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!

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.

Desert Paintings II -- Joshua Tree National Park

Last time, I began a short series of special desert places that I keep returning to because I love to make paintings of those places. This is Part II of a three-part series.

Joshua Tree National Park is a region I live close to and that I love to visit. So far, there's one site that I've painted many times over, although it has changed over the years.

(Sorry about the less-than-stellar quality -- these were scanned from slides, made before digital cameras were around!)

I always liked the "V" made by the Joshua tree on the left and the rock formation (I believe climbers call it "Eagle's Nest" or something like that) on the right. I usually paint clouds that repeat or add to the "V," and it didn't matter to me if the scene appears in daylight or under the magical glow of a full moon.

This is a much more recent -- and smaller -- version of this scene. Unfortunately, Joshua trees tend to grow toward the sun, resulting in imbalances that often cause the trees to fall over in time. All of the above paintings are based on photos I took, since the scene now looks like this:

This photograph of how the site looks today shows the changes: the Joshua tree (which has finished toppling over, and the suckers have grown longer) is surrounded by a parking lot complete with trash dumpsters.

I imagine I'll create more art based on this Joshua tree scene -- the way it used to look!

Desert Paintings I - Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument

As you may know by now, the southwestern deserts of the USA are my favorite places to paint. The two areas I tend to paint the most are Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument (which I'll discuss now) and Joshua Tree National Park (which I'll discuss in the future -- perhaps next time!)

One of my all-time favorite vistas is the view of the Sonoyta Mountains of Mexico. (Organ Pipe Cactus NM is in southern Arizona on the border with Mexico). I've created paintings of this desert spot many times, with minor variations each time.

This image shows one of the pieces I like the best; in fact, I consider it a signature picture that I use on my business cards and as avatars on several websites -- including my own (http://www.SouthwestSpaces.com or http://www.MarkJunge.com) and this blog.

Then I have this newer version without the wash:

Some years back, I painted this large (48" x 60"/1.2m x 1.5m) work. You may recognize the organ pipe cactuses (used to be "cacti") from the previous images), but this painting of this special desert also features a cactus wren:

Here I included a Harris' hawk, which tend to fly low near the ground rather than soar high in the air as do redtail hawks:

Finally, I painted another large piece (36" x 48"/0.9m x 1.2m) with a mostly imaginary foreground and a couple of desert bighorn sheep:

These desert art pieces are only a sampling -- there are other smaller artworks I've also made of this particular view, as well as numerous other paintings that show other scenes from within the Monument. Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is high on my list of beautiful places to visit -- and to paint!

Google and the Website

Or maybe I should call this "The Website Blues."

One of the things we website owners want is for our sites to rank highly when someone uses a search string that describes our site. So, for example, I figure people who are looking for paintings of the desert would Google "desert paintings."

As someone who built and maintains my own site (which, by the way, just happens to be http://www.SouthwestSpaces.com or http://www.MarkJunge.com), I spend a lot of time trying to make sure Google finds my site quickly when search strings like "desert paintings" is used. Most of the time, I think I've done OK -- SouthwestSpaces.com usually ranks in the top 20 in a list of literally millions. I have ranked as high as #1!

However, if I make no changes to my site, it slowly slips back in the rankings. Frequent changes is one of the ways Google determines if a given site is worthy of being ranked highly.

Some changes are better than others. Switching out images of paintings or rewriting text are normally fine. Changing the name of a page is iffy. I did that with the two pages that feature my available paintings. The first of those pages was entitled ".../Purchase,", but I recently changed it to ".../Purchase-Desert-Paintings" as a way of using "desert paintings" more often so Google would find it easily.

Problem is: Google isn't as fast as I am when changing page titles. My website has been bumped all the back into the 130s at this time. The original title still shows, and if you click on it, you'll get a "Page Not Found" message, since "Purchase" is no longer the title of that page!

Thus -- my website is buried back further than most people would search for, and if they do manage to find it, the link in the Google list of sites doesn't work!

Oh, brother!

All I can do (as far as I know) is wait it out and hope things get fixed...eventually.

And I'll moan "The Website Blues."

Mojave Sunset

Mojave Sunset is my newest painting. And it's already "sold"!

We needed to get a higher gas-mileage car for The Wiffee to commune to work in. The dealership was willing to accept a painting as part of the deal. So here it is!

Only in small-town America!

The Trouble with Galleries

Most artists look upon galleries as the business arm of our creative pursuits and our efforts to make a living at art. Galleries are definitely less work than doing art fairs, and we love the thought of our artworks hanging somewhere getting constant exposure and selling while we continue to do what we really want to do: paint.

Sigh...if only.

I've been in a number of galleries, all in towns known for being artzy communities. While all but one of those galleries have made sales, I was never overwhelmed with piles of $$$s. And after galleries take their commissions (anywhere from 40-60% of the price you see next to the art), and especially if it takes a long time to receive a check from the galleries, one begins to wonder if there isn't a better way to make and sell art.

The trouble with galleries is at least two-fold:

1. They like working on consignment. There is no upfront cost to them. Essentially free inventory.
2. They seem to be full of ideas about what they want the artists to produce. Bigger, smaller. Try some other subject matter, or try a contemporary slant on what you do (in other words, I like what you make, but make something else). Do it on speculation -- no obligation to them when you do different things. Gallery owners supposedly know their clientele, and I always thought following their advice would be a good idea. We-e-l-l...

Here's the upshot: I've wasted too much time and materials following gallery owners' advice and ending up with paintings I have no use for.

No more!

• I've resolved not to agree to consignment deals anymore. I can't afford to. Wholesale only. I believe that gallery folks are more likely to work at selling their art when they've made that financial commitment. They'll want to get their money back and then some!
• No more taking advice. I do what I do, and if that isn't want the galleries actually want, don't take (buy) my paintings. Simple, huh?

Of course, I realize keeping to this policy will limit my ability to get into galleries. The world is full of artists, and galleries have gotten awfully used to doing things a certain way. But there are galleries that do buy artworks outright, and there may be others who prefer consignment deals but who might want pieces badly enough where they'll make the investment.

For now, I'll keep painting, at a rate of speed that I'll be comfortable with, and painting only those things I want to paint. (I'm not even doing commissions at this time). Let's hope it all works out in the end.

Continuing into the Desert

Alright -- I mentioned in the previous post that I was planning on making a painting of a tropical scene, hopefully in time for a show I'm doing in early May. Nope! I needed to finish a piece that I'm donating to The Wildlands Conservancy for a benefit auction. You can read about the whole thing here.

And this is the painting:

This is a view from within the Whitewater Preserve, an area managed by the Conservancy. It's a beautiful spot to go hiking and take in the desert which usually has a river running through it (which isn't visible from this vantage point).

I hope the piece sells in the auction this weekend. I'd love for the Conservancy to make some serious $$$ from the sale so they can continue acquiring pristine lands and keeping them pristine.

Coming: A Jungle Painting

I've been inspired to do a tropical/jungle painting...with a white peacock sitting on a branch or something!

It'll be somewhat of a first for me. But I entered an exhibition at the Huntington Gardens in San Marino, CA. If accepted, I'd like to have this painting in the show, along with some desert subjects (always gotta have desert subjects!)



OK, OK...this peacock isn't white, and he's not sitting on a branch, either. It's likely the treeferns will be moved around somewhat, too, and the scene will be darker than the photo.

But having the photos gives me some raw materials to look at as I work out the details. I may include coconut palms, too -- the idea for that came from a digital image I saw on deviantArt.com. In the end, the finished image will be completely my own, and it'll have a mystical, fantasy feel about it.

Now -- if I don't get into the exhibit...well, I'll probably still make this painting. But it won't appear on my Website, which will feature only desert artwork. (If it appears there at all, it would be on my monthly newsletter.

This painting will be a lot of work, but I think it'll be fun, too. And it'll give the creative juices to flow in a direction I'm not used to.

Once again...wish me luck!

Changing Colors

"Changing Colors" -- no, this is not about what happens to leaves in the fall.

The colors that we see in the world are not absolute. What we see depends on many factors: other colors that are nearby, time of day, and in this case -- the amount of light that is falling on the colored object.

Model railroading is sort of a combined hobby/kinetic sculpture for me. As a painter, I rarely make three-dimensional objects. But a model railroad fulfills that need in me. I've often had layouts in progress, but most I never finished. Except for one.

It was a small (3' x 3'/less than 1m x 1m) HO scale setup with red rock scenery typical of southern Utah. I even collected containers of the reddish soil found in the Monument Valley area. I had some house paint mixed to match, then I painted the layout and dusted it with the sand I collected to provide a realistic texture.

There was only one problem. That beautiful rusty red coloring soil when viewed outside in the sun, looked like dried blood when seen inside under typical home lighting. Red-rock soil is darker than it appears when seen in nature.

I often wondered why so many of the older en plein aire paintings (or, as I like to say, "in plain air; it's French for "in the open air," or it's painted outside) sometimes seemed too dark, with muted colors and low-to-moderate contrast. My lesson with red rock scenery was this: if you paint outside with accurate colors, those colors will be accurate only when the painting is outside!

I still believe that landscape painters like my myself need to do some en plein aire painting -- it teaches the artist many things about color. But if the artist is a studio painter like me, colors, lights and darks may have to be adjusted to look correct, even if a direct comparison shows that the colors and values are not.

Thus, although my paintings look real to most people, I usually manipulate things so that I can direct the eye around the canvas and give the impression of reality.

By the way, I hope to start a new, small model railroad soon. I collected some red soil from the Page, AZ area -- it matched a color swatch I made before going. The dirt appears lighter and more golden than the Monument Valley soil and should work better. If it doesn't, I guess I'll need to apply the sand and rocks and THEN paint the entire thing so that it looks good indoors, while keeping the rough textures I want. (I'll post photos when it's done -- which could be a while).

It's been a long time since I've made a piece of 3D art. I'm ready!

A New Year for More Desert Paintings

Well, heck! Here it is, ten days into the new year, and I haven't had time to write anything yet!

So -- HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYBODY!!!

OK -- so what's in store for 2012?

It appears I won't be teaching microbiology or anything else biology this spring, and I never teach during the summer. Maybe next fall. I'll be looking for other teaching positions at other community colleges, but I doubt I would teach this semester no matter who hires me (if anybody). But I'll try.

Meanwhile, I seem to have gotten over the funk I was going through last year -- I'm starting to do art again, with the idea of selling it. So far, I have only one venue: the Crystal Fantasy, a kind of an Enlightenment/crystals/fairies gift shop with gallery space. They've sold a couple of my paintings within the last few weeks; more fun: I even sold a large piece off of my Website!

So I'll continue to make artwork that Crystal Fantasy may be able to sell to tourists and locals alike, and otherwise I'll be optimizing my Website (which, by the way, is http://www.southwestspaces.com/ or http://www.markjunge.com/) so I can hopefully sell more from it. No more art shows, no other galleries (unless they want to buy the works outright -- no more consignment stuff) -- just Internet sales.

At the same time, I'm not blind to the concept of how hard Website sales-only is going to be. But the costs will be minimal. I'd like to have postcards printed up with an image, my name and logo, and the two URLs mentioned above. Then I'd send these to frame shops (or any other place where potential art customers might come to) with an incentive offer: I'd pay the shops for any clients who see the postcard and buy a painting from me as a result of the shop's cooperation. It sounds workable, and I'd get an image and name out in areas where people never heard of Mark Junge, desert paintings, before.

Finally, I still plan on writing an illustrated book about the end-of-the-year holidays.

We'll see how 2012 works out. Meanwhile, this is the painting I sold off of my Website. Happy New Year!!!

Old-Fashioned?

Unfortunately, I continue to feel burned-out and lacking in any confidence whatsoever when it comes to the idea of painting for a living. I'm still considering trying my hand at writing, but I'm not feeling especially confident there, either. And I feel so TIRED all the time!

On a related note, one of the art business forums I belong to had a question posted in their Art Business section by an artist who has a lot of trouble selling his traditional landscape paintings. Following are excerpts from a couple of insightful (IMO) responses:

"I finally came to believe that with regard to traditional landscapes, people HAVE FINALLY SEEN IT ALL. What with exciting computer games, camera phones, youtube, etc., it takes a lot nowadays to visually stimulate people - they respond to things that are new and different. And traditional landscapes are...well...not new and different. They ARE regarded as out-of-date - they have been around for - how many centuries?"

"...landscapes are very old fashioned and unless there is something really interesting and unique to them, you better be happy simply painting for yourself and have no need to sell. Many of the traditional galleries in this region are not moving quiet landscapes at all, mainly because there are bigger, brighter and more interesting subjects and styles which get attention (figurative works are really hot right now). As well, landscapes are seen as something which parents or grandparents have on their walls and buyers are getting younger and younger. (or we're getting older!)"

Has this been my problem all along? Younger buyers aren't buying traditional landscapes because they're old-fashioned and not exciting enough? I've also seen landscapes on deviantArt.com that look like they could be backdrops for video games or for movies like "Avatar." Is that the look I should go for (if I want to try selling artwork again?)

Surreal Desert Paintings, Surreal Desert Landscapes and Other Art Stuff

Lots of big plans for the immediate future. Let's see if I have the time and/or energy to pull them off!

First: the end of the year holidays...Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. (New Years always seems to be a downer for me, so it's not listed). Every year, I go looking for books with neat images of these holidays -- images along the lines of something I might do. And you know what? I never find books like that.

So-o-o...I've been thinking: maybe I need to paint up holiday paintings that I would want to see in a book, and then produce/write the books myself! I do have a bent toward writing as well as art, and this would be one way to do both. In fact, I've been trying to think up writing projects for years, ever since the late 1980's when I took a class in which the teacher had us write in a way that conjures up images in the readers' minds. Lots of adverbs, metaphors, similes and such. (I wrote my biography on my Website in this style).

Of course, I'm also thinking of other writing projects: perhaps short stories or even novels. I'm also considering a collection of essays on the trials and tribulations of artists. (Well, OK, the good things about the artist's life, too!)

Secondly: I haven't been painting wall art for a while now, but I've been thinking (OMG -- he's been thinking!!!)...

Sometimes I wonder if the traditional approach to making landscapes is seen as too old-fashioned, at least among the younger art buyers. My type of landscapes are what their parents and their grandparents have on their walls. This entire style of working has been done to death, and frankly, it's a lot of work for so little financial reward. It's certainly no way to run a business!

So, as I wonder to myself as I look at other Websites, maybe I should try making desert landscapes with strong hints of fantasy or surrealism to them. I've seen images that look like they belong in video games or in sci-fi/fantasy movies such as "Avatar." The landscapes look real, but they're unworldly or etherial at the same time. Is THIS what people want on their walls? Colorful and real-but-not-real?

As usual, this semi-burned-out artist has got lots to think about. I need creative outlets, yet I need to make more $$$ than the P/T teaching position gives me.

BTW, there's always a method to my madness. The title of this post came about because I Googled "surreal desert paintings." This blog came up #5 in the list! It's the exact title I used in a post a long time ago. Knowing that, I titled this post so, if I'm lucky, someone just might discover my paintings -- including the surreal desert kind which aren't even done yet!

If you're one of those -- be patient! Don't forget: I'm at http://www.southwestspaces.com.

Maroon Bells

Ahhh... it's finally autumn.

Autumn in the desert is much more subtle than the painting you see here. This scene is in Colorado. The distant mountains are the Maroon Bells near the town of Aspen.

Fall must be the most popular time to visit the area. The road leading to the parking lot is closed to all but a few people, and one must go to a park in Aspen to catch a shuttle bus that hauls tourists to the parking lot, where they can see the mountains and Maroon Lake which often appears in photos.

That day, I arrived there in the early afternoon. I didn't know where the park was and didn't have enough money for the shuttle. So I walked. I was told at the gate that the Maroon Bells come into view after the first six miles, and the parking lot and lake were two miles beyond that.

Well, I managed to trudge the first six miles uphill, and that was all I could handle that day after picking up unsold artwork from an exhibit in Glenwood Springs. Plus, although the day was partly cloudy when I arrived, in typical Colorado fashion, it completely clouded over by the time I saw the peaks. I even got drizzled on. It figures.

So I took pictures of the Bells and the surrounding area, saw some deer and eventually turned around and walked back to my truck.

This painting, then, is one of the works I made from that little walk. Instead of the usual Maroon Lake, I included Maroon Creek in the scene which -- except for the distant mountains -- is not exactly how things looked. (I pulled out my artists' license for this painting). I wanted to paint a different version of Maroon Bells, not the same view that millions of other folks photograph or paint.

One of the problems with painting the creek instead of the lake is how it brings out the "everyone's a critic" tendency in people. One man at an art show who saw the piece rolled his eyes in -- disgust? -- and pointed out there should be a lake there. I told him the lake was two miles up from where I was at that time. I'm not sure he believed me or not, but that does happen in the world of art.

Well, anyway, I love fall -- it seems like a feeling similar to the migratory instinct comes alive in me. Autumn makes me feel both excited and anxious at the same time.

Maybe I'm part duck. =)

Arches

Arches National Park has gotta be one of my most favorite places on earth. The reddish sandstone, the spires and -- of course -- the many arches gives the land an eerie, surreal sense of the very rocks being alive.

That's why I saw a painting of a scene in the Park that showed unearthly colors and dramatic lighting that added to the mystery of this place. The painting was entitled, simply, Arches and was executed by a living artist I greatly admire, D. Michael McCarthy. He and I are both inspired by the works of 19th century painter, Thomas Moran:

When I saw Michael's Arches painting in a gallery window, all I could do was stop in my tracks and stare at it...for I don't remember how long. This was one of those pieces that changed my life...or at least, changed how I wanted to portray the world in my art from that time forward. Seeing reproductions of Moran's work was one thing. Experiencing Michael's work was quite another.

So, my version of Arches was inspired by, but is not a copy of, Michael's artwork. I can't tell if my piece affects others the way Michael's painting affected me. I hope so.

I'd like to think I made the world just a little better by painting this:

May I Borrow Your Crystal Ball?

Had a bit of a scare this week...

As some of you know, I teach microbiology part-time at a local community college. When the semester started this past Monday, I had only six students enrolled in my class. That's not very many, and I know the college folks were seriously considering transferring the six to the the morning class, taught by another instructor. And I'd be unemployed for the rest of the year.

However, all six students work full-time during the day and were unable to switch. Since micro is the last course these guys need to continue on into nursing school, simply canceling the class would have screwed them up majorly. So the class will continue on, and I'll be receiving a paycheck for the rest of the year, barring complications on my part.

But the scare brought to mind why I promised myself, years ago, that I'd never again have only one financial lifeline. It's so easy to have that lifeline cut for any number of reasons, or for no reason at all. I'd love to have a Plan B -- some kind of income-generating enterprise to supplement the teaching position.

Frankly, other than selling paintings, I don't have a Plan B, and art sales are definitely suffering during these horrid economic times (which could get worse in the days ahead according to some economists).

The only thing I can do at this point is to go ahead and make paintings that will be put up for sale...some day. I don't know if this recession will end in my lifetime -- I hope so, but who knows?

In any case, I still plan to paint landscapes that I want to keep -- but sell them if/when the right opportunity comes. Not just any opportunity, but the right one. I won't be so easy-going in the future, even if it costs me sales. I just can't invest large quantities of time or money, or have pieces hanging in a gallery with no financial commitment on the part of the gallery owner, while I try to figure out how to survive.

Sometimes I really wish I could look into the future. Maybe I could then figure out where to go with things. But I guess all I can do is my paint my best artwork possible and hope enough people (who are surviving the recession) will like the paintings, too.

Fairies in the Desert???

OK...we normally associate fairies with green, fern-filled, moist, woodsy habitats, which is entirely understandable. So what are we desert lovers supposed to do if we kinda/sorta like fairies, too? Why, we paint desert fairies!

Like this one. Size is 12" x 12" / 30cm x 30cm and is available at Crystal Fantasy in Palm Springs, CA. Stop by and check it out!

New and Improved

I finally finished a revision I wanted to make to a painting I completed about three years ago. The version on the left is the old, original image, and the revised work is on the right.

Frankly, I like the newer version MUCH better! I'm happier with the "new, improved" view of the desert in springtime.

When Food Is the Enemy

Alright, I'll admit it: food has always been my drug-of-choice when I think I need a pick-me-pick. And if you're trying to lose weight, a little excess (aka "cheating"), on occasion, isn't such a bad thing.

But if you're a diabetic, it can be dangerous. Or deadly.

I'm one of the many Type 2 diabetics in this country. We don't have to shoot up insulin -- that's a "privilege" normally reserved for the Type I folks. We make insulin, but for various reasons, we're "insulin-resistant" -- meaning, the insulin doesn't work as well as it should. Being overweight is one of those reasons -- as I understand it, the fat around our cells literally gets in the way of the insulin, which is needed to get the sugars into our cells. (That's why we're supposed to get our weight down and keep it down).

Well, last night I cheated. The Wiffee came home from her sister's around dinnertime and wasn't hungry yet. So I snacked on a little leftover macaroni salad. And a bite-sized Snickers bar. Then The Wiffee got hungry and Carls Jr hamburgers sounded good.

Now -- one each of any of the fastfood burgers has my maximum number of carbohydrates for one of the three major meals: around 45 grams of carbs. But my snack had carbs too, and I ate it thinking The Wiffee might not get hungry for anouther two hours, when it would have been OK to eat again.

But nope! I went right over to get the burgers -- three of them -- and we split one of them. That probably put me up to around 66g of carbs, plus the macaroni salad and the candy bar. Then we had dessert -- a bowl of ice cream. I'm already had too many carbs, and now I added even more. Bad mistake for a dude like me.

First came the headache. Even before I was diagnosed with diabetes, I would often get bad headaches if I ate too many Christmas goodies. Untreatable headaches. Very painful headaches. And I sure got one last night. And it went downhill from there.

Briefly: nausea. Profuse sweating and feeling like I was burning up. And on the verge of passing out.

I should have tested my blood sugar while all of this was going on. But I wasn't up to it. But I did check it when I was feeling a bit better, and you know what? It wasn't that high. It was only a few points higher than what it normally is before having breakfast after I wake up in the morning.

I suspect my blood sugar was too high, and then dropped quickly. I crashed.

In the end, I'm still alive and functional this morning, although I still feel a little drained. And icky from all that sweating last night.

Food feels like a friend, and most of the time it is. But sometimes food is the enemy. It's an unregulated drug. I believe in "all things things in moderation," but I'm not moderate enough about food. It tastes too good, especially when chocolate is involved!

Even Confucius advised against making food too tasty, less we're tempted to eat too much of it.

Ahem, bro!

Relief Is in Sight!!!

The end of my teaching time is only about two weeks away! If only I can survive that long!

If you don't remember, I've been teaching at a local community college since mid-January: microbiology, zoology and a lab for basic biology. (The first two each have lectures and labs). Teaching, especially putting together lectures for zoology, has been my life this year. As art was the only thing I did before, zoology is all I've been doing in 2011. Unfortunately, the textbook publisher provided very little instructional support, and I've had to put it together as fast as I could, doubtlessly not the best quality.

One of the bureaucratic obstacles I and other P/T instructors have to deal with is: decisions about who is teaching what and when are made at the last minute. That's fine if the lesson plan is already put together, but when I'm asked to teach a subject that's totally new to me and with very little time to put it together, it ends up making me look bad.

Why? Because the students get to evaluate their instructors every couple of years. But if some of the comments are bad, students continue to evaluate the instructor every time the course is taught, until the reports come back entirely positive.

I can see that this is a setup for failure. And I've come to realize I may have to say "No" to teaching requests in order to stay out of those situations, as well as to save myself from the overwhelming task of trying to stay ahead of my students.

All of this to say: I'm beginning to miss doing art again.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm grateful to have a job when so many others don't. The hourly pay rate is better than any other job I've ever had. We still don't have medical insurance -- my wife always had that with her employers, but she lost her job last November and hasn't been able to find anything since then.

And frankly, I keep getting reports about how bad the art shows have been this year. If the economy really is getting better, it's still a long LONG ways from SoCal. In addition, I've been so busy with teaching, I feel I never had the chance to get over being burned out from art. I still need a break. Badly.

Soon enough. When the college is out in late May, I plan on taking two weeks for doing...nothing! And evaluating what I need to do and where I need to go. Teaching has been bringing in the $$$, but I feel like I can't depend on it for more than a semester at a time. All my eggs are in one basket, and it ain't a very stable one.

As usual, I have to do lots of thinking and planning to do. I haven't got it all figured out yet. But first, I have to finish out the term. Take a do-nothing vacation. Then paint and, maybe, re-work course materials for next fall or spring semesters, in case they need/want me to teach again.

Or I'll try to develop a Plan B. Would that be art? I wonder...

Rats!

This weekend was quite the time for critters. Living in a rural/semirural desert area, one expects to see critters -- especially when they're encouraged to come around when people like us put food and water out for them.

Unfortunately, some critters are more welcome than others. Like ground squirrels. They can be pretty destructive.

So we invested in a "catch-'em-alive" trap so we could catch them and relocate those little varmints to other parts of the desert.

But we weren't prepared for the bees we saw for the first time yesterday! They took up residence under the roof where there was no piece of lumber to keep them out. $200 to have them removed this morning. They, like the ground squirrels, were taken to a rocky place out there where they can do what bees do in peace. They weren't Africanized and thus weren't dangerous, but they were too close to our front door and walkway.

Then there were the rats. The rats we have in the desert aren't like the disgusting Norway rats one finds in the cities. They're actually kind of cute!

They seem to like moving into a bale of Bermuda-grass hay that we use to add bedding material for our pet bunny and guinea piggy. But since that hay must stay clean, I caught the two rats and relocated them elsewhere.

Then, in the afternoon, we heard some faint "squeeks" coming from the bale, and my worst fears were confirmed: baby rats! They had fur but still had their eyes closed:

So, what do we do with them? I doubt they were old enough for us to take care of even if we had a way of doing so. I'm sure they were young enough so if we wanted to keep them as pets, they would have been perfectly socialized to life with humans.

But where does one get rat's milk? With two critters already keeping us busy, where would we put more critters (there were three babies)? I doubted Animal Control would want them. And I didn't have the heart to kill them myself.

So we thought about it, and -- as cruel as the Circle of Life can be, we decided to continue the Circle: we set out a shallow container and put the baby rats in it. For a roadrunner to find.

It didn't take long. The babies disappeared, one at a time, and thank God we didn't happen to see the roadrunner take them.

I hate stuff like this, and I wish we could have thought of an alternative. I hate killing, or being responsible for the killing of, animals, especially the cute ones. It literally sickens me. Sometimes the guilt is overwhelming. And it makes me hope there's a critter heaven someplace where beloved pets and wild animals alike go and spend eternity without fear of being attacked or harmed.

Is that too much to hope for?

Changes, Continued

Life this year has been so-o-o different from the life of the previous ten years. As I mentioned in a previous post, I decided not to continue as a professional artist; at least, not until I see a good reason to try it again.

So far this year, I've made almost no art. Instead, I'm spending a LOT of time teaching at the local community college: microbiology, zoology and a lab for a biology class intended for non-science majors.

Before, my days, nights, weekends and holidays were all about making and selling art...and that was it. Now, my days, nights, weekends and holidays are all about teaching and preparing to teach...and that's it. Next week is Spring Break, but it'll be no vacation for me. I've got lab books to grade and more lectures to prepare for.

I'm not complaining...well, not really, I guess. I'm certainly making more $$$ than I ever made from art.

But I'll have to admit: I'm looking forward to late May, when classes will be finished, the grades will be turned in, and I can collapse and sleep all summer. I know I'll miss my students: it's hard not to get at least a little emotionally attached.

But I'll be more prepared to teach those classes again in the future should the college want me to, and this summer I plan to make revisions and changes so the classes will be closer to what I want them to be.

And I expect to do more painting again. And (dare I push my luck?) pursue my other hobby/passion: model railroading.

The light is at the end of the tunnel. I've needed a break for a long time, and I'm totally expecting the break to come in late May.

I'm ready.

Into the Sunset

The time had come to make one of those decisions that changes one's life. They're always hard and sometimes sad, but necessary.

I decided it was time to give up the dream of making art as a business.

The art business never did make enough money for us to live on; in fact, we lost a LOT of money over the years. A sale here and a sale there just doesn't do it. After a couple of decades (literally), with one of those decades being full-time as an artist during this never-ending economic depression, it's time to stop the money leak. I've reached my "stop-loss": the gambler's term for the maximun amount one is willing to lose in the pursuit of riches.

I've gotten a lot of advice over the years from artists who say they're surviving just fine, although their income may have gone down somewhat over these last few years. Some of the advice was conflicting: "Keep your prices low until you get better established" vs. "You really otta double your prices."

In fact, I've taken a lot of the advice I've gotten, and ya know what? NONE of it made any difference, one way or the other!

The recession (or depression, as I call it) affected many artists badly; for me, however, sales dropped even before the housing bust. I saw sales decline when gasoline prices rose in the mid-2000's, supposedly because of the worldwide demand for oil, especially from emerging economies such as China's, and from every storm that blew through the Gulf of Mexico. It cost more for people to get around, so they stopped traveling to art shows or galleries. Those who still drove their cars just weren't buying.

On top of that, the galleries I used to be in had their own ideas about what I should paint -- paint BIG (something I never felt I was good at), and paint Tuscany scenes (Gallery A) or local desert scenes (Gallery B). There were a few sales, but now we have closets stuffed with large paintings. And no interested galleries.

In addition, buyers in California and Arizona -- even in the art mecca of Scottsdale -- want non-Southwest, impressionistic/expressionistic/abstract works that match the sofa or "tie the room together." In fact, I'm still amazed at how many people re-decorate their homes and save the art-buying for last. It's easier to switch out paint and furniture color than it is to find art that's truly meaningful to the buyer, regardless of the colors in the art. But then, maybe that just demonstrates the low priority people place on art.

I'm left with quite a mixture of emotions: sadness, anger, bitterness, disappointment, frustration. I know I can always re-enter the art market if/when things change. But I'm not counting on anything like that happening in my lifetime. For now, painting is a hobby that I'll work at when I can. I'll take my time, work when the mood strikes me, and produce works that are as close to perfect as I can make them, given the skills I have at that time. If I happen to sell any paintings, great; if not, well, the pieces will look wonderful on our own walls.

Meanwhile, I'm still a part-time instructor at the local community college, and I've applied for a full-time biology instructor position that recently opened. And I'm looking for a Plan C in case the college loses the funds to pay my wages and I become unemployed. Plan A (the art business) is finished.

So for now, I'm heading off into the sunset. If you happen to be one of my buyers, I say: thanks so much for fueling the dream. But the paint brushes and supplies have been put aside for now, and I'll revise my Website (which I still plan to keep online) to become a portfolio of my favorite paintings rather than a selling site.

Yo voy a Dios.

Flickering Flames

The Wiffee and I are fans of the CBS program, Sunday Morning. On today's program, they featured a story about Herb Albert (of Tijuana Brass fame) and his wiffee, singer Lani Hall.

They live on six acres in Malibu, CA, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Herb paints, sculpts, suppports music programs (as in the Harlem School of the Arts, or whatever the exact name is) and pretty much does whatever he wants. Hey -- they can afford it! He and Lani recorded an album together and will soon be touring the country in concert.

In many ways, Herb's life is quite similar to the life I envisioned when I began dreaming of an art career -- originally as a fine-arts photographer, then as a full-time painter. I never figured on achieving the fame or wealth that Herb has, but I thought we'd be able to live on my modest income and to reside wherever we wanted to -- not in Malibu, necessarily, but perhaps in the hi desert of CA or the Sonoran desert of southern AZ. (Well, OK, we do live in the CA hi desert, but this is hardly our dream home!)

That dream has been rapidly fading or, should I say, that flame is flickering madly, in danger of going out.

For years, I attended grad school, doing experients in microbiology that left me little time for anything else. Then I entered the working world where I worked full-time, commuted for hours on California's freeways, and worked on my art as much as possible. In between jobs, I worked full-time on art: days, nights, weekends, holidays. Then, in the last ten years, I considered my full-time job to be: professional artist, with the same hours I worked as the "between-jobs" artist.

And ya know -- I'm tired!

Sales have been mixed, but over the last few years during the recession, sales have been very low. I can't even speculate on when, or if, things will ever go back to "normal" -- whatever that is. Some of the other landscape artists I admire are struggling, too.

Now, mind you -- surviving, or even thriving -- financially as an artist is certainly possible. I know artists in that category, too. But most of their artwork has a noticable contemporary twist: VERY colorful, impressionistic/expressionistic and often not showing the grand views that I love. One rarely finds the type of art I enjoy at art festivals.

Even supposedly traditional art havens like Santa Fe and Scottsdale feature little of this style of painting. I must be part of a dinosaur generation that's becoming extinct.

I do, on occasion, see/hear rumors that the avant garde styles are becoming tiresome with buyers and that realism is making a comeback. Maybe so -- but not in MY part of the world, it ain't!

But we'll see. I haven't given up on the dream just yet. But the flame keeps flickering in the dusty winds of the hi desert.

Herb Albert -- my hat's off to you.

A Little Neoclassical

This is a painting I finished recently. It's based on a piece by 18th century French neoclassical painter Hubert Robert, who painted ancient Roman ruins overgrown with vegetation with the people of his time working, dancing and playing among the remains of antiquity.

One of my favorite paintings of all time is entitled "The Bathing Pool." My artwork is based on it, except I made it a moonlight scene.

I've considered painting more scenes like this, but it's one of those areas that I go back and forth about. sort of like doing dinosaur paintings: should I or shouldn't I? To sell, or to do it just for the fun of it?

Honestly, I can't decide. It's really too busy to do much painting right now, but it's something I can certainly think about!

The Desert Under a Moonrise

The latest completed painting (finished before Christmas 2010) is a small (8" x 10"/20cm x 25cm) piece showing a desert scene right after sundown and as the moon was rising.

We had a day like this a few months ago -- I believe it was in September 2010 -- and the experts have a special name for this kind of event, although I've forgotten what it was. One can still see the pink of the upper sky as the sun, now mostly below the horizon, illuminates the atmosphere. Meanwhile, the lower portion of the sky is blue as the earth casts its shadow, the bluish edge rising as it eventually overtakes the sunlit air. And the full moon rises over a magically-colored desert landscape.

I live for special times like these. They make me the artist that I am.

Colors of the Desert Skies

We've had some lightweight weather fronts moving through the hi desert lately. Temperatures went from freezing to springlike in a week's time!

The best part, however, have been the sunsets we've been getting. I've amassed a huge collection of photos with cloud of all kinds and colors, and I refer to them when the appropriate paintings present themselves. cloud pictures like these:

Beginning the New Year

So far: I have a commission to finish, a to-be-donated piece to finish, and THREE classes to prepare for so I can begin teaching them in less than two weeks! I mentioned in previous posts I'll be instructing microbiology and zoology -- both lectures and labs for each -- but I was recently asked to teach the lab for a biology class for non-bio majors. Wow -- I'll be busy, and not with art!

Well, maybe I'll be a little busy with art.

I've been working days, nights and weekends for years, and frankly, I'm tired! I know I'll busy with teaching and squeezing in art; yet, I know I MUST find time for myself -- just to relax, play, do things that are not so much like work. I can't keep up this pace for the rest of my life -- or my life isn't going to last as long as it should.

So -- I'm trying to pace myself and realize I just can't do it all. I'll have to sacrifice some of those responsibilities so that I can be better at the things I WILL be doing.

And you know, after all these years -- that's easier said than done...