Summer Sun Rays

Its an interesting thing about painting on location. On occasion unexpected things appear as if by magic in my compositions. I never know exactly but it could be just the very act of splashing watercolor on a large sheet of paper held by a tipsy easel in the sunshine with nothing but fresh air and an occasional zephyr to interrupt my train of thought. I am so at oneness with nature during these times that little can interrupt the magical transference of my colors to the paper.

It was a day of wispy clouds which precede the thunderheads that build their majestic formations over the Kiabab and produce a shower or two of sweet smelling rain. The cedar trees were producing rolling patterns on the golden brush below them.  Occasional clumps of turquoise sage rested above a vermillion wash bank just before me.  These were my focus.

I don't remember actually painting the rays of sunshine that shone on the summer slopes...it just happened. But these accidental happenings are what make the medium of watercolor so very special. I loved the effect and hope that you will enjoy it to!

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Summer Sage And Sacred Detura

This painting is just the essence of July in the southern Utah desert. Filled with color and warmth it cries out for a hike in bare feet, the warm coral sand caressing your toes just so gently. Once in a while you run across a sacred detura plant. Deep blue green foliage hosts a spectacular lily like flower of pure white. They say the plant is poisonous and that it is halucinagenic.as well. It likes the sandy washes and makes itself at home there.

I painted this scene in 1976, when my third son was just a baby. Mimi sat under a tree close to his playpen and I painted and we talked of the wonder of the country, and how happily the baby cooed  in the warm sunshine. I found such great joy of splashing the watercolors on my paper. My heart was happy and my older sons played with their metal cars on the wash bank. I would call out to them,"What are you building?" The older one replied, "I'm constructing a fire station and I have a grocery store, and a gas station to go with it."

The younger son, Marc replied with great passion, " I'm building a nation!"
How my heart swelled with love and gratitude for my little family all around me. My brush worked with tenderness and just enough playfulness to make my painting dance to the music of my heart!

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Roadside Thistles Near Zion

Zion National Park holds many beautiful treasures to the fortunate person able to behold her splendor. I have always been fascinated by the elegant white blossoms of the thistles that grow along the roadside in mid July. You dare not touch them as they are full of thorns that scream 'stay away', and yet they are so lovely with their pure white petals and silky appearance with just a touch of yellow gold at the center.

 I set up my easel in one of the most beautiful areas of the park. I loved it because the day was just recovering from a thundershower and the mountain ridges were caught in a symphony of golds and lavender and raw sienna passages that were framed by the waning of the storm clouds giving rise to delicate rays of the sun that colored the mountains with a silvery light.

Contrasts of color and value add interest to paintings and to life. Like the primitive beauty of the thistles, the magic of this moment only lasts fleetingly. It is up to each of us to take the time out of the chaos that surrounds our busy lives to enjoy the moment and be alive in it right then and right there. Some of these moments are caught by a memory or a photograph or an artists painting and live on to add inspiration and a bit of beauty to our lives. For these precious moments I am grateful!

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The primitive beauties of the high desert.

Kanarraville, Utah

Sitting at about 5,500 feet, Kanarraville  is a beautiful little Utah town. The afternoon Mimi and I and the boys and darling baby Elisa drove up to see what we could find that was pretty to paint, there it was. Iron County has its particular share of beauty, but this was just oh so amazing. I ran to set up my easel and put out my watercolors as the dark forms of storm clouds collected overhead and promised an abundance of rain!

Blackness of the storm stood strong against the mountains. It was a study of contrasts in action.
The afternoon sun shed shreds of light on the delicate foliage in front of me, and the dark prongs of last summers fire stood silently against the velvet mountains. The last of the spring grasses created a horizontal passage of rich yellow green. I painted like mad before the clouds let loose and Mimi shooed the boys back to the truck. The painting could have had a bit more detail, but Mimi and I loved it just the was it was.

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                                 Before the storm.Summer 1982.

Water Canyon Staging Area

Water canyon was the next canyon over from Maxwell canyon. On a summer day it was a good hike over to the staging area that was comprised of this little pasture surrounded by cedar trees and turquoise sage. A string of old cedar posts still remained on one side complete with a wire gate.
One could actually drive this far up Water canyon without fear of getting stuck in the sand which would drift over the primitive roads and make traveling very difficult.
When a longer hike was planned this shady area was perfect to transfer our backpacks to our own backs and prepare to make the more difficult hike up the canyon switchbacks to the top country.
This was the magical land that my Uncle Jon wrote about in his books. It was the land of the Raindrop That Never Fell, one of the most beautiful natural lakes around. We were ready!

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Canyon Reservoir

Canyon Reservoir

The Old Reservoir

Lined with graceful aspen trees, the old reservoir could hold a little water, or with enough rainfall, a lot. It was a perfect place to hike up to and paint. Mimi and I would make the small journey up the sandstone trail once in a while just to see how much water was there.

I loved to see the reflections of the trees in the water, contrasted with the red sand flanking its shores. Deer would come here in the early morning and we could see their tracks, and many other desert animals would come to this spot as well.

Mimi loved foxes. She loved their expressive faces and the way the luxurious coat would go to black on the slender legs. We had a fox all one summer. He would come to the cottage patio and see what delectable scrap Mimi had left for him. Mimi would look for fox tracks on the damp sand and once in a while she would find some. "I wonder if that is our fox." she would say to no one in particular.

On the morning that I painted this watercolor, storm clouds had gathered and there was a promise of a shower in the very near future. I splashed in the cliffs and the aspens and the cedars just ahead of the rain. Sometimes picking a time to paint the wild outdoors can present an unexpected challenge.
Oh, but it is always worth it!

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Land Beneath The Tumurru

The Arizona Strip country is vibrant and full of color. The year is 1910, and Mimi was just five years old when her father packed up their belongings and moved to Maxwell Canyon where he hoped to become a farmer with a small herd of cattle.

Though it was dusty and she was tired from the long trip, Mimi peered out of the buckboard to see majestic vermillion cliffs rising two thousand feet off the canyon floor. She couldn't know that three of her brothers would build small stone houses in this wild and beautiful land, or that she would help her older brothers in bringing precious water from the top of those immense cliffs to the valley below in wooden flues or that it would take many years to make this a reality.

Right now Mimi knew she was tired and hungry and she longed for the wagon to stop its endless journey so she and her family could have homemade bread and fresh peaches for lunch.

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Journey Across The Arizona Strip