Have you ever tried to touch your nose with your eyes closed, while sitting in a tiny boat, with two friends fishing?
It’s like being rather drunk, but it’s only the dramamine.
And the moving sea.
Now try to paint the scene.
I dare you
No Rancho
Matt Beard
Slot Machine
Line after line
And jewel upon jewel
These beams of light
Bearing weight
As well as witness
To our memories
Lost in the fire
On the night we crossed the bridge
Over the village of tents and mud
And ice
Passing cars
With no drivers
And the rising tide
Forced us to climb over the rocks
To round the headland
Where lovers loved
And dreamers dreamed
And thieves did their best work
Stealing all that we had
And leaving us with nothing
But ashes
And
Possibly
Yet another
Parking ticket
Wedding Chapel in the Church of the Open Sky
Silent Conversations: Long Departed
I’ve heard this site was one of the oldest human settlements in North America. Long departed now, nothing remains but a hill of discarded shells surrounded by windblown dunes. And the wind. The wind has always been here. It was already blowing steady with undertones of far greater force to come and it was only mid morning. I had a dilemma. There was a broad rocky plateau from which a finger of precipice extended. The plateau had nice views and was lined by an eroded dirt bank providing excellent wind block. The view I sought was out on that finger though, and as it was the wind was blowing full force into it, slamming into the face and rushing over it toward the caves. A dicey spot to paint from to be sure. In these times I always take a moment to seek direction. Even in the noise of life there is always Silence around us, and within that Silence, a Voice, easy to miss, but impossible to ignore. “Go out to the edge and paint. Beauty is never without risk. I am with you” Ok. It was quite an ordeal getting set up, requiring total concentration on each movement and considerations of flight risks for each element involved in my painting process. In the midst of all this, other voices were present in the wind. Not threatening voices, but not welcoming either. The Silent Voice seemed to be speaking back to them and I was in awe of the conversation taking place around and within me while standing out on this precipice unknown and unseen by a single soul. Mists of white blew past me as I painted, passing over the precipice I was standing on and swirling down into the caves below. I wasn’t sure what to make of them until one blew right into me and I found myself being pelted by sand. From where? The nearest dune around was the base of the mound left behind by the ancients a hundred yards up the coast. Nature’s poetry. A more appropriate body for these voices could never be found. Quite relieved that myself, and every bit of my gear, and this painting (embedded with sand) all survived without taking flight. Thanks be to Silence.
Quiet Water
To be honest, Santa Cruz stresses me out a bit. Crazy, crazy place… but I like it. That said it was great to get out of the hamster maze for a bit today. A friend treated me to some epic midday views up a private road way up the coast and I followed that up with this quick afternoon sketch from a path less travelled overlooking a place I’ve enjoyed visiting (although infrequently) for years. The wind howled pretty good while I painted this, but looking down on this pond nestled into a hook of coastal bluffs you wouldn’t know it. Smooth as glass, and quiet as could be. Something in me needed this today. Thankful to have the opportunity to walk this earth, life is beautiful. Find some quiet water and reflect when you have a minute. You won’t regret it.
For Miles and Miles
The last plein air painting from last months trip. (18 paintings, 12 days, 1 parking ticket…)
This particular stretch of California coastline intrigues me. Miles of coastal bluffs lined to the edge with row upon row of crops, a highly productive and active agricultural zone, and dotted with sculpted points and coves so abundant you always feel like you’re maybe missing something up the coast a bit. It’s gonna take more than a few trips to really sort this zone out in my mind, but I’m looking forward to all of them. Beauty for miles, but not without challenges…
The wind was howling at my back as I painted this one. Rarely did my hand leave the easel for fear of losing my gear off the cliff into rocky tidepools below, which would have been doubly troublesome due to the audience of surfers that sat just about in the middle of the painting (I somehow don’t always include them…) I can’t imagine the grief if I’d lost my gear off the cliff in front of that pack. I’d get run out of town most likely. Always a relief to survive a windy paint session and return with the painting in tact. I was so focused on handling the wind logistics here that I sorta painted this one on autopilot. Wasn’t till I got back and looked at it with the others that I realized how much I really like this one, it brings me back every time I look at it.
This Spot is Gone But You’re Still Here
I’d heard about a homegrown skatebowl on some farmer’s field overlooking this coast for years. I even went looking for it once, but in all the wrong places. I’d gotten a tip from a knowledgeable source this time, though, so I’d be making a visit on this trip and hopefully coming away with a painting of a truly unique spot on the California Coast.
There were no cars around when I arrived. Nice and quiet, but an ominous vibe hung in the air. I see a pile of rubble on a berm above me, brightly colored spray paint on each block in the pile. This must be the spot. As I near the top and get my first look around, I’m confronted with an unexpected scene.
“THIS SPOT IS GONE BUT YOU ’RE STILL HERE” is spraypainted on the last remaining portion of curved concrete bowl. The rest is jackhammered into pieces and strewn
about this bluff.
Well, it was true, the spot was gone but I was still there and may as well do what I came to do, so I painted this.
The word I heard when I got back to town is that they must have just bulldozed it within the last week or so. Many folks hadn’t even heard it was gone yet.
RIP cool skate spot. At least your epic view still remains.
-Entry on October 1, 2016
Protected
Latest from my Free Range: Santa Cruz painting tour. There’s coves like this all over the California coast, tucked away and protected from the predominant winds creating clean conditions when elsewhere the sea is ragged with wind chatter.
This coast is certainly worth protecting and I’m thankful for all who have worked to preserve the natural beauty of our state’s coast. Cheers to you all.
Home Renovation
Bunches of quail, several deer, otters, and even a fox on the beach. They were all very gracious hosts. Even though I’m sure I smelled pretty bad to them, none of them said so. They live in a beautiful home.
I May Not Play the Fiddle, But I Was on the Roof
Pretty stoked to paint this one from a rooftop today. Seriously, why paint in a studio when you can climb ladders and crawl through a skylight and set up in a place like this instead? Big thanks to my friend Charles for opening the door… um skylight… to make this one possible.
Losing his Mind While I Lost the Plot
After several long days of painting I sometimes hit a wall. Pushing through it where I can, sometimes this art gig becomes work. Fun work, but still work. I wanted to paint this spot just because I’ve had some fun waves here over the years, but didn’t anticipate how difficult it would be to put it all into a functional composition. That and the sunlight being directly behind my back creating a sort of flat shadowless light. Somewhere in the tired struggle to convey a sense of this place I felt like it got away from me and even looking at it now I don’t really know where I was trying to go here. Just sorta lost the plot I guess. Maybe it was in the air, a hobo kid that must have just eaten all his drugs wandered incoherently in and out of my world while working here. Are brain frying loopagenics contagious? Most likely not, I think I was just tired….
I hope the kid makes it through, there’s a fair bit of lostness in the eyes around parts of this town, but that’s a whole different story. I need some sleep. Good night. Love the ones around you, we all need each other.
Everybody Has Been Burned
Fire crept
Over the mountain
We saw it from town
After dinner last night
Smoke drifting
Out to sea
This morning
Everybody has
been burned before
Especially here
On this day though
The Rasta Man
Only smiled
And gave me a beer
Instead
There Used to be Two
When I rolled up to paint here I was thinking it would be a simple thing to pull up and paint from the back of the van as there is a carpark directly overlooking these rock formations. My first curve ball was when I realized it was posted as a 20-minute zone with the state park there. Instead of getting interrupted part way into a painting I figured I’d ask the park staff what they thought first. They seemed ok with it, but couldn’t promise I wouldn’t get the boot, especially if a “certain” ranger showed up. That was more assurance than nothing though so I figured I’d be alright and headed back to wait for the spot I’d scoped out to become available (shouldn’t take long, 20-minute zone after all). After about a half hour I realized this little truck in the prime spot just wasn’t moving. Due to the angles of the other spots, this really was the one I wanted and figured it was worth waiting for, but now the day was getting long and upon closer examination, the fellow in the truck appeared to be napping, headphones on, eyes closed, t-shirt tucked in his visor to block the sun from his face (and the view as well). Really? I mean he could do that anywhere he wanted, why choose this spot? Oh well, I figured some parking lot diplomacy was in order and proceeded to politely tap on his window and apologize for disturbing him, asking if he could move his rig, and offering him the two beers I was saving for later in exchange for his troubles. He was pretty stoked about the whole thing. They were just plain old Sierra Nevada’s but his eyes lit up and he said he’d heard about these beers, that they were supposed to be super good, all natural, top shelf beers. I wasn’t one to argue, I pulled into his spot and got to work. Never did see the ranger. But it was a really hot day, I could have enjoyed those beers.
Prior to the Fire
Painted this on location on my first day in town on this trip. This was the ridiculously hot day here. Not an ounce of wind either. If I knew then what I know now, I would have jammed up the coast to the points north as the wind has been prone to howl out there, cutting paintings short, threatening to blow them right off the cliffs. So far so good but its been hectic, not like this day. This was easy. Welcome to Santa Cruz, now move along.
Redgate Ranch Afternoon
Quick afternoon sketch of the scene here. Gonna get weird with some live art after I finish a burger real quick. Good vibes all around, stoked to be here.
Demolition: Speed of Love
I see them on their good days
And it’s hard to believe
The damage that the fairer of the two
Sometimes inflicts
When she lashes out
Unseen
On her darker days
The gaping holes wrecked into the seawall here
Speak of forces beyond comprehension
I go out here like everyone else
Just to watch on the really big days
But the seawall always seems to hold.
Yet the evidence is there
That on some days
It isn’t so strong
Maybe it’s like most of us
And it only tends to break down
In the dark of night
When no one is looking
Knuckle Bones
After a whirlwind road trip to that stretch of California just below Point Conception yet still well above LA, its good to be home for a bit. But only for a bit. Enjoyed painting our good old “knuckle bones” out here the other day before getting ready for another painting road trip to the points south…
HBG
And This
This may or may not have been painted on my way down the coast a few weeks ago, or on my way back home today. I’m not talking. But I am exhausted and my back hurts and my knee is all tweaked and I could use a good long nap.
Yo No Soy Marinero
Last one from a recent Ventura/Santa Barbara trip.
Sometimes a painting almost seems to paint itself. This one really didn’t need me much at all. The more I got involved the more I messed it up so at one point I just sort
of mentally checked out. I put on some music to drown out the roar of semi trucks on the highway behind me and relaxed through the afternoon until it looked finished. I’m
not trying to sound flippant about the work, but I think everyone who makes art can relate to the way some pieces just need us to get out of their way.
But the title is true. I am not a sailor. I will crash your boat. Seriously, don’t underestimate my lack of seaworthiness. I will steer your beautiful boat into a sandbar and all the knots I’ve tied will come undone. I will happily recline in your captain’s quarters, though. Especially if there are snacks.
-Entry on August 30, 2016
Without Regard For Rules or Regulations
Found a few more paintings from my recent Ventura/Santa Barbara trip lurking in my van when I unpacked. This one’s title has nothing to do with ignoring the state park rules, but more about my decision to drop that palm in the foreground, chopping off a chunk of the composition against all of my better judgement. Its not like I ran out and just painted what was in front of me and then realized later that maybe a strong vertical like that isn’t the best thing for a pleasing composition. I knew full well even before setting up my easel that I was flirting with disaster. Even now I reckon that disaster and I might just be involved in a committed relationship here. But then every time I really start regretting that choice, I end up looking right at that palm trunk and the rest of the painting comes together peripherally and I love it again.
Further Up, Further In
Educational Facilities
These are the places where we return when we get a bit too old after a long week of work and need to learn to be young again. They are also the places where the young grow and learn, and gain wisdom beyond their years. Up and down the coast are these friendly pockets of earth, some of the finest educational facilities in existence.
University ratings are irrelevant, although SPF ratings should be considered carefully.
Degrees are measured in Fahrenheit, or possibly Celsius for the international exchange students.
Graduation isn’t just for the end of the year, it happens all the time. From jumping over waves in the shallows, to jumping in to them from a bit further out. From belly boarding to stand-up riding. From riding whitewater to sliding down the open face. Diplomas are framed in ear-to-ear smiles and displayed proudly in the dining hall where peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are served and seagull janitors mop up whatever is left behind… or just unattended.
-Entry on August 28, 2016
I’m Only Bluffing
Have you ever
watched
A tree
Blowing away
So slowly
That its roots
Have time
To catch and hold
The earth below?
I have
Forgive Us Our Trespasses
The first sign said
No Trespassing
After climbing over the gate
And walking across the forbidden land
The second sign said
Permission to Pass
We couldn’t help but wonder
For whom was this one written?
It is always good
To be forgiven