Near Best Friends

Near Best Friends

Oil on canvas, 6x12 / $75 road price, $100 gallery/studio price

This is the first Utah painting I made - at the junction of Route 89 and the road that goes to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary.

I loved the way the little building nearly disappeared into the rock face behind it, same colors, same reflections, same sense of solidity.
And I love the way the different layers of rock swirled through the face, their colors streaked in swirling strata of light and dark, all under a bridge of deep orange.

This is a small painting, 6x12, on a regular type of canvas, not the deeper gallery-wrap I usually use. I've painted around the sides, so it doesn't need to be framed, though it could.

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Cowboy Up! 

I've been looking for cowboys as long as I've been coming out West, and I finally saw one! Well, I've seen them around - in diners, in Office Max, in the grocery store - but I finally saw one working, herding cows. It was so exciting! He was twirling a lariat, above the heads of the cattle to shoo them along. He was whistling, too, a high-pitched whistle to alert the cows. He had a small dog along, who was working hard to corral the strays - and doing a great job, too! I'm going to make paintings from these photographs when I get home. 

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Dog of the Day

It's the little guy who was helping the cowboy. 

Want to see a video of the operation? Click here! 

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A Final Thought

"Paintings come out of themselves." 

- Lawren Harris

The Red Bandana

"The Red Bandana, "36x36

Oil on black canvas with gold leaf

Please click here to contact me about price and availability

I'm hoping people love these Pony Express painting, and that they buy them, because I'm loving painting them. I'm enjoying experimenting with perspective a little, bringing the horse to the front, putting the cowboy to the back a little, and stretching him by making his head smaller than it might be. Peter's not crazy about the gold leaf, and is worried that I might use it too much - but I am enjoying it, and hoping that I will know when enough is enough. 

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AS I WRITE this, the puppies are curled up together at my feet. Lulu is actually resting ON my foot, and Doc is curled up with her, licking her ear. I admit, I was not completely sure about adopting not one, but TWO more dogs. But I'm so very happy that we did. These two really, truly need each other. They sleep on each other, play with each other, watch each other - and clearly, learn from each other. 

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My dad is Donald Cooper... I stopped to take the photo of the Serva-Teria 

and noticed that across the street was Cooper Tires! 

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Dog of the Day 

This guy was snoozing in the sun in Tubac.

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A Final Thought

"Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing." 

- Salvador Dali

Heading Out

Heading Out

Oil on black canvas, 36x36

Please click here to email me for price, shipping and availability

I made this painting from one of the photographs I took of the Hashknife Pony Express riders I encountered on the road between Holbrook and Scottsdale, Arizona, a week or so ago. I loved the angles of the horse and rider - the horse leaning in toward me, the rider starting to turn his mount back toward the oncoming Pony Express rider. 

Please visit my booth at the Tubac Art Festival, here in Tubac, Arizona, Feb. 10-14. I am hoping to be in the same spot I've had for the past couple years, at the east end of Plaza Road.

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Dog of the Day 

Reese (left) and Henry, pals with a great story, share the Dog of the Day honors. They're part of the family of Sadie, who writes the "She and Her Dogs" blog. Sadie wrote about me in October, and I've been receiving her blogs ever since. 

Reese and Henry have a great story; you can read about it by clicking here. 

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A Final Thought

"Art must be an expression of love or it is nothing." 

- Marc Chagall

Looking Back - and Another Gallery Experience

Looking Back

Oil on canvas, 16x16, $450

This Pony Express rider (click here to find out what I'm talking about!) lives in the Arizona mountain town of Heber-Overgaard, and has been participating in the Pony Express rides for 18 years.

 He was dressed in wonderful period garb, with a big black hat, a red bandanna and a cowhide tossed around his shoulders.

I love this painting!  I love the rawness of it, the simplicity, the abstract quality. I love that the horse is looking back.

Here's the photo from which I was working.

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IN MY MOST recent blog post, I told you about an excruciating, embarrassing, mortifying experience I had in Xanadu, a gallery in Scottsdale. I had a second experience at the K. Newby Gallery here in Tubac.

This experience was not excruciating, and in fact, I think it will help my painting. But in the moment, ouch, it hurt.

The Newby Gallery is an amazingly beautiful, glorious gallery that has a special place in my heart because it's where I first saw paintings by the late Louisa McElwain, who used a palette knife like no one else on Earth. I've wanted to be represented by this gallery since I walked in there.

This year, finally, I thought my paintings were good enough. I thought I could muster my courage and make a legitimate attempt.

In light of my recent experience at Xanadu, I first made sure that my paintings were clean, that the black backgrounds were solid and unmarked, and that the pieces were dry. Then I chose one - a big one, Fee, Fie, Fo, Fum - and headed to the gallery.

I walked in, scared, finding it hard to catch my breath, and in a moment, I found Leroy, who accepts or rejects work. I pulled the sheet off the painting and watched as he looked at it. My life held in the balance.

"I like it," he said, "but it lacks.... maturity."

My first reaction, "OK." My second, "ouch." I spoke neither aloud.

I shook his hand, got his approval for me to show him work in the future, and left. Sitting in my van, I momentarily sank low. Very low. There are many things someone can say about a painting. A lack of maturity is a pretty telling critique. It's not "your composition is off," "I don't like your palette," no. It's a much deeper comment, speaking to my heart, my progress, my future - and yet, it is a comment of details, as well.

As I sat in the van and pondered, my inner artist wailing a little, I felt myself begin to lift. While the critique hurt, it is valuable. This is a man with a great eye. He's filled the gallery with art that moves me, makes me dream and hope. And so his comments matter.

I thought more, and began to know what he meant, what he saw. The painting I showed him - which I love, and continue to love - has an exuberance, an optimism, a sunniness that is not mature. It has swirls and whirls that I love, and yet they imply tightness that speaks to a focus on detail and technique, instead of overall character - and there, I think, is at least part of the tension that spoke to Leroy. Combined with the rest, I understand the assessment, and will use it as a place from which to grow.

I love my bright, cheery, exuberant paintings, and I'm going to keep painting them. I am going to continue to reach for the things that make me happy, and that I know make others happy. But I'm going to do this now with the thought of "maturity," too.

Maybe I will have the honor of being represented by the Newby Gallery. Maybe I won't. Whatever happens, I am grateful that I had the courage to have this experience, to hear this man's insight, and to continue with the process.

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Dog of the Day

Here's Nick! I met him while I was painting a couple afternoons ago. 

He was a nice dog, patient and kind to his much younger, much bigger dog pal. 

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A Final Thought

"Life obliges me to do something, so I paint."

- Rene Magritte

Big Cows - and Riding the Rising Tide of Spring

Big Cows

Oil on canvas, 48x48

sold

 

Another of the unexpected rewards of this life of painting is that I spent a lot of time outdoors. Throughout my decades of working inside office buildings, I thought I had maintained a connection with the natural world - and I had, but now I see how tenuous it was.

These days, I notice when the tips of the winter trees begin to redden with the very first touch of springtime, then turn yellow-green, and then, in what seems like seconds, burst into leaf. I've been out painting in chilly spring mornings when the first summer birds have sun their arrival. The earliest hummingbird landed, bedraggled and hungry, on the feeder outside my studio.

Here, on the Eastern Shore, and south of here, in the Carolinas and Tennessee, the dogwoods have bloomed, shining deep in the forest, and dancing along the edges of the woods. In town, daffodils have come and gone here, except for in the deepest of shadows. Azaleas are in bloom everywhere, ridiculously, piggishly bright, so vivid they seem to suck the light from everything around them.

This morning, I drove in a thin fog to the vet's, bringing a sample from Woodreau, who I hope is not as sick as the vet seems to think he could be. I made my way slowly, along the back roads, and the greening fields seemed to shimmer through the mist. I saw wisteria, hanging in vines in the woods, in front of a long-abandoned house.

The seasons turn in slow procession and these days, they carry me with them.

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Dog of the Day

This is Scout, who lives in Wachapreague, and walks by the house every day with Bill, a friend and fellow Red Sox fan. The dogs think Scout is the best target for barking EVER.