This is an idea that was slow to gestate.  I had done an oil study at this spot, but earlier in the day and from a different angle.  In the last minutes as the sun was about to drop behind the hill, I knocked off a quick study of willow and snow, concentrating on the intense evening color. I had these two studies sitting in the studio for months, knowing that there was a good idea hiding in there somewhere, but unable to figure out what it was!  Finally, I turned to my old friend, charcoal, and did a drawing that was based on the idea of the two paintings, but resembled neither.  In short, I recomposed the place to convey an idea.  Warm and cool, and the rhythm of the trees, willows, and drifting ice.   Funny thing is, when I think of the actual spot where I painted the studies, I remember the place as I recomposed it!

My biggest struggle in this piece was the ice.  In fact I hesitated to do the painting at all, worrying that this thin skin of ice and the drifting ice floes would be unreadable to most people. I grew up in the midwest, and never saw ice form on the big slow-moving rivers in the way that it does on the fast moving Yellowstone River.  Would people look at a piece like this and simply not understand it?  Add to that the trial and error process involved getting warm reflections to disappear beneath that skin of blue ice in a convincing way, and well, you had hours and hours of good old fashioned frustration!  But it finally came together, and when I finished this piece I really wasn’t sure that it was good, I only knew that it was intensely personal.  The painting had carried me somewhere new.  That’s what we should be going for isn’t it?

Some of you might recognize this painting from the Pastel Journal.  It won the Gold Medal for the 2011 Pastel 100.  I guess the lesson here is that if it really interests you, paint it!  Work through the challenges and see where the process leads you.  You just might surprise yourself!

Click on the link to see the online Plein Air Magazine article.

So if your interested in purchasing this fabulous book click on the link: Art Journey America.

Here’s a snapshot of my spread:

After moving to Livingston, with a lot of help from my Dad and a friend, we converted an alley garage into a studio.  It’s a beautiful space that has served me well for the last six years.  Here’s a pic I took just before the move:

It’s, well, rather full.  I’ve never been accused of being organized, (I’m always fighting the forces of chaos!) but there was a point when my wife looked around the studio and admitted that no matter how much cleaning and organizing that I did, it was just full.  And stuff was overflowing into the house, boxes, half-finished frames etc.

The short of it is this: we found a GREAT BIG STUDIO with a very reasonable rent.  It’s in an old schoolhouse in downtown Livingston.  Here are the first pics:

The pic to your left is the main room.  Yes, you hear that right, the main room. There are more: 

the pic to the right is a storage room.  And, yes, it’s bigger than the janitor’s-closet-studio.  Frame-moulding, gold leafing equipment, glass and finished frames go here. There’s more:

This will be the office.  Just need to find some furniture.

I’ve finally unpacked enough to start working, and I’ve noticed two things straight off: First, I don’t have the distractions (or shall I call it temptations!) of home.  I would wander into the house to use the bathroom, decide to make coffee, check facebook, and look!  There went a half-hour!  Oops. I’ve already been more productive in the new space. Second, I’m finding it easier to work on multiple paintings.  Right now I have two paintings, a pastel, and a charcoal drawing in the works.  Quite simply, I have the room to set something aside when I’m stuck and start on another piece.

I’m still pinching myself.  I’ve visited big studios, subverted feelings of envy, and somehow thought I’d never have one myself.  Now here it is.  I am not a New Year’s resolution kind of person, but I have started to hope that I’ll look back on this move as a creative transition, that in this room I’ll learn to be less afraid of large paintings, that I’ll take some more risks, and use the gift of time in a way that shows how grateful I am to have it.