Pleinair Painting

The day after the great storm, I decided to take a lightly traveled path into the Porcupine Mountains to see if there might be anything of interest to paint there. It was called "Lost Creek Trail", which should have given me some hint of what was to come. Arriving at the path, I saw no other cars in the parking lot, so I knew I would be completely alone on the path. This was nothing new for me, as I relish the opportunity to be alone in nature. I often sing at these times, as I know I won't be disturbing anyone, and I can "let loose" as I do in the concert hall, and the sound in the woods, or over lakes is fantastic. About a half hour into the walk, I heard water rushing off to my right and decided to leave the path to investigate. It sounded like a waterfall. A little bit of background for those who don't venture off path in virgin woods very often: the ground is not solid, it feels hollow underfoot, because of thousands of years of dead trees falling...

Photos taken the day after the two-day storm. The end of September, I called a small resort in the U.P. to make arrangements to rent cabin on the shore of Lake Superior. I asked the owner what I might be able to expect for weather, as I was a painter and required at least some sunshine to do my work. The owner was a bit put off by my inquiry and told me that he couldn't guarantee the weather conditions. I assured him that I was coming anyway, but was hoping to get the best week up there for color, etc. I also asked for a cabin as close to the water as possible. He said, "all you can see from your window is Lake Superior!" So I reserved the cabin. The drive up was great, the fall color was beautiful. I had high hopes for the week ahead. I stopped several times to take photos, so I was running a bit later than anticipated. Just as I arrived at my destination, dark clouds rolled in and the winds kicked up. People were running around frantically bringing in lawn c...

The Continuing Memoirs of My Artist in Residency in the U.P. I'm sure everyone at one time or another has been bothered by mosquitoes, so I wasn't too concerned when I read about them in the Porcupine Mountains guidebook. But it turns out that in the U.P., common repellents actually attract the little spear carrying devils inviting them to the blood feast ahead. When I'm painting, I'm a stationary target for mosquitoes. While hiking, I can stay a little ahead of the nasty monsters and it's harder for them to get a good needle pierce in before I detect it. But sitting quietly, distracted by my work, they can land lightly and insert their blood sucking device without notice, and a substantial amount of blood can be let before I discover them. On my second day in the woods, I had found a great spot to paint next to a creek. I knew the mosquitoes were bad, but I had applied a fair amount of extra strength repellent, so I wasn't too concerned. After about a ...

The Continuing Memoirs of My Artist in Residency in the U.P. Little Carp River, Porcupine Wilderness, Michigan's U.P. When I arrived at the Porcupine Wilderness Visitors Center, I was presented with a book about surviving in the forest. The book described, in detail, a long list of parasites and pests, including the effects of their bites, what they look like and how to get them off you once they "latch on." However, in most cases, the book described what little you could do for relief once you are bitten. I'm not sure if the book was intended as a helpful guide, or as a deterrent to those considering the U.P. as a possible retirement location. One U.P. born resident of Ontonagon told me he thanks God every day for the black fly, because it alone keeps 95% of the people away who might have made their home there. If you want to read about the black fly, there are many descriptions of it in books and on the web. I'll just tell you that it strikes terror into ...

Mid-winter last year, I received an email that I had been choosen as one of the Artist's in Residence for the Porcupine Mountains in Michigan's Upper Pennisula. The award came as a surprise. Although I had applied for it, I never really expected to be chosen. So getting it put me a little off balance. Two weeks all alone in 40,000 acres of wilderness...I wasn't too sure I was ready for it. I have spent some time in a tent, so it wasn't the logistics that were concerning me. It was leaving the comforts of home and all things familiar and putting my clients and work on hold that worried me the most. In retrospect, it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I began my journey with the intent of interpreting nature and putting it into a visual context. I ended with nature's quiet observance giving me a reflection of myself...a reflection that I wasn't too sure I liked. I'm sure you've seen a film or two where the action is going at ...

I n Pursuit of Beauty is more about beauty finding me than the other way around. Or rather, more accurately, opening my eyes to finally see that which has always been around me. Recently, I took up pleinair painting which is the art of sitting in the open air and painting that which is around you during which you experience changing light, changing weather conditions, and exposure to all elements, including other beings who may be in the area with you. Impressionists may have been most responsible for promoting this art to the respected pursuit that it is today, and most pleinair painters paint in some form of Impressionism or another. However, I am still struggling not with the style but rather more with the conditions. Since living here in Michigan, I have taken up with a group who call themselves the "Pleinair Painters of Michigan." They meet every Saturday morning at 8:00 at the Nature Center in Kensington Metro Park off of I-96, and from there they journey together...