2013 -- A New Hope

A new year! While I was never into making resolutions, I have made commitments to increase my art production (especially from what it has been the last couple of years) and generally have a more positive attitude about things. At the same time, I need to be more careful about decisions I make about pursuing sales of paintings and, even more generally, to avoid people and topics that get me stressed out.

A New Hope is a painting I finished just before 2012 ended. It's a scene of the local desert at dawn, but beyond that, I'd like to think of this piece as a new beginning for me. Trying to make an income in art is hard -- one artist I know referred to "the meanness of the art business" -- and that's an accurate description.

So what's the plan? To keep painting and let sales happen as they will -- or won't. Either way, I have to keep my mind off of the business side. That approach doesn't work if one is serious about chasing sales with art. But it's the way I have to do it.

I'll keep looking for art shows that I can enter that offer minimal expenses. There aren't many of those. But I'll have to see what I can do.

And, of course, I'll keep my website up, doing what I can to increase visibility and to (hopefully) make sales that way.

As always, wish me luck. Oh...Happy New Year!!!

Pieces of the Heavens

We saw a little piece of the heavens last night. A meteorite.

In the past, I've gone outside at 2:00am to watch recurring meteor shows like the Leonids and Perseids. I always enjoy watching the brief streaks of light radiating from a point in the corresponding constellations, although I rarely happen to be looking at the right place when a meteorite descends. (I always see a streak from the corner of my eye, and by the time I glance toward the streak, it's already gone).

But once in a rare while, I'll happen to be gazing, either by pure luck or by the grace of God, directly into a part of the night sky when an unexpected little fireball blazes brightly and briefly, then disappears into the darkness from which it came.

In recent years, I was fortunate enough to have experienced two sightings like this. First, The Wiffee and I were in Joshua Tree National Park for a "Star Party," a gathering of local amateur astronomers, to look through their telescopes at the rings of Saturn and the craters of the crescent moon. I was staring toward the southern sky and was stunned when a yellowish flash lit up silently across the desert floor, seemingly a few hundred yards/meters away. I could easily have missed it (as my Wiffee did) by facing some other direction. But seeing it was thrilling, and being in the National Park made it especially meaningful.

Then, last night, The Wiffee and I happened to be looking toward our living room window. The red-maroon curtains were drawn, yet through the fabric, we saw a white, quiet flash of light that looked like a bottle rocket explosion -- except the rocket was traveling down instead of up. Another meteorite, somewhere over the hills of Joshua Tree National Park, entered the earth's atmosphere and gave us some God-given fireworks.

There's something exciting about objects from space that fall from the sky. At the Star Party, one man passed around an iron (and nickel, I believe) meteorite he had found. It was about the size of a child's fist, yet was uncharacteristically heavy. And it came from -- out there.

I've sometimes contemplated making a painting of a meteorite burning in the desert skies. But meteorites always involve two important features: movement and brevity. How would I convey that in one of my desert paintings?

Guess I need to do some thinkin' 'bout that. I hope I can pull it off!

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!

Three Little Desert Paintings

I recently entered a show that takes place in Tucson, AZ this fall. I haven't heard yet if I've been accepted, but I hope at least one of these three little desert paintings will get me in!

I say "little" because each of them is 11" x 14"/28cm x 36cm.

This first piece is a place we saw while cruising around the reservation (we're not sure if it was the Navajo or the Hopi rez) in Arizona. Obviously, we were in a part of the painted desert. I think the locals are fortunate to be able to live surrounded by such beauty

And then I found this view right alongside the road as I entered Saguaro National Park near Tucson, AZ. (I don't remember if this was in the western or eastern portion of the Park). All of those palo verde "shrubs" have grown quite a bit and are now trees. The scene is not as open today as it was all those years ago.

Finally, here we have another version of one of my favorite views in the world in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, AZ, looking south toward the Sonoyta Mountains of Mexico. I'd build my house here if I could!

I hope I hear from the show soon. You know how anxious waiting can be. Wish me luck!

Gee -- Thanks, Google!

I heard that www.google.com changed some of its rules about how websites are ranked following a search. It used to be that my website (http://www.SouthwestSpaces.com), if you Googled "desert paintings," would list as high as #1 or sometimes into the 20s or 30s. Now my site is hovering around #172!

And I don't know why! What did Google change? Is a certain group of us being "punished" for doing or not doing something?

I built my website myself, and I think I did an OK job, especially considering the high rankings I used to get. But web design is not my job. Making and selling paintings is. I just don't have time to try and figure out what Google wants from me so I can fix whatever the issue(s) is/are.

So all I can say at this point is: Gee -- thanks, Google! I hope you peeps understand that when you do stuff like this, you may be literally affecting someone's livelihood -- if not an individual's (like me), then even entire companies of people.

Mount of the Holy Cross

I've heard some people express disbelief at paintings they had seen that featured a mountain with a cross etched in the rock. I'd hear comments like "No way...how cornball...that would never happen in nature."

Y'know what? They're wrong! There IS such a mountain!

The mountain is the Mount of the Holy Cross. It's in Colorado, east and slightly south of Vail right off of the Interstate 70. There's even a turnoff for it. I've never been there myself (one of those things I always meant to do when we lived in Colorado), but others have told me there's a parking lot for it, and one has to hike in a little on a trail before it comes into view.

The Mount of the Holy Cross has been known to white explorers and artists since the 19th century. Since I don't have photos of my own, I'd like to share some historical photos so I won't violate any living photographers' copyrights.

 Here are two images by 19th century photographer William Henry Jackson. When there's just the right amount of snow, the cross stands in sharp contrast to the rock around it.










To the left is a stereoscopic (3D) photo of the Mount. If you know how to look at stereo pictures without a viewer (your eyes must be looking straight ahead as though staring into the distance, not crossed as when you look at things up close), you'll see the rock outcroppings at the bottom seem to push the Mount itself back away from you.









Now we're looking at some paintings by my favorite 19th century artist, Thomas Moran. I never read how many times he painted the Mount of the Holy Cross, but here are four examples of his work -- all different, but equally impressive!

 

So, yes, there ARE mountains with crosses on them!

Desert Paintings III -- Deep Canyon

Deep Canyon is a special place south of Palm Desert, CA. It is one of a number of places I've painted numerous times -- different with each execution, yet similar in what the artwork shows. As in the previous two posts, I'd like to share a few examples of paintings I've made of Deep Canyon and the ocotillo-covered hills that surround it.

This is the most recent piece I made. Deep Canyon itself is barely visible here -- it is down below, to the right of the closest ocotillo. This view is the most literal view of the area (except for the cloud shadows), with the Little San Bernardino Mountains in the far distance, the foothills of the Santa Rosa Mountains on the other side of the Canyon, and the foothills of the San Jacinto Mountains in the foreground.

Here is a similar viewpoint with a peninsular desert bighorn sheep ram intruding into the space. These magnificent animals are endangered -- I hope they somehow manage to survive the loss of habitat the sheep are enduring at the hands of humans.

This is the smallest of the paintings -- 8" x 8"/20cm x 20cm. The other works are much larger. Instead of the grand vista I typically portray, I focused on a more intimate portion but (hopefully) still captured the sense of place and the vast distances found in the desert. In this case, Deep Canyon is almost dead-center.

Finally, these two examples are the least literal of the view of Deep Canyon. I added bighorn sheep to each of the paintings. In the second piece, I went for a much more dramatic interpretation than any of the other creations

Although I'll continue to paint many other desert scenes and, in some cases such as Monument Valley, I'll produce numerous pieces of the same or similar views of those places, too, these three desert spots that I discussed in these three posts are views that I could capture over and over and over again. These sites seem to scream "desert" to me, and they touch me in ways I can't really explain.

I keep returning to these places, and I hope they'll make you want to go there, too.