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“I dream a lot. I do more painting when I’m not painting. It’s in the subconscious.” – Andrew Wyeth

5/21/2012

NOTE: I know, I know, it’s been three days without up-dates on the epic and episodic adventures; have been without WiFi access until today. Happy Trails.

Day 13 - Monday

I am off to Santa Cruz for an audition at Shakespeare Santa Cruz. Artistic Director, Marco Barricelli, and his assistant, Gina, have been very kind to make time to see me. I arrive in order to have a look-about some ninety minutes early. Venture to the pastoral Festival Glen where the outdoor theater sits, resplendent among the majestic redwoods; arguably one of the most beautiful outdoor venues in the country. I am able to warm up a bit, vocally and physically, the light is sublime as it drops through the redwoods. Ah, the actor’s brain, a bit of cobwebs there, I have been a painter of late. I text Claire, “am standing center stage in the Festival Glen”; moments later, a reply text, “Yay!!”

I have a good audition, I think, even have opportunity to show them two almost-dry 11x14” paintings from past two days. We will keep in touch regarding future consideration – I would be thrilled to join them for next summer’s season.

I have somewhat a six-degrees-of-separation connection to this theater. In my undergraduate, I met English actor and Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) member, Paul Whitworth, in 1984, who became longtime artistic director at SSC, and still is on faculty there. At the National Theater Conservatory (NTC) in Denver, I was in the founding class with Art Manke, now a very successful theater director and often a featured guest-artist at SSC. And, of course, stage manager for both SS! SHREW and last year’s SS! MACBETH at Chicago Shakespeare, Claire Zawa, is a stage manager at SSC.

And Kevin Bacon worked here as well. (ala Eddie Izzard: “no,” “yes,” “no,” “yes, yes,” a nod, a head shake). Obtuse humor, sorry.

I figure it is important to always do something significant as a wee celebration of a good audition (or finishing a decent painting, I suppose, for that matter), so I stumble onto a taqueria and with resources dwindling, have a grande burrito (I did say, wee celebration). Then I explore Santa Cruz, checking out the wharf and the boardwalk and decide to paint near the lighthouse. While the remaining daylight prefers the lighthouse, I turn easel in opposite direction, directly into the sun as it lowers toward the horizon. Couple of hours and I have a neat little rendering of the beach and sunset over the distant mountains; I then decide it is too impasto and I scrape it, which actually helps it achieve a certain impressionistic grade.

I then pop into the retail area and have a walk-about and a quick beer, then back to camp headquarters. A day of artistic endeavor; well played, good game.

I hinted at dwindling resources; someone asked recently, how is this trip afforded? Actually, in February, I was fortunate to sell four significant artworks of mine to a collector in Florida; it is paying for the trip. Art begets more art. I was thrilled. He purchased what are, somewhat, Jeff’s Best Hits to date: “Release”, “Nude at Waterfall”, “Vincent Portrait”, and “Self-Portrait (after Goya).”

Two installment payments and I will ship the works in July - the first installment gets me almost half-way through the trip including a down-payment on the Kia; the second, if and as it reaches me in a timely manner, gets me back to the Midwest. If it doesn’t, I stay in Arkansas and get a job at Taco Bell. Hey, worst things have happened (Eddie Izzard moment here).

Jeff’s Best Hits. It is akin, if you like, to the Beatles: “Let it Be”, Hey Jude”, The Long and Winding Road”, and “Eleanor Rigby.” Or if Styx is your bag, maybe “Lady”, “Come Sail Away”, “Blue Collar Man”, and “Suite Madam Blue.” Or maybe it’s Led Zep, so “Stairway to Heaven”, “Black Dog” …. well, you get the idea. Cheers

"Santa Cruz Beach" with artwork, a quick, gestural sketch

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“Life is short, art long, opportunity fleeting, experience treacherous, judgment difficult.” - Hippocrates, (460-400 B.C.)

5/20/2012

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Day 12 – Sunday

A good day! Got a fairly early start to Point Lobos and, oh my! It is truly magnificent! Spent some time at Cypress Grove; as I am beginning down the trail, I come up on a park docent and say hello. A brief conversation, he says, ah, a painter, where will you paint? I respond, thought you might tell me that. He looks at his watch, says, I have a few minutes, let’s go have a look. He takes great pride, showing me each and every vista at every turn. Really stunning.

I comment at one point in a grove, look at all this amazing red/orange and burnt sienna in all the cypress right here; he tells me that that is beta-Carotine, same as is found in carrots. Wow. Oh, and just ahead here you might like the way the light hits these stone steps, I think they were built in 1930. Yes, I do, indeed. Also shows me a cool thing, what he calls 'hare grass,' specific, maybe even indigenous, to the area.

My new buddy, Russ, as it turns out, is from Waukegan just north of Chicago, but been here since the 70’s. He attended Northern Illinois University, got his degree in meteorology. Wait, a minute, I tell him, I taught theater at that university, for a time, a lifetime ago! He gets a kick out of that. But he must get back to his shift at the info station. A pleasure to have met.

For a moment, I am reminded of my father who was a docent at the children’s zoo in Ft Wayne; was incredibly proud to be able to show folks around, tell them stories. He used to volunteer to take particular animals to local schools, let the kids pet them, and would share some information and history. But mostly it gave my dad an opportunity to meet people and tell them jokes. Jokes that usually cracked him up more than the hearers and that was the charm of it :)

I decide to paint on a bluff that is cool as heck. Remember a few days back I wrote about trying to be efficient? Well, today that talent is absent. I go to the car, I have forgotten the umbrella. Back down the trail – leaving gear behind me – to the parking lot, retrieve what I need. Back I go. Ah, I have now forgotten sunblock, my phone, and my water. Down the trail and to the lot and back again. Well, this is certainly fun. Not getting much painting done. Yeah, how’s that view treating you just now? Sure is perty. I get the gear set up. Oops, I have forgotten…. you know what, I don’t need it. In fact, should have left in Chicago in the first place.

Lots of people come up to say hello; a few take business cards (glad I did not forget them in the car). Sheesh. And I have this strange thought that keeps meandering through my brain. There is a China Grove here in the park somewhere; I wonder if it is the reference in the Doobie Brothers’ seventies’ song of same title? I don’t think so, I think that was something to do with Texas. Paint, Jeffrey, paint.

You know what, now that I am onto the Doobie Brothers, I wonder… will you shut up and paint, already!

Oh, and to add to it all, I have lost a brass bolt and nut that essentially holds the easel upright so as to place a canvas. So, off I go, retracing my steps, thirty minutes at least, through the areas that my buddy, Russ, and I have traversed. Nothing. But I am singing to myself the chorus “China Grove, ohhh, ohhh”, so that’s good. I rig something to hold the easel in place. But the painting before me, burdened with the weight of masterpiece, begins to make the easel sag to and fro… no, just kidding. All is well. I am having a good time. There are sea otters and seals playing in the water below me, I kid not, in the kemp, which is a beautiful rust color. And the blue of the sea, holy cow, it is remarkable. Reminds me of the vitality of the sea in Greece, almost other-worthly. Looks like a painting. Hmmm, that’s ironic.

I have set my alarm for two hours hence as I will want to try another painting, in another location in the park. And am actually doing pretty well, moving right through it – it is coming together nicely. I am keeping the chalkiness out of it, and staying with the brush, opting for palette knife simply to whack in some of the texture in the rocks. Fairly harmonious a painting. A conversation with some folks, and I am thinking they might buy it. But doesn’t happen and that’s all right. They take a card. Done, pack up and let’s, well…go to the car again.

Just before pulling away, I check in at the guard station, any chance someone turned in a brass nut and bolt found on the trail? No. But are you the painter from Russ's hometown? Why, yes, I am. Smile. Off I go.

I drive around and find ample photo opportunities. Remember, any of these scenes can now be realized in a painting now I am building a photo reference library. So that gives me a lot of hope. At the top of the peninsula is a lookout onto mountainous rocks and numerous sea lions and otters are having about. There is a tremendous barking and it makes me laugh. As Hamlet says, "meet it is I set it down": today, see sea lions and otters play, check.

I make my way to Whaler’s Cove, a lot more photos. There are signs posted Quiet, please, Harbor Seals' birthing place. Okay, that’s really cool. I can see four or five little ones and ma and pop, all lying about, sunning themselves on the beach below me. Wonder if they remembered their sunblock? Then I find a couple of trails and finally just hike for myself, no where I need to be. I realize I now am walking in the cypress that I just painted across a great expanse. I look for the otters in the kemp; yep, there they are. Again, cool.

Park closes by 7pm, I am hungry, and have seen a lot, so I am pleased to be doing only one painting today. Though I am thinking I might try to get, once again, to Earthbound Farm, plenty of light left.

But as I pull into camp, people are gathered, looking at the evolving solar eclipse that will be peaking in 30 minutes or so. Yeah, the light is darkening, like Twilight Zone; “Light thickens” as Lady M says in Macbeth. "Light thickens; and the crow makes wing to the rooky wood: Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse." I hang out with everyone. They ask how the painting is going, so I have an impromptu exhibition, dozen or so pieces (it will be on my resume tomorrow: “solo exhibition in Carmel-by-the-Sea, May 2012”, umm, check).

Ready for a glass of wine and dinner. I fire up the grill. Meet the folks next to me in the camp; we chat about the area and sites to see. Tomorrow I am off to Santa Cruz, to paint as well as to audition for Shakespeare Santa Cruz. Artistic Director, Marco Barricelli, has been kind enough to agree to meet me, see a couple of monologues, for future consideration. Maybe another good day tomorrow.

“China Grove, ohhh, ohhh”

The View, yeah, doesn't suck (photo)

The View with artwork

et voilà - the result of love's labor

Point Lobos, opposite view where I just had painted. I dropped a flag and have, thus, declared this property MINE!

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“If we could but paint with the hand what we see with the eye” – Honore de Balzac

5/19/2012

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Day 11 - Saturday

Ran down to festival to see the work of the artists. All very impressive. Met a couple of the artists, one I had recognized from publications years’ past, Brian Blood. He was very kind to recommend some locations to paint, but was insistent to get to Point Lobos. “You will see there scenes you will see no where else in the world; every little crevice, each turn you make, go further and you will find a gem.”

Get to the Carmel Coffee Company for a cup of joe and a muffin and a moment to soak in some of the local color. I think it might be a day for processing as I am in no hurry to paint today. Wanted to get back to Earthbound Farm so as to finish the 20 x 16” but it may have to wait. I swing by the Mission again to explore angles from up top in the parking lot; want to do another small painting here.

The day is almost gone, and I opt for a leisurely dinner - I make a simple pasta Fettuccini Alfredo, with ample left-overs - and more meditation on process. Watch a little of the Scott Christensen dvd on plein air painting; he’s my go-to-guy for taking much of the mystery out of the equation when it comes to being overwhelmed in terms of editing a scene in front of you, out-of-doors. But tomorrow will be Point Lobos and, hopefully, a long and fruitful day of painting. No agenda, no expectations, just happy to be here for the party :)

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“Great art picks up where nature ends” – Marc Chagall

5/18/2012

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Jeffrey at Big Sur, painting "blocked in"

Day 10 - Friday

It wants to be a long day, so I make a big breakfast of eggs with peppers and onions, potatoes like my dad used to make camping as a kid, sliced quarter-sized and pan-fried with onions, and hot tea. I set out for Henry Miller country: Big Sur. I was going to save it as Diann and I have talked about hiking and camping in Big Sur one day, but people are recommending strongly to see it and paint it. I am a mere fifteen minutes into the drive south on Hwy 1, and there is the first amazing vista. I want to paint. Trying for two or three paintings today, assuming two to two and a half hours for each.

I work fast, 11 x 14” and done, and on my way. Another fifteen minutes and, wow, the view at Bixby Creek Bridge. The turnout there is fairly populated, people pulling off to take photos. I backed in so as to allow easier access getting back onto Hwy 1 insofar as cars flying around the curves there; and my Kia happens to be parked in an ideal spot to unload gear – I paint right there near my car.

A good two and a half hours and fairly pleased with the painting, trying to keep it loose and gestural, as impressionistic as possible; however, I am relying, I think, on white too much as it seems to chalk up the painting. So, record it in my brain, find another way, less mixing with white. Keep the chroma as rich as possible.

Also, in the photo, notice that I have taken to wearing gloves; more and more artists are wearing latex gloves, pressumably to keep safe from toxins (also makes clean-up easier). Too, I am wearing a white cotton shirt that was used in bygones days in the Fox Valley Shakespeare Festival which I founded in 1990, and shuttered in 2005, as well as a period vest and designer black pants I found at a Chicago re-sale for $20. With the addition of the hat, the look is a pithy nod to artists of the turn of the nineteenth century, if not specific to Modigliani. Even with the apron, I have managed to get paint on all three articles of attire. My wardrobe. I have clothes that have paint on them, and clothes that do not have paint on them. Yet.

Brought a couple of apples, they're gone, and I am hungry for lunch, so I continue only for maybe another ten minutes, another vista turnout, it is truly spectacular, take photos, and I head back to make lunch, something simple. It gives me enough time to actually venture out again, maybe two hours of light left. I run down the hill couple of miles to Earthbound Organic Farm, want to do a painting of the rustic tractor they have at the entrance. But after securing permission – “thank you for asking, please, help yourself” – I opt instead for a 20 x 16” of a flower bed in the foreground, the valley in the mid-ground and, of course, the sprawling mountains in the distance.

I get fairly mucked up fairly quickly and the light is going, but I figure maybe tomorrow, late afternoon, I can have at it again, remember to get the abstract shapes in first, all the relative big shapes, then specifics. Build the foundation of the house, don’t begin by painting the window dressing. I like all the pretty flowers and the painting suffers for it.

Off to Safeway and dinner will be kabobs on the grill, the inevitable potatoes in foil, and baked beans. Figure if there are beans and potatoes left, they will accompany my remaining three eggs and we have a London breakfast. Cheers

Big Sur Vista, oh yeah (photo)

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“To see far is one thing; going there is another.” – Constantin Brancusi

5/17/2012

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Day 9 - Thursday

Carmel Art Festival kicks off today. I drive into Carmel to have a look-see, walk abit downtown, run in to a gallery, and then find the festival headquarters, pick up a schedule of events. Then I make inquiry to the Carmel Mission and off I go. San Carlos Borromeo Carmelo Mission. Dating to 1771, it is stunning, and the object of many painters’ inspiration. I pay the admission and begin setting up – after receiving permission – in the courtyard facing the Basilica. I use the umbrella as the sun is directly on top of me.

I work fast, relying too much on the palette knife and I scrape and re-apply often in an effort to evoke some texture and ‘weathering’ to the church structure. It’s nice, too, as there is a lot of color around, in foliage and flowers. I am told the early morning light is wonderful as the church glows. I may come back this week as now the coloration is fairly muted, but this will help me keep my values close and tight. I am sure to work right up to closing time. Nice to have so many people march up to me and comment how fast it is coming together.

One of the goals of this painting adventure is to learn to problem-solve as quickly and efficiently as possible. Get out of my head, don’t think so hard about it, but know that the homework is there and done and now try to use instinct. Much as an actor might approach, I suppose.

I am flying. Someone comes up, says, “Will you come back tomorrow to finish?” “Heck no, wanna get it done now. What time is it?” Answer: you have half an hour. An eternity, I laugh in reply.

Indeed, my friend at the admission’s gate comes up, see how I’m doing. I suggest that I will be packed up and out on time, fifteen minutes early (they begin closing at 4:45pm). And done, sign the darn thing already.

As I am packing up, I was going to walk around and say hello to an artist that I saw painting from outside the wall. I load into the car and look back, there is no less than half dozen, I assume festival, artists ringing the outside wall. I walk around and see their work, terrific, and feel my $6.50 admission was a good investment.

Head back and decide to check out the recommended restaurant, Baja Cantina. Excellent. A band is doing sound-check but they don’t start until I am well into my enchiladas. I get to hear “Hotel California” and a Santana song, but a couple of beers and shot of tequila and I am thinking about tomorrow. Grab a six-pack of Heineken and I retire for the evening.

As I get back to campsite, I hear the faint guitar of the band, so I did not miss them after all.

The Carmel Mission Basilica, 14 x 11" oil 2012

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"Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream." — John Steinbeck, opening sentence, Cannery Row (1945)

5/16/2012

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Day 8 - Wednesday

I am loving it here in the campground! Just off Carmel Valley Road, wineries up and down including Chateau Julien; also, within a mile is Earthbound Organic Farm, I certainly recognize the label as we buy the products all the time, fresh and organic fruits and veggies.

Breakfast at the Wagon Wheel, down the road a spell - yes, I will return here if not several times this week. Charming as heck, and local color. I make a bunch of notes.

Carmel Art Festival kicks off tomorrow so I have today to explore sites, figure out where I want to paint, etc, get my bearings. Thanks in large part to camp hostess, Maren, who sat me down with a couple of her maps and made tremendous suggestions, I have a plan. But first, on her recommendation, to the Big 5 sporting goods’ store as I have discovered in buying a 10x10’ canopy on Amazon, I have only the wrap-around netting, no structure or top!! Guess I will need that, ugh. $85 later I have a tent, but it is so big, long, no idea how I will travel with it, no more room. I get it set up at camp and looks pretty cool, so I unpack virtually everything, but do not want to get bogged down yet with going through boxes so I set out for Mr Steinbeck’s Cannery Row.

It’s cool, learn a bit of the history of the sardine industry and its eventual demise due to over-fishing in the 50’s. I run in to a gallery co-op featuring the work of local artists. I get lots of photos but keep moving along. And it’s cold! I left everything at camp that had been in the car e.g. windbreaker, jacket, and I’m wearing shorts and a tee. So I decide to make the "17 Mile Drive" which includes, of course, Pebble Beach and its trade-marked 'Lone Cypress'. It's all very cool and impressive, and many good ideas to paint, but I shant return as it's $12 to make the drive.

I head for the grocery and prep for my first cooking extravaganza, finally use the new Coleman stove. Pork chops with grilled onions and peppers, steamed broccoli, and potatoes with big hint of rosemary in foil on the hot coals (yes, there is a grill at the camp site, ten feet from the tent). Oh, and red wine.

Left-overs, and they are plentiful, will be breakfast as, of course, I haven’t refrigeration… save for the weather. Prompted by a word of caution at check-in, I put the food away in Tupperware and into the car, my impromptu fridge, as there is apparently a mountain lion that has been known to make appearances.

Settle in fairly early, try to watch a plein air dvd featuring painter, Richard Schmid, but fall asleep quickly, my little space heater in good service in the tent. To think it was one of the items considered to leave behind in Chicago. What was I thinking! Egads.

On Cannery Row, Monterey

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"Every production of an artist should be an adventure of his soul" - W Somerset Maugham

5/15/2012

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Day 7 - Tuesday

'Striking distance' to Carmel looks more like another 7.5-8 hrs driving. But five hrs sleep works just fine and I use the morning to get caught up in my thinking about this adventure. I consider it the "Know Thyself" Tour; as an actor, I trained intensely and specifically for a lotta years to learn craft as well as to watch other fine actors work. As a visual artist - while I have no intent to return to academia - it is the first of my hope to assure myself a solid experience in the pursuit of craft and technique and inspiration. "You can't wait for inspiration, you have to go after it with a club" - Jack London

So I organize for a bit and hit the road. Through Reno and onward across the California line, around Tahoe, through Sacramento and finally, once again after dark, I arrive at first landmark destination, Carmel-by-the-Sea and my idyllic campground. Too dark to really unpack everything tonight, but get a good start in setting up camp and will begin the exploration tomorrow. And that is all I have to say to you at this time :)

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“All manifestations of art are but landmarks of the progress of the human spirit toward a thing but as yet sensed and far from being possessed.” - Robert Henri, c 1923 "The Art Spirit"

5/14/2012

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Day 6 - Monday

I break camp by 8:30am and begin making my way through the loop that is Arches National Park in Utah. While driving and, quite safely, I am holding the camera out the window and snapping pictures as I turn and wind around, discovering vista after vista that tops the one before. I come upon a scene that screams at me to be painted. A pull-off. Even a wee paved walk-up, such as a look-out, maybe 4 x 4’ – this will be my spot. Two towering peaks ahead, the blue fading ranges in the distance, a snow-cap nestled betwixt the twain, and the Colorado river snaking its way as my lead-in, though from right to left, but I will, without too much heavy-handedness, utilize the winding road bending from lower left to right leading the eye to a focal point, as the road, river and ranges (alliteration intended) converge.

A very nice German, maybe Austrian, couple stop to say hello and ask to take a photo. I ask them to take one of me with my camera for documenting purposes, to which they oblige. Approximately an hour and a half later I have a nice little 11x 14” that is a combined effort of brush and palette knife. Lunch at the Sorrel Ranch, which is stunning, a luxurious get-away and spa. I am, of course, early in the season and have virtually the sprawling place to myself. Jenna, my server, a local native from Moab, suggests that this is perfect time to be in this area as the peak season of June/July/August is miserable hot.

I remain a bit concerned how desolate seems to be the travel on Hwy 50 – I allow the movie to go on in my head, what if a breakdown, what if no service stations, oh, and I have cellular service only off and on. I see a sign: “Highway 50: the Loneliest Highway in America.” Comforted? I think not. Or am I? Hmm. Try to make the push to Austin, Nevada, I then will be within five hours’ reach of Carson City and striking distance to Carmel on Tuesday. But arrive in this hilly town before 11pm and the three motels all display No Vacancy. Well, that just sucks.

Seemingly a charming main street, though it is pitch black, very few town lights on, and no activity. None. I try to follow a cryptic sign for Big Creek Campground, but an endlessly bumpy dirt road frustrates and I turn around. Big 'Creepy' Campground perhaps. I sleep in a no-vacancy motel parking lot for two hours and decide that the Kia and I must needs catch some road, keep on keeping on. My new best friend, the Sportage, has been stupendous; I have asked of it tremendous demands in the ne’er-ending climbs and requisite over-drives. To elevation 7,880, then descend for fifteen minutes, maintaining 65 mph without touching the gas or the brakes; 30 minutes later, up we go again, elevation 7,500 and once again the descent. I am waiting for a voice to come from the Kia’s sound system, “dude, you kidding me?! Enough with the up and downs already, I'm just four cylinders, man!.”

I want to see if we can make Carson City but the gas tank suggests otherwise and we fill up in Fallon, NV, and find the EconoLodge. I can sleep a few hours, organize thoughts for the blog and get Google directions to Carmel, which I had already done at some point earlier, but they are buried in the too-much-stuff pile that has been my life for a week and will continue to be so for another six weeks. A sign for complimentary continental breakfast in the lobby is welcomed. It has been a fifteen hour day of driving with two hour nap in a motel lot, sitting straight-up against a pile of very important stuff, though I haven’t any idea what is in the pile just yet, till I can unload in Carmel and investigate each bag. Sleep.

The set-up, Arches National Park, Utah (photo)

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"An artist is always alone - if he is an artist. No, what he needs is the loneliness" - Henry Miller

5/13/2012

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Day 5 - Sunday, Mother's Day

I set out after breakfast, sleeping in a bit, anticipating the toll of the next two days’ driving, and immediately tried to reach my mother to wish her a happy day, left a message both at home and on cell. She is most likely out running around with family. In September and October, as she turns 80, the entire family - nieces, nephews, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, more than twenty of us in all -will all do a four-day “Mimi Turns 80 Cruise!” to celebrate with her; four days, Bahamas Cruise. Diann will join me and us, replete with motion sickness cure-alls, including, I am certain, concoctions of her own making.

Too, I was told in no uncertain terms, not to run Mimi around so athletically this time, as we did together on a week cruise - my first - in November last year to Bahamas, St Thomas and St Martin’s - mom and I, with brother, Denny, and his wife, Patty.

I set out on I-70W and ran into a wild snows storm at Loveland Pass, almost white-out proportions; several inches of snow and all the mountains were snow-covered, the pines heavily white-dusted. An hour later, beautiful and green again. Wild. Utah turns out to be a spectacular landscape, often taking my breath. Late in the day, the sun is dropping into the mountains, but I am considering popping into Arches National Park, see if I can find one of the arch formations, maybe paint in the morning.

Make my way about 30 miles in, winding about, and get a strange feeling that I am entering some no-man’s land – no signs, no trace of population, a car maybe every fifteen or so miles. An eerie feeling. Truly alone and ahead of me an unknown, perhaps even dangerous. No idea. A car pulls out from a turn-out, begins to follow me closely. I think, odd. Abit of a pit in the stomach. As I come ‘round a bend I see a sign for an historic site, “Dewey’s Bridge”, the summit behind, it is golden lit, enchanting. Ah, and a campsite. I quickly pull off, and grab the camera and off I go. I learn that the other car, too, was seeking photo opportunities and even pulls alongside me to see if I was able to capture in time the fading light on the mount. I smiled, yes.

I camp that evening, primitive, near the river and hear its quiet and incessant murmur all the night. Again, temps dip into the 30’s and I am bundled, still a bit unnerved by the isolation of the place. I sleep with boots on, cowboy-fashion, my little baseball bat subtly tucked away near my sleeping bag. A discreet mace, with hand-strap, also near. I make a fire, logs left compliments of whomever was here last night, and I retire for the night after simply gazing into a star-studded black sky. We ain’t got this in Chicago, ha.

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"An artist is a dreamer consenting to dream of the actual world" - George Santayana

5/12/2012

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uh, oh, may have to move here one day to maintain my place in Greeley (photo)

Day 4 - Saturday

After breakfast, arrive at Christi & Andy’s (and their two kids) in Greeley and spend a couple of hours with them; they are getting ready for a two week Greece trip to see Christi’s relatives and explore some of the various islands. I envy them, as their trip includes Santorini and others I did not visit; my five weeks in summer 2007, I was three weeks on the island of Spetses for rehearsal of LYSISTRATA and a week’s whirlwind tour of the ancient amphitheaters, including Epidaurus and Delphi – it was life-changing for me, truly – and then five days in Mykonos including day trips to Delos (birth island of Apollo and Artemis), Poros, and the seaport Napflion, where I experienced the awe-inspiring ancient Venetian Palamidi castle, now in ruins.

Christi and Andy surprised me after showing them some of the artwork that I have brought along by buying two pieces! One of my favorites, “OwlCreekCanyon, Starved Rock” and “The Lone Cypress, California.”

I was hustling to Estes Park as I had arranged to meet artist, Jeff Legg, there sometime around 4pm. Wow, is the drive into and out of Estes Park magnificent! I think that I could quite easily live there. I drove into the Stanley Hotel lot when I saw the sign; I thought I had remembered a connection to the film “The Shining,” but it was simply inspired by King’s brief stay there, the night before the hotel closed for a time; the hotel was the inspiration for both book and movie but was not filmed there. It is very beautiful; co-founded by the maker of the Stanley Steamer.

I meet Jeff there, he shows me around the hotel briefly and we decide to have some dinner together – I tell him, my treat as I am newly flush from the first sale of artwork on the trip, yay, and off we go to a wonderfully quaint BBQ place. We both have the fabulous half ribs, half pork, wow & wow. So much for my almonds-for-dinner diet!

We see his studio which is nothing short of amazing and very impressive and his work blows me fairly away! I learn that he is friends of the three painters with whom I had taken my first workshop two years ago in Zionsville, north of Indianapolis: C.W. Mundy, Todd Reifers, and David Slonim. In fact, he joined C.W. on a painting excursion in France years ago, several of the plein air pieces from France I was able to see in his studio.

Jeff also had participated in the first national plein air convention in Las Vegas in April, which was the impetus for this my adventure; I wanted to go, but was still on contract at Chicago Shakespeare for SS! The Taming of the Shrew and as I already had begun planning the trip, decided instead to paint for a week in Carmel in May, concurrent to the Carmel Art Festival there.

After saying farewell to Jeff and assuring that we would visit together again, perhaps at next year’s convention, I decided to stay at one of the cabins along the river there, in order to paint it in the early morning, perhaps some of the fly-fishermen would be present again. But after an outright “no” from the first cabin (“not for just one night stay”), I try the second and she insists that the $125 per night is due to the fact her cleaning people have to come and turn-over and it isn’t worth a one-night stay. Hmm. So I stay at the EconoLodge and have a hot shower and can spend some time organizing. There were many other friends I wanted to see while in the region, but needed to get moving and I was, after all, four days behind.

Jeff had suggested that rather than going north through a rather flat and boring Wyoming route, that I opt for driving on Hwy 7 south through the mountains to I-70 West and that becomes the plan. Go West, Young Man.

"Owl Creek Canyon, Starved Rock" now lives in Greeley, CO, and and is insured for artist visiting rights :) at all hours of the day or night

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“I dream a lot. I do more painting when I’m not painting. It’s in the subconscious.” – Andrew Wyeth

“Life is short, art long, opportunity fleeting, experience treacherous, judgment difficult.” - Hippocrates, (460-400 B.C.)

“If we could but paint with the hand what we see with the eye” – Honore de Balzac

“Great art picks up where nature ends” – Marc Chagall

“To see far is one thing; going there is another.” – Constantin Brancusi

"Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream." — John Steinbeck, opening sentence, Cannery Row (1945)

"Every production of an artist should be an adventure of his soul" - W Somerset Maugham

“All manifestations of art are but landmarks of the progress of the human spirit toward a thing but as yet sensed and far from being possessed.” - Robert Henri, c 1923 "The Art Spirit"

"An artist is always alone - if he is an artist. No, what he needs is the loneliness" - Henry Miller

"An artist is a dreamer consenting to dream of the actual world" - George Santayana

Jeffrey Baumgartner

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