Over Christmas of 2018, I went to Yosemite and hiked out of the valley, along the Snow Creek trail. It’s a great hike — with ample switchbacks that offer a different perspective of Half Dome as well as regular views of Mount Watkins.
I brought photos of this back to the studio and played around with the view in oils.
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Valley of Fire is a wild landscape of swirls. You can see the layers of geological history — layers of sand turned to waves of stone. The warm colors stun at sunrise. It’s one of those places where a photo will do — it doesn’t really need to be painted at all. It’s already an abstract expression of emotion.
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Sometimes the incorporation of printed images feels like cheating — a quick solution? Or relying too heavily on someone else’s skills? (I’ve have an aversion to spending hours of my life trying to paint or draw anything photorealistically). But as I’ve been thinking about appropriation and general theft of imagery, it seems that media has made it’s way back into my artistic vocabulary.
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You can buy “artist” without ever wondering if your work has depth and meaning, or if it’s all bullshit, or if it’s deep bullshit.
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I encountered a coyote during a morning stroll. I painted. I ate more sandwiches. I considered the span of one year and what it meant for me and how that fit into the lifetime of this place.
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