Artwork Notes & Backstories


If These Walls Could Speak

Plein air artwork from the cove at Rincon Point on the Santa Barbara/Ventura coast of southern California

09/25/2018

This is a busy place. Especially after spending a week painting in virtual solitude on one of our offshore islands. Back to humanity. Parking lots. Attitudes. Spandex bikers. Beach joggers. Warring 12 year olds. Addicts teetering on the razor’s edge of their future. Social media selfie hounds. Freeway traffic. All of this and a perfectly foiled right point. Some call her the queen, but few are those who truly respect her crown. Her benevolent rule is oft mistaken for an invitation to take, take, and take some more.

I failed to convey all the day’s action in this painting. Instead I was drawn to this little driftwood shack (itself a satellite shack from a much larger and heavily used complex of impromptu structures) and the contrast it provided to the exclusive beachfront homes that line this fabled shore.

Solid walls of plaster. Crumbling walls of driftwood. Holy walls of water.

The things these walls have seen. All of them. The stories could fill volumes.

They won’t be told here.

The walls themselves are the only story I saw today.

Oh and the squirrel that nabbed my trail mix from my bag…gone. And the very oddly placed cooler full of Coronas that was set next to the driver door of my van when I returned. Was that intentional? No other cars in the lot. I figured if they were left accidentally, someone might return for them and be bummed to find them gone so I left them where they lie. Well, I may or may not have borrowed one, but still… a nice gesture if it was meant to be one. Thank you, if you meant it… or even if you didn’t.


Time Waits for No Man… And Neither Does the Boat

Plein air artwork from Santa Rosa Island in the Channel Islands National Park

09/24/2018

I’ve heard it said that “time waits for no man”, well… neither does the boat.

It was a pretty rushed scramble taking on this scene just before the boat was to depart for home. I was half-tempted to “miss the boat” just to stay a bit longer, but thought better of it.

When I started this painting of the entire scene before me, I may have bit off a bit more than I could chew in such a short time and wasn’t able to quite finish this one on location, but a bit of studio work at home from memory and I think it conveys the place pretty well.

They say visiting these shores is like going back in time, to an older California… well, there you have it.


The North Shore

Plein air artwork from the Channel Islands National Park on Santa Rosa Island off the coast of southern California

09/24/2018

After two days of painting one stretch of coast in this off-the-beaten-path outpost of California, I was eager to see a different part of it before leaving later this day. It would require a 2.2 mile hike, while “carrying a ton*” art supplies up and over the low hills without a soul in sight to bring me to a completely different shoreline, facing nearly due north- an unusual arrangement on California’s coast.

The only unwonderful thing about painting this was knowing I had to get it done fast and hurry back without time to explore or else risk missing the boat. I’ve missed the boat on a lot of opportunities in life, and wasn’t eager to discover what it would be like to miss the actual boat itself. Still a great time to see this shore with my own eyes before leaving.

*Not all that heavy really, maybe 25 or 35 pounds max, but the geographical wordplay is intended for those who know…


Moonlit Echoes

Plein air nocturne artwork of old schoolhouse at Becher's Bay on Santa Rosa Island off the coast of California

09/23/2018

5th painting completed today… well sorta today. Technically I only did four during the daylight hours but then snuck this one in the late hours of night beneath a bright full moon.

The moonlight falling on the crushed gravel paths makes walking these trails at night a beautiful experience. The reflective white surface of the path glowed in comparison to the grass on either side. The old buildings here are relics from the previous era of sheep and cattle ranching- of which the cumulative effects on the islands native species and coastal topographies are still being studied today.

In the daytime it gets apparent pretty quickly that these old buildings are no longer used, but in the quiet of night it’s somehow easier to imagine them resting from the noisy activity of a long day’s work, only to rise at first light and go about it all over again. Each clanking chain blown in the wind creates another echo from a not so distant past.

In reality though, the sun has set for good on these operations. These moonlit echoes are a reminder that each day has its own dawn and its own dusk, but the moon comes and goes as it pleases.


Torrey Pine Sentinel

Plein air artwork of a torrey pine tree over Becher's Bay on Santa Rosa island off the coast of southern California

09/23/2018

When most folks hear the words “Torrey Pines” they think as much about a rare variety of pine tree as they do a very specific location in San Diego- the state park named for the tree and often touted as the only place in the world where these trees grow.

But don’t worry, I’m not naming locations here, this is nowhere near San Diego, and just happens to be the only other place on earth where these pines are found.

I had hoped to march further up the hill and get a more expansive view of this grove, but sometimes when I see a painting before me, it’s hard to pass up. Especially if the day is getting late and I still have a 3 mile hike ahead of me. In this case I was battling a sense of urgency and perhaps over rushed this one. I had been out on the hills in the late afternoon the day before and really enjoyed the way the sun set behind them but still illuminated the flat alluvial plains that sweep out and form this long crescent bay. I went after it a bit prematurely, anticipating the changing light shift to come, but it wouldn’t happen for another hour or so after I was done with my shift standing watch beside this old Torrey Pine sentinel.

Some plein air paintings are created by reacting to the moment, but sometimes they are a reaction to a memory as well. That was this one.


Beside Clear Waters

Plein air artwork of Torrey pine tree over Black Rock on Santa Rosa Island off the coast of southern California

09/23/2018

This irresistible cove is overlooked by a rare Torrey Pine. I find myself today among the only Torrey Pine trees that exist outside of San Diego. The hillside behind me contains a dense grove.

I was drawn to this one, standing alone beside these clear waters. It seemed to me a bit of a fragile metaphor for an artist’s life. There’s safety in the herd, the job, the career, the retirement funds, and all that.

The art life is often about stepping away from the pack just a bit. Safety and comfort are traded for meaning and beauty. Like this tree by the ocean, the artist remains exposed to the battering winds that life brings. The salty air may even stunt our growth and cause our beards to whither, but out here we are alive.

Until we aren’t. Same as everybody else.

Whatever. Stop painting. Go swimming!


Our Farther

Plein air artwork from the trail to Skunk Point on Santa Rosa Island off the coast of southern California

09/23/2018

I usually grumble about my heavy pack whenever I have to hike more than a mile. This turned out to be a six mile round trip to make this painting happen. But I could not complain about the heavy pack this time. My hiking companions on this morning sunrise walk were a couple of scientist fellows intent on monitoring frogs on the far side of this island, which somehow required them to carry a massive metal post and post-driver. (I’m no scientist, so don’t ask me). I guess we all have our crosses to bear, but theirs was definitely heavier today. And they were traveling twice as far. I was able to paint two paintings and make it back to our cabin with time for a dip in the ocean and another quick painting before dinner. We didn’t see them back until several hours after dark.

Along the way this morning, I kept seeing plenty of places I’d have loved to stop and paint, but something kept driving me farther along the path.

I think it was simply the desire to go farther itself. There’s something about spending yourself to get out there off the beaten paths and be alone on the face of a wild earth that gets in your blood.

The scientists and I approach this place from completely different angles, but we have a lot of common ground as well, it’s just a bit farther out.


We Must Keep Our Eyes Open

Plein air artwork of view of Skunk Point and Santa Cruz island from Santa Rosa Island off the coast of California

09/22/2018

We must keep our eyes open. First two syllables: We-muh. Wordplay for the name of the tribe that lived here for thousands of years before they were scooped up and sent away to make room for sheep and cattle and now a national park.

The opportunity to come visit this place was part of a program through CSUCI that brings students here to study this unique natural environment. This trip was designed with an emphasis on “seeing the landscape”. Being that’s my bread and butter, I reckon that’s the reason my friend Dr. Reineman invited me to tag along.

The fact that I was here with a bunch of science students really hit home when there was audible excitement and giddy applause for the announcement of an “ethnobotany” hike. I was pretty fascinated too, but I must confess I only lasted about 20 minutes on the educational hike and then my need to see a broader view of the landscape won out and they sent me on my way.

What a joy to set up an easel and paint on this hill, where not too many feet travel, and even fewer easels get dragged up and put to use.

Life is hard to predict, so keeping my eyes open, I know this opportunity may not come again. How thankful I am to be here today. 


The Gambler’s Fallacy

Plein air artwork from Point Lobos near Carmel on the Monterey coast of California

09/21/2018

One of California’s prized state parks. I arrived early, knowing the park fills up to capacity nearly every day with a line of cars waiting to enter. I’d made it on time, but my van was too long. Denied.

I had a long way to drive that day, and a boat to catch tomorrow that I could not, and would not, miss. But I’m here now, the sun is out, and there’s parking on the road. The longer hike in would swallow at least an hour, and the painting itself would likely take another three. I might be driving straight to the docks to catch the boat instead of to the house I’d hoped to get a decent night’s rest in. I gambled it and hoped for the best.

A frantic fast-paced hike across the entire length of the park, heading straight for a zone I thought would be ideal, but when I arrived, I found that due to heavy foot traffic, every piece of trail in this park is roped off with steel cables and the rangers mean business. Might not be a big deal for a photo-snapper to hop over and quickly get the shot, but for a 3 hour post out on a rock in plain view was a bit more than I was willing to wager. I’d follow the trail along the entire northern perimeter of the park and find a suitable view from the trail itself. Given the natural beauty, I liked those odds better.

It wasn’t as sure of a thing as I’d first thought. Part of the problem was that awful cable preventing access to many a view. Another part of the problem was the nooks and crags of this headland are just so beautiful I couldn’t help but wonder what was around each bend, so by the time I’d passed up 3 good views I started to realize that the one before those was maybe the best, but by now I’d gone so far I didn’t want to backtrack and surely there must be something better around the next corner, yeah? It wasn’t until I came to this overview of a small bay on my way back that I realized this was my last chance. So I rolled the dice and started to paint.

But my gamble was nothing compared to the one-time owner of this land who gambled it all away to a troop of soldiers in one failed hand of cards. At least I got a painting out of my gamble.


Pure and Simple

Plein air artwork from the hiking trails at Purisima point on the San Mateo coast of Central California

09/19/2018

One of my favorite things when I’m out on the road (or at home for that matter) is finding a new trail to access a piece of coast I haven’t seen before. I’d seen some new trailheads on a previous trip past this stretch of private agricultural coastal bluffs and made a mental note to return when the opportunity arose. Today it arose because I’d been painting like mad over the last few days and had planned to get get some waves this morning, and as luck would have it the surf was absolutely uninspiring. But the weather was as nice as it gets, a great day to go paint and I happened to be in the area not far from this recently opened trail. I’d looked up the trail on a map and saw that it ran for miles on the edge of the coastal bluff, fields of artichokes on one side, the deep blue sea on the other. A pure and simple distillation of the essence of this coastline. I was disappointed to find the trail closed on weekdays though. Nuts! I’m sure they have a fine reason for this, but it boggled my mind. Fortunately, it wasn’t closed up by the road where a little fence-hopping would be obvious, but all the way down by the ocean well out of view from passing cars. The view from the locked gate was just fine and all… but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little finer just a little further in.


A Wide Range

Plein air painting of a cattle ranch at Drake's Estero at Point Reyes National Park on the Marin coast of California

09/17/2018

The fourth painting completed in one long day spent in solitude, hunting views and painting in one of the most beautiful parts of California I can think of. I’ve driven past this little ranch nestled along a finger of this estuary and always thought it would make a nice painting. The day was fading fast, but I don’t get out this way too often so I made the most of it. From tree lined roads, to quiet beaches, to sweeping rugged vistas, to serene pastoral settings, there truly is a wide range of possibilities to paint out here.

Also, there will always be a moon over Marin.


Nova Albion

Plein air artwork of Point Reyes National Park on the Marin coast of northern California

09/17/2018

Plein air painting in strong winds is indeed a sport. Especially on the edge of a steep cliff. Painters know the challenges, but most folks just see finished paintings during their 10 seconds of social media fame and think whether they like it or not. Whether they should type a comment, hit the like button, or just keep scrolling. The next painting on the viewer’s feed may have been created in a comfy studio, warm, nice lighting, no glare, no time rush to race a changing light. One created in luxury, the other with the easel constantly shaking like it’s a passenger in a third world tour bus on a back country road about to go over the edge and into the ravine. There’s no way to appreciate the effort that went into painting in 30 mph wind gusts and what sort of makeshiftery and desperate soul-pleading goes into these excursions to return with these tangible artifacts created on location. This is one of those that could have easily been lost had I relaxed my firm grip on the easel at the wrong moment in the howling wind on this exposed headland.

I could see this painting in my mind, long before arriving. A tantalizing thin finger of land extending out to the shelter of a sweeping bay- the roaring Pacific one one side and calm waters on the other- that sort of thing gets me fired up, and why not? There’s not many places one can stand on California’s mainland and get this two-sided dynamic in one frame at this geologic scale.

This bay is thought to be the site where an English explorer attempted to claim this region of the new world for England over 400 years ago, dubbing it Nova Albion- which is Latin for New England. This was well before that term had come into use for the Northeastern United States. But England never followed up on the claim, and Spain continued it’s expanding rule of the region they called Alta California. The name “Nova Albion” would be lost except to the history books, and a few old maps.


Her New Road

Plein air painting of a road to the beach at Point Reyes National Park on the Marin coast of Northern California

09/17/2018

I imagine it was only a seasonal closure, something about nesting birds on the sand dunes, but it rattled my whole game plan. This isn’t a place one just passes through on the way down the coast, you have to really make the effort to get off the beaten path to find yourself out here. Once you do, especially if it’s on a quiet weekday, it’s one of the most amazing places in California. But even so, if your whole plan was to march up the dunes to capture the beach scene here for a dear friend from your youth, it’s a bit frustrating to be met with signs and fencing marking everything off limits except the parking lot and the beach itself. I like to be outside of a place and looking at it from a decent distance when I paint a location, so sitting on the beach just wouldn’t cut it. I found the only vantage point that offered a distant perspective was from the side of the freshly paved road that led to the beach here. As I took in the scene I realized the road was boldly part of the landscape and it gave me a moment to reflect on the different roads we take in life. Hers and mine parted many years ago. This was her new road. I’d never been here before, and (being that I have a bit of an aversion to painting long straight sandy beaches) probably wouldn’t have come at all if she hadn’t asked me to. Realizing this, I made it part of the painting on this beautiful morning just as the fog lifted.

Later that night, I’d end up sleeping in the van illegally in this carpark at the end of the road. Restless at one point in the early evening, I got up and walked this road by starlight. The wide road providing an easy stroll in the dim light as the night mists hung over the low vegetation on either side. Not a soul around. Just a traveler alone with his thoughts, passing through in the night, and gone again at first light… (to avoid the rangers mostly, I am not an early riser by nature).


The Light at the End

Plein air artwork of the Cypress Tree Tunnel at Point Reyes National Park on the Marin coast of northern California

09/17/2018

First of four paintings I’d paint this day in one of my favorite parts of California. Thick morning fog prevented me from seeing the views I came for so I went with my standard back up plan- wander around aimlessly and grumble about that old nemesis- the Great Northern Pacific Marine Layer. Mid grumble I passed this road lined with Cypress trees and it changed my tune.


Geological Chess: The King and His Rookery

Plein air oil painting artwork of Pebble Beach in Crescent City on the Del Norte Coast of northern California

09/04/2018

I rarely paint with oils, but I’ve done several over the last few years, sneaking them in to the mix here and there as I feel like it, just to remind myself that the grass really isn’t any greener in oils, the morning dew just takes a lot longer to dry.

Most of my paintings are done with acrylics- albeit a specific formula designed to dry slower than your typical art store variety, but yes, water based, dry in hours instead of days, months, or years. I love the simplicity this creates in my workflow on the road as well as the immediacy it creates on the canvas (thin coats dry in minutes) allowing bold changes of color without scraping and/or risking turning once vibrant fields of color into mud. Mix the color, place it on the canvas, don’t noodle around going for anything too painterly, or get bogged in details. Just get ‘er done and move on. Which is how I paint in oils as well, by the way, it’s just a bit more of a chess match where moves need to be planned a bit further in advance.

That said, I generally avoid discussing my medium too much. I love art in general, and truly don’t evaluate a painting I see based on it’s medium. I look for color and form and a conveyed sense of place and time. Those things speak to me. I don’t much care what was used to get there.

The 10 year old kid that wandered by and ended up watching me paint nearly this whole painting from start to finish wasn’t even slightly concerned about my chosen medium, but he would have you know that there was a seal on the beach that I did not include (to be honest I never did see it- my eyes aren’t the best), and also that this painting looks “real” if you get further away from it. So there you go.


Unagi

Plein air artwork of the mouth of the Eel River at Crab Park in Humboldt County, California

09/02/2018

This is from a quiet little beach near our home. The inlet to the sea out there was letting these perfect little 8-inch waves into the bay and watching them spin along this quiet beach is a rather hypnotic way to spend an afternoon. These flat and expansive beach landscapes have always given me trouble when composing a painting, but I’ve been really trying to make peace with negative space and enjoy a more quiet approach to composition when the need arises.


Moonlight Sessions

Plein air nocturne artwork of city lights over San Diego Harbor at Kate Sessions Park in San Diego

07/30/2018

Fueled up after a feast at Besta Wan Pizza in Cardiff, and armed with a headlamp, moral support from my pals in mischief Pierce and Petra Kavanagh, and further fueled by the french fries and milkshakes they brought back after dropping me off in this park just up the way from a pack of howling teenagers, well, this is what happened. The city lights in this scene are a good reminder to take nothing for granted as we are soon heading into yet another round of planned power outages because apparently Humboldt County’s power grid is not actually a grid, it’s more like an extension cord running through some gnarly fires that are burning south of us. Lots of trouble for lots of folks all over California right now. Some minor- we had to eat a whole bunch of weird frozen food today because it pretty much thawed in the last outage and it was either eat it, or toss it out. But many south of us are losing a whole lot more and it will take a lot more than a trip to the market for them to recover. Wishing everyone the best out there.


First Things First

Plein air artwork from the California coast near Carlsbad in San Diego County

07/30/2018

A quick one first thing in the morning after spending a week painting with Wade Koniakowsky down in his neighborhood awhile back. I guess I wasn’t done painting yet. Pretty sure I did 4 paintings on this day to celebrate being done with a busy week of… painting? Don’t judge. Just like mourning, we all celebrate in different ways. 


Bass and Treble

Plein air artwork from the Swami's Beach carpark in Encinitas on the San Diego coast of southern California

07/30/2018

3rd of 4 paintings painted this day- a larger piece for a single session plein air, but I was warmed up and found some shade so I settled into this one for the afternoon. Speaking of shade, how shady are some of the characters in this parking lot? Saw some things that can’t be unseen, but those are other stories and they aren’t that good anyway. I was focused on the scene beyond. The palms reminded me of ascending and descending notes on a piece of sheet music, the posts and rail a steady beat beneath it all. There’s music in every painting, but this one was louder than usual. Or it could have been the music through my headphones- I was feeling it and might have turned em up a bit. That’s also one of my strategies to get things done in a crowded place with lots of people looking to interact. Just blast music and sing badly. It keeps them at bay anyway. When the easel is rocking, don’t come knocking. Wrong metaphor, but for this parking lot, on this day, I don’t know, maybe not so off after all.


A Stone’s Throw

Plein air artwork from Stone Steps in Leucadia on the San Diego coast of southern California

07/30/2018

2nd of 4 paintings painted this day- a quick study done in the midday heat. Figured since I mentioned my last one was the first of four in one day, I better own up to it and show the rest of them as well… bear with me

Painted and titled this a year before the recent fatal bluff collapse on this stretch of coast. On any given day down here, this is a common site- folks posting up right beneath these coastal bluffs. Everyone knows they can and do occasionally collapse, but it seems so easily forgotten when the sun is out and the sand is warm. I painted this scene without a thought for the danger these red umbrella folks had put themselves in. Just be mindful out there, that is all. 


48mph: The Speed of Memory

Plein air artwork of the Pacific Coast Highway at Carlsbad state park on the san diego coast of southern california

07/27/2018

I’d driven past this little dip in coast bluff several times over the prior week while painting with Wade Koniakowsky, Norm Daniels, Jose Emroca Flores, and Greg Gorgas a couple summers back. One crispy clear afternoon the scene here really caught my eye. A day or two later I’d dragged Wade and Norm back here promising them a beautiful sweeping scene in the afternoon light. It wasn’t. Turns out the view from a car on the highway is pretty different than the view standing on the scorched earth between the north and south bound lanes. Also an early afternoon haze can put a rather undramatic gray/white blanket across a landscape. Feeling just a tinge of guilt for dragging the guys to this bland scene, we decided to make the most of it, and I just painted this from that first 48mph fleeting memory instead. Pretty sure someone got attacked by ants also. Plein air painting is pretty fun.


Hot Water

Plein air artwork of the Powerhouse at Del Mar on the san Diego coast of southern California

07/26/2018

I recall that I really wanted to focus on creating a graphic band of information across an otherwise quiet composition here. It was liberating to not feel the need to indulge in extra information in the sky above or grass lawn below. The busy action that cuts across the canvas puts the busyness of our lives in context- together we make up a band of vibrant information in a cosmos dominated by vast empty spaces… trippy. I probably took that a bit too far right there but oh well.

Also I sat and painted this with 3 other artists sitting nearby: Wade Koniakowsky, Norm Daniels, and Jose Emroca Flores. We drank Norm’s fancy drinks while sitting on the edge of a playground cracking jokes and painting. Nobody told us to leave and the kids really dug watching the old guys do their art things.

Oh, and like always on this particular trip, it was rather hot, so I jumped in the water after painting this, and it was not much cooler. The whitewater, being made of air trapped in turbulent water consisted on this day of warm water and hot air, and gave the distinct sensation of not being even slightly cool at all. Not cool. I know this is normal in tropical oceans, but somewhat unusual for California.


Dog’s Eye View

Plein air artwork of Dog Beach at the mouth of the Del Mar Lagoon on the San Diego coast of southern California

07/26/2018

This was a quick one at the end of a longish day of painting with Wade Koniakowsky, Norm Daniels, and Jose Emroca Flores. I believe Greg Gorgas joined in for this quick later afternoon session as well. We’d been painting all week together so by now these guys knew when I wandered off with a 16×20 canvas that it could be awhile- I often spend well over 2 hours on a single painting that size in the field. They looked at their watches and exchanged concerned looks and promptly gave me a stern 1 hour curfew like good parents. I can only wonder if they said to one another after I went marching up the hill that it was “for his own good, you know”. It was a neat view up there. I didn’t have time to think it over much, so I just went after this one in a flurry. I think a few of them are in the painting too, painting by one of those umbrellas on the beach. I made it back right on time, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say they seemed surprised. I can be a good kid sometimes.


Eventually

Plein air artwork of the trail to Beacon's Beach on the San Diego coast of southern California

07/25/2018

That’s my dad’s 76 VW parked in the prime spot for this painting of this busy beach access trail down in San Diego. I believe Norm painted a closeup of the bus while I tried to bite off this whole scene. I have a habit of doing that, often taking on a bit too much. It’s not an easy place to get an angle to paint from and I really wanted to show the whole path to the beach, or at least as much as I could of it. At the time there was much discussion of a new proposed stairway to access the beach, and much resistance to the proposed design as well. I’m not sure where that stands now…

When I saw these old railroad ties sticking out of the eroded cliff face, I figured they must be part of an older trail long since collapsed. This trail will eventually suffer the same fate as well, like every sandcastle does. These cliffs aren’t made of stone. And they are also very dangerous as recent tragedies in the area have shown. Be respectful, mind your distance from the base of any steep cliff or coastal bluff, and tread lightly out there.


All You Can Eat

Plein air artwork of Tabletop Reef in Del Mar on the San Diego coast of southern California

07/25/2018

This was a significant painting for me. I have a tendency to want to include everything, and break up every space on a canvas into smaller and smaller pieces. When painting flat beaches or spaces with a lot of empty foreground or sky I usually struggle with those empty areas. Here I finally just let them be. Not sure why it took nearly thirty years of painting to figure that one out, but better late than never, yeah?

Also it was super hot and humid and uncomfortable. I found shade under the stairs to the beach- smart! …And it rained sand every time someone passed overhead coming or going- not so smart!