Grand Canyon 2016 - Part 3

Monday, September 12, 2016

After lunch yesterday, I headed west on the Hermit Drive, also known as West Rim Drive. The wind had gotten up, and sure enough, it was worse at the Abyss. The Abyss is a box canyon that faces northeast, and its immense walls seem to capture the wind and turn it right at you. It’s also the drainage for Monument Creek, which flows into the Colorado, and a popular destination for hikers from Hermits Rest at the far west end of the Park. But what’s more, the Rim Trail at that point provides a sheer, vertical, 3000-foot drop to the Tonto Platform below.

And you feel the fear in your groin when you’re perched right there above the Abyss. Yes, at the parking pull-off there’s a metal rail, but it doesn’t go very far. I had in mind painting a particular overhang, and the viewpoint I’d scoped out yesterday would put me in danger of being seized by the wind and possibly yanked over the edge. (A good book to read while you’re here is Over the Edge: Death in Grand Canyon. It’s a hefty tome.) So, I found a different spot with an even better view on the lee side of a big clump of apache plume.

For this painting, I changed my palette. The question came up recently about what I use; normally, it’s a split-primary palette of a cool and a warm version of each of the primaries, although I vary that by using phthalo green rather than cobalt. For this one, I used yellow ochre, burnt sienna, Prussian blue and raw umber. (White is always assumed; I use titanium-zinc white, and all colors are from Gamblin Artists Colors.) I love this palette because color harmony is so easy to achieve. Of course, you sacrifice the ability to mix intense colors.

This is a 9x12 oil. (I’ll have titles for the ones I frame later, when I post my chosen ones just before delivery to the Kolb Studio on Thursday or Friday.)

Next, I took a hike with a big water bottle. I’ve been feeling like I haven’t been drinking enough water, so now I’m making a conscious effort to stay well-hydrated. This is my driest, warmest visit to the Canyon yet. Other times, we’ve had some good, moist air because of the active monsoons.

On my hike, I started noticing the ravens. Actually, I’ve been noticing them all week. They are playful birds. They love to swoop, roll and dive in pairs or groups of three or four. You can tell with their aerial acrobatics that they are playful. There’s no point in what they do, so far as I can see, other than to play. They made me cheerful (not that I needed cheering up.) If reincarnation can happen, I hope I come back as a Grand Canyon raven.

Ravens weren't the only ones in the air.  A rescue copter passed beneath me.  I imagine they were either training or on a search-and-rescue operation.

After the show, I set up to do a small painting. I like doing 6x8s once in awhile; I can focus on a single feature in the Canyon rather than laboring to capture the vista. In some ways, it’s my version of what the ravens do. It’s play.

Finally, I went home to have dinner with my hosts, Dave and Judy. They wanted to take me to El Tovar, which is a very fine restaurant with a very fine view. I told them the story about how, years ago, Trina and I had hiked down into the Canyon to Phantom Ranch and then out again. It’s an eight-hour hike out, and we were famished on our return. We plodded into El Tovar and ordered apple pie a la mode. It was the best apple pie I’ve ever eaten, before or since. I didn’t have apple pie last night, since I didn’t want to tarnish that cherished memory.

I was up early again this morning (sunrises are hard to beat) and headed toward the Village. I had in mind to paint a piece of architecture. After getting a coffee at the Bright Angel Lodge, I settled on the historic train depot. The chamisa is in full bloom now, and I found a beautiful scene with the chamisa showcased and the depot in the background. I had to work quickly, though; the view I wanted required me to have full sun on my painting surface, which isn’t desirable with oil paint. It causes a huge problem with glare. Fortunately, the sun was still behind some ponderosa pines, and I was able to get most of the painting done before the sun swung around. I didn’t quite finish, so I will have to go back.

Another scene I wanted to paint was a view of Mather Point with all the little people on top. (This came as a special request from Trina, and I always listen to her.) Monday, I figured, would be a good day because lots of tourists have left after the weekend, and I’d be able to park pretty close to the trail. This all worked out, but again, the sun was coming over my shoulder, throwing a glare on the panel. (Yes, I have an umbrella, but it has a discipline problem, and is now dead weight.) I actually turned the easel 180 degrees away from the scene so it would be in shade. With the scene literally behind me, I had to look, memorize, paint a few strokes, and then repeat the process. Passersby thought I was painting the sidewalk and the scrubby junipers.

And so we come to lunch time again. This afternoon, I think I’ll find a quiet spot to pull out my work thus far and review it. I usually find a correction or two that needs making.

Grand Canyon 2016 - Part 2

Sunday, 11 Sept 2016

Saturday afternoon, after a midday break, I decided to hit the Hermit Road. Clouds were building up, and I was eager to see what they would do. In previous years, we’ve had good monsoon weather. If you’re not familiar with the monsoons of the Southwest, basically it’s a season (July-September) of moisture from the Pacific moving over Arizona and New Mexico. The monsoons are typified by clear mornings followed by a quick build-up of thunderstorms around noontime. These storms bring welcome but often violent rain, accompanied by lightning, flash floods and sometimes hail. The Rim, and especially the high Hermit Road, can be a dangerous place as it is very exposed to lightning.

The forecast for this week, however, has none of that. But clouds were building, and I always welcome them. They add movement and thus interest to the sky. They also provide relief from the sun, which is intense here at 7000 feet.

This time of year, the Hermit Road is closed to private traffic and access is only by shuttle buses. But not for event artists! We are given a much-coveted permit and a secret code that gets us through the gate. (Trust me, you don’t want us trying to get all our gear and supplies onto a shuttle bus!) I do try to stay humble though.

The Hermit Road is about 7 miles long. I stopped about halfway out at Mohave Point. I’ve painted here many times. There’s a view I like where I can see the Colorado and some of the amazing rapids. I painted this 16x12 of that view, from a slightly different angle from what I have done before. The clouds cast beautiful shadows over the 5,000-foot cliffs, but these were tricky to paint because the clouds were moving. I had to pick-and-choose a moment in time that best featured the river.

I completed three paintings that day, and I was ready for a break. I took a walk along the trail there to the Abyss (you can imagine what this looks like) and then headed back to town. The day was moving toward sunset, and I wanted to visit Yavapai Point, a place popular with tourists for sunsets, and maybe paint the evening light.

John Cogan, James Trigg

But the clouds thickened, and the light vanished. I ran into John Cogan and James Trigg, and we ended up having pizza together and talking about galleries, Spanish land grants and digital SLRs. The best artists can discuss more than just painting.

Sunday morning, I got another early start. John, James and I had decided we’d all paint out at Yaki Point, at my suggestion. Yaki has great views, and because it is a point, you can usually find someplace out of the wind, if you are expecting wind. (And at Grand Canyon, you should always expect wind!) I hiked out to one of my favorite spots and took my time thinking about what I wanted to do. I decided to haul out my French easel and do a vertical 24x12. The view had started off very hazy, but by the time I was ready to paint, the haze had cleared and we had a glorious day ahead of us.

This painting took a long time but went smoothly. One problem with oil paint is that, in situations with a lot of light (e.g. Grand Canyon), it can cause a glare. I was fortunate to have a little rock shelf right behind me that I could stand on now and then and change my viewing angle to eliminate the glare. Also, because this painting was so tall, I was glad to have the rock to stand on so I could paint the top half of the panel.

I just had a quick meal at the Market, and now it’s break time. In a bit, I’ll head back up the Hermit Road to the Abyss. There’s a feature I want to paint there. It’s getting windy, though, and you can never tell what it’ll be like at the Abyss. It channels the wind in strange ways.

Grand Canyon 2016 - Part 1

Saturday, 10 Sept 2016. Afternoon.

Driving up to the Canyon on 180 from Flagstaff is a rather ho-hum trip. You go through many miles of mixed juniper and ponderosa territory, broken only by the occasional hill. (I put on the Grateful Dead’s “American Beauty” to keep me company.) But once you are past Tusayan and the Park entrance gate, and wander up toward Mather Point -- all of a sudden, the earth splits open.

Even though I’ve visited the Canyon many times, its vastness and complexity still awe me. When I perch on the edge, one body-length away from death, my hamstrings still sing with fear. And when I set up my easel and first dip my brush in paint, I still pause: Do I have any idea how to paint this thing?

I arrived at the Canyon about mid-day on Friday. After checking in with my hosts, I headed over to the Kolb Studio to deliver my studio painting. (It turned out that the gallery’s floors are being refinished, so the studio paintings won’t be hung until Wednesday, which is the promised finish date by the refinishers.) Next I drove around a bit to refamiliarize myself with the lay of the land. I even went to the Visitor Center where I parked and walked out to Mather Point, which is probably the most popular spot in the Park. This year, the Park seems particularly crowded with people from all over the globe. Here, English is just one of many languages I hear spoken as I walk along the rim trail.

At 5, I drove over to the Community Center for a meal and orientation. There are 26 artists this year, but not all of them were at orientation. Excused are the artists who will be painting at the North Rim, down along the Colorado at Phantom Ranch, and at Indian Gardens; they were already en route to their destinations. Also at orientation, we were allowed to stamp our canvases. (Just to clarify, canvases are stamped to prove that the paintings in the final exhibit were actually painted during the festival and not prior to it. This puts everyone on equal footing.) Some artists came with ridiculously large stacks of panels. I might be in the category, since I brought around 30 of various sizes. We have only five full painting days, so it’s unlikely I’ll average six paintings a day! But you never know.

Afterwards, I drove out to Yavapai Point, which is a favorite for catching the sunset. There was not a parking space to be found, and some cars were even double-parked. This confirms that the Park is busier this year; I’ve never seen that parking lot full at sunset. On the way to my home, I spotted elk everywhere. The Park has yet to outfit the elk with reflective vests, so drivers need to pay special attention at twilight; elk really are hard to see. I think there are more elk this year, too.

After a good night’s rest, I left the house at 5:30 a.m. for Yaki Point. This is one of my favorite spots to paint, and a special permit from the Park allows me to drive my personal vehicle there. Civilians have to take a shuttle. (By the way, check out the picture of my rental vehicle this year. It’s the perfect plein air painter’s ride.) I knew exactly where I wanted to paint, as I had painted at that spot before, and it was guaranteed good. I set up as the sun was rising.

After that painting, I poked around for another spot. I wanted to do one more before lunch. I tucked myself down below the trail and in the trees to stay out of both view and sun. This 9x12 was relaxing compared to the earlier 12x16, which required me to paint quickly to capture the light effects of the sunrise.

By the time I finished this second one, the heat had been turned up and I was roasting. I was also a little thirsty. It’s easy to forget that I came from virtually sea level only 48 hours ago, and at 7000 feet, you need to drink more water and take it easy.

Now it’s lunchtime. I’ve decided that, rather than write my blog in the evening when I’m beat, I’ll do it at lunch. Because the sun is intense and the light flat in the middle of the day, it’s the best time to rest and catch up on paperwork. In a little while, I’ll probably head west to the Hermit Road to see what’s shakin’.

New Hampshire Plein Air Painting Workshop Wrap-Up

When I flew into Phoenix, Arizona, yesterday, the temperature was an unusually cool 96 degrees. I’ve seen it hotter when I fly out for the Grand Canyon Celebration of Art. It was 116 one year. But Phoenix doesn’t matter -- it’s the South Rim of the Canyon I’m headed for. At 7000 feet, it’s always a good deal cooler than Phoenix, which sits at just a tad over 1000 feet.

I’ll drive up to the Canyon later this morning, but first I wanted to tell you a little about the workshop I taught in New Hampshire. I’ve always enjoyed my workshops with New Hampshire Plein Air. It’s a group of dedicated and enthusiastic painters led by the hard-working and well-organized Sharon Allen. I’ve taught for them several times, and I fully expected this workshop to be everything the others were. I wasn’t disappointed!

The two-day workshop was held in the White Mountains in Bartlett, just a little ways from North Conway. The White Mountains have been the stomping grounds of outdoor painters since the early days of the Hudson River School. Apparently the Hudson and Catskills weren't enough for them, and they felt the need to explore the “sublime” in wilder country.

What made this workshop truly special was that we all stayed at the Bartlett Inn together. Run well by a pleasant and attentive couple (Nick and Miriam), we had a delightful stay with a full breakfast each morning. Our painting day ended with an afternoon tea and other refreshments. The Inn was not far from some of New England’s best dining, so we enjoyed dinners out together nearby.

Warm weather let us paint from morning until late in the day. We had mostly scattered clouds and sometimes more than that, but the second day ended with a little rain. Still, that didn’t happen until mid-afternoon, and the resourceful Sharon had scoped out a number of rainy-day places for us. We ended up painting under a trestle bridge along the creek, but our view was of a beautiful covered bridge.

Our first day, we painted along the Wildcat River in Jackson. I demonstrated how to paint rocks, and this was followed by a special tour, a preview, of a show of historic White Mountain painters at the Jackson Historical Society museum. It was very gracious of them to open up the show, still being hung, to us painters. I got to see a sketch by George Inness, plus work by Benjamin Champney and others. (Also included was work by Erik Koeppel and Lauren Sansaricq; though they are very much alive, they paint in the style of the Hudson River School.) Later, the group painted along Jackson Falls. I could have spent a few weeks painting there.

Our second and last day, we headed out to a view of Cathedral Ledge and White Horse Ledge. This is a view that had been painted by Albert Bierstadt, Inness and Alfred Thompson Britcher. The light was stunning on Cathedral, and I chose that for my demonstration. The group painted a similar view after I finished. Afternoon, as I mentioned, found us under the bridge and out of the rain. Although I did my critique the first day back at the inn, since this last day I had to leave directly for the airport in Portland, Maine, we did a critique among the rocks under the bridge.

I’ve included a few photos below to give you an idea of what the workshop was like. I'm planning another workshop here, most likely a three- or four-day one, in the near future.

 Now, it’s off to load up the van with painting gear!  Oh, and I still want to remind everyone that my Paint Sedona workshops start very soon!  Check out our new $600 workshop plus lodging package at www.PaintSedona.com

Jackson Falls demo 8x10 oil

Cathedral Ledge demo 9x12 oil

Plein Air Painting Workshop Alert!

Lately, I've been pretty good at holding off on using my blog as a soapbox for workshop announcements.  Instead, I've been keeping to my theme of helpful information for the plein air painter.  But now it's time for a commercial break!

Wilmington Waterfront

October 4-6, 2016: Wilmington, North Carolina

In a few weeks, we will be hitting the road on my seasonal migration west.  As part of that trip, I have a three-day workshop on the North Carolina coast in beautiful, scenic Wilmington.  In case you haven't been to Wilmington before, it is North Carolina's most accessible beach location.   Here's what Wikipedia has to say:

Wilmington was settled by European Americans along the Cape Fear River. Its historic downtown has a one-mile-long Riverwalk, originally developed as a tourist attraction, and in 2014 Wilmington's riverfront was named the 'Best American Riverfront' by USA Today. It is minutes away from nearby beaches. The National Trust for Historic Preservation named Wilmington, North Carolina, as one of its 2008 Dozen Distinctive Destinations. City residents live between the river and the ocean, with four nearby beach communities: Fort Fisher, Wrightsville Beach, Carolina Beach, and Kure Beach, all within half-hour drives from downtown Wilmington.

In our three days, we'll do lots of exploring of Wilmington.  The workshop will be for all levels of painter in any medium (I will demonstrate in oil and/or pastel), and we'll be working outdoors, weather permitting.  If you're in any of the bordering states, I hope you'll join us.

Sponsored by the Wilmington Art Association.  Price: $350 WAA Members, $385 non-members. Contact: Ann Lees, WAA Education Chair, annfittonlees@yahoo.com.  You may also sign up on-line, here:  http://www.wilmington-art.org/index.php?c=learning

Paint Sedona

October 2016 – April 2017: Sedona, Arizona

After North Carolina and a quick stop to visit family, we will head straight for Arizona and the Sedona Plein Air Festival.  Immediately following the festival, my popular Paint Sedona plein air painting program resumes for another season.  Sedona is home to beautiful Red Rock Country with alluring canyons and creeks.  I've been teaching there for many years now, and every year, we find something new and different to paint!

You'll find these workshops a treat.  I take no more than four students at a time, so you'll have lots of personal attention.  Also, the sessions run from 9 till 1, leaving you afternoons in which to paint more or explore the area with family and friends.  What's more, if you and three friends want a customized workshop—such as pastel-only or an advanced focus on color—I am happy to set it up.

As last year, we are offering a package deal that includes lodging at Gandolfo Studios, where the workshop meets each day.  The workshop alone is $300, and lodging can be included for only $60 a night.  Five days lodging plus the workshop is $600.  But don't wait, as the studio only has three bedrooms and they go fast.

I'm eager to share my knowledge of Sedona with you, so I hope you'll join me.  For more details on Paint Sedona and to register, please visit www.PaintSedona.com.

That's all for now.  My next post will be from the South Rim of Grand Canyon National Park at the Celebration of Art!