It's Autumn Again!

Autumn is a time when I tend to start getting excited. I don't think it's a migratory instinct.☺ It's the beginning of the colorful holiday season -- fall itself, then Halloween, Thanksgiving and finally Christmas. I love the festive look and the colors of these times.

I think it all started in the late 1970s when I discovered images of some well-made paintings of migratory waterfowl, especially mallard ducks (which I happen to love!) I bought several of these limited-edition prints, and I have them to this day. I typically keep them put away until fall, then I switch around other prints to hang these. They do a lot to establish a fall ambiance.

These are the first three prints I ordered from an outfit called Wild Wings. The top piece is by the late Owen J. Gromme, and the lower two are by living artist David A. Maass.

As one might suspect, duck hunters enjoy images like these because this is how their pastime looks -- early morning, ducks taking off and settling down, looking for breakfast. Well, I'm not a hunter of any kind, but I love ducks and I love fall colors. And, for me as a desert painter, David's paintings often show the "wide open spaces" that wetlands can be. In fact, Mr. Maass' works are typically nice landscapes that would "work" even without the critters. But with the ducks (or upland birds, as well), the landscapes become even more amazing!

Although I have rarely painted ducks, I still feel my own artwork has been influenced by painters such as Owen and David. Besides the prints I have, I feel I owe them a debt of thanks for inspiring me!


 

Things About April 6

It's April 6, 2016 -- a day noteworthy for several reasons...

It's my birthday. Let's just say I'm old, and we'll leave it at that.

On a sadder note, country music legend Merle Haggard died to day at age 79. I can't say I'm much of a C&W music fan, but it's still a little hard when the legends of the genre go.

Sadder yet -- the "Painter of Light" Thomas Kinkade died today in 2012 at 54 years of age. Cause of death was supposedly "acute intoxication" from alcohol and Valium.

I never met TK, but it sounded like he had some major struggles with his inner demons resulting from a bad home life as a child. It's unfortunate that people, including parents, don't realize how much emotional damage they can create in someone -- damage that, like scar tissue, impedes total recovery back to normal.

I always thought that TK's paintings of cozy English-style homes glowing with warm light and colorful flower gardens were his way of trying to capture a happy life he never knew. Obviously, his art struck a nerve with many buyers who loved his romanticized imagery.

Some people, including other artists, thought his work was "overly sentimental" -- I guess that means the artwork was pretty and not ugly...not suggesting the reality of the ugliness of life, including TK's own life, but focusing only on the beauty that can be found.

I never saw the problem with TK's work, although he did seem to work by formula, and in time I became a little bored by seeing essentially the same rehashed material over and over again.

But what he did, he did well. And those other artists don't -- and probably never will -- enjoy the popularity that Thomas Kinkade had, although it bothered him tremendously that he wasn't accepted by the art elitist types out there.

I wish he could have simply blown the elitists off, but TK still had those demons eating away at him.

Valley of Peace -- Thomas Kinkade

 So, Tom -- I hope you're with God right now, resting and free of life's slings and arrows. Maybe you have your own "valley of peace."



 

Deserts and Everything Else

As a landscape painter, I have many, many options to choose from when deciding what to paint. Desert scenes tend to be my favorite, but there sure are a lot of other places that deserve to be captured, too.

This painting shows the Sneffels Range in Colorado, an especially beautiful region in the fall. Here, we are looking across a pasture of the Double RL Ranch -- designer Ralph Lauren's spread.

I love painting the desert, but views like Mount Sneffels cry out to be captured as well. I often feel like I don't do as well in catching the magic of these places as I do with the desert. BUT: what's an artist to do?

The desert has a mood to it like nothing else.  But sometimes I need COLOR, or the grandeur of mighty mountains or other features that the desert just doesn't have.

That's when I start thinking about Colorado, or the California redwoods, or even the ocean shores. And paint it all!

It's a big world, but somebody's gotta paint it!

A Season of Gold

A Season of Gold -- that's an apt description of the Colorado mountains when autumn hits! It's also the title of my latest painting, which I started months ago but had to set aside because of my summer teaching schedule.

A Season of Gold, 16" x 20"

The view is of Mt. Sneffels as seen from the Dallas Divide. This region lies between Ridgeway and Telluride, Colorado. (Ralph Lauren has a place somewhere out here -- the Double RL Ranch).

Those reddish shrubs out there could be a bright red, but for whatever reason, whenever I paint them that way, the red seems to kill the paintings. I'm gonna have to play with that some day so that I can put in all the fall color that this magical place produces.

I wanna go back there again. And stay there throughout the peak color time -- from mid-late September. (It doesn't last long in Colorado, but often, more color can be found simply by going lower in elevation).

Some day!

Pikes Peak

Pikes Peak                                                           18" x 24"

Pikes Peak is a painting I made back in 2006. I always liked the piece, but I felt it needed just a little more...perhaps a little tweaking.

So I tweaked it, and I (personally) think it looks better now.

Pikes Peak is the mountain west of Colorado Springs, CO. This view shows the mountain in early September after a storm covered the hill with snow. It's early morning, and this is how it appears if you visit the Garden of the Gods Club, named after the Garden of the Gods -- a series of red sandstone rocks and spires in the middle distance. Pikes Peak is one of Colorado's "14ers" -- the elevation at the top is at or over 14,000 feet above sea level.

Colorado has some spectacular scenery, and this area is certainly no exception

In the Colorado Wilds

In the Colorado Wilds is the title of my newest painting -- 18" x 24" acrylic on panel.

This is looking toward the Needle Mountains south of Silverton, with some liberties taken on the Animas River (as far as I know, there are no waterfalls on this river). Pigeon Peak is to the distant right, just 28 feet short of being a fourteener (and therefore isn't climbed as much as 14ers are). I was going to put a deer on the outcropping on the lower left, but The Wiffee talked me out of it!

This is one of the few non-desert paintings that I'll be taking with me to the Cattlemen's Western Art Show in Paso Robles, CA next weekend. Even though I still feel my desert art is my strongest, I also know some people -- for some strange reason -- are not into Southwestern desert scenes. Hard to believe, but it seems to be true!

It's obviously autumn in the Colorado mountains, although the yellows never look as bright as they should in my digital images of paintings -- I need to find out how to fix that without altering the overall color of the image to yellow. For now, trust me: the aspens are golden-yellow!

And, of course, don't forget to visit my Website once in a while: http://www.SouthwestSpaces.com or http://www.MarkJunge.com.

Autumn Revisited

When one lives in the desert, one must give up certain things in exchange for other, hopefully equally good things.

Fall colors are one of those things. We have some trees and shrubs that change color -- cottonwood trees, when they occur, are an example -- but mostly, the view looks pretty much the same all year round.

So last weekend, The Wiffee and I went up into the mountains; specifically, a place called Big Bear. The mountains in this area do have native trees that turn to yellow, albeit not a bright yellow. But the oak trees that are planted along the streets can be magnificent!

One of the streets in the Village area. It looked better in real life than in the picture, but you can see examples of colorful trees!

We parked under this bee-you-tee-full oak tree. The Wiffee even collected some of the leaves.

We ate lunch at The Old Country Inn, which makes the BEST pumpkin soup in the universe! We've made this pilgrimage an annual tradition -- our wedding anniversary is 19 October, but we drove to Big Bear on the 20th so we'd have more time to relax, have fun and eat pumpkin soup!

Now...what does this have to do with desert paintings, you may be asking yourself? Well, nothing, really. I don't know if I'd ever do paintings of the Big Bear area. But it was sure a nice escape for a day.

But now it's time to return to working on some non-autumnal desert art!

Maroon Bells

Ahhh... it's finally autumn.

Autumn in the desert is much more subtle than the painting you see here. This scene is in Colorado. The distant mountains are the Maroon Bells near the town of Aspen.

Fall must be the most popular time to visit the area. The road leading to the parking lot is closed to all but a few people, and one must go to a park in Aspen to catch a shuttle bus that hauls tourists to the parking lot, where they can see the mountains and Maroon Lake which often appears in photos.

That day, I arrived there in the early afternoon. I didn't know where the park was and didn't have enough money for the shuttle. So I walked. I was told at the gate that the Maroon Bells come into view after the first six miles, and the parking lot and lake were two miles beyond that.

Well, I managed to trudge the first six miles uphill, and that was all I could handle that day after picking up unsold artwork from an exhibit in Glenwood Springs. Plus, although the day was partly cloudy when I arrived, in typical Colorado fashion, it completely clouded over by the time I saw the peaks. I even got drizzled on. It figures.

So I took pictures of the Bells and the surrounding area, saw some deer and eventually turned around and walked back to my truck.

This painting, then, is one of the works I made from that little walk. Instead of the usual Maroon Lake, I included Maroon Creek in the scene which -- except for the distant mountains -- is not exactly how things looked. (I pulled out my artists' license for this painting). I wanted to paint a different version of Maroon Bells, not the same view that millions of other folks photograph or paint.

One of the problems with painting the creek instead of the lake is how it brings out the "everyone's a critic" tendency in people. One man at an art show who saw the piece rolled his eyes in -- disgust? -- and pointed out there should be a lake there. I told him the lake was two miles up from where I was at that time. I'm not sure he believed me or not, but that does happen in the world of art.

Well, anyway, I love fall -- it seems like a feeling similar to the migratory instinct comes alive in me. Autumn makes me feel both excited and anxious at the same time.

Maybe I'm part duck. =)

The Autumnal Woods

With two shows coming up, I was thinking about making a couple of paintings showing the desert under the full moon.

We-e-l-l-l ... feeling like I need a break from painting for a while, I decided not to burden myself with additional paintings to do right now. Besides, I can't afford to buy frames for the paintings I already have, let alone for any more new pieces.

So I reworked a painting that I actually started in 1999. I was never entirely happy with it then, so I set it aside, figuring I would work on it more...someday. "Someday" came in 2004, when I made some significant changes to the scene, including removing a small waterfall that appeared almost in the middle of the painting. But I STILL wasn't happy with it!

So it sat around in it's rather ornate gold frame, stashed away out of sight. It needed more work, and I was tired of looking at it and wondering what to do with it.

Fast forward to 2010. I finally worked on it some more, and although it isn't as well-done as it could have been (which would have involved painting it out and starting all over again!), I think I finally got it to a point where I'm essentially happy with the piece now!

The title is "The Autumnal Woods" and was inspired by a painting by 19th century artist Thomas Moran:





The detail shows a frog that appears right below my name in the copyright notice. This little guy is 1/4" (6mm) long on the painting!


It's not the desert, but not everyone wants desert paintings. Let's hope somebody will want a fall painting!

Autumn in the Desert

The Big Morongo Preserve is a marshy area in the middle of the desert. It's located about 20 minutes north of Palm Springs, CA.

Lots of cottonwood trees, close relatives of aspens, grow in this natural oasis. Fall arrives here later than in many other places of the country -- the cottonwoods are pretty much at their color peak. Some of the color will linger until Christmas.

There really aren't that many opportunities to paint the desert in a way that uses bright hues. As much as I love the place, deserts can be rather drab most of the year. So the golden yellows of the cottonwoods are a welcome change.

Autumn -- but Not in the Desert

Last Sunday, The Wiffee and I took a trip to the mountains for a few days. It's been very busy for both of us, and although I, especially, still had much to do, we agreed a change of scenery (and getting away from this sweatshop!) would be a good idea.

So we stayed in a cabin owned by a friend in the Lake Arrowhead region. While not an area that could be described as having utterly awe-inspiring vistas, it still was beautiful, and I could see paintings coming out of this in the future.

Even better were the fall colors we saw. Granted -- the colors were not as rich and varied as a maple forest in Vermont or as fluorescent as the golden leaves of aspen in the Rockies. In fact, oak trees ranged brown-yellow to yellow green. But they added another dimension to the dull greens of pine and cedar.

This picture shows a different species of oak that was planted in one of the mountain towns. Most of the leaves on this and similar trees were a deep rich red, suitable for Christmas if not the fall holidays.

While the desert gets fall colors of its own, they're nothing like this oak tree. As much as I love the Mojave, sometimes one needs to go where traditional fall colors shine in all their electric glory.

Another Fall Painting

This is a painting I completed (and reworked) years ago. I'm sure if I were to do another version of it (which I'll probably do someday), I could make it even better using the skills I have evolved over the years.

My piece was inspired by a painting by my favorite 19th century artist, Thomas Moran. When I attended a retrospective of his work in (I think) 1998. The title is Cresheim Glen, Wissahickon, Autumn. Out of the many wonderful paintings in the exhibit, this is the one that transfixed me the most.

My work is, of course, not as nice as the painting that inspired it. However, this is an example of how I sometimes try to capture the feeling of a master's artwork without copying it directly. I'm sure I'll try again to glorify the beauty of the northeastern part of the US during fall, especially since we never see anything like this in the desert!

First Day of Autumn

Autumn is always an exciting time for me; in fact, sometimes I think I should have been a duck.

OK, I don't feel a need to migrate south or be shot at by duck hunters. But I want to find fall colors (not easy when you live in the desert!) and eagerly await the Big Three (to me) holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Funny -- if fall passes me by and I just don't get into it, I don't get into Christmas, either. Autumn seems to prepare me for Christmas.

I've shown this painting before, but it's one of my favorite fall paintings, as small as it was (8"x10"/20cm x 25cm):

We don't get many of these colors in the West. Cottonwood and aspens turn a brilliant yellow, and some aspens can develop orange-red leaves, as well. But in the desert, we don't get colors at all except for those few areas where water exists and cottonwoods are growing.

However, if one travels into the mountains, one is more likely to see fall color -- yellow, anyway. (Poison ivy sometimes turns red, but reds and oranges are limited to non-native plants planted along a town road or in a yard).

This painting shows a scene along a hiking trail on the grounds of the Wildlands Conservancy, a group that, like the Nature Conservancy, acquires land and sets it aside to preserve it.

The weather has been hot in the desert, so it just doesn't seem like autumn yet. I'm hoping that will change soon!

The Coming Holidays

Funny thing about me (well, one of the funny things about me, anyway) -- many people talk about having, or not having, the Christmas spirit when that holiday arrives.

I'm subject to that same malady. But in my case, I also have to get into the autumn "spirit," usually by mid-September. Then I have to get into the Halloween spirit and the Thanksgiving Day spirit before I can get into the Christmas spirit. Without that sequence, Christmas comes and goes, and it's just another day except for all the decorations we have up and the gift giving and receiving. The Christian aspects of the day are still there, of course, but I really like the whole package.

Christmas 2007 ended up being one of those "just another days" that seemed to create a lot of stress and busy-ness. I never "got into it." To add insult to injury, I even got sick that day -- and a few days later, my mother-in-law suffered a stroke and died on New Years Day.

This year, I'm determined to immerse myself in the thoughts, images (especially the images!), sights and sounds of the seasons. I'm even working on my first-ever Halloween-themed painting -- not because I expect to make money on it, but because I simply want to do it.

Since I'm no longer surrounded by fellow employees who decorate their cubicles and do things that remind me of the holidays, I have to work a little harder at it on my own so I can enjoy the times. Already I feel autumn is slipping by me. My work is cut out for me.

MORE Autumn!!

Except this time, it's the Colorado mountains, not the desert; and it's a painting, not a photograph.

As with the last painting I posted ("Cliffs of the Green River"), the painting is not entirely a literal rendition -- I put several different views togehter into one image (guess you could say I "Photoshop'ed it").

The mountains are the Sneffels Range, somewhat north of Telluride, CO; and the peak to the left of center is Mount Sneffels. Mt. Sneffels is one of Colorado's "14ers," meaning it's 14,000 or more feet high. (That's 4.3km to you metric folks). The area depicted is the Dallas Divide, a place that's filled with aspen, spruce and red oak. Catch it at the right time of year (usually mid-late September), and you'll see it in spectacular fall glory.

Fall in the Desert #2

This photo was taken a few minutes before the one in the previous post. It doesn't really show seasonal clues, but I like the overlapping mountains -- a common sight in the desert.

Fall in the Desert #1

Many parts of the country have definite seasons. You can look at a picture and easily guess the season by the way the natural elements look. In the desert, the seasons have their differences, but the differences are subtle, and you have to know what to look for.

I took the attached photo this afternoon in Joshua Tree National Park. In many ways, the picture could have been taken at any time of the year, and it would look virtually the same as this one. But this photo holds two small clues that reveal what season it is:

(1) the rusty-red seedheads of wild buckwheat dot the landscape; admittedly, these can persist pretty much throughout the year;

(2) the real clue, a little hard to see in this view, but it's there -- the rabbitbrush is in bloom with goldenrod-yellowish flowers. Rabbitbrush is an autumn-blossoming shrub common in many places in the West.

Subtle, huh?

Autumn, Art and Other Kinds of Seasons

Tonight was the first gallery ArtWalk of the season in the desert community where I have a number of paintings. The attendence was low, I'm sure because: (1) tonight was also the VP debate (Biden-Palin) on TV, and; (2) not all of the seasonal/part-time residents are back in the area yet.

However, I did have an opportunity to speak with some of the gallery people I network with. I heard hopeful comments from a couple of gallery directors--sales should be good since many of their clientele are people who are not as affected by the current economic situation. In fact, their art sales seem to be continuing in spite of the financial conditions we hear so much about these days. As a full-time artist whose day job is making and selling art, that's good news for me. I have to remain positive as the season begins in the desert.

Ahhh...autumn and art sales -- two great seasons!

Autumn Equinox Time!

Ahhh...welcome to autumn!

As I mentioned in a previous post, fall seems to bring out the artistic impulses in me -- something like a migratory instinct, I guess, except in my case, it's a desire to immerse myself in the beauty of autumn.

During fall (and Christmas, too), I decorate out living room with all kinds of autumn stuff. This year, I added some orange Halloween lights to the display. They were made in China, as are so many consumer goods these days. One warning printed on the box had me a little concerned: the insulation on the wires contains lead. The instructions even recommended washing one's hands after handling the wires.

Good grief! What is it about Chinese companies that compells them to manufacture items using toxic materials?

Well, anyway, the decorations are up and, IMO, they look good. I consider decorating for the holidays an extension of what I do when I paint.

Hey, Duck!!!

Well, not "duck" as in "reduce altitude." "Duck" as in "mallard duck," "wood duck" and other assorted ducks.

I get a kick out of ducks. They're colorful, cute and clownish all at the same time. One of the few downsides of living in the desert is: there are only a few places with water where ducks might be found -- even that takes considerable luck.

I don't hunt ducks (or anything else), but sometimes I feel like I must be part duck. When autumn is near, I start feeling antsy and excited, as though I want to migrate or something.

Instead of wanting to paint deserts, I want to paint scenes where fall has reached its full glory. And since I paint better than I fly, I try to squeeze in some autumn landscapes along with the desert material. Fall landscapes are not my specialty, and I don't feel they turn out quite as well as the "vast spaces of the southwest" (my tagline -- it appears on every page on my Website: http://www.southwestspaces.com/) . But I am getting better at them, and painting autumn when it actually IS autumn seems to heighten the excitement I feel about the season.

The attached image is "Autumn Marsh" by David A. Maass, one of my favorite sporting art painters. The view is desert-like in some ways -- lots of space. When fall is here, the framed prints I normally hang in my studio come down, and a number of David's prints go up in their place. From around mid-September to year's end, the season in my studio is unquestionably fall. And ducks dominate the walls.