Artwork

Afternoon Inside the Point

  What day is it now? How long has it been? I miss my lover and my friend And while it’s not quite really a sin I’ve now fallen in love With a very light wind Someone to speak with This breeze she is mine We’ll speak with each other And we’ll speak in rhyme While my body’s become A negative space Where flesh used to be And what once had a face I’m beginning to wonder If I’ll ever return? Is this absence forever Or just a lesson to learn? A fire to cook with Or just something to burn? I’m losing track of my thoughts Like ash from the urn But the wind she has born On her win…

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Right After Breakfast

 
Rising up with the sun
Oh how we are blessed
We’ll get it all done
Right after breakfast
A lonely spigot
Sweet water from rust
We’ll refill our jugs
Right after breakfast
We’ll hang our food high
Or else bury it we must
We’ll hide it from bears
Right after breakfast
We’ll commit our damp gear
To the morning sun’s trust
It’ll warm us up too
Right after breakfast
Our coffee rings true
In shining blue metal cups
We’ll drink it down slowly
Right after breakfast
Excuse me for a minute
There’s something I just…
…
…
 
Urgent business buried
Where the tide last blushed
And I’ll burn the paper trail
Right after breakfast
Rising up with the sun
Indeed we are blessed
We’ll get everything done
Right after breakfast
There’s so much to do
But we aren’t feeling rushed
Think I’ll paint this instead
Right after breakfast


Trying to Paint in the Rain

After two straight days of rain and a not so inspiring view from inside the tent, I broke down and attempted to paint on this masonite panel even though it was still drizzling. Luckily it never became a downpour. The thought of painting in the rain has resonated with me ever since though…   She cooks an extra portion of every meal Delivers it to the kids Whose father is sick and maybe dying And whose mother travels with him To doctors far away Because nothing can be done Here She leaves their dinner on the porch And feels their fear and pain Seeping up through the floorboards She’…

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When the Rain Finally Stopped

I’ve been in a storm That seems like it will never end And it still howls and hammers to this very day I’m learning to accept The shivering soaking that follows Whenever I step out of the shelter I’ve built in this old heart It’s walls are made of driftwood Branches and limbs From long dead trees Discarded ideas of the future That this storm ripped from their roots And sent into the raging sea To be worn smooth And returned to land again It’s roof is made of a cheap vinyl tarp A matter of convenience And lightness And bang for the buck It’s all that keeps me dry But for warmth Oh f…

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Backside of the Dunes

One of the last plein air paintings I did before my first daughter was born. When she came along we bought a house and painting was put on hold for several years while frantic nest-building ensued. That was nuts. Two weeks before she was born we were walking to the gas station down the street for the restroom. My wife had taken to cooking on a campstove on the back porch. We managed to get one room finished along with a functional toilet/shower, and stove by the time she was born. Then it was a race to finish the rest of the house and floors before she started crawling. We stayed one milestone…

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California Poppies

After this piece I came to the conclusion that the nearly unbearable intensity of the color of California poppies in bright sunshine may just be one of nature’s cruelest tricks ever hoisted upon unsuspecting plein air painters. It’s just not fair, really.


Skunked

This was the first full studio landscape I completed after spending about 2 years pretty much exclusively painting outdoors. The outdoor approach ended up completely altering my approach to painting in general. Most of the studio landscape work I’ve done in more recent years that folks know me best for wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t spent those couple years outdoors relearning how to see nature.


First Hike Up the Canyon

This one goes way back… I first became interested in painting outdoors after seeing work from some of the early California Impressionists at a show in Los Angeles. I’d been painting for a solid ten years already, a dedicated artist since the age of 16. But those California Impressionists did something with their art that I couldn’t do at the time- make you feel the place. I’d already been painting different spots from memory here and there, but their lifelike renditions tapped into my experiences of being on the coast in a whole different way. I spent the next couple of years paint…

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