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.

Bringing the Desert to the Central Coast

Two weeks from today, I'll be showing and (hopefully!) selling paintings at the Cattleman's Western Art Show and Sale in Paso Robles, CA, north of San Luis Obispo. Most of the works I'll make available will be of the desert. One piece will feature the San Juan mountains of Colorado (I'll post a photo next time), and another will show the sycamore trees of southern California. For directions to, and information about, the Show, please click here.

Meanwhile, the Joshua trees around here have been in bloom. I hope I can find time soon to get out into Joshua Tree National Park and see more of these natural wonders before the blooms fade into seed pods, since we don't get Joshua tree flowers every year.

This JT is on our property here in the hi desert. The flowers were still forming when I took the first picture. The second picture shows the flowers after they opened up. The flowers never really look like they're open, but trust me: they ARE!

So -- maybe I'll meet you in the Park soon, and I'll meet you in Paso Robles in two weeks!

This Matter of Balance

This Matter of Balance is my latest painting. It features Balanced Rock which is in Arches National Park (one of my favorite places, BTW!), Utah.

The scene is pretty much the way it actually looks except for Turret Arch over on the far right. It's visible from this spot, but it's much much more distant than I've shown it here. But bringing Turret Arch forward makes the landscape that much more mystical, and it helps to form a triangular composition with the peak of the Rock being the apex of the triangle. (If you look carefully, you may be able to see the bunny under the shadow of the piñon pine on the left).

This artwork is, to me, an allegory of the balance we need in all things of our lives. Nowadays it's so easy to get caught up in one extreme view or another. I think I once achieved balance, but it hasn't been that way in a long time.

Even at Balanced Rock, balances have changed. Once, a smaller balanced rock, "Chip Off the Old Block," stood to the right of Balanced Rock, but it came tumbling down during the winter of 1975-1976, its pedestal a victim of erosion. In time, Balanced Rock will collapse, too.

I learned much about balance during the '70s , with karate, dance, meditation and the study of Chinese philosophy. In my opinion, the Bible itself, while not using the word "balance," conveys a sense of balance when considered in its entirety.

Today, between struggling to survive during this economy, age that continues to creep upward and so many of life's issues that are beyond my control, balance has been harder to find lately. But I know it's out there, and I have to find it. Somehow. Hopefully soon.

It's a Big Desert...SOMEone's Gotta Paint It!

My newest painting: Clouds Over Indian Head. (As you might suspect, the mountain still lit by the setting sun is Indian Head). The size is almost too small for the subject matter (11" x 14"/28cm x 36cm), but some people like 'em small, and smaller pieces tend to be more affordable than larger sizes.

The scene is in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, CA, USA. Enjoy!

Alma Mater

OK -- not a desert painting. But sometimes ya jes' GOTTA do other stuff, too!

I attended California State Polytechnic University, Pomona (in California) to get my science degree. One of the things I like about Cal Poly was the fact that one can find relatively wild areas on the outskirts of the campus. In fact, some of the biology classes would go hiking around in these places, learning to identify native plants and taking measurements that would be done for environmental impact studies. The lab section of my Principles of Ecology class went out there several times into the "coastal sage scrub habitat" typical of this region.

This painting shows a slightly idealized view of the area (although, unfortunately, the colors never come out quite right on my digital camera). I opened up the view somewhat and added more of the California poppies that do occur here. Lots of California and black sagebrush as well as sycamore trees live here, hence the title of the piece: Sagebrush and Sycamores. Mule deer also hang out here -- it was fun when I arrived on campus in the early morning hours, and I'd see a deer wandering around on the landscaped grounds of the college, venturing away from the natural areas. But the painting depicts mid-morning -- the deer are already relaxing in their out-of-the-way spots, away from humans.

I enjoyed exploring this area of Cal Poly, and I'm thankful I took a class that exposed me to a place I never knew existed prior to taking the class. I plan on making more paintings showing a slice of California at its most beautiful.

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!