Spiders and Snakes

I'll be the first to admit: I don't like spiders! I'm a total arachnophobe -- and it doesn't bother me to say that. I hate their webs -- the kind one can walk into -- even more!! Thankfully, we don't get those species here in the desert.

I remember seeing a floral painting by a Dutch artist at the Getty Center in Los Angeles -- beautifully-rendered flower arrangement ... with a small web in the upper corner of the image with a spider on the web, and another hanging by a thread nearby. The spiders and web ruined the painting, as far as I'm concerned! If it were for sale and I had the money, I wouldn't buy that painting.

As you might guess, I've never painted any spiders in my works, and I never will.

By that same token, I've never painted any snakes either. Now, I'm NOT a snake-o-phobe. I rather like them, although I often feel badly for their victims. But I don't respond to the sight of a snake as I do a spider.

However, some people hate snakes the way I hate spiders. In fact, "spiders and snakes" is a phrase that places the critters together. Both are pretty creepy in people's minds.

But that's why I don't paint snakes. I would not want to ruin the viewing experience (especially for a potential customer) by placing a snake in the image area.

Nineteenth-century artist Thomas Moran (my #1 artist hero) created a large work showing the Grand Canyon in Arizona. In it, if you look carefully enough, is a small rattlesnake. Perhaps Moran was trying to tell us of both the beauty AND the dangers of the Wild West. (I never saw any spiders in the composition -- I assume TM didn't put any into the painting. Good decision, Tom!)

Well, maybe someday I'll do something like that. I know there are people who like snakes, even rattlesnakes (providing the rattlers don't get too close). I'm curious to know if such a painting would sell readily to snake lovers! And it would be a piece that I'd love to hang on my wall in case the painting didn't sell.

There would be any spiders in the artwork, however. ☺

On Waves of Sand

My newest painting -- On Waves of Sand, 20" x 24" / 51cm x 61cm.

 I wanted to show the beauty of the Coachella Valley sand dunes and the brief flash of color that occurs in the springtime -- IF the conditions are right. Mt. San Jacinto rises in the background, and the town of Palm Springs sits to the left and behind the mountain.

This is a wind-prone place, and dunes once covered the entire Valley. Sadly, development has cut the dunes to less than 1/5 of the area they used to occupy. Some of what's left is protected, but the fate of the endangered Coachella Valley fringe-toed lizard (Uma inornata) remains to be seen. These little guys (one is present in the painting) need the blowing sand and lots of space to survive in these harsh environments.

Sometimes the winds become severe windstorms, and enormous clouds of sand and dust rise in the distance. While admittedly a little hard on Valley residents, this is what happens in sand dune country. It's part of what makes this region as beautiful as it is. In a desert sort of way, I guess!

Good Friday

"The Crucifixion," Gustave Doré

Today is Good Friday. A dramatic piece showing a dramatic moment in history.

Those Fantastic Dutch Landscapes!

Landscape paintings from the Golden Age of Dutch Art are one of my favorite genres of artwork. Although not exactly desert-y (and this piece is 19th century), there's a lot I can learn from pieces such as this -- especially whenever I get around to painting other kinds of western landscapes, complete with trees and other stuff!

Landschap Met Watermolen En Veedrijvende Boeren, Barend Cornelis Koekkoek, 1852

More Fairy Paintings

I love painting the desert, but sometimes ya jes' gotta paint fairies!

Emerald      12" x 12" / 30.5cm x 30.5cm

For some reason, the painting appears lighter here than it really is. I guess blogspot doesn't like dark artwork.

Anyway...enjoy!

Discovering the Hudson River School of Artists

Although you know me primarily as a maker of desert paintings, the start to the look I wanted to achieve began with a painting of the mountains.

In the Mountains,  Albert Bierstadt,  1867, 36-3/16" x50-1/4" / 91.9cm x 127.6cm

I saw this image (or another, very similar piece) in the early 1980s as a framed print at a shopping mall in a setup like a kiosk, except the prints were hanging on a windowless wall with portable walls jutting out at 90°. I was full into landscape photography at the time, until I saw this image. I loved everything about In the Mountains and realized I had never taken a photo that impacted me the way this item did.

Although I dabbled in painting, I had never seen views like this before. This type of art was never discussed in the college art-history classes I had taken. This was a totally new discovery for me -- I grew instantly and began seeking out more works like this.

I found them in time (no Internet then), and "discovered" other 19th century artists like Frederick E. Church, Thomas Moran and many others. These three became my "art heroes" and set me on an artistic path that I remain on to this day.

Of course, it would take me a long time before I could even begin to approach the sheer drama and emotional impact of paintings like In the Mountains. I think I've gotten much closer, and I continue to develop with every painting I make. I don't know if I'll ever achieve the mastery of landscape painting that these masters reached.

But I gotta try!

Open Skies, Open Spaces

I finally finished a painted I began before Thanksgiving, 2013! Between feeling chronically sleepy, upset over an upcoming molar extraction (that's done now) and holiday business, it really took me almost two months to get the final brush stroke applied!

Open Skies, Open Spaces     acrylic on canvas      20" x 24" 

Detail

The view shows Mt. San Jacinto, just west of Palm Springs, CA, with a redtail hawk soaring through the open air. This area is big on winds and sand, and small dunes fill the land.

I left out the signs of human habitation: the Union Pacific railroad track cuts across the mid/foreground, as well as the trees of Snow Creek Village which arise from the base of the cloud-shrouded hill to the right. I've seen historical photographs of this special place, and I much prefer the way it used to look.

Sadly, the desert is slowly filling in with objects that are gradually destroying the open spaces that make the desert what it is. One can only hope that natural beauty will some day be more important than money.