Desert Tower

9" x 12" Oil on Panel

Early this month I was back in the desert, near the Book Cliffs. There's so much to explore and paint there! Other parts of Utah get much more attention, and that makes this area all the better for exploring and painting. No noisy crowds. No national park bureaucratic regulations. Just desert canyons and cliffs, pinyon and juniper forests, and wide open views. 

This painting was made on a beautiful day early in November. The weather was one of those late autumn dichotomies where chilly air and warm sun contrast sharply with each other. After painting, I took a little time to hike a trail that led through a couple canyons and through stands of pinyon pine and juniper trees to a pleasant surprise; a waterfall in the desert! This time of year there was a lot of ice built up on the waterfall, and along the creek that tumbled over those falls.

There was much more trail to hike, but the sun was getting low and the time short, so I thought it best to return. And although I physically returned, it's as if part of my mind remained, wondering what else there was farther along the trail. Bits of my mind always seem to get stuck in wild places! I'll be back, for sure, both to paint and to hike more of this wonderful and intriguing landscape!

Backlit Redhead

12" x 9" Pastel on Sanded Paper

This pastel is from last week's portrait session at Howard Lyon's studio. Howard had placed the lighting so that a cool light illuminated the model from the front, and a strong reddish light shone on her from the opposite side. I had gone into the session intending to only do a charcoal sketch, but when I saw how colorful the subject was, I had to get out the colors!

For more about portrait sessions, go to "Labels" on the side bar and click on "portrait", "sketching" or "drawing".

Mid October Hues

20" x 20" Oil on Panel

Here's a square painting for once. I kind of like the format, so I might just paint a few more of them. Who knows, I could start trying other non-standard formats also.

This painting shows the subtle, earthy colors of a mid October rural landscape. It's days like this that make me want to outfit one of my paintboxes with only earth tone oil colors, just for scenes like this. This painting could have been made using mainly earth colors, such as yellow ochre, burnt umber and burnt sienna, but I used my usual split primary plus viridian palette instead, because that's what I have. Such a bright palette can be used to create earth tone colors just fine, it's just a little more expensive to do it that way. It would be interesting to see how a scene like this could be painted with a Zorn-ish palette, such as yellow ochre, cadmium red, and ivory black or ultramarine blue, plus titanium white. I'll be sure to give that a try sometime soon.

This painting will be in a show early next year. I'll explain more about the show later, as we get closer to it.

Helper Plein Air 2019

11" x 14" Oil on Panel

On the first of October I traveled to Helper, Utah, to spend a few days participating in a plein air event there. I've been hoping for a plein air event in Helper for a long time. The landscape surrounding the town is rich in subject matter for paintings, with miles of towering cliffs and wide open high desert views. Many of the buildings in downtown helper have the feel of an early twentieth century boom town. I've painted in the area before, and have spent a few days there in the past, but it's been a few years since I've been back.

11" x 14" Oil on Panel

Helper is a small town tucked up against the Book Cliffs, and located on a major route between northern and southeastern Utah; a route used by people generally on their way to and from other places. Because of Helper's location, it's a major railroad town, supplying extra locomotives to help long trains up steep canyon grades. (Hence the town's name.) The railroad, and coal mining, provided the bulk of the local economy. Those industries, however, have been on the wane recently, and the town has suffered economically.

During my most recent visit I was surprised to find that a number of the previously empty buildings in downtown Helper now house art galleries and artists' studios. During the monthly "First Friday Art Walk," main street is closed to traffic. Street vendors and performers set up their booths street side downtown, and crowds of people show up to tour galleries and enjoy the festivities. Helper is not yet a big art center, but there is a sense of optimism, and the town seems to be on it's way to becoming one.

My abode for a few days.

While in Helper for the plein air event, I stayed at a local campground. The first morning there, as I happened to be looking toward the Book Cliffs a few miles away, There suddenly appeared what I at first thought was smoke from a big wildfire that had just started on the other side of town. But the smoke was billowing downward, not up, like smoke is supposed to. I realized it wasn't smoke. It was dust and debris from a huge rockfall, tumbling hundreds of feet down a towering cliff near town! The rockfall then kicked up a giant dust cloud that rose hundreds of feet into the air, and slowly drifted off to the southeast.

A few minutes later, I drove to a nearby corner market. Pointing to the still lingering dust cloud where the rockfall had happened, I asked the man at the checkout counter,

"Are there any homes located over there?"

He replied that no, that area of town is where the cemetery is and there aren't any homes there.

I asked, "Does this sort of thing happen here very often?"

He answered, "More often than you would think." Then after a short pause added, "That was a big one, though."

The big rockfall had been visible from all over town. It was frequently brought up in conversation later when the plein air painters got together after being out painting all day.

The big rockfall happened on the cliff  visible
just to the right of the top of the tent.

That day and the next I did the two paintings shown at the top of this post. After framing my paintings and turning them in at the gallery, I headed out to explore more of the surrounding area. Pointing the 4Runner down various unfamiliar dirt roads, I would drive until the road ended, or I thought it might never end. Then I'd turn around and go find another road to explore. The diverse roads I followed led me into deep canyons or up onto high mesas.

An example of the brightly colored wild asters that
were growing many places along the road.

There was little time available between dropping off paintings and returning to the gallery later that evening for the reception, so instead of painting I simply scouted the area, stopping from time to time to take photographs.

More Asters

Pinyon pines and juniper trees grow in scattered batches on the tablelands below the book cliffs. Most of the area, however, is open grassland and sagebrush. In the higher elevations a wider variety of trees can be found, including aspens and maples.

An Abundance of Juniper Berries

Perhaps more showy than the asters were the large batches of yellow chamisa, or rabbitbrush commonly growing along the edges of dirt roads.

Chamisa, or Rabbitbrush

More Roadside Rabbitbrush

To see my paintings in person, along with freshly made paintings by more than forty other plein air artists, come visit Adams Fine Arts in Helper, Utah. The gallery is located downtown at 115 South Main Street. The show will be up through the rest of October, and the first of November. All paintings are for sale. For more information, visit https://www.helperpleinair.com

An Example of the Kind of Landscape I Was Exploring

Exploring September Woods

Long View Beyond the Woods

It's the end of September. In the mountains, a few trees are already beginning to display their autumn colors. Late summer asters and goldenrod seem to be the most common wildflowers blooming this late in the season. The early autumn sun shines more gently than it did during the height of summer.

A handful of times this month I've gone up into the mountains in an unsuccessful attempt to hunt forest grouse. Despite the lack of success bagging any game, time spent in the mountain forests and ridges has been time well spent. I believe it's time I need to spend there.

Meadow, Forrest and Mountain

The canyons, woods, and ridge tops of the southern Wasatch range haven't given me any grouse yet, but they've provided thoughtful time to myself as I've explored stands of aspen and evergreen. There have been tremendous views from ridge tops where one can see for many miles; views not only pleasing to the eye, but also challenging to the mind.

Overlooking Sanpete Valley

What is it about those views of ridge after ridge, canyon after canyon that compel me to stop and try to comprehend them? What is in those canyons and on those mountains that could be different from where I stand looking out over such an expansive landscape? Are there other opportunities there? More potential? More grouse? New opportunities for plein air painting? More opportunities to learn about the landscape, and about life?

I can't begin to describe everything I've seen on trips into the wild, nor explain many of the things I've experienced there. I'm certain I'll continue to see and experience new things in visits to the wild, yet I'm sure there's also much that gets missed. Time spent out there changes me, probably in ways I'm not always aware of.

A Gathering of Evergreens

The shotgun I carried on these hunts never was fired, but a camera was frequently brought into action. All of the pictures in this post are from my September hunts.

A Woodsy Trail

One of the places I went to had large areas burned in big wildfires last year. There's still plenty of places to go that aren't burnt, but I frequently came across areas of standing charred trees where new green brush was beginning to push up through ashen soil.

Charred Forrest

One thing hunting does for me is that it compels me to hike and explore places I wouldn't otherwise go. If such trips don't result in fresh wild table fare, they always give me other things that are well worth the expense of a hunting license. There were plenty of opportunities to view wildlife other than what I was after. Deer, wild turkeys, pine squirrels, woodpeckers, flickers, ravens and red-tailed hawks were among the wildlife I enjoyed seeing on these mountain trips. On occasion I'd come across curious things, such as an ancient dead pine tree that looked like it should be haunted.

Tree Monster

In another place, I found this assemblage of sticks and logs. My guess is it was either once a hunter's blind or built by some bushcrafter practicing making a survival shelter.

Here's my companion on these trips into the September woods. Turns out all it did was come along for the ride, but that's OK. 'Twern't any trouble at all.

The later half of the month definitely had a feeling of changing seasons. During one visit to the mountains late in the month, mild temperatures and increasing cloud cover gave the sky a very un-summer like mood. Cloud cover became broken and ragged. Curtains of rain hung from dark clouds in the southeastern sky. The rain seemed to drag around the edges of the landscape, but left me alone during most of the day.

Changing Colors

Hunting up a draw through aspen thickets, I continued until I came to a ridge line edged with scrub oak. I didn't expect to see any game birds on the ridge, I simply wanted to be there. After tarrying a little on the ridge, I headed back down a different slope, going from one stand of quakies to another. The dirt road, and my car, came into view far too soon. There was still time left in the day, so I headed up through a meadow and into another section of woods. There aspen leaves shimmered and whispered in the autumn breeze.

Diamond Fork

Cloud cover and the late time of day finally combined to spread a continuous shadow across the landscape. Returning through forest and meadow, I watched as the lowering sun at first gilded cloud tops, then painted them with a pinkish orange hue. A light, unsteady rain began to fall where I was. Standing beside my car, I watched the evening deepen. In the distance a jagged bolt of lightning flashed in dark storm clouds. Tomorrow morning these mountaintops will have a light dusting of snow. But this evening two things seem to tug at me, pulling in opposite directions. It was time to go, but I really didn't want to.

Changing Weather

Mt. Olympus on a Hot Summer's Day

9" x 12" Oil on Panel

This is a plein air painting of Mt. Olympus as seen from Olympus Hills Park in Holliday. This section of the park is a nice wild little area near the eastern edge of the city. Walking paths meander through tall grasses and scrub oak, providing a little bit of nature in a broad valley otherwise filled mostly with city.

The day I painted this was very hot, probably over 100° F (38° C). Of course, the view I wanted required that I set up in direct sun for a few hours. I didn't think I could withstand the summer heat long enough to do a large painting, so I kept it fairly small. Judging by how I felt when the painting was finished, I was probably right.

Climbing Provo Peak 2019

Provo Peak (Oil on Panel)

This is a painting I made a few years ago Of Provo Peak, as seen from the valley near the boat harbor. Last Week, a friend of mine and I decided to hike Provo Peak, which rises 11,068 feet (about 3,374 meters) above sea level.

Provo Peak, Photographed from the Side of Lionshead Peak.

We started out in the afternoon, driving up Provo Canyon to Squaw Peak Road. There the driving became progressively worse the farther up the road we went. It seems that once past Rock Canyon Campground, the high mountain dirt road gets no maintenance. The road was full of rocks and deep ruts. A few places had holes as big as our car. It wasn't anything my 4Runner couldn't handle, we just had to drive slowly - often as slow as two miles an hour. It took us a couple hours to get from the beginning of the road to the trailhead.

Cascade Mountain, viewed from the Provo Peak trailhead.

Not long after beginning our climb, we found an unattended campfire. This is the second time in a week I've found campfires abandoned yet still burning in the mountains! And it's fire season. We didn't have enough water to put the fire out, so we dug up a lot of dirt and threw that on the fire until it stopped smoking.

Cascade Mountain, as seen from farther up the ridge.

The trail to the peak is not very good in some places. It's steep and full of loose rocks. Three times I left the trail and found my own way up the mountain for a while because the trail was so difficult and unsafe.

The higher we climbed, the hazier the weather became. I wonder if the haze was possibly from wildfires burning in other parts of the West. By the time we reached the 11,068 ft. high peak, the haze largely obscured the distant views we had hoped to see. The climb was still well worth it though! 

This was the fourth time I've climbed Provo Peak, and it's been a long time since the time before. I took a few photos from the top before we began our hike back down. The sun set before we were halfway down the mountainside. We made it to the trailhead, and the 4Runner, with the help of my flashlight. 

Hazy view of Cascade Mountain from the top of Provo Peak.

The view toward East Peak.

Looking southward from the peak along the main ridge.

The view ESE.

Looking down Slate Canyon to Utah Lake. 

The view from the top, toward Mt. Nebo.

Three More from the Wednesday Night Portrait Sessions!

Three more little paintings from life done at the Wednesday sessions. They were painted alla prima at sessions within the last month or two.

All three were painted in oil on panel, and measure 8" x 6". They were painted with a limited palette of yellow, red, black, and white. For a little more about painting with a limited palette, go to "Labels" on the side bar and click on "limited palette".

For more about portrait sessions, go to "Labels" on the side bar and click on "portrait", "sketching" or "drawing".

Wasatch Plein Air Paradise 2019

12" x 16" Oil on Panel

The Midway Art Association is holding it's annual plein air competition right now. Painting for the main competition began last Saturday. Paintings for the main competition had to be turned in yesterday, but smaller "paint outs" and "quick draws" continue through July 4th.

12" x 16" Oil on Panel

I've entered three paintings (all painted this week) into the main competition, but unfortunately won't be in any of the "paint outs" this year due to other commitments. The show runs through July the fourth (except Sunday) and is free to the public. All paintings are for sale. For more information about the event, contact Midway Art Association.

14" x 11" Oil on Panel

Summer Solstice 2019

8" x 10" Oil on Panel

Happy Summer Solstice! Here's a couple recent plein air paintings that I think have an appropriately summery feel to them.

9" x 12" Oil on Panel

This year so far has seen more rain than usual. Nature's also put on daily displays of cloudscapes of all kinds. Clouds can be difficult to paint en plein aire because of their fleet and transient nature. I think this year will provide ample opportunities to take on the challenge of cloudscapes in oil paint. I hope I'm up to it!

A Couple of Early Spring Hikes

Technically, it wasn't early Spring when I took these photos, but high up in the mountains springtime lags behind the lower valley. Because of that, up high it looks like Spring is just getting started. Even higher it looks like winter still.

About a month ago I went for another hike up the same canyon I've been visiting off and on for a few months now. Less than a mile into the hike, I looked back and saw four Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep resting high on a ridge maybe three hundred or four hundred yards from me. The camera I carry on these hikes is a cheap little Casio, and it's rather limited in what it can do. I snapped a picture anyway. If you can't see the four bighorns on the skyline in the photo shown above, I'll include the next picture pointing them out.

The vegetation had greened up considerably since the last time I was in the canyon, though the trees had not leafed out completely.

Here's a section of thick stuff just off the trail about halfway to where the trail forks.

As I hike, I try to remember to look around - not just focus on whats ahead. That's how I got to see the bighorn sheep I mentioned earlier. There's other reasons to keep aware of the landscape behind and all around you. This is a view looking back down canyon to the cliffs and slopes I passed below earlier in the hike.

There's not much left of the avalanche tongue I had to hike over earlier this year. Small trees that were once mostly buried under several feet of snow are now beginning to sprout leaves.

The next picture is a view looking up canyon from the avalanche chute. If you look at the brush in the foreground you might notice that all those little trees are leaning dramatically down slope. These small trees are growing in the avalanche chute. The down-hill angle of the brush is caused by the force of avalanches that sweep down over them every winter, pressing them down. Some of the trees even seem to grow downhill, with only the very tips of the branches curving upwards. These trees might never reach beyond sapling size. From my observation, every tree in the avalanche chute that reaches a trunk diameter of two inches looses sufficient flexibility and is then snapped off by an avalanche.

Upon reaching the trail fork I head up the right hand trail to a meadow. I brought with me a little sheet metal fireplace. Disassembled, it stores completely flat, and is quick and easy to set up. I also brought a brand new 16 oz. stainless steel cup to cook in. 

The little sheet steel fireplace worked surprisingly well. Fed a steady supply of dry maple sticks it cooked my food quickly. Soon I had a hearty helping of oatmeal. The little plastic bottle next to the oatmeal contains honey, which was added to the oatmeal before dining.

Storm clouds began to move in during my break in the meadow. Soon the weather was threatening rain. After eating, I hiked a little farther up canyon, leaving the trail to explore around a little. My hike back down the canyon was in the rain. 

The following week I was back up the canyon. The vegetation was much greener than the week before.

Because of the way the wash meanders back and forth across the narrow canyon as it descends, the trail crosses the wash several times. The wash is usually dry, but on this day snowmelt from a heavy winter snowpack was pouring down the wash, making crossings challenging. Usually I was able to find a place where the stream was wider, shallower and had convenient stepping stones to cross on. A couple times I crossed the wash on fallen logs. A couple times I had to boulder hop above roaring chutes of water to get across. Once I thought I could make a place to cross by tossing a couple rocks for stepping stones into the stream. The rocks were each about a foot and a half in diameter. Shortly after tossing the rocks in, and checking their dubious stability with my hiking staff, I watched as the rapid current caught the hoped-for stepping stones and rolled them into deeper water. Time to find another place to cross.

A familiar view along the trail:

It was a little late in the day when I started the hike, so by the time I reached the meadow I sometimes cook meals at, the meadow was completely in shadow. That shadow was too dark for the camera when I photographed the mountain south of it. You'll just have to imagine a meadow at the bottom of this photo:

Returning to the trail fork I went up the left hand trail to a place I call "Moose Meadow." Instead of cooking a meal this time, I had just brought along some prepackaged snacks. Here they are, sitting on a large blue-grey limestone boulder full of brachiopod and crinoid fossils.

Since it was getting late, and the water crossings had been so tricky, I considered hiking out of the mountains a different way, one that would avoid the high Spring runoff. That would add a few miles to the return hike, some of which would be well after nightfall. After thinking it over, I returned the way I had come, once again successfully staying dry while crossing the stream eight times on my way back down the canyon.