Back to Work: Day 11, Nov. 11, 2009

A friend suggested I might be a tad too obsessed with my painting project and not adequately admiring the desert as I did last time I was at the Amargosa. While I allowed that this couldn’t possibly be the case, I did take a longer walk in my territory today and found one of the more charming bits of debris among the cacti:

This appears to be a piece of a glass pitcher, with its handle still identifiable. Some archeaologist is going to have fun with this some day, although she won’t have to dig deep to find it. At least not for another couple thousand years.

But it was back to work after I placed my stones on my widening gyre in the barn “yard.” First I got to salvage the Gamsol mineral spirits that were still usable (ie not sludge). This calls for special gloves and double bagging of the sludge bits:

After the Gamsol was cleansed of its oogier parts, I could procrastinate no longer.

Without the necessary Liquin medium (due to arrive in Beatty by 4:30 tomorrow afternoon), I could only work on the smaller masonite boards; they require very little medium. I had been dabbling at them, but not very methodically. The change in the sun’s path is so  critical that when I could see the mountains properly, I painted on the linen canvases. And, truth to tell, the task of filling the linen canvases with paint is so large that I feel under continual pressure to work on it rather than on the smaller boards.

But today, all I could do (Very Big Grin) was work sitting down with these easily manipulated boards–easy to “erase” with fresh paint thinner if the image goes wrong; easy to fill up with paint and then overpaint without sagging or dragged or bugging the artist. This change made for an easy day.

I began with board panel 5, because the sun was still in the east and so I could see what lay to the west most readily. I have already worked on panel 7, which is waiting for its companion #6 before I make any more changes to it. I want the panels to line up, panorama-style, although they aren’t quite the right ratio to be true to the width of the scene I’m painting. [I’m calling them “fudged,” a confession I will only make at this time. I’m hoping the fudging won’t be obvious except to those who know the Amargosa and who will see what’s been left out.]

So here’s panel #5, the long slope northwest from the furthest southern end of the desert:

Panel # 5 (The Long Slope), 12 x 16″, oil on board, 2009

It’s a bit rough, particularly in the sky, because at some point putting on new paint simply lifts the old paint. That’s when you have to wait for the oils to dry a bit, so the new paint can get purchase. This is the scene that kept changing on me on Day 9, when I was confused about just how many mountains there were in and around and before and behind the range. I couldn’t see it much better today, but I could work on the best side for seeing what I could see –and I had Day 9’s experience as guidance.

Panel 4 (The First Mountain Crumples), 12 x 16″, oil on masonite, 2009

I’m losing track of what panels have been worked how many times, except I know that panels 2 and 3 were on their multiple versions today:

Panel 3 (The Bluest Blue), 12 x 16″, oil on masonite, 2009

Panel #2 (The south Amargosa Desert), 12 x 16″, oil on masonite, 2009

Finally, after a visit from John and his dog, whose name I now know is “Dream” ( I can remember because she lies down sleepily as we chat), it was late enough that the sun in the west was illuminating the Bare Mountains in the east.

Panel #1  (The Bare Mountains), 12 x 16″, oil on masonite, 2009

Each time I paint the Bare Mountains I find new challenges and new beauty.

Oddly enough the desert, for me, is all about color. These are the original “color fields” although the color is far more subtle than we are accustomed to seeing. They require me to look and look and look again. And then I can scarcely bring myself to hold back and use only the most subtle colors I can make. Many painters push for the spectacular western sunlight on the desert shapes, but I’m finding that my greatest delight now is in finding all the colors, all the versions of single colors, and attempting to place them properly.

The blues on the horizon alone will break your heart — your rational heart because they are human-caused, not desert generated, and your color heart because they can be so beautiful.

A sampling of some of the color that has found its way onto these boards (which will probably be  altered again and again.)

And so, at 4 PM, Jer and the red Honda drove sedately up the curving road to the Barn. I cleaned my brushes, closed the doors, turned off the lights, and took a quick photo of the sunset.

Even the sunset was subtle in color this evening. These are the Grapevine Mountains to the west, beyond which is Death Valley.

Reporting from the Goldwell House, in Beatty Nevada, with a good glass of wine at her side.