Since then, it's evolved along with my interests and art and priorities. I identify as much as a painter as I do a photographer now, and the blog has always been about more than just posting a painting or a couple of photos and calling it a day.
Anyway, there you go. I've done up a new banner, which I do periodically anyway. I'm going to keep tweaking the format to hopefully make it more appealing to readers.
On to the paintings....
|Fly Fishing Waters - 9x12", plein air|
pastel on black cardstock
A digression here regarding the trip: we got off to a late start, and as is typical, the chance of rain in the mountains was pretty high. From the parking area, it's about 1.25 miles to get to the section of the creek where I'd planned to paint, so I brought my folding table and stool, rather than my french easel.
Wayne split off to hit the creek and walk upstream, to practice with his brand new fly fishing gear. I got to the location - one I'd scouted and photographed during our June trip - and already the sky was filling with dark clouds. Thunder rumbled off in the distance, and it was clearly doing to start raining within a few minutes. I wasn't enthused about the spot; the water was down, and the green was just not something I felt like dealing with.
So, I gathered up everything and decided to head back down the trail to find Wayne, who told me he'd meet me walking upstream as he fished. Right before I got back to the junction to the main trail, the wind kicked up suddenly and it started to rain. I dropped my gear and was putting on my rain jacket when I heard a loud crack - a sound unlike anything I'd ever heard before. I looked up to see a rather large tree blow down not 15 feet from where I was standing. Had it fallen towards me, I'm not sure I would have had time to get out of the way.
Worse still was hearing another tree fall about 30 seconds later on the other side of the trail. I started worrying about a blowdown (a large number of trees blown down in a localized area from a windstorm), because those are a frequent occurrence in Colorado forests, and I've seen plenty of them after the fact on hikes across trails. It was, needless to say, a disconcerting experience.
At that point, I started running down the trail in the rain, and ran into Wayne coming up to meet me. We decided to go to the historic cabin near the trailhead and wait out the storm. Within minutes, it was over, the wind and cloudburst heading south to torment some other hikers.
We went back to the creek, and I settled on this new location to paint. Wayne, who has been talking of learning to fly fish during the entire 7 years I have known him, finally purchased all the gear, and this was literally only his second outing using it. He started right where I was painting and worked upstream.
The title of the painting comes from the fact he caught his first fish with a fly right in front of me. It was an exciting moment for him, and fun for me to witness. For those that don't know, the nice thing about fly fishing is that the fish can be released, unharmed.
Oh yes - here's the other painting:
|Afternoon Cloud Study - 12x12", plein air|
pastel on reclaimed cardstock
Then today, as I pulled out my pastel boxes from my backpack, I looked at yesterday's creek painting, and thought: "what do I have to lose? Why not sit and finish it with no regard to the outcome?" I had planned to toss it anyway. So, I worked through it, with a different frame of mind, and made it happen. Maybe there's something in this readers can take away for themselves? I hope so!