Going to the Sun

This piece is from the vantage point of "Going to the Sun" road in Glacier National Park, a narrow road etched into the side of a steep mountain pass. No painting or photo can adequately describe the experience of driving that road. It's a breathtaking view for sure! I always get a kink in my neck from trying to see up, as well as down whenever I'm a passenger. It would be fun to do it on a motorcycle, I think!

Betatakin

On Monday, my little girls and I went to town to buy some baling wire for our garden fence. The store, rural as it is, was out and said to come back in the afternoon. Hmmm. Not wanting to waste an hour of driving, I decided to go exploring. We ended up in Betatakin at the Navajo National Monument, where nestled at the base of deep canyons are some ruins of an ancient Anasazi apartment complex. I didn't think my toddlers were up for the 8 mile hike to the bottom, and as we got there, they both fell asleep in the car. So naturally it was a good time to step out and paint for a couple of hours. And... I just happened to have an easel and paints and thinner and some spare panels with me. ;) One of my favorite things about painting outside is getting to meet all of the people who stop alongside the road to see what you're doing. On Monday I got to meet people from Sasketchewan, China, Indonesia I think, Texas, and some local coal mine workers. It's always fun to hear people's stories and make connections.

Down in the Valley

From a stretch of the Flathead river where I was fishing with Grandpa in his driftboats... Well, he was fishing. I was a little distracted. It was so interesting to see the cool pink grazing the trees and grass right next to the blazing hot orange of the sky. I was trying to figure out what pigments to use in which places, since the instant you snap the photo the camera makes it either all warm or all cool, or some muddy combination. Congrats to Angela and Josh Erickson! This was their wedding present. ;)

Home Again

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From the top of the big meadow on the Oftedahl Ranch, I painted this familiar scene. A doe wandered around through my Dad’s log decks behind me, inching closer and closer out of curiosity. Finally she came right up onto the hill in front of my easel, and pawed at the ground, challenging my right to paint there. I wondered how I would describe the sound a deer makes. I think I’d say it’s a cross between the word “shoo” and “chew,” whispered as loudly as possible. There’s never any end to the distractions when you’re painting, pleasant as they may be. But at least I have a supportive husband who takes turns with the kids and lets me go paint and talk to deer. 

Great Grandpa’s Garages

When I was a kid, I spent a whole summer in these sheds catching rabbits with my sisters and cousins, and  they provided a maze of good hiding places for the rabbits. Dusty, greasy, full of rusty iron tools and filthy old tires… Great grandpa filled them up with his treasures. But that's not why I painted them. I painted them because as Harvey Dunn says it, they “reflect... the glorious light of heaven.” 

 

Paint Camp Week One: Barretts, MT

We weren't really sure where we'd camp that night, but the first day on the road landed us in this gorgeous spot on the Beaverhead river. We were grateful to find a free campsite, a fire pit, an old fashioned hand pump with clean well water, and a few friendly neighbors. So we set up camp and stayed here for a week. With plenty of organizing and logistical problems still to solve, painting time this week was less than the place deserved, but still gratifying. James and I have long faced the problem of how we can both paint with two little kids without neglecting them. Here it's an easy fix... one of us paints while the other plays with the kids. :) One week he paints mornings and I paint afternoons, and then the next week we switch. The awesome thing about painting all week in the same location is that you can do a finished (and even large) painting without being rushed so long as you get several days of similar weather throughout the week. I did one painting multiple days from 8:00- 10:00, and then another (multiple days) from 10:00- 12:00 of a different scene. That way I didn't get frustrated with the changing lighting since I'm not that fast yet. It's working great so far.

Breaking in a new Dutch Oven

Breakfast with Daddy

The best ready-made composition was from right in our campsite. :)

Free entertainment...

Waiting Backstage

This isn't the best photo so I'll swap it out when the lighting's better, but here's the painting finished about a week ago. It was painted from a live model- a really great one. :) She was perfectly still, and multitasked- studying geometry from a textbook on the floor while modeling. I decided to make up quite a few things, like the fringe on the outfit, the hair sticks, and the background. I just didn't want to paint a dancer sitting in front of a chalkboard. So I thought, "What if she's actually sitting backstage, waiting for the intro to her song to come on? It's the final performance of the evening, and all of her family and friends are watching, waiting with the film crews for her to come out and be awesome! ;)"  So that's how I painted it. Better photo coming soon...

Waiting Backstage

On Not Being a Control Freak

For the last five days of being sick with the flu, I've had plenty of time to sift through amazing artwork online and glean and dig for answers to what the differences are between where my paintings are now, and where I'd like them to go next. Despite the facts that I despise dictatorships, socialistic attitudes and micromanagement perpetrators, I've come to that point where I need to actually admit... that when it comes to paint, I'm naturally a control freak. Yes, what I've always known, and was probably obvious to you has been eating away at me, making me uncomfortably defensive every time I look at a piece of art that truly speaks to me. It's that nagging wanna-be doubt that says, "You can never do that. You are a control freak." Well, I'm done. I can't take listening to that anymore, so I'm changing my art. This is a turning point for me. People can change. I can.

The beauty we find in nature, although it's infused with order and unifying patterns, exists to some extent or another in a state of chaos, which makes it incredibly interesting to look at, and explore. And why is it like that? (This is the epiphany I had today) - it's because God, our Creator, is not a "control freak." He doesn't rule as a dictator, or regulate like a micro-manager. He doesn't iron out all the wrinkles, prevent all the wars from happening, stop everyone from getting sick, or force all of the people and animals to live in separate areas, like the person (maybe me...) who keeps the peas out of the potatoes on their dinner plate. He lets things happen. He lets us make choices so we can develop. He lets us do very stupid things because He respects the agency He's given us to act for ourselves and knows we'll account for it later...when the whole painting is finished. I'm going to treat my paint more like that.

Here are some of the paintings among hundreds of others that have led me to this *crucial* moment of decision:

Whitney Lau

Tibor Nagy

Vadim Zanginian

Quang Ho

Tibor Nagy