These days I have all the mountains I want. I don’t have to go anywhere to see them and I don’t have to drive far to be on them. So I dream of what I can’t have. And I get some wood panels, which work so great with water themes.
And I draw. And plan. And paint. And varnish. And sand. And revarnish. And resand. And revarnish. Until it is not quite just-so but close-to-so. Because now I’m tired and I don’t want to look at them anymore. So I take them upstairs and hang them to store them on the spare bedroom wall, mainly because there is an empty space there.
The one that I based on a photo I took of a sunrise while waiting for the Anacortes ferry is my least favorite AGAIN. This is my second try at painting this scene and I haven’t caught the right feel yet. Part of my problem this time around was trying to apply water media onto a very thin veneer of wood. All wood panels are not created equal, and this one was a bargain, and now I understand why. The veneer has cracked in many points along a vertical line of weakness. It doesn’t ruin the piece, as part of the beauty of wood is the way it shows its strengths and weaknesses right up front, but it keeps the piece from being great.
Okay, it’s one of the things that keeps the piece from being great. The other one is composition, a problem that I could have easily fixed in the design, but I decided not to, because those who are familiar with this place know that the shore at the bottom of the piece is straight because just to the left of this view is the ferry dock itself. A curvier shore would really benefit the composition, but would nag at those who want to see the place as it is, just like a misplaced apostrophe in a sign or meme makes me itch.
Sometimes art is an assistant to good memories.
Waiting at Anacortes II. I’ll keep trying, because there’s a quality to the original photo that I haven’t caught yet.
The one that I based on several photos I have taken of the same headland is my middle favorite. It is a little less literal, a little more wild. This is the sunset view from the Agate Beach Motel, a mid-century roadside-style motel with a million-dollar view and an understanding attitude toward pets. We have stayed here sort-of-annually since Dean could fit into youth-size wetsuits. He learned to surf here.
Sometimes art is made of good memories.
Agate Beach Days.
A youth-size Dean heading out for an afternoon surfing session at Agate Beach
There’s a reason why the trees are shaped the way they are (shouted over wind howl).
Another view of the Agate Beach sunset. Yes, I’ve painted this too.
My favorite one is my favorite not because it is my other favorite beach on the Oregon coast, but because the wood was superior and made the whole thing pop. I have walked this beach countless times. Haystack Rock always looks the same but different. Every sunset is spectacular even when all the colors are grey. This is my third painting that features Haystack Rock. It won’t be my last. I’ll be back to Haystack Rock many times.
Sometimes memories drive the art.
For This Moment. Featuring Haystack Rock.
Sunny beach days behind us. More ahead of us.