More from Conejos - plein air pastels

I was able to photograph and do some minor tweaking to one of the paintings from the trip, and because the storm system still lingers in our region, I haven't been out painting since we got back.  So, here are the other three, because I got nothin' else right now.

Conejos Reflections - 12x9"
pastel on black cardstock

The first painting on the trip, from a short (1.5 mi) hike along the main trail.  I brought along my folding table and camp stool from Walmart - the second one I've owned - to paint.  Unfortunately, as with the first one, one of the legs has torn through the nylon corner, making it uncomfortable to sit on and resulting in a sore back (and groin) for the next 2 days.

Rock Study - 6x6"
pastel on brown cardstock

From camp.  Sarah, who makes a good living as an equine sculptor, had been wanting to try pastel/landscape painting for a while, and I thought this landscape still life would be an excellent subject to start out with.    So, we sat and painted these rocks and willows between rainstorms.  I wish I could have gotten a photo of the golden-colored marmot that made these rocks his home.

Rock slope study - 12x12"
pastel on black cardstock

Another from our campsite, with Sarah, on another day.  Unfinished, and an example of how I got sort of sloppy with my composition.  I always use a viewfinder, but this one got away from me.  It was also a reminder that one needs to take ownership of the view nature presents, and adjust accordingly.

Had I been putting more thought into this, I'd have completely left out the distal mountain (which is the same as in the diptych I posted) and eliminated all but a sliver of the lower slope/road.   The focus was intended to be on the rocky slope with the trees on it; the distal mountains add nothing but clutter.  I just fell into the "lazy" trap of painting what was in front of me...for shame!

I mention this, and post it, because I think as artists, we tend to have the unspoken expectation that all of our paintings should have successful outcomes (that is:  a painting that is fit for selling).  Sometimes, however, there is much to be gained from the paintings that don't work.  A self-critique of "why didn't this work?" is useful; if we're lucky, the same mistake perhaps won't be repeated again.

Painting in the Conejos River valley in southern CO

We returned yesterday evening from a 5-day camping trip - the last trip to the high country for the year - along the Conejos River in southern Colorado.  

Monsoon activity was particularly strong on this trip, with rain every day.  Summer is quickly drawing to a close, as evidenced by the yellowing of the grasses, faded flowers, and much colder temperatures at night at the 10,000' where we camped.  

Despite two solid days of clouds and/or rain, I managed to get in four paintings, including this one, which I started on Sunday and had to wait until yesterday morning to finish.  I'm able to post it now because I took this photo on location before disassembling it from the board to take home; it is rainy and cloudy today, precluding taking photos of the others.

Morning in the Conejos River Valley - 12x24", plein air
diptych, pastel on black cardstock

Honestly, though, this is really the only painting that's probably worth posting.  The others were, of course, worthwhile to do, and helped bring my plein air painting total for the year up to 85.  

This region of the southern San Juans is quite beautiful, especially the river itself.  This view was  a few hundred meters from our campsite area, down into the wide valley itself.  I knew as soon as I walked down Saturday morning and saw the shadows and light here that this would be a painting.  

This painting brings up two questions one might ask in regards to choices made for it:

Q:  Why a diptych?  

A:  Two reasons, really.  First is purely practical - when traveling, I carry standard sized papers, always 12x12", the 8x16" prepared boards, and 12x16".  If I want to do a bigger piece in a panorama format on location, a diptych (or triptych) allows that to happen easily.  Second, there is the possibility that you could end up with two paintings that work on their own, as in this case.  That wasn't my intent here, but it is certainly is a valid method for maximizing one's time at a given location!

Q:  Why the addition of the cattle?

A:  I actually debated about whether to add them or not.  The reality is that there were actually dozens of them present in the valley both times I painted, some only 20 yards from me, so they were not added as a figment of my imagination or to cutesy up the scene.  I did decide to add them, again, for two reasons:  they instantly provide a sense of scale for the viewer, and they add some interest to an area that is a bit empty.  Their small size, number, and simple forms keep them from dominating the composition.  I didn't know until I actually started putting them in whether they would make or break the painting.   The consensus thus far is that it was a good choice to add them.

-----

As attractive as the area was, I took far fewer photos on this trip than I usually do.  Part of that was because it was raining so often, and the other reason is that I am not sure I would use any for reference material for studio paintings - it's just hard to do that when you've painted on location and you know you'll be back next year.

But, here are a few from our 9.5 mile hike on Sunday, between rainfalls:

Conejos Falls along the middle fork of the river

Middle fork of the Conejos 

Fringed Gentian along the river looking upstream

Unusual horned cow - breed unknown

A new blog name and two new paintings

As the four year anniversary for this blog approaches, I realized it was time for a change to reflect the direction my work has taken since September '09.  Back when I started blogging, I wrote in my initial post that I was not sure where my work would head based on my past experience in various media, so it was easy to call it a "daily art journal".  For some reason, that just doesn't seem to fit now.

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

This one is from yesterday, on another trip to Cascade creek, and was actually destined for the trashcan because I lost interest in it about 3/4 of the way though, partially because of the greens which I didn't want to deal with, and I was also having difficulty concentrating, probably from a poor night's sleep.  That happens sometimes, and I've found it's very much linked to those periods of "artist block" that I go through.  Having had the same thing happen a few days ago the last time I went out painting, I wasn't terribly surprised when I realized I'd left my game back in the locker room, so to speak.

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

Not to be deterred by two back-to-back "failed" paintings, later that afternoon, I decided to wipe down the earlier one and stand on the sidewalk and paint the clouds outside.  Really, when all else fails:  go paint a cloud - it's good for you.  Bonus:  painting 10 feet from the front door.

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!

Hermosa Creek - plein air, pastel

Hermosa Creek - 12x12", plein air
pastel on brown cardstock
© S.Johnson

Today was one of those days I was in a bit of a quandary as to what to paint, and didn't think I'd end up going out at all - nothing local sounded really appealing to paint.

But, today was an absolutely beautiful day, weather-wise, so at least a hike was in order.  Wayne suggested Hermosa Park, which is a river valley that is due west of the ski area, Purgatory, also known as Durango Mtn. Resort.  

I remembered this very location from earlier visits, and even a photo taken in '09 before we lived here, of the red creek bank, so it was an easy choice to paint.

Beautiful cumulus clouds filled the sky, but I chose to leave them out for this painting to simplify things.

Painting and hiking around Lizard Head Wilderness

Back from our trip.  I spent part of the afternoon doing finishing touches on two of the paintings, by which time a monsoon storm had moved in, forcing me to wait until today to photograph them.

From this trip, I learned how to work around heavy monsoon activity:  1) paint near the car; 2) wait for any window of opportunity, no matter how small, to head out with the easel; 3) be prepared to return at a different time when the weather is amenable, to finish; 4) small paintings at camp.

First up, is my favorite from the trip.  Started Sunday afternoon during a short break in the weather, and finished up yesterday morning before we headed home, it was a "two-for-one", so to speak:

San Miguel Colors - 8x16", plein air
pastel on board with Golden pumice ground + black acrylic
© S.Johnson

This is painted from the area I mentioned in my last post:  "the meadows".  The meadows themselves were striking, with a variety of summer grasses and small meandering stream passing through.  Hills with scattered groups of spruce/fir, and aspen lead up to the base of the southern edge of the San Miguel range.

I'm always struck by the colors of the mountains within the southern San Juans (of which the San Miguels are part of).  A geology query of the San Miguel range tells me that the colorful purples, greens reds and yellows are due to the sandstones, breccias, tuffs and claystones of the San Juan Formation and Telluride Conglomerate.  Volcanic intrusions into these sedimentary layers, referred to as "stock", are what form the mountains themselves.

So, having the colorful southern edge of the mountains combined with the meadows was like being handed a gift as a painter.  But, I had to work fast:  less than 40 minutes after I set up my easel and began painting, rain started suddenly, and I was thankful I was set up 2 feet from the car...and not painting on LaCarte paper.

view from the driver's seat...two minutes earlier, I had been painting

Earlier in the day, I'd painted just down the road from this rainy view - a cabin complex situated at the end of the meadows.  I got most of it finished on location before the rain started, and pulled it out later at the campsite to work on it more between rains.

 Morgan Cabin and Dolores Peak - 12x12", plein air
pastel on black cardstock

I didn't take any photos of this cabin, but at some point (as we will be returning to this area - a new favorite for everyone), I plan to revisit this building complex from a different compositional approach.

Finally, two small pieces done from the seated comfort of our campsite yesterday morning - fun and fast, while I chatted with Sarah, and before I headed out to finish the San Miguel Colors painting:

Mountain Morning - 6x6", plein air
pastel on black cardstock

Morning Sky - 6x6", plein air
pastel on brown cardstock

Saturday was spent hiking (and dodging lightning storms).  The Kilpacker trailhead was a mile up the road from our camp, so the four of us headed out on our chosen methods of transportation:  foot and horseback.

Morning along the trail

falls along Kilpacker Creek

Sarah and Jypsi in the meadow near the Navajo Lakes trail junction

Ominous skies and tree appropriate to the mood along the steep switchback section of the trail (Sarah and Todd opted to turn back before this section, thinking it might be too narrow and of loose scree)

Navajo Lake, from the basin, almost 6.5 miles from the trailhead.  Mt. Wilson,
one of CO's fourteeners, is visible from the saddle 

We were lucky that the thunder and hailstorm we got caught in on the way back didn't last more than about 25 minutes before fading off to the west.  Lightning flashing overhead, followed by immediate loud cracks of thunder, were a reminder that hiking in the high country during monsoon season is not to be taken lightly.

Approaching the trailhead (cars in stand of trees to right), with another storm over the Yellow Mountains.  Thankfully, we were back to the RV by the time this 3-hour rainstorm hit us.

More photos from the campsite:

Saturday sunrise 

Dramatic afternoon light over the Yellow Mountains (the same in the small paintings above)

Painting around Silverton, CO

We got back yesterday from our three-night trip to Silverton, which was centered around the 4CPAP paint-out on Tuesday.

In terms of painting, it was the most productive time I've had on any trip this year:  five paintings, four of which were completed.  I decided to take on some more challenging subjects that tested my ability to correctly (or not) handle two-point perspective, and an old truck - something detailed that I've never tried to paint on location.

Here they are, in the order painted.

From Monday evening, done at Molas Lake, which is near where we spent the first night:

Clearing Skies Over the Grenadiers - 12x12", plein air
pastel on black cardstock

 On Tuesday, in town.  If you want to paint old buildings and attractive buildings, there are probably few better places than Silverton.  There were fancier houses, for sure, but for some reason I was drawn to this modest red house with corrugated siding and roof.  And, the weathered facade of the historical building to its left.

West 13th Street, Silverton - 12x12", plein air
pastel on black cardstock

Despite spending a significant amount of time to make sure the perspective was accurate, guess what:  there are still areas that were off.  It was helpful to have people look at this during the critique session because errors, even small ones, are more apparent to fresh set of eyes.

Night two was spent at the Mineral Creek campground, about 8 miles west of town.  It's also where the trail to Ice Lakes begins.  The area right around the campground is scenic, but not for painting purposes.  But, following the dirt road west brings you to this open view:

Last Light Along the Road to Rico - 12x12", plein air
pastel on black cardstock

This was one of those many times my pastels just weren't cutting it, in terms of value and temperature needed.  That conifer-covered slope to the left?  The top part is in sun, while the meadowy slope on the right was in shade.   It was the best I could do with what I've got to work with.

Wednesday morning, we headed back into Silverton so Wayne could work and I decided to try and paint one of these fabulous old trucks that I'd seen Sharon painting on Tuesday.  Her painting, in oils, turned out great, and I was inspired to try it myself.

Not finished, but I wanted to share it anyway.  And, I got photos of the rest of the trucks, and I'm thinking they will be great to paint in the studio this winter.

Retired Workhorse - 8x16"
pastel on board with Golden pumice ground + black acrylic

For night three, we headed east of town to an area known as Cunningham Gulch.  It's popular with everyone:  hikers, equestrians, trail runners and those who prefer to use gasoline-powered vehicles.

We hiked up the trail towards Highland Mary Lakes, which are above timberline and not something we were enthusiastic about doing with the threat of a monsoon storm, but it was a great hike anyway.  I brought my tripod and ND filter, and got some good waterfall photos.

After we got back, I decided this view a few meters down from our campsite warranted a painting:

Cunningham Gulch - 12x12", plein air
pastel on black cardstock

Silverton is so named for all the mining that took place in the area.  Some of the orange areas along the side of the mountain are from mine tailings.  The mountain itself presented an interesting challenge to paint, to balance detail with the need to simplify things.

These paintings, along with a few others that are finished, nearly finished and not posted, brings my total to 60 so far!  So, I'm well on my way to my 100-painting goal for this year.

---------
Photos from the trip:

Rare pink version of the Colorado columbine

Two of the old trucks in town

Falls #1 - Cunningham Creek, along the trail to Highland Mary Lakes

Falls #2 - Cunningham Creek

Gathering of Coronis Fritillaries

Final falls on Cunningham creek, just below timberline

View of Cunningham Gulch from the creek near the trail

Capturing whitewater - plein air and photos, plus DIY ND filter

Today's painting was apropos to my plan, as promised, photos of moving water taken with an inexpensive, homemade ND filter.

Low Water Riffles - 12x12"
pastel on black cardstock
© S.Johnson

Titled for the fact that our river is at record lows for this time of the year, thanks to a lower than average snowpack.  The result is more river rocks exposed and lots more whitewater.  Made for a somewhat complex and busy painting, but as always, the process was valuable.  New location for this painting - near Rotary Park and north of the downtown area.

Now, on to the photography part of the post.  As much as I enjoyed doing the paintings along Cascade, I was almost more excited to indulge in a photography bender using this ND filter I mentioned, so I carried my tripod, both camera lenses and the streamlined plein air get-up on our Friday hike, specifically so I could take photos of the falls we'd seen the week before.

For those who aren't familiar with this particular piece of equipment, this Wikipedia entry explains it better than I can.  When photographing moving water in normal sunlight conditions, you need an ND filter in order to obtain the soft water effect:

Limestone Steps
1/50 sec @ f/22 - no filter

Limestone Steps, Cascade Creek
0.5 sec @ f/22 + filter

Maybe not everyone likes the soft water effect in photos, but I love it.  Always have.

As you can see, even stopped down to the smallest aperture (like other gauges, the larger the f-stop #, the smaller the aperture; for my 18-70mm lens, f/22 is as small as it gets), the shutter speed is still to fast to produce that effect.

Enter the ND filter.  Why make your own?  Because they can be pricy - most run $50+.  On the outdoor forum I read, someone posted about making one that cost less than $10, and I was all about that.

Here's all you need:

L to R:  cement, step-up ring for your camera lens ($3.47 - amazon.com),
duct tape, piece of welding mask glass, Shade 5 (~$6.00, from local welding supply shop)
It's shown on this log because I bought the tape and cement on my way out of town, and assembled it in the RV at the campsite.

Here's what the filter looks like before I added the tape.  You can't tell from this photo, but the glass is actually green - it's like looking through a dark pair of Ray Ban wayfarer sunglasses :).  It screws right on to the end of my lens:

Do-it-yourself Neutral Density filter

I used it to shoot Engine Falls on our hike up the trail, but after I'd finished, I discovered a better compositional location, and taking advantage of a cloud covering the sun on the way back, I slipped back up the spur trail and shot this photo without the filter - I won't use it if I don't have to!

Engine Falls
f/22 @ 0.625 sec

Here are some other favorites, all shot on Saturday when it was too cloudy to paint, at various locations along the trail and right where Hwy 550 crosses the creek, and all with the filter, at a variety of shutter speeds (all chosen by the camera's internal meter - I always shoot Aperture Priority for these types of shots):

f/22 @ 0.4 sec

f/22 @ 0.5 sec

f/20 @ 3.6 sec.

f/20 @ 6 seconds

Here's a shot from our campsite late in the afternoon, also without the filter:

Orange lichen and the green pool
f/22 @ 0.4 sec

As someone who appreciates others sharing their "how-to" and "DIY" tips and techniques, I wanted to do the same for anyone reading who might be interested, or knows anyone else that is.  Another thing important to note:  as this is not technically a "neutral" density filter, but a green one, the images will have a strong green tint to them.  Shoot in RAW format, and use any editing software to adjust the hue and temperature as needed, and it's not an issue.

A trio of paintings along Cascade creek - plein air, pastel

Finishing touches and photographs, finally, for the paintings done over the weekend's trip.

Orange Lichen and the Green Pool - 12x12" - plein air
pastel on dark brown cardstock
© S.Johnson

Thursday afternoon's painting, done about 30' from our campsite right along the creek.  There were so many fun things going on here that I had no trouble deciding on this as my first painting.  Some new challenges for painting water as well, such as being able to convey the effect of underwater bubbles and turbulence produced by the little fall of water passing through the channel of boulders.  The foreground pool appealed to my abstract gene, and then there is the river itself.

And the boulder, with its fissures and color variations, including some bright orange lichen, which ultimately inspired the sort of unusual title for this painting.

Embankment Aspen and Shadows - 11x8.5"
pastel on maroon cardstock
© S.Johnson

Another view right from the campsite, looking up and across the creek.  This is aspen country, so it was a given that they had to figure into at least one painting.  This was Friday morning's painting, done before breakfast.  I was reminded again of what a challenge it is to try and depict the massed greens of a forest - in this case, aspen, spruce, fir and probably some ponderosa pine.  

Fallen Rock and Tree - 8.5x11"
pastel on turquoise cardstock
© S.Johnson

Friday afternoon's painting, done a mere 15' from last weekend's painting "Creek Cascade".  Wayne and I had both been fascinated by the fact this full-grown tree was coming right up out of a large slab of limestone.  Strong shadows and patches of rust-colored moss - along with that tangle of roots - made it a fun challenge to paint.  The hardest part was dealing with the shadows, which changed by the minute:  by the time I'd finished the painting, the blue shadows had covered most of the creek.

We had great weather on Thursday and Friday, and because of the long hike we did on Friday, I'd planned to spend Saturday painting some aspen and road views I'd scouted out.  Alas, clouds rolled in early and stayed late, killing the light and dramatic shadows I wanted to paint.  So, I went out with my camera instead and spent a few hours photographing the creek..

...Wait:  hadn't I recently mentioned that I seldom take photos of moving water because they just don't do justice and aren't inspiring to paint from?   That's true.   That wasn't the intent with these photos, as you'll see in tomorrow's post, which I will dedicate just to this subject.

Here are a few flora and fauna photos from the weekend's hikes:

Blue and White Columbine in profile - one can never have enough photos
of this beautiful wildflower

Another native orchid!  Species unidentified

Fritillary species

Common Ringlet

male blue - unidentified species

Common Arctic - they seldom land and are very wary, so this was a luck shot indeed