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