Oil on linen panel     9″ x 12″

I have painted in this spot twice and each day was markedly different than the other. This afternoon was hot and the light, fairly flat; the mountain slope beyond has almost no shape. Even the values of the trees at center are not too dissimilar. What stopped me this day was the strength and pride of the evergreens, tall and resolute, even the dry one at far right. The forestry road that winds through them caught a few lengthening shadows as the sun just began to slide towards the horizon and I once again found myself intrigued with what might lie beyond as it wriggled out of sight.

Oil on panel     12” X 7”

My mentor, Reid Galey, died suddenly in 2010. I learned to paint plein aire at his side–and occasionally, behind him, throwing things such as cow pies at him in the midst of his demos. This painting was born on my first trip after his death to often-trod painting grounds outside of Cody, WY. A favorite aspen glen had changed.  Acres of trees had been razed because of a pine blight; the background behind my favorite aspens was gone. It was all so stark. For the first time, I was attracted to the path that led from the glen, especially by the light that called to me from just beyond the turn ahead. It was as if Reid was by my side at my easel, encouraging me to find hope and promise in the unseen future.

Oil on panel     12”  X  7-1/4”

I am fascinated by the way sunlight teases and plays with us. I was standing in a small park in the foothills of the Rockies when I saw this small gravel road winding through it.  As I stood there, I noticed that the flat afternoon light had changed and that just around the bend and just out of my sight the sun was popping through. It reminded me of a story or a fairy tale where some traveler, wandering through the woods, feeling tired or lost, growing weak and ready to give up, suddenly spied a bit of light just out of their field of vision. And that warm light gave them hope and the energy to continue. It was the warmth and reassurance of a promise.

Oil on linen panel     8-1/4”  X  6-3/4”

My wife and I live near a large city lake in Minneapolis that is surrounded by bike and walking paths filled with people whenever the winter snows are gone. In the spring and summer, when the trees are full to bursting and the lakeside canopy is lush and green, the paths often are overlaid with cool shadows as the sunlight tries to nudge its way in. This delightful afternoon, the sun was particularly warm and so the shadows seemed especially inviting.

Oil on panel     8″ x 10″

Sometimes when I paint, I see something that intrigues me and I move directly to do my best to capture it. This time, the subject that I had stopped to paint felt limp and lifeless once my easel was up and my palette was ready. Disappointed, I debated whether or not to proceed when I turned around and spied the end of the rutted backwoods road I had just traveled. Not only was the rutted pattern intriguing but so was the fact that the light that was eluding me in the forest had now come to a beckoning rest down where the trail turned and ran back to camp. It called out to me. I answered with this painting.

Oil on linen panel     10″ x 6″