Blog

I live in Virginia, which is a beautiful state. More specifically I live in Richmond, and always tell people that I can drive one direction and be at the ocean, another way and be in the Blue Ridge mountains, yet another way to Colonial Williamsburg, and even another way to Washington D.C.  No trip being more than two hours.  So Yay.

Here's the thing, though. Each trip is indistinguishable from the others. They are all through mixed hardwood forests and occasional farms, with hints of industrial parks to keep me from getting too smug. 

When Crystal and I visited Utah and Arizona last year, we of course loved the National Parks we visited. We also enjoyed the trips to and from the parks and other sites. Why? Because the landscape changes with almost every  turn of the road. You'd round a bend and the geology would change. Dramatically. You'd crest a hill and the horizon would suddenly be a hundred miles away. The sun coming out from behind a cloud was like the invention of Technicolor must have been to Hollywood. About as different from Virginia as birthday cake is from sandwich meat. 

Although it was not in our original itinerary, we decided to visit the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The journey there took us up into the national forest atop the Kaibab Plateau.  This was probably the highest elevation of any part of our trip; cool air, beautiful Ponderosa pine forest with accompanying meadows. At one point of the journey we drove through a meadow where aspen trees at peak yellow practically leapt out of the pines. There was no place to stop for photographs, but I remember saying "THAT would be the perfect subject for a painting." Ah well, on we drove to the Grand Canyon, where were able to stop for what turned out to be several hundred thousand photographs. 

I have not, however, forgotten the sudden stunning appearance of the aspens in the pines across the mountain meadow. So I painted this entirely from memory. In fact this is the second version. The first was a watercolor which I dashed off too quickly, and which therefore stunk. This one is an oil on canvas and while I could not state with any assurance that it truly reflects the beautiful drive to the North Rim entrance, I can tell you that it dovetails with my memory. 

As usual, I have broken rules (dividing line in the middle of the painting, little care in color accuracy). I don't care. Hope you don't either.