No Turning Back

I’d tried to get to this place, Rubicon point, located in D.L. Bliss State Park for two days in a row only to be denied by a full parking lot. On the first day, I was with my whole family and we looked at a map and decided to walk in on the Rubicon Trail. My six year old is a bundle of energy when she wants to be. When she’s walking uphill in the heat of a Tahoe summer day, well, that’s just not really her thing. We climbed the trail higher and higher, (odd because we were trying to get down to the water, not up) until we finally reached what seemed to be the peak, and then continued down the trail for a fair bit as well. My wife came around a bend with a view and saw just how far we still had to descend to the water (and hence climb back out later with our youngest melting into a puddle of hot complaints) and she wisely made the call. We would go no further. We would turn back, and I’d have to try again another day.

As for painting this one when I finally made it here, this is the only piece of the trip that had that feeling of ease about it while working. The water and rocks before me were just so perfect and defined that it had that feeling that it was ready to paint itself if I could just get out of the way.

Later when I went to title the piece I was thinking of a variation on the word bliss, but it felt so obvious that I just wasn’t ready to roll with it too easily. I figured I’d look up the word Rubicon and see what came of it and learned of the phrase “crossing the Rubicon” to be synonymous with passing a point of no return, named so after Julias Caesar crossing the river Rubicon in Rome with his troops which was an irrevocable declaration of civil war against Rome itself. If he’d had my wife along for counsel, oh how the world as we know it would be a different place today. Ever thankful to her wisdom that we avoided our own civil war that day and chose to live in peace instead.

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The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth

The bold get up early and seize the day. They also seize all of the parking spots on the southwest shore of Tahoe by 9 in the morning on hot summer days. Earlier this day I was rather bold myself, rising before 6am and seizing a primo spot just about the falls in the previous painting. I was done by 10am or so, thinking I would have plenty of time to get in to the beach lot at D L Bliss State Park for another painting before connecting with my family later in the afternoon at Meeks Bay.

That may have been bold of me, but it was also very mistaken. The bolder ones had already arrived and for the second day in a row I was denied access to Bliss. Meekly I headed up the coast to our campground and found a spot in the shade to paint this consolation piece, looking back at the shore where I’d spend the next day wallowing in the shallows with a camera hunting for tubes among the boatwakes on my own handmade artificial sandbars. But that’s another story…

In my defeat, my eyes cast downward and for the only time on this trip my painting’s composition contained no sky, instead focused solely on the rocks and water before me. In fact, since the other 9 sold so quickly I decided to hang on to this one for my family. Maybe one of my grandkids will inherit it one day.

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Heaven’s Fourth Foundation

How’s that cryptic title? Don’t worry I’m not starting some sort of religious new age cult or anything. I just have a tradition with my coastal paintings of not naming locations in the titles, but often providing obscure wordplay cues to the locations. I do this partly because as a surfer, no matter how much the internet gives all of our secrets to the masses, it is still taboo to name many of the places I paint in public forums such as this. The other reason is that I still need to be able to recall which painting someone is asking about when they inquire about a piece by it’s title and if I have dozens of paintings called “Afternoon Light on the Coast” well that won’t really help much will it? The wordplay references just serve to jog my memory as to which is what when I need to recall them later.

What’s all that got to do with this title?Well, perhaps it was just the overwhelming beauty of the place that gave a feeling of heaven on earth here, or maybe it was the elevation- being over a mile high in the sky. But either way as I named these pieces a somewhat biblical​ theme emerged. This is one of the most iconic bay views in all of Tahoe, sharing its name with the precious stone listed as the fourth stone in the foundation of the New Heaven in the Book of Revelation. Cryptic? Yes, but it serves its purpose all the same.

Sidenote: If I were to die today, I’d far rather go out with this view in my mind than the stone it’s named after in my hand. No doubt about that.

It should also be noted if we’re going to speak of nearness to heaven that this is the only painting of my trip that had water from the skies fall upon it while painting. The big round dollops fell steadily, but sparsely for only a few minutes, making only the subtlest of splashes and drips in the underpaint stage. But it was dicey for a minute there.

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Eden Revisited

Just after I had things blocked in on this one with a crisp afternoon light, a thunderhead developed to the south and within minutes the whole sky went gray. Had to make a choice, follow the changing conditions, or just wing it and make stuff up. Sometimes clouds bring out colors that sunlight washes out in the landscape. I wasn’t feeling it this time, so this became effectively a studio piece painted on location*, but no longer referencing much of the scene before me other than it’s most basic architecture, just operating on memory and instinct.

This is also the only piece from the trip that includes any human figures. It’s not that I intentionally avoid figures, I just don’t focus on them much. In this case, it was their interaction with the lake that carried the whole story here so there you have it. Humanity introduced in a pristine setting. Eden revisited.

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Fit for a King

Named for the stretch of coast nearby, King’s beach, it’s easy to see why a place this beautiful would belong to a King. That said, he’s lost some territory this year as the heavier than normal snowfall melting into the lake has the water level several feet higher than normal and this beach, like many others found itself nearly completely underwater. I found the only patch of sand I could to work from and even then I stood in ankle deep water getting a fairly proper chill on an otherwise hot day. The entire session was peppered with confusion of beachgoers arriving to their annual beach day on the northern shore of Tahoe only to find there was no… beach. But the water, oh my, the water. High tide on Tahoe is pretty awesome all the same. I’m sure the King is pretty stoked on his view as well.

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West of Heaven

I was undoubtedly the highest I’ve ever been while painting this one. Wait. not like that. I mean the highest elevation- 9,123 feet above sea level to be exact. Heavenly is the name of the ski resort here on the California/Nevada border and we arrived to the first day of the summer gondola running visitors up the hill for an expansive view of the entire Sea of Tahoe. From somewhere around the point where that central tree breaks the view of Tahoe’s shore in the foreground and sweeping all the way to the left then right into the far distance where the shore again disappears behind the tree on the far right, that is the entire East Coast of California in one painting.

Painting on this public observation deck was full of distractions with a higher than normal dose of confusing questions from the admiring public like: “do you do this on your own, or do you sell these?”…. um….?

Anyway, within these distractions an 8 year old girl wandered by who spoke no discernable english and watched enthralled, to the growing impatience of her younger brother. At times her mother had to pull her back as she wanted to put her face so close to the action I was worried I’d accidently paint a rainbow on her cheek and get busted for running an unauthorized facepainting scheme to profit from the tourist traffic. After several minutes of her being allowed by her family to indulge her fascination, she uttered the first english word to her family that I heard. Very clearly and unmistakably she said “Impressionism”. I thought that was pretty cool, even though the only impression I was giving through the painting at that stage was that of a snow-blinded elephant washing it’s back with river mud. Still, though, I strive to carry on in a long and deep tradition of California Impressionist artists, so it was great to hear the word uttered from the mouth of such a young person who clearly knows more about what I do than I would have at her age.

By the way, my entire Tahoe series is sold out (say what? That happened fast!), but I will be showing them all at my gallery before shipping them off. Stay tuned.

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In the Beginning

Arriving to Tahoe for the first time we approached from the south after traversing Echo Summit. The exposed granite boulders of the Pie Shop (what they call that hill in the mid upper right) in the distance gave just a hint of the aroma of the delicious feast of Earth’s wonder that was to come in the following days. The bits of snow still clinging to the shaded hill in the 80 degree heat was now a distant echo of the long dark and cold winter months that blanketed this area with more snow than recent memory could recall. And the fallen tree a reminder that life is never easy.. and even more so here in this place, in spite of its indescribable beauty.

Did I mention the mosquitoes? Talk about blood, sweat, and tears. Well not so much tears but those little bloodsuckers forced me to put on the only jacket I had on hand, a full on hooded puffy warm and toasty jacket. The hood was great to keep those buggers off my neck, but oh my, I think I may have sweated out an organ or two inside that little sauna.

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A Strong Inclination

This is the first painting I did in Tahoe. It was a real puzzle for me trying to sort out the values in the painting with that blinding white snow on the surrounding ridges. I kept feeling like everything should be lighter because of the distance, then I’d lose the contrast that would make that flat white snow appear so bright. I never really did figure it out, but had a ton of fun staring at that water all the same.

The town on the distant shore beneath the snowy peaks is called Incline Village, though that has less to do with the title than the allure of that ice cold water on a hot day, giving one a strong inclination to jump in, no matter how much the shock to one’s system the cold would bring.

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I’m Going In!

Close to the water’s edge and just around that boulder point known as Bonsai Rocks. By the time I was done with this one, staring so closely into that crystalline water while sweating in the sun, there was no holding back. 

I’m going in!

Wow, Tahoe. You’re cold. That hurt.

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SDSFF 2017 Skip Frye Tribute: The Glider

This year the San Diego Surf Film Festival hosted a heartfelt tribute night to San Diego’s Skip Frye, who has been building beautiful boards and outsurfing everyone for over 50 years. The hall was packed with legends of the surfing world there to honor Skip with the SDSFF Lifetime Achievement Award. As each speaker stood to speak about Skip they would mention what an honor it was to honor such an inspiring individual. If they could have read the mind of the painter standing in the back of the hall busy crafting this visual tribute to Skip based on an old Ron Stoner photograph, they would have seen that there was nobody in the room that felt more unworthy of the honor of being there than him. Of all the amazing artists in San Diego, this fuzzy kid from Humboldt rolls down and is asked to perform his trade for the audience to admire, heckle, mock, or cheer (all of which happened in spades). Beyond stoked. This one was for Skip.

 

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Geometries of Love

Not plein air, but quickly painted in a public setting from a blurry overcast bootlegged photo, so not exactly a studio painting either…

This was done as a gift for the family that opened their home to me during my recent stay in San Diego. They spend their anniversaries down here every year, and though it isn’t technically within my usual range, figured it would be an appropriate gesture nonetheless.

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Observation: North

The view looking north from this science research pier. I could have approached this totally differently and used the perspective to really go after the unique view of the coast from just offshore, leaving out all the railing and hoists and sciency stuffs, but that wouldn’t really tell the whole story would it?

Big thanks to my friend Bruce who got me out there on this recent trip and made this series happen. Looking forward to touring the boat someday as well!

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Observation: South

While I am generally drawn to cliffside overlooks with sweeping views out to the water, I also find the occasionally more unusual perspective pretty irresistible, especially when it’s one that requires a key and a scientist on your side to gain access to a pier and observation deck that are otherwise closed to the public.

Back when I first went off to college at Humboldt State University I was an oceanography major for about a semester and a half before switching to art. During those brief oceanography years I always figured I’d end up tooling around working on this pier one day…

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The Glider

Skip Frye Tribute.

An interpretation of a classic Ron Stoner image of Skip paddling out at Cojo, from the Surfer Magazine Archives

Painted live start to finish last night with Skip in the room. Think about that for a second.

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Cliff Hanger

While I tend toward the pulled back views looking up or down the coast until the atmospheric haze obscures the landscape features off in the distance, it’s nice to change it up from time to time and absorb a more intimate view of the unique coastal features in a given location.

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Another Facet

One of the most often painted stretches of beach in California, I’ve even painted from similar vantage points up here myself. It’s always fun to come back though- every day, every time, every painting by myself or others, each simply reveals yet another facet of this Jewel of California.

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Imminent Domain

Had to spend a few afternoons​ here to complete this larger-than-I-normally-work plein air at the site of what once was the central hub of this coastal town, complete with a railroad station, dance hall, hotel, schoolhouse and an enclosed tidal pool for the turn of the century folk who would settle there. Remains of the short lived pool can still be seen at low tide beneath the eroded cliffs here. As with most coast towns, lots of changes have come through the years, along with occasional use of imminent domain laws.

That has nothing to do with my title here though. My first day painting here I figured I’d paddle out to sample the rolling reef waves out front on a hot afternoon. The second I make it outside and sit up on my board I’m confronted with the sight of a rather triangular dorsal fin lurking maybe 30-40 feet away. As I’m processing this sight, trying to conform this shape with a dolphin’s dorsal to no avail, and realizing it’s just barely moving and hovering on the surface as no dolphin I’ve ever seen would do, it’s snout barely breaches the surface as a wave passes by. A pointed angular snout, none of the characteristic bottle shape of a dolphin. That sealed the deal for me and I turned and slowly paddled in, trying to avoid sudden movement and attention. About halfway to shore, I realize I should probably spread the word to the handful of surfers on the inside reform just a bit north. They didn’t seem concerned, thought it was a dolphin, and said they’d never seen anything like that there. I said ok, and promptly caught the next crummy closeout in. Obligation: fulfilled.

Over 20 years of surfing in Humboldt’s notoriously sharky waters I’d never seen anything up close like this. The next two weeks were full of sightings around the area, and this was just days after the attack further up the coast near Ofre. A reminder of whose domain we play in.

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Number 9

I’d been driving past this little slot canyon for years wondering if I’d ever get out there to paint someday. It looks out over the wetlands that are fed by the tidal inlet at that reef way out in the distance. I’ve painted that reef from plenty of other angles (beach level, the cliff at the beach, the road behind the inlet, a friend‘s roof, etc). Off the top of my head I can roughly count about 8 previous times I’ve painted that reef, which would make this one number 9.

This was a commission for a woman who goes out walking on these wetland trails regularly. I met up with her one morning to see what she had in mind and the trails led straight back to this canyon. She was open to any view of the area that inspired me, and with a natural slot canyon and open space like this in the middle of the congestion of this county’s coast, it was not hard to be inspired. It was crazy foggy though. Had to go surf for a few hours waiting for it to burn off. An afternoon hike, hopped fence and scramble or two up a few narrow ravines later, and I was at the top of the entire canyon, uninterrupted for the next
couple hours. I love my job.

-Entry on May 10, 2017

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Time Rolls Slowly Uphill

The morning before painting this I had done a demo for a friend’s high school art class down on the beach below these hills. I felt like I sorta botched that one a bit, (I had higher hopes for it anyway) . He took his students to a Museum in Laguna Beach afterwards and I tagged along. The front room held several pieces from the early California impressionist masters, William Wendt, Edgar Payne, and others. As the class toured on, I stayed put and absorbed those pieces for an hour or so. Leaving there I was fired up to go paint, and had spotted a promising trailhead earlier in the week so I went after it in the fading afternoon light. It was a pretty good workout getting to this vantage point, but once here it was like standing in one of those paintings from 100 years ago. Sure the coast highway has exploded with development, but up the hills in these open spaces, time doesn’t seem to have budged.

Sidenote: this original will be on display in my gallery… er, van… this weekend during my North Coast Open Studios event at Trinidad Head. Come check it and chat art while standing in my van. Not creepy or awkward at all. All are welcome. (Maximum occupancy: 3 – but I’ll set up a pop-up tent beside the van so you can stay dry and cook up some coffee until there’s room in the van… er, gallery.

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