The Creation of "First Light: Yosemite Valley"

"First Light: Yosemite Valley" is one of the few paintings I've done of Yosemite National Park -- so far. Yosemite is one of those places that has been painted and photographed to death, and trying to come up with an original concept just ain't easy!

But one June when we were camping in Wawona Campground, it occurred to me that the sun would rise somewhere behind those distant monoliths of granite. I wanted to get out to Tunnel View at dawn so I could see what the Valley looked like.

So one morning, I awoke when the sky was just starting to get light. I crawled out of the tent and raced like a madman (well, everything I do is done like a madman!) to the parking lot on the valley side of the tunnel and set up the camera and tripod.

I wasn't disappointed after making the effort. I was set up for picture-taking when the scene almost looked like the painting: the sun was barely clearing El Capitan (I painted the sun as it appeared a few minutes later) and was projecting a narrow beam of golden light through the valley floor.

The photographs didn't accurately show the place as it looked -- the shortcomings of photography rendered much of the valley very darkly except for the distant Half Dome and beyond. But the light beam was there, so the photo helped me remember what I saw. I was able to fill in the details with pictures I took with "normal" lighting, and thus was able to accomplish one of those tasks that is completely unsuited to photography -- I could get past the limitations of film and show Yosemite Valley as it actually looked early on a June morning, featuring the magic of the rising sun on a magical place.

At Long Last -- A New Painting!

It's taken a while -- chipping away at it for an hour or an hour and a half, but it's finally done:

A painting I started in early January!

I logged approximately 40 hours of painting time on it, so in theory, I should have been able to start and finish this piece in a week. But, with the teaching gig, it took a little longer than that.

Not that I'm complaining about my P/T job as a microbiology instructor at Copper Mountain College here in the high desert. It's nice to have an income! (Unfortunately, I have to consider the art market here dead for the time being). But frankly, it's nice to have this painting over and done with, as well.


This scene is of Balboa Park in San Diego, CA; size is 11" x 14" / 28cm x 36cmcm.

Maybe Tomorrow?

I had hoped to finish a painting I started in early January. But the new teaching job has pulled me away from painting (not that I'm complaining about having that job!), and even when I'm not involved in doing that, sometimes I'm too #$%&@ tired to paint! (I'm getting old, I guess; in fact, I've been old for a long LONG time now!) =)

One more good day of painting otta do it! This piece is the type that takes me a little longer to do: buildings/architectural features, with people walking around. At least the people will be pretty much distant, but they still need to look SOMEthing like human beans!

Well, maybe I can finish the thing tomorrow. I'm ready for it to be done -- I've got other ideas in my head waiting to stumble out and come to life on canvas.

Church Art in the Greek Tradition

Yesterday The Wiffee and I attended a Greek Festival in Palm Desert, CA. Festivals like this are always fun, but for us, the crowning jewel was the interior of the church that sponsored the Festival.


The church is St. George Greek Orthodox Church of the Desert. Most of the artwork ("icons") were in the form of mosaic, with gold tiles filling in where goldleaf would go on paintings. While I normally am not a huge fan of Byzantine/medieval-styles of art, I'll have to admit the art of this church was beautiful without being garrish. The interior was colorful and warm, and even as visitors, it felt comfortable being inside the church. And we're not of Greek descent or even Orthodox!

I've read that God gave us the ability to appreciate beauty and, therefore, to appreciate His beauty. If there are any readers out there who design church interiors, or if you're a church board member looking for ways to honor God with some of the beauty He created -- take note!

The Notched-Ear Bunny

A desert cottontail that frequents our small desert yard is one I've nicknamed The Notched-Ear Bunny.

You can't see the notch -- it's on the outside of his right ear which is hidden behind my hand as I offer him a piece of apple.

As you can see, he's a little bolder than most of the bunnies around here -- he'll cautiously come up to me to see if I have an apple piece to give him. He'll take it from my fingers, then run off a short ways to eat it as he keeps an eye on me. Just taking a picture of him was enough to make him run off, although he came right back.

In some ways, bunnies coming up to human beans isn't a good thing for bunnies to do, but it did work to his advantage on one occasion.

Some months ago, I noticed he had a cactus spine stuck in his head above his eye. Normally, bunnies just grab spines in their teeth and pull them out. But there was no way for him to get at this one. And when he got into scuffles with other bunnies (they sit up on their hindlegs and rapidly scratch at each others' faces with their forepaws), The Notched-Ear Bunny would actually scream out in pain. I'm sure it didn't feel good to have a paw brush down against a spine embedded in his head.

Finally one day, he came over looking for apple goodies, and I thought: now's my chance to remove the spine! When he came for the apple, I was able to reach over with my other hand and, after three tries, grabbed the spine and pulled it out. I suspect, in his own way, he appreciated what I did, and this simple act made me feel like a hero or somethin'! And he got his piece of apple when he returned the fourth time, sans spine.

If The Notched-Ear Bunny had never developed the habit of coming over to me for hand-held goodies, I could never have done this for him.

And he's still around, begging for apple goodies. Today, I gave him two. I thought he deserved them.

Inspiration from Classical Music

I listen to all kinds of music. But generally, I turn to classical music to help me think about moods when I want to paint.

One example is the music of Claude Debussy, a 19th century French composer. He has been described as a sort of impressionist: he was to music what Monet was to painting. I’m not sure I’d go along with that viewpoint, but Debussy certainly had a gift for writing music and developing chord structure that seems to form images in my mind. I’m thinking particularly about Claire de Lune or his Three Nocturnes, all which produce themes of moonlight on the landscape, clouds drifting across the sky or the haunting, irresistable voices of the sirens from Greek mythology.

On top of all that, my first Debussy recording, a 12″ LP on vinyl, has an amazing photograph on the cover where you are looking across still water toward a softly-focused forest at night with a distant nude female (a water nymph?) standing by the water’s edge. I’ve always loved that photo, and very soon I want to start a painting that will be loosely based on that pic. It will be my own image, but the inspiration for it will be driven by the photo and the magical, mystical music of Claude Debussy.

And besides — I love the moonlight! It’ll all be perfect! I can’t wait to get started.

Plodding Along

One nice thing about knowing I'll be getting a paycheck next week: I'm running low on art supplies, and I'll need to buy more!

Teaching aside, I'm continuing to make art as time (and awakeness) permit.

I've been in touch with a number of artists I know who work in a traditional/classical style, as I do. We're all singing the same tune: art sales are down. We're not entering as many art shows -- too much money up front at a time when the risk is simply too high. Galleries aren't selling well, either.

So we're all painting and trying to survive as best we can. The other artists congratulated me on getting the teaching job, especially during this economy. I'd have to agree -- it could be much worse.

And I'll keep plodding along, painting new subjects and -- more than likely -- storing the newer works until money and art are changing hands again. I'm sure it will -- someday.