Painting Thoughts
Purple Mountain, Kennedy Meadows
I sketched this version of Relief Peak the fall before my painting trip. The delicate leaves of yellow against the hard, granite rocks thrilled me. Of course the mountain had to be purple, and the mist rising around the mountain was pure delight. I had never painted mist, however, and at first it looked like white mud. As before, when I don’t know what to do or how to do it, I pray to the mist or the mountain or the river, and eventually we work it out.
Waterfall, Middle Fork, Stanislaus River
The roar, and the strength of the water cascading down the steep slope between the rocks and hills is mesmerizing. It is a river coming down from Relief Reservoir and called the Middle Fork of the Stanislaus River – still not romantic. There is a bridge close by that backpackers, horses, mules and riders go slowly up the steep trails to the backcountry.
Waterfall, Middle Fork, Stanislaus River, Fire-burned Area
This painting started out as something completely different than what you see here. The colors of the mountains would not remain tan and gold - they became reddish brown with a waterfall cascading down for some relief. My grandson astutely commented – you painted the heat and prayed for water. He is exactly right. I don’t paint with a plan. I humbly follow my brush into the wild.
Waterfall, Stanislaus River, Sonora Pass
Every now and then I paint a throw away painting. It is a way to rest. This was an attempt to paint more abstractly, and has become one of my favorites. It is a glimpse of the same river above the first bridge, heading into the wild country where anything can happen. I think of the trail, on reflection, as going deeper into the sacred. One must not enter with arrogance. It is a place I expect God to say, “Take off your shoes.”
Junipter Tree - The Prophet
When I first saw the Juniper Tree I gasped. Looking at its form I knew I was in the presence of endurance itself. Its silver branches, dead and brittle, were covered in brilliant, chartreuse moss.
At the base of the tree were live branches. The foliage was brittle and coarse. There was sap there. Its larger limbs were varied colors of twisted black, yellow, orange and silver. I bowed to its endurance and age and all the qualities of God it expressed.
I sat for a long time making contact with the Juniper. I asked if I might paint it and felt “yes”. As I drew its craggy, shaggy branches, I felt its story entering me. This wild-haired creature pointed wise, silver fingers in all directions. I later called it The Juniper Tree - The Prophet.
I became obsessed while painting the tree, and was changed by the process. I had a new view of “art”. The subjects we choose must be done with great care, for they create the painter.
Sierra on Fire
I awoke one morning in September, 2021, and had the thought, "Get in your car and go paint mountains ." I was driving to Whitney within the hour with Riley as my copilot, sitting in his little car seat, ramrod straight enjoying the adventure. On Hwy 395 I turned on NPR and learned that there were fires in the Sequoia National Forest. Five hours later we were in Lone Pine, climbing the steep road to the campgrounds at the base of Mt. Whitney. There was the smell of smoke and my eyes burned from the Sequoia fire on the other side of the mountain range. I sketched for several hours while Riley enjoyed the mountain stream. By the end of the day, the sky was filled with smoke and the sun was neon red. The next morning, I couldn't see anything and the air was impossible to breathe, so we headed home. But I was happy. I had many sketches and created this painting.
Figueroa Mountain
Waiting for spring to arrive in the Sierras, I painted Figueroa Mountain in the Santa Ynez Valley. It was a beautiful drive up Hwy 154. I felt as though I were on a mission; looking for mountains and wild country. I don’t like to paint manicured land or trees that have always received the optimum nourishment for survival. I like places that have fought for their lives. Faces with scars.
Bonsai Pine and Stars
I have walked by this small tree a hundred times on my way to meditate on the cliffs of glacier-polished rocks. I felt sorry it couldn’t grow tall, trapped in its bowl of granite with little soil. I imagined its roots burrowing between a crack in the rocks looking for nourishment. I decided to paint the little tree, and as I did, was surprised to feel how happy it was. Because of its size it always had enough. Its bushy needles were all bright green. I felt her joy while painting her. She was on my canvas in four hours, surrounded by stars.
Eastern Sierra
This was a breakthrough painting. I felt a delightful obsession the Sunday I painted it. The colors and contours of the mountain came so easily, as though the mountain took my hand and painted its soul. The difficulty came with the sky. First I left it grey as it was a grey day. Then some demon suggested I paint it ultramarine blue. People loved its brightness, but all I saw was sky. I painted it back grey – wrong color. Finally I painted the grey/blue it is now. A friend suggested clouds. I choose the moon.
Sonora Pass Mountain
This mountain, with all its varying rock sizes and shapes, has always amazed me. How do they stay together? What could have created it? I felt I was painting all the varying parts and events of my life, thrown together, making something I could not have planned. Painting Sonora Pass Mountain I felt the life in it, roaring like a giant in gratitude, with pride, and humility.