evaluation.....and does it even matter.....

I suppose I found this interesting because it hits so close to home for me. Here I sit in front of an easel, embarking on a new artistic life at the age of 46. I sincerely hope my best work is in front of me.

"Watermelon and plums" 9x12, oil on canvas panel