remembering summer

The transition from summer to fall in Portland has been quick and downright harsh.  September is normally a glorious month in Oregon, so I feel ripped-off that we've been pounded with torrential downpour for days on end.  Flooding in the basement- what?! That normally doesn't happen until November.

I really dislike the word soggy, and yet that may be one of the better descriptors for the Pacific Northwest right now. 

If I could, I would will summer back.  But, the best that I can do is flip through my photos and try to hold onto some of the most cherished memories of my year. 

Here are some snapshots I took on our summer trip to the Olympic National Park  . . .

red rocks of sedona

I recently flew to Arizona to visit a dear friend.  Over the weekend, we explored the natural wonders of Sedona.  Our first stop was the famous landmark, Cathedral Rock.  With its towering red rock and picturesque creek,  I can see why photography enthusiasts flock to this place.

The site also attracts folks seeking a vortex experience.  Sedona boasts four major vortexes- places of concentrated and mystical energy.  Curious, my friend and I tried to find the vortex at Cathedral Rock. We were told to look for twisted juniper trees as a sign, but the nearly nude, bearded man sprawled out on the ground was a dead giveaway. 

We visited two vortex sites that day, but neither of us felt anything out of the ordinary.  Our time in historic Jerome, Arizona (known for its paranormal activities) was uneventful as well.  I'm thinking my cynicism may have interfered with some potentially incredible moments. 

On our first night in Sedona, we watched the sunset from the town's highest viewpoint. And it was truly memorable.  To the east of us, massive cliff walls lit up in an intense orange glow.  To the west, we were mesmerized by the desert sun dipping below the horizon. 

The highlight of my weekend was the West Fork Oak Creek Trail, located ten miles north of Sedona. The trail travels alongside a creek flanked by red and pink sandstone walls.  Although this was my first visit to the stunning canyon, there was a familiarity about it.  When coming upon scenes that reminded me of a recent painting, Canyon River, it became more surreal.  The painting, completed last month, had evolved from my imagination.

My friend and I stopped a few times along the way and enjoyed the warm sun and creek.  I needed the breaks to take in the gorgeous setting around me.  Although a camera can capture details, ambiance is is a little harder to convey on film.  This is why I usually paint places that I've been to. My paintings may not reflect a real moment in time, but they are a projection of a real experience. 

I haven't painted much since returning from my trip to Arizona.  Sometimes inspiration needs to marinate.  As I draw in my sketchbook and work through ideas, I look forward to seeing where these new experiences lead me artistically.  

portland's garden sanctuary

Perched atop Portland's western slope is a traditional Japanese garden, complete with koi ponds, wisteria arbor,  and tea house.  Some consider it to be the most authentic Japanese garden outside of Japan.  

We decided to visit Portland Japanese Garden on the busiest day of the year- free admission day.  Even with the crowds, the place was still very tranquil and idyllic.  I loved all the winding stone paths and lush moss blanketing much of the 5.5 acres.  

One of the central features of the garden is the Moon Bridge.  The structure and scenery reminded me of Claude Monet's Giverny estate in France.  My husband and I were there 15 years ago, and I took this photo of the famous foot bridge.

Monet was an avid collector of Japanese woodblock prints.  The large water garden at the Giverny home was inspired by his collection of Japanese art.  He planted azaleas, bamboo, wisteria, and, of course, water lilies- which became the subject of 250 of his oil paintings. 

My favorite spot at the Portland Japanese Garden was the Natural Garden with its stone steps, cascading streams, and fluorescent greenery.  When you sit for a moment and take in the scenery, it's quite meditative and soothing. 

The beautiful and peaceful imagery from the gardens has stayed with me these past few days.  And, with spring just around the corner, I'm thinking I might try to bring a bit of Japanese influence into my own garden.  We don't have a pond, but I can think of a few great spots for some white gravel and moss.  I'll keep you posted with any successful progress!

inspired by the beach

Recently, I was flipping through some photographs that I took at the Oregon coast last summer.  The photos were taken with a vintage camera that I picked up at an estate sale.  [Not bad for a metal box that is over 75 years old!]

I snapped a number of shots of the scenery around me.  Realizing a few of the photos went nicely together, I was inspired to create a set of mixed media works on cedar wood slices.  So, here's what I came up with yesterday.

And I just finished this new work, Beach Mountains. 

One of my photographs is layered in this work as well. 

Both of these items can now be found in my Etsy shop.  These may be the last pieces of the year, at least for my Etsy shop.  For the next few weeks, I'll be focusing on creating new work for Lilk Gallery in London.  They acquired a space on Broadway Market.  So, if you happen to be near there at the end of January, come see my art!

Oh, by the way, there's still time to snatch a free linocut with your order in my Etsy shop.  Last day of special promotion is Christmas Eve, or until the linocuts are all gone.  About a dozen left! 

New work: River Valley

Now that the kids are back in school, I've been able to work in 2 to 3 hour stints without much interruption. That is, until our mischievous kitty attacks a house plant, gnaws on Playmobil, terrorizes our other cat, or claws the grasscloth wallpaper.  This week, I worked on an 11 x 14 painting called River Valley.  The inspiration for my new piece comes from the beautiful Hoh Rain Forest, which is part of Washington State's Olympic National Park. 

Being one of the wettest places in the U.S., the Hoh Rain Forest is home to giant spruce trees and moss-laden maple trees.  Some of the trees grow to 200 - 300 feet in height!  Just as mesmerizing as the surrounding old-growth forest is the grayish-blue Hoh River.  The color is a result of glaciers on Mount Olympus grinding rock into powder.  Gray may seem like a drab color, but it's quite stunning with emerald mountains in the background. 

In my painting,  you may have noticed some chevrons on tree trunks.  I wanted to reference the rich Native American history in this region as well as spotlight the ancient trees.  More images and details of my latest work can be found here.  Earlier in the week, I posted a work in progress photo on twitter.  I plan to upload more of these kinds of shots on twitter.  I also joined Instagram if you want to follow me there. 

the splendor of mt. hood

Trillium Lake, located at the foot of Mt. Hood, is indeed as beautiful as locals say.  The water shimmers at dusk, and the view of the majestic peak is hard to beat.  Shortly after arriving to the campground, our crew of three adults and four kids headed out onto a two mile hike.  Along the lake's edge is a picturesque trail that leads you through meadow, marsh, and forest.  It was like a Disney film as we were greeted by a host of dragonflies, butterflies, and little creatures along the way. 

Our stay at the lake was short but magical.  The girls and their friends swam in the frigid water.  We fished for trout (no luck this time around).  And we indulged in the latest campfire fad- S'moreos! Very rich, but oh so tasty.  Good thing a 6.5 mile trek was planned for the next day.

Near Trillium Lake is Laurel Hill, considered the most treacherous stretch of the Oregon Trail. Early settlers who traveled 2000 miles to Oregon discovered that traversing the wilderness to the south of Mt. Hood was faster than traveling through the Gorge to the north.

Part of this historical route is still accessible by foot, so we thought it would be a fun adventure for the kids to hike it.  The first part of the trail heads up a very steep hill- hard to imagine how wagons navigated such a narrow and sloped path.  The trail eventually connects to the original Mt. Hood Highway built in 1923.  In the photo above, there is an arrow that points to the stone bridge wall that still stands today.

After the hike, we had time to spare for some huckleberry milkshakes in Government Camp and a quick visit to the infamous Timberline Lodge.  Many of you movie buffs may recall that Timberline Lodge was in the 1980 classic, The Shining.  Only the outside of the building was actually filmed, but the interior of the 1930's lodge is just as impressive.  All of the original features and furnishings were handcrafted, and some of the decor was even made from recycled materials.  The hooked rugs, for example, were made from recycled uniforms and blankets.

Timberline Lodge is an amazing building, but Mt. Hood steals the show.  The views of the mountain and from the mountain are spectacular.  Although Mt. Hood is not the tallest peak in the Cascade Range, it is the most popular summit.  I just recently learned that it is the second most climbed mountain in the world (Mt. Fuji being number one).

I'm not itching to climb to the top of Mt. Hood anytime soon, but the mountain does constantly draw me in.  Even when I paint a mountain from my imagination, it ends up looking like Mt. Hood.  There's something about it that keeps me intrigued and inspired, and I'm always looking forward to coming back. 

shopping for inspiration

I try to avoid malls and big box discount stores as much as I can.  I easily get disheartened by modern society's insatiable appetite for consumption.  The mix of mass manufacturing and instant gratification has become a dangerous cocktail for today's consumers.  We fill our homes with things that lack handcrafted tradition or thoughtful production, and, by the end of the day, we still find ourselves longing for a connection to others and this world.

Only buy what you love.

This was the motto of our retail store that carried handmade goods by independent designers.  As shop owners we likened ourselves to storytellers who sought to connect our customers with the stories and the makers of our products.  I believe it is this connection that gives a product its true value.

When I shop, I'm always looking for the history of the product.  Many of the items that I purchase actually come from second-hand sellers.  Shown above are some of the used things I picked up this past weekend at estate sales.  In general, I try to only bring home items that inspire me to take action (draw, cook, garden, etc.). 

/// recent finds ///

classic books, including two Pearl Buck early editions

a vintage Kodak Retina in near perfect condition

linoleum cutter set in its original box

yarn remnants for a new zigzag blanket I started

vintage backpack for hiking// whoops! snipped the fabric when opening the package . . . 

mended by affixing triangle patches

New work

summer plateau

To let be or not to let be, that is the question. 

One of the more challenging parts of the creative process is to know when a piece is finished.  When I'm not sure if a work is done, I like to prop it up on my art desk and let it marinate.  Usually I know within a few days if a composition needs to be changed or if the piece just needs to be signed.

I went through this process three times with my latest work, summer plateau.  I'm not sure why some pieces are easier to finish than others, maybe it's attributed to hormones, the moon cycle, divine intervention, sheer luck, or all of the above.

On a few occasions, my work has sat for several weeks/months, and then I decide to paint over the entire thing.  I've painted over a piece before that I spent 40+ hours on.  My husband considered it a travesty, but I still have no remorse.  If I'm not emotionally connected to a piece, then it doesn't have any value to me.  The canvas itself actually becomes more valuable to me.

another recent work, just beyond the trees

The artistic journey is a beautiful thing, but one that can often be laborious.  Many folks unfortunately equate talent with ease.  They think,  If I was a naturally gifted artist, then this would come easily to me.  During my time as an art teacher, I regularly had students who wanted to give up on a project too quickly.  But the value of the creative experience does not solely come from ability.  Self-discipline, fortitude, and patience are also key factors in an artist's success, as well as a bit of inspiration and luck.

. . .  all things that I'm challenged by daily.