A Day Inside

Monday was a wild stormy day at the head of the Amargosa Valley; the Bare Mountains leading south were mere backdrops for the sky.

baremountainsstormw

I worked inside all day, and the tin roof of the Red Barn banged out great symphonies. But I got some work done. These are the two paintings I did a couple of days ago, tweaked to a possible finish:

bronanzamountainbacksidepaintingdraft2wBonanza Mountain Backside, Facing West, 12 x 16, oil on board.

bullfrogmountainsdraft2paintingwBullfrog Mountain, 12 x 16″, oil on board.

The Bullfrog Mountains are where Shorty Harris made his first gold strike, and while other places now show greater evidence of mining, these volcanic cones are unique in their structure as well as their historic significance.

Did you know that davy’s gray and raw umber oil pigments carry enough blue that when mixed with titanium white they turn bluish? Well, now you know it — as I do, after wrestling with them for some time. Terre Verte, on the other hand, which looks very like davy’s gray, has no blue. So it’s good for creosote bushes and greasewood, while davy’s gray with a bit of T-white, works well for sage. I knew you all needed that information.

And this afternoon, another pleasure appeared: Sharon Richards, an internet acquaintance from Flagstaff, dropped by on her way to Carson City.

sharonrichardsw

We had a lovely long chat, she gave me some beautiful small textile pieces, she went off on her own to check out the Open Air Museum and the Rhyolite ghost town, and when she returned,  she and Jerry and I had Mexican food at the Ensenada. A good day, even if the wind was fixing to knock me down. –June

This entry was posted in Art, Beatty Nevada, Goldwell Open Air Art Museum, landscape, painting, Red Barn at Rhyolite, Rhyolite ghost town and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to A Day Inside

  1. Willa says:

    I LOVE Bullfrog Mountain, especially the red side of the mountain with the snow-topped ridge running behind it. – Willa

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  2. june says:

    The wind gives. And gives. And gives. When it blows up clouds, everything goes cool and blue. When the sun shines (even while the wind is blowing) it is warm and golden. And there are infinite variations inbetween.

    Believe me, I am learning that all color is really about the light. It’s so obvious here on the desert that I’m delighted to be learning it. Not just warms and cools in the color scheme, but the amount and depth and density of whatever color I’m looking at changes from minute to minute, hour to hour, depending not just on morning or evening or noon-day light, but on north/south orientation of the sun, which changes from day to day, and on the amount of shadow as well as what the color of the unshaded material next to the shadowed portion is. It’s utterly fascinating and never the same.

    I just photographed out the back door at something I had painted, and the photos are more colorful than the painting. As you say –go figure!

    I’ll admit that I have an addiction to photographing dramatic skies — and the mountains to the southeast are most impressive when they turn blue with swirling clouds above them.

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  3. Sheila says:

    ok, what gives? Your photos show steely blue-grays in the landscapes, but your paintings are all orangie browns…

    Like

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