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.

First Show of 2019

A few of my plein air paintings are in a group show at the Brown House Gallery in Springville, Utah. The opening reception for the show will be from 7:00 PM to 9:00 PM this evening at the gallery, located at 274 South Main Street in Downtown Springville.

Here's a few examples of (mostly small) paintings I'll have in the show:

  

The exhibit will be up for the rest of June and Most of July. Come by and check out the show if you're in the area. Hope to see you there!

We See What We Expect to See

This happened a number of years ago, in an apartment complex I lived in at the time. One day I went to the laundry room to wash some clothes, as I normally did about once a week. A week's worth of laundry takes a few washers at once if one doesn't want to wait and run several loads of laundry through a single machine.

On this particular day I needed four washing machines. I selected four adjacent machines and checked to make sure they were empty. The inside of each washing machine is colored grey, with white specks. I was certain that was what I saw when I looked in each machine. Empty. One by one I poured a measured amount of dry laundry detergent into each washer. I heard the dry detergent rattle against the bottom of each empty machine - except the last one, which made no sound when I poured in the detergent. Confused, I looked inside the fourth washer again.

Oh no! Inside that washing machine was someone's freshly washed laundry, all black clothing, now covered with my laundry detergent! After having looked inside the previous three washers, I was certain I had seen the same dark grey interior with white specks in the fourth as I had seen in the previous three machines. But I couldn't have.

I had expected to see an empty washing machine, grey with white specks, so I thought that's what I did see.

My first impulse was to close the washing machine lid and pretend it didn't happen. Then I realized I owed whoever the black clothing belonged to some money for a new wash. So I put some quarters into the coin slots and started the machine again. Then I found another washer (really empty this time) and went back to my own laundry.

A couple minutes later, two men walked into the laundry room. Both men were younger - and taller - than me. And both were dressed entirely in black. I continued to sort my laundry as they walked up to the newly started washer, which was right beside me. The first man had a confused look on his face as he looked at the now running washing machine. He turned to me and asked,

"Is this your laundry?"

With a convincing display of disinterest I glanced at the machine and nonchalantly answered,

"Nope."

And continued to sort my laundry.

The first man in black, after staring at the washing machine for another several seconds, opened it, revealing black clothing sloshing around in soapy water.

"Dude! How long do these washers run?!" He exclaimed to no one in particular.

"Dude! When did you put those clothes in there?" The second man in black responded.

I tended to my own laundry as if nothing was unusual.

Probably less than a minute passed before the two men left the laundry room, still wondering to each other how that washing machine could still be running after so long. I didn't feel inclined to tell them. I completed my laundry without further incident.

What might any of this have to do with painting?

Sometimes the brain uses experience to interpret a scene in front of it instead of relying solely on what the eye at the moment sends to the brain. I won't take time in this post to explain how that works, but you can do some research if you like, perhaps starting here, or this article here, to get a better understanding of what I'm referring to. That, I believe, is how someone can look at a painting, and instead of seeing blotches of paint, see leaves on a tree, flowers in a meadow, or the glance of a person gazing back at them. This is what painters depend upon to get their paintings to work, at least at that level. It doesn't even matter how large or small those "blotches of paint " are. if they are put in the right place, in the right way, it will trigger the mind to "see" depth, shape, atmosphere, and even life where there is really only a flat inanimate surface.

Or, how your brain perceives things might nearly get you into trouble...