Friday, July 11, 2008
I paint, along the road, each year out west, on my way to various teaching jobs in California, New Mexico and Colorado.
These road paintings are my raw material and they usually lead me somewhere in my studio painting each winter, back on the Brooklyn waterfront.
I had called the process, "The Western Jaunt", back in the 1990's when I traveled, after Walt Whitman's "Open Road" idea. There was something of the sacred, idea, in that search, after Harold Bloom and Emerson's idea of mirroring what we see as "what is best and oldest in our selves".
Today the more profane, idea, of "Road Movie" and "On the Road" pervades this travel. It is the juxtaposition of the two which interests me these days.
I am alone there much of the time, and so much goes unnoticed. So here it goes-- let me know what you think.
There is a website at http://www.gregorybotts.com/ with Studio paintings, Gallery information, and Archives of work.
Below are posts of the first leg of my journey. I will be returning to New Mexico next week through Big Sur and Yosemite.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
I saw a great Maynard Dixon Painting of the Pedernal, at a gallery in Santa Fe.
The Pedernal is a flat topped mountain that Georgia O'Keeffe painted over and over during her life. This painting was made in 1931 when Maynard spent, with his then wife Dorthea Lange, about 8 months painting in NM and around Taos.
It reminded me of a Hopper painting I knew and I walked down to the book store and saw Hopper had painted a very similar painting of Cape Cod the same year. Dixon would have been aware of these paintings, I think.
I say all of this as Dixon is such a good western painter because his form is molded from eastern tradition which is linked to the larger European.
Most painter's out West come in on the larger painting conversation in the middle and don't really know the voices. Maynard is talking to Hopper, and the early Modernists, though he mainly is true to the landscape in front of him-- through them.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
I headed through Monument Valley. There is a campground there owned by the Navajo Nation. There is always something broken or wrong and I guess this keeps the amount of tourists down. This time the whole campground was closed. They had primitive camping open in a great view of the Mittens monument and so I had the space almost to myself. I painted all evening and woke at 4:30 to coyotes howling and the full moon. I figured out how to make a time exposure in the morning light. Painted until it was hot and took off to find a shower.
You can click on photo of campground and get a higher res picture, see the Pleaides above Monument!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
I saw on the map the North Rim of the Grand Canyon is at 9,000 ft, so I figured it was cooler, the desert was nearing 100'.
I never was attracted to the Grand Canyon as it is such a tourist trap, but the North side is nice, the day I was there very open.
I only had that evening to paint so I really hustled to find a representative view. Then I had to figure out a painterly strategy.
Monday, July 7, 2008
One of the qualities of sublime type landscape is that one can never remember the amazing grandeur of it. Zion is Biblical -- in this way, then our profane world intrudes upon that experience. The park is always over crowded, and there is only one narrow road.
At those moments I ask myself, why I do I do this? Then it becomes even more of a challenge. I found a spot outside of the range of tourists. They find me an attraction like a bear that has been spotted and the hoard makes it's direction toward me--
It was 105' now and I found a shady tree I could paint under. I painted for 3 hours and was spent by the heat.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
I took off from Utah in the cool morning camping at 6,000 ft or so.
I crossed a first Range and through the basin and valley, up through another range. The whole of Nevada is a washboard of this up and down, basin and range. Coming into the second valley I saw one of those great blue mountains tilted with a skirt of erosion flowing down. I like to paint in these situations where I never even decide if I should paint or not-- I'm just overtaken by the scene and am just into it.
I had to get going though as the forecast heat was 115'
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Deep Springs College is on the border of Nevada and California near Bishop, CA.
I taught painting there in 1995. Its a great place. They study Melville and Nietzsche in the desert.
I brought a painting (above) for them to have there at the school, and they were glad to have it. I am usually offered a nice meal and a place to refresh my horses, there in on the edge-- of the middle, of the desert .
I came across the last ridge of mountains and it was 113' I was too worn out to paint but took a film of the road winding down the hill into Deep Springs Valley.
The Sierra looms up behind the Glass Mts, and is still after all these years--quite a sight. Californ--ia!
to continue click 'older posts' below
Friday, July 4, 2008
I am teaching painting at a summer program at the University of California at Santa Barbara. There is an out of control forest fire up there at the moment. So we have been painting it. It is hard to feel this is a natural phenomena, but when it flared up in the middle of the afternoon to that sublime-- beyond remembering type experience. We all were lost in painting it and some part of--.
Later that weekend looking at photos we could remember the height it reached, it sounds corny but we marveled at the memory. Cliche and archetype are so very close together in reality.
I am often dangerously close in my making, to that cornball moment. I remembered the cover to Susan Sontag's, Volcano Lover, I remembered it as a neapolitan type of Italian gentility, an artist"sketching" with crossed legs-- as the fire roars out of control.
Oh, this is also the ranch Edie Sedgewick, the Warhol star grew up, adding a strange flavor to it all.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Made a last painting at the Sedgewick Ranch-- of a road, it seemed like arriving, or as I was actually-- leaving.
The burnt rolling hills now behind, the coast of California is amazing to come upon. Mythic really, as Robinson Jeffers tried to show in his poetry, he came close. The coast is still without its poet equal to it's natural ordering and beauty.
Kenneth Rexroth, comes to mind, Gary Snyder, too. My favorites Whitman and Stevens never saw this coast.
Though Whitman wrote..."FACING west, from California’s shores,
(But where is what I started for, so long ago?
And why is it yet unfound?)
What one is surprised by is the particular color unto itself. The water with the white sand beneath can be a tropical viridian color. The purple and ochre kelp beds and the grey blue fog banks moving in and out, create a constantly changing light over the scene.
I was with a friend and we painted at Julia Pfeiffer overlook, that evening, arriving to Big Sur. A Scrub Jay, squawked and seemed curious, I remembered one which accompanied me ten years ago when I painted here.
Like the activity of painting this brief going over, anchors it all in my mind, the form of which makes it a physical reality-- it stays in memory.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
The next morning we woke on my friends property above the Big Sur coast. Some foxes looking for food came right up to us.
We drank coffee and watched the fog and the dramatic change in light as the sun broke above the ridge behind us.
We got our supplies in order and took off to paint at Pfeiffer Beach. There is a big rock formation, with a hole, the waves splash through. I painted it all before, and I felt I knew it, like seeing an old acquaintance.
It is always windy there and it is a challenge to paint. I painted right at the entrance to the beach, and there was a feeling of arriving. I went farther out and painted some huge drift wood, maybe redwoods trees.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
We painted this evening up at Pt Sur.
The ocean was unusually calm and produced the heightened viridian, in the ocean shallows. There is a great shape of white sand beach extending from the block of land called Pt Sur. We saw cattle down lying on the beach below. I never saw that before.
Years ago I sneaked onto the private property, nestled in the Monterey pines out of the wind. I remember writing in my notebook that evening "like having stepped off a ship," the wind and deep perspective, the blinding sun, all creating that effect.
We made a painting, and I had 20 minutes to make another quick painting as this sun once again slipped down. I made a similar one in the early 1990's. I have repainted that scene numerous times in my studio.
I made an 8 foot square studio version which was in my show in Santa Barbara last year.
We drove home slowly, winding on the road and had that deeply satisfied feeling. The stars above in the dark-- and the black silhouettes of pine.