Disaster Recovery Efforts

As I mentioned in my last post, I was having trouble painting in the sky in my homage to Thomas Moran and his series of paintings entitled (with some variation) "Cliffs of the Green River."

I've painted in a new sky and a different set of clouds -- perhaps a type that lends itself more to a smaller piece like this one -- and I'm much happier with the sky.

So on I go to the other elements of the landscape. Obviously, it won't be ready to post for a while yet, so here's version #2 of Moran's "Cliffs of the Green River."

A Disaster

In my last post, I briefly mentioned artwork in progress can turn out to be disasters.

Yesterday was a day for disasterous painting. It's a piece I just started. I finished the sketch of the important elements (Toll Gate Rock and the other cliffs in Green River, WY), painted in the blue sky, and THEN!!!--I started on the clouds.

It would have been OK if I would have known when to stop, but I kept re-working and re-working the clouds and ended up with something truly hideous. So I ended up painting them out and trying again until after midnight last night. This time, the clouds were even worse!!

Since the painting is on panel, this morning I did some sanding, trying to reduce the thickness of the paint film and the numerous glazes I had applied by this time. And I discovered using an electric sander on acrylic paint doesn't work the way I was expecting. The friction of the sandpaper produces enough heat to melt blobs of sanded-off dry paint into the remaining paint film. I had to hand-sand those spots until the blobs were gone and I had a basically smooth surface again. Si-i-g-g-h-h-h...

Well, in the meantime, I'm preparing the surface again, and by tomorrow, I should be on my way. So for now, I've posted one of 19th century artist Thomas Moran's many paintings of the cliffs of the Green River. My painting will be similar, but it'll definitely be my own. (For one, I was there in the morning, so my light will come from the right. Moran's afternoon light comes from the left).

Disasters

Well, every so often, I might call a painting I've finished a "disaster." All artists produce works that just don't work for whatever reason.

But in this case, I'm referring to natural disasters. Hurricane Ike brought frightening ruin to the Texas coast, and it reminds me how fragile our lives and our material things are.

Here in the California desert, it's unlikely we'll ever have to be overly concerned about hurricanes. Sometimes we get tornados, but they're rare.

The problem here: earthquakes. The state is riddled with fault lines. Some are active, some haven't been but could become active. We live less than 100 yards/100m from a relatively inactive fault -- a state highway lies right on top of it. And we're about 20 miles/32.2km (as the crow flies) from the San Andreas fault, which is guaranteed to cause a major disaster, 'tho' no one knows when. Someday, this area is going to get nailed. Whether we'll still be alive to see it is the issue. Or it could happen a minute from now.

The painting I've shown includes a small portion of one branch of the San Andreas fault. The fault runs along the front of the palm trees, which tend to grow along faults since underground water is able to seep close to the surface. From this viewpoint, you are standing on the Pacific plate, moving slowly towards the left. The palms and the hills behind them are on the North American plate, moving slowly to the right. Someday, the city of San Francisco will be where the palms are now, IF all that movement enables the city to survive.

Shakin'

Earthquakes -- those, and state politics -- can make life interesting for California residents.

If you've heard the news today, we had an earthquake today --5.2 magnitude, about 90 minutes drive from here. We received a little shaking from it. But my brother lives much closer to the epicenter. At least all he lost was a plastic model of a US Navy destroyer which was crushed when something fell over on it.

Earthquakes can be surreal experiences, especially if you've never gone through one. Waves roll through the ground like waves through the ocean. Buildings and trees sway and rock back and forth. Items inside the home rattle and clink together as though a truck was passing outside -- close to the house! Sometimes, stuff tips over and falls to the floor. And something I've never had to deal with personally (so far) -- a building collapses, highway bridges crumble, water and/or power delivery fails, roads crack or sink into the ground.

They tell us The Big One is coming -- sooner or later. It may or may not impact our area, and it may or may not happen in my lifetime. It sort of reminds me of growing up wondering if America and the rest of the world might have to deal with nuclear warfare -- never knowing if a cataclysmic event would be our fate. Or not.

Let's hope they're wrong about The Big One and a nuclear war.