fbpx

Tag: Sedona Arts Center

Posted on

Business for artists and painting in Sedona

Shadow Fingers, 11X14, oil on Baltic birch, $869 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

First, the business

My friend Dennis used to tell me, “I’m an accountant with the soul of an artist.” That’s all very well, I’d counter, but every successful artist also needs the mind of an accountant. (Luckily, I never believed in that now-discredited left-brain, right-brain malarkey.)

On March 8-9, I’ll be presenting at the first Sedona Entrepreneurial Artist Development Program. This is open to Arizona residents aged 18 and over. The two-day intensive covers a range of topics from financial management and marketing to crafting an artist statement, developing work samples and selling artwork online. My part will be accounting for artists, and I plan to make it exciting.

Even if you hire someone to do your taxes, you still need to understand what expenses to record and what don’t matter. You need to be able to track your inventory, and, if you teach or run a gallery, how to protect yourself against liability.

Country path, 14X18, oil on archival canvasboard, $1,275 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Painting in Sedona

Immediately following the Entrepreneurial program, I’m offering Canyon Color for the Painter from March 10-14. There are still a few seats left.

I’ve taught and painted in Sedona for several years and know great places for morning light, evening light, and all the light in between. We’ll meet on location at 9 AM, work steadily until 4, and then you’ll have the evening to hike, take one of the famous Pink Jeep tours, or try one of Sedona’s many fine restaurants. If the weather is poor—and it almost never is—we can meet in a classroom at the Sedona Arts Center (SAC).

Dawn on the Upper Red Rock Loop Road, 20X24, oil on canvas, $2,318 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

The top five things I love about painting in Sedona

  1. The weather—there is a scene in PG Wodehouse’s Quick Service where the old prizefighter Steptoe is trying to convince his wife to give up on Merry Olde England. “What you want wasting your time in this darned place beats me. Nobody but stiffs for miles around. And look what happens today. You give this lawn party, and what do you get? Cloudbursts and thunderstorms. Where’s the sense in sticking around in a climate like this?”

    He was urging her back to California, but in Sedona it’s also almost always fine. After this winter, we deserve fine.

  2. The scenery—Sedona combines some very brilliant colors: the reds of Bell and Cathedral Rock, the lush greens of Oak Creek Canyon, the sere yellows of the chaparral, and the deep blue of the sky. Because it’s seldom overcast, shadows jump and the light shimmers. It’s just magical.

  3. The people—I’ve known Julie Richard, the executive director of SAC, for a decade. It’s the same with Ed Buonvecchio, my workshop monitor. The rest of the support staff, including Bernadette Carroll and JD Jensen (with whom you’ll have the most contact), are kind and terrifically helpful.

  4. The hiking—There are 400 miles of hiking trails in the Red Rock Ranger District on the Coconino National Forest. Then there are state and city parks. Sedona is a hiker’s paradise, and I swear Julie Richard can tell you about every single trail.

  5. The funny things that always seem to happen to me there—Painting in Sedona has led to extremely funny interactions between the punters and me. I don’t think that’s from ley lines and vortexes, but because in the grand scheme of things, plein air painters are just one more dot on the overwhelming landscape. Come prepared to smile.
Hail on the Cockscomb Formation, oil on Baltic Birch, $522 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Posted on

From aerobics to art class

In Control (Grace and her Unicorn), 24X30, $3,478 framed, oil on canvas, includes shipping in continental United States.

Did I ever tell you about my brief career as an aerobics instructor? It was back in the early 1980s, when the unemployment rate in my hometown was double-digit and I was desperate for work. I borrowed a cute pink leotard and leg warmers from my cousin, but nothing was going to give me Farrah Fawcett’s hair or Richard Simmons’ exuberance.

The music was awful, but as a student I was used to hearing it only for 45 minutes at a time. Instructors hear it class after class. I lasted exactly one evening.

My friend Catherine asked me to teach an art class around the time my youngest (now 28) was a tiny tot. It was a much better fit. We started in my finished third floor, a table running down the middle and me smacking my head against the rafters each time I stood up straight. A year or two later I moved my studio to the landing. I taught figure and drawing and painting there to students of all ages. Ten years ago this month, I bought this house and moved my operation to midcoast Maine.

I taught weekly classes here until COVID shut me (and everyone else) down. Today I suppose you can learn anything on Zoom but in 2020 it wasn’t such a widespread idea. I’m grateful Mary Byrom wore down my resistance, because I think Zoom art class is as valuable as in-studio art class, and it reaches everywhere.

Cottonwoods along the Rio Verde, 9X12, oil on archivally-prepared Baltic birch, $696 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

A workshop where it’s warm

I’ll be teaching Canyon Color for the Painter at the Sedona Arts Center in Sedona, AZ, March 10-14. I can think of lots of good reasons to take this workshop, including the incredible landscape, the fine organization and my own chops as a plein air teacher, but here’s the most important one:

It’s warmer in Sedona than it is up here in the north. Zoom student Julie Hunt told me it was -13° F in Alberta, CA yesterday. It’s 7° F here in Maine. Meanwhile, in Sedona, it’s 70° F.

This workshop is all about color theory. That isn’t just a collection of truisms like warm-vs-cool. Color is the cornerstone of painting. We’re going to drill down and really master color and mixing in our week in the high desert. Plus, by now I know all the best places to paint.

I hear from the organizers that this class is filling up, so if you’re interested, contact them soon.

The Surf is Cranking Up, 8X16, oil on linenboard, $903 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

A Zoom class on design

“How can I take my students beyond basic drawing to a more complete sense of design?” I asked Laura. Just because she’s on maternity leave is no reason to not pepper her with questions.

Design and drawing was our answer, designed to take you past the basics of measurement and perspective to concepts like focal point, composition, abstraction and more.

All design rests on line and contrast in value, chroma and hue, but value is the most important. For this reason, I’m designing this class to be done in graphite or charcoal. However, there’s no reason a person couldn’t do the exercises in paint. Or both.

The Logging Truck, oil on archival canvasboard, 16X20, $2029.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Beyond realism

I really have some hot painters in my classes right now, and my current goal is to push them beyond faithful rendering to a new language of expression. To this end, we’ve done composition experiments, color experiments and more. In the next session, Beyond realism to expressive painting, we’ll continue to build on that idea. You don’t need to have taken the prior class as long as you’re an experienced painter.

A word to the wise

I can never tell how many people will enroll in my classes. I won’t take more than 15 or fewer than six. However, both classes were sold out last session, so if you want one of them, you should register soon.

If you have any questions, email me.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Posted on

Reflecting on my Arizona landscape paintings

Poplars, 12X16, oils on archival canvasboard, available through Sedona Arts Center.

Laura Martinez Bianco and I came independently to the same conclusion at the start of the 20th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival: Sedona is so beautiful that it makes no sense to drive around looking for the ‘perfect’ view; there is a painting at every intersection.

The prior year, Ed Buonvecchio, Casey Cheuvront and I spent half a day edging our way up the terrible washboarding and washouts that are Schnebly Hill Road. It took so long we barely had time to paint. This year I didn’t want to spend that much time driving, especially since I’d just traveled 3000 miles from Maine.

Country Road, 14X18, oil on archival canvasboard. The color in this image is more accurate than that on the website.

With the exception of one interlude on the West Fork of Oak Creek, I stuck close to home. Since Laura was staying nearby and had made the same decision, we painted together, and had a lot more time than we would have otherwise.

Five of my paintings remain at Sedona Arts Center, where they’re available until the end of November. They’re part of a bigger show featuring work from most of the artists who participated in the plein air festival.

My Practice Cactus, 11X14, available through Sedona Arts Center.

My Arizona landscape paintings

Country Road is one of those rare paintings which perfectly pleases me. I’m happy with its simplicity and abstract shapes. Ed showed me a wetlands area, but I was underwhelmed. Instead, I focused on this dirt road with golden cottonwoods and long purple shadows.

My Practice Cactus was painted at a roadside pullout. Like all true cactuses, prickly pear cactuses are native to the Americas, but not where I live. I practice painting them every time I visit the southwest.

Peace, 8X16, available through Sedona Arts Center.

The Fleeting Hand of Time was painted over two sessions from Posse Grounds Park, so named because in the past it was a staging ground for the Sheriff’s posse. This is a conventional city park, but the views and trails are outstanding. At sundown, the shadows from Coffee Pot Rock reach across like fingers caressing their neighbors. However, they move very fast, necessitating more than one trip. The painting IRL is a bit lighter and more saturated than the photo.

Peace: My friend Bernadette told me that there were prayer flags along the trail near the Amitabha Stupa and Peace Park. Frankly, I was attracted to the bright colors fluttering among the piñons and junipers, but why not pray for peace while you’re painting in a peace park?

The Fleeting Hand of Time, 11X14, oil on birch, available through Sedona Arts Center.

Poplars and cottonwoods turn golden-yellow in the autumn, and they stand off beautifully against the red rocks and evergreens of Oak Creek Canyon. This painting interested me for its abstract qualities.

Why buy one of these paintings?

One of the most venerable arts organizations in the country, the Sedona Arts Center is committed to promoting local and regional artists, particularly Arizona landscape paintings. By purchasing art from the center, you’re supporting the creative community of Sedona and the twenty nationally-known artists who trekked to Arizona to paint.

In addition to selling art, SAC offers educational programs, workshops, and events that nurture both aspiring and established artists. Your purchase helps support these programs.

The pieces available through this show were inspired by Sedona’s famous red rock landscapes. They’re a visual narrative that holds meaning and connection to the land. And all the artists in this show are collectible, meaning that your painting will be a good long-term investment.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Posted on

Things I noticed at Sedona Plein Air

A Road Less Traveled, Barbara Mulleneaux

Instead of looking at my paintings, I thought you might appreciate seeing some other work from the 20th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival. This is hardly complete; some painters hadn’t hung much work before I shot these photos.

What interests me in painting? Color, composition, and a unique viewpoint. This is a smattering without critical analysis, but I hope you enjoy it.

Guillo, Barbara Tapp. Of course I love it; that’s my dog!
By the Lake, Hadley Rampton
Road to Adventure, Manon Sander
Enchanted Passage, Krystal Brown
Ain’t We Got Fun, Casey Cheuvront
Bruce Gomez
Laura Martinez-Bianco
Hai-Ou Hou
Breakfast, Tom Conner
Here is my wall of finished paintings. As you can see, I’ve encroached on Tom’s space. Tomorrow I’ll choose my three favorites for judging, and I’d love to hear your opinion.

By the way, all of these paintings are available through Sedona Arts Center, 928.282.3809.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Posted on

What am I looking for in an artist portfolio?

Dawn on Upper Red Rock Loop Road, 20X24, oil on canvas, available through Sedona Arts Center. Please excuse the awful photography. I haven’t remembered to photograph any of these before they were framed and hung.

Years ago, I took a master class from a nationally-known painter, through a nationally-known art institute. After a day, he asked his monitor, “who let these people in?” It was rude, but I saw his point. No effort had been made to ascertain whether students were competent to take a master class.

It was a waste of time and money for all involved. Neither the beginners nor the advanced painters benefitted, and the instructor was frustrated. (Not that I’m certain he had a lesson plan, but that’s another issue.)

I honestly can’t remember the title, but they were three cottonwood trees casting magnificent shadows. Available through Sedona Arts Center. And, yeah, I won an award.

I’m teaching an advanced painting workshop next June, and I don’t want to repeat that mistake. I’m reviewing portfolios now. I hate hurting people’s feelings, and I know that some people will find the portfolio review process painful. However, I owe it to everyone to be straightforward. All my workshops benefit students at more advanced levels. Many professionals (by which I mean people who are regularly selling paintings) have taken them and benefitted. However, this particular workshop is directed toward people with a specific foundation in process and design.

If you need more fundamentals and you’re an oil painter, you can take my online Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters.

This was a very enjoyable painting to do. They’re cottonwoods along the Verde River. Am I in a tree mode? I think so. Available through Sedona Arts Center.

What am I looking for in an artist portfolio?

  • Are the fundamental orders of operations of painting (which differ for different media) understood and respected?
  • Does the artist understand color theory?
  • Does the artist understand the fundamental rules of composition?
  • Is there mastery of technique?
  • Is there a coherent value structure?
  • Is there developed brushwork?
  • Is there consistency?

Don’t let that intimidate you

I’ll be absolutely honest with you about whether you should take this workshop or another one, but don’t let fear dissuade you. Many of you are finer painters than you realize.

I had an epiphany courtesy of Laura Bianco this week. She has been telling me for several years that she doesn’t care about the judging, or the competition. I found that difficult to understand until today. I suddenly realized that all that matters is that I’m here. Considering how long it’s taken me to arrive at that home truth, I can’t expect you to suddenly buy into it, but I promise I’ll write more about it later.

Country Road, 14X18, available through Sedona Arts Center. This is my favorite painting so far.

However, cut me some slack, timewise

I’m in the middle of a very long event, the 20th annual Sedona Plein Air Festival. I’m trying to get to emails and texts, but it’s an uphill slog. I spent 14 hours (you heard that right) on Dawn on Upper Red Rock Loop Road this week, and I’m beat.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: why is a workshop important?

Sand and Shadows, 8X16, oil on archival linenboard, private collection

I had a long chat with Olena Babak last week, where we mostly discussed how much we value our artist friends. The plein air world, in which we’re both deeply planted, fosters a sense of community. Many of my friends are artists whom I met teaching or at events. There is something unique in the experience of pitting ourselves against our own unreachable goals that binds artists together.

At the same time, I texted with someone considering my Towards Amazing Color workshop at the Sedona Arts Center.  “What is the most important thing I will take away from this workshop?” she asked. I’ve been mulling that over ever since.

All painting starts with observation and perception, and Sedona is in a natural setting so preposterous that painters can’t fall back on what they think they know. The landscape is vast and the air is so clear that none of the usual tricks of aerial perspective apply. This creates distinctive lighting conditions, especially at sunrise and sunset, which in turn bounces what we think we know about color on its head.

Peace, 8X16, $903 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

That’s a great thing, since none of us should be painting stereotypes anyway.

In most of our world, the dominant color scheme is green, brown and blue, with flashes of warm colors. There is nothing wrong with that, of course; I paint it and love it deeply. But Sedona flips all that on its head. Its giant rock massifs are red and cream, set off by a ferocious azure sky and accented with dull greens.

Meanwhile, the intense warm light forms equally intense cool shadows. A week of painting that light will bleed back into our paintings of the more-delicate lighting elsewhere, helping us capture the nuances of light and shadow. Painting what we don’t know is invaluable for developing a keen sense of observation for when we get back to what we do know.

Early Light is 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 includes shipping and handling in the continental US.

That raises the question of how accurately we mix our colors. Just as I discourage eastern painters from using premixed greens, I discourage Sedona painters from using premixed reds. Yes, the rocks may be close to burnt sienna, but slathering that on will just make for a flat painting. We need to learn to mix colors to match the subtle variations in the landscape. That’s a skill you can take anywhere.

My personal painting challenge right now is in representing what I’ll call, for lack of a better term, deep space. It’s easy enough to paint an eastern mountain that’s a few miles away, especially when I have aerial perspective to fall back on. The giant rearing rock formations of Sedona, set like massive eroding jewels, are eroded like hoodoos but bigger than skyscrapers. They create their own special drafting problems. They teach me how to convey distance, perspective, and dimensionality. Once you’ve seen that kind of depth in a painting, you can’t go back to using mere layering to create the illusion of distance.

Pensive, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

I am both a committed plein air painter and outdoorswoman (although I can’t tell you which came first). Painting outdoors fosters my connection with the natural world. It’s not just the landscape and atmosphere; it’s also the weather, the creatures and the plants. (That relationship transcends words, which is why I loathe writing artist’s statements.) Sedona has all those things in spades. If you haven’t ever been there, it’s worth the journey.

I hope this answers my correspondent’s question, and by extension, yours too.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Posted on

Intimations of spring

Spring Greens, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $652 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays me from the swift completion of my hike up Beech Hill (to paraphrase Herodotus and the US Postal Service). Here in Maine, we dropped into the teens last week. However, the worst hiking was through bucketing rain on Monday. I arrived home soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably. My student and friend Amy Sirianni stopped by; I met her at my door in a flannel nightgown and robe because I couldn’t get warm.

What’s a poor New Englander to do when both days and nights turn bitter? My mother used to book a flight to Florida for March or April; it gave her something to look forward to. She didn’t want to come home until winter’s back was broken.

Coincidentally, I’ve ended up doing something similar. At the end of March, I’ll again be teaching in Sedona, AZ and Austin, Texas. Instead of shivering in sleet storms, I’ll be in shirtsleeves under clear blue skies. Alleluia.

Most of my workshops are on the east coast, which is my home turf. These are the only two workshops I’m teaching in the west (although I dream of reviving Pecos). Western painting is different from New England in atmosphere, color, and vista. I’m grateful for the opportunity to work in both.

Sedona is a small city of 10,000 people located within the Coconino National Forest. The town is encircled by red sandstone massifs in various stages of erosion. They glow brilliant orange and red in the rising or setting sun.

Peace, 8X16, $903 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

“This color looks exaggerated to me,” I told Julie Richard of Sedona Arts Center when I finished Peace, above.

“It’s not,” she answered, most definitely.

Much of what we paint there are long vistas and those incredible red rocks set against junipers, piñons, and prickly pear cactus. We often paint from isolated trailheads, from which we can sometimes watch vast cumulus clouds form over the buttes and mesas and just as quickly blow away.

Avenue B. Market and Deli at night. We had a riot painting nocturnes here.

Austin, on the other hand, is the tenth most populous city in the United States (and grown out of all recognition from the first time I saw it). Our painting sites are urban, including the delightful Avenue B. Grocery and Market, where we painted nocturnes and ate fabulous sandwiches last year. Then there’s McKinney Falls State Park with its huge cypresses and turquoise spill basin. That’s where we painted bluebonnets in their thousands. On that magical day, hundreds of birds flew overhead in long, winding skeins.

“Canada geese?” I asked, confused.

“Pelicans,” someone answered.

I find gift-giving challenging, especially for those people on my list who don’t want or need more stuff. I could look at all the catalogs in the world and still not find the right thing for that person who has everything.

Pensive 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

For him or her, experiences are a better bet. If you’re looking for a truly unique gift this holiday season that feels extra thoughtful, try a workshop. (And if you want a workshop for Christmas, print this out and leave it someplace subtle, like under your spouse’s coffee-cup. He or she can use the code EARLYBIRD to get $25 off any workshop except Sedona, which is already a discounted price).

Also, if you’re thinking of buying a painting as a Christmas gift (another great idea for the person who no longer needs stuff), let me know soon. I’m my own shipping and handling department and I want to be sure your painting is delivered by Christmas. Until the first of the year, you can use the discount code THANKYOUPAINTING10 to get 10% off any painting on my website.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

If you missed my North to Southwest virtual opening and have a high tolerance for listening to me drone on, you can watch it here.

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: collaboration

Our team: Jacqueline Chandra, me, Lydia Gatzow and Kathleen Gray Farthing.

Collaboration is not usually an exercise for plein air painters, but occasionally an arts organizer will come up with a madcap scheme where teams of four will create a painting together in a short period of time. This is something that Sedona Plein Air does; the paintings are sold at $250 and the money used to raise funds for the art center. The staff likes to throw us curve balls, like ‘paint with your mouth’ or ‘paint with a packing peanut’. That said, the difference between last year’s and this year’s paintings was amazing. It all came down to the ten minutes we were allowed for planning.

Yes, there was a value sketch. I don’t leave home without it.

Design the project

We were divided into groups and given ten minutes to design and plan our 18X24 painting. That included choosing the subject, designing the composition, and setting the order in which we would paint (which defined each participant’s tasks). Jacqueline Chanda transferred our sketch to the canvas, I did the color-blocking, Kathleen Gray Farthing built up form, and Lydia Gatzow did the finishing flourishes. We each had 15 minutes for our section.

Maintain open communication

A madcap project like this doesn’t require Zoom calls, emails, or texts, thank goodness. Communication proved very simple; although we expected each other to fetch and critique as we went, there was little need for the latter. We all did our sections with a minimum of fuss.

My final wall at Sedona Plein Air. I set out to paint ten paintings, and ten got done.

Set realistic deadlines

That wasn’t a problem here, because the organizers had already agreed that each team of four trained monkeys would produce a finished 18X24 painting in an hour. The only way for this to work was for us to focus on our established goal in the fifteen minutes we were allotted. Call that ‘achieving milestones,’ if you must. In the real world, a deadline is a great way to avoid overworking.

Respect each other’s work

In other versions of this game, I’ve been frustrated when subsequent artists spent their fifteen minutes redoing earlier ideas instead of refining them. Some revision is necessary, because in the heat of the moment, one doesn’t always do it right. But wholesale reworking of another’s ideas is terribly disrespectful, not to mention a waste of time.

I had a great week, and painting within the peace park was among its highlights.

Document the process

Whoops, I didn’t do that. Wish I had.

Celebrate achievements

For us this just involved a lot of whooping and hollering, but more measured recognition is necessary in every real collaboration. We recognized each other as hardworking peers, so there was no buried conflict to be exposed. There’s nothing like one artist with a towering ego to sour a collaboration.

Resolve conflicts amicably

We didn’t have any conflicts, but if we had, we’d have just talked them out on the spot. It’s possible for people to become terribly ego-invested in a cooperative project, with one or more people secretly believing they’re the driving force and their partners are just useful idiots. Nip that thinking in the bud.

Promote the heck out of your collaboration.

That’s what I’m doing right here, folks! (The painting is already sold, but there’s always next year.)

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Posted on

What I’ve accomplished so far this week

I wish I could remember the title of this piece.

We’re down to the final stretch at the 19th annual Sedona Plein Air Festival. At this point, I haven’t the energy to wax philosophical, so I’ll just tell you a little story about each of these paintings, in the order in which I completed them.

I can’t remember the title of the painting above. It was the first one I painted, and the first one I’ve sold. This is the painting where Casey Cheuvront and I were entertained by a series of spirit guides, which I wrote about here. I remain stubbornly unenlightened.

Early Light, 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard.

Early Light is of the building next to the Sedona Arts Center. To my eyes, it’s the most authentic building in downtown Sedona. The Jordan Family built it of red rock in 1938 to house their retail operations; their former fruit-processing barn is now part of the Sedona Arts Center. I doubt they could envision that it would one day offer Intuitive Psychic Readings or Reiki, Energy and Chakra Balancing, among other things. It’s 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard, available through Sedona Arts Center.

Dusk at the Merry-Go-Round, 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard.

Since my rental car was upgraded to a Jeep, Ed Buonvecchio, Casey and I decided to drive up Schnebly Hill Road. This track used to be the road to Flagstaff; today it’s barely fit for a high-clearance Jeep. It took us an hour to get to our destination, and we barely had teeth left. Heading down in the failing light, I realized I only had my sunglasses with me. Casey watched for obstacles while I steered. “Did you see that person on the side of the road?” she asked me. Ahem.

“It’s actually a little smoother if you take the washboards a little faster,” Casey told me. So, I did. “I didn’t mean the rocks!” she cried. Dusk at the Merry-Go-Round is 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard, available through Sedona Arts Center.

Pensive, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard.

Pensive is an 8X10 which I did as a demo on Sunday, in concert with Hadley Rampton. “How did you feel when you were painting it?” a member of the audience asked.

“Larky,” I answered.

“That’s not larky; it’s pensive,” he replied. I didn’t realize I was pensive; I thought I was having a great time, but sometimes your subconscious has a mind of its own. Available through Sedona Arts Center.

Peace, 8X16, oil on archival canvasboard.

I’ve been praying for peace for Israel and Ukraine. My friend told me that there were prayer flags along the trail near the Amitabha Stupa and Peace Park. Frankly, I was attracted to the bright colors fluttering among the piñons and junipers, but why not pray for peace while you’re painting in a peace park? Peace is 8X16, and available through Sedona Arts Center.

The Beauty of the Rocks, 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard.

The Beauty of the Rocks is 11X14, and was painted along Oak Creek behind L’Auberge de Sedona, which is a very swank resort. There’s one classic view, looking upstream, but I painted that last year. Why not drop down into a fissure and paint the diagonal gap in the rocks instead? Of course, I couldn’t back up to look at my work without killing myself, so I periodically called to Laura Martinez-Bianco to ask her if passages needed changing. This committee approach to painting apparently works; I’m pleased with both the color and composition.

I have to select three pieces for judging. Although I’ve still got two more days to paint, I’m interested in your opinion. What do you like best, and why?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: searching for meaning in Sedona

Winter Lambing, 36×48, oil on linen, $6231 framed includes shipping in continental US.

I’m in Sedona, AZ, painting in the 19th annual Sedona Plein Air Festival. I’ve written many times about how the question of meaning bedevils me. This place, with its crystals, vortexes, ley lines, and spiritualism ought to be chock full of meaning, but it’s not. That stuff is too glib and superficial for me.

For artists tucked into a corner of the Sedona landscape, it can be relentless. Casey Cheuvront was painting on a rocky promontory when a woman stopped in front of her to give her clients a spiel about the magnetic energy of the rocks. Another guide talked about how we were in a direct line between Cathedral Rock and Airport Mesa, which apparently confers special powers. Meanwhile, I was discussing reincarnation and non-attachment with a lovely gentleman from Princeton, NJ.

Midnight at the Wood Lot, oil on canvasboard, 12X16 $1,449.00 framed includes shipping in continental US.

Starting with an overarching concept like Sedona’s famous spirituality can easily veer into the sophomoric. That doesn’t mean that art can’t use symbols, metaphor, and allegory to convey deep layers of meaning. It’s just best to avoid the trite.

To me, one of the most important reasons to paint en plein air is to celebrate God’s creation. That has an emotional resonance with me; I am constantly struck anew by the variety and beauty of this world. Can I translate that in my paintings in a way that evokes an emotional response? Only if I paint something that also resonates with my viewers’ experiences and perspectives. Just as I am left cold by new age spirituality, others may be unable to engage with my deep feelings about the created world.

Lonely cabin, 8X10, oil on canvasboard, $652 framed includes shipping in continental US.

Ultimately, all we have is our own personal perspective. Our experiences, beliefs, and values add depth and authenticity to our creative expressions. That doesn’t mean I need to be overt about my ideas. They color my perception, and those who think the way I do will, hopefully, find my work relatable.

Of course, none of this works without paying attention to the formal elements of design. All meaning rests on technical skill. You may feel something deeply but be unable to communicate that to your viewer because you don’t have a cohesive visual language.

The Late Bus, 8X6, oil on canvasboard, $435 framed includes shipping in continental US.

Yesterday, Hadley Rampton and I demoed together at the Sedona Arts Center. It was an interesting way to do it, because our styles are very different, and the audience asked pertinent questions. When I finished, I asked the people watching what I should name my painting.

“How does it make you feel?” a man asked me.

“Oh, larky, I think, because I had a lot of fun painting it.”

“That’s not what it conveys to me at all,” he said. “To me, it’s pensive.”

Sometimes, what you think you’re painting is not at all what comes through. Other times, there is ambiguity or multiple tracks of meaning within the same painting. Viewers derive their own associations, and they may in fact be what you were thinking subconsciously all along. Although I’m having fun at this event, I have some serious matters clouding my immediate horizon.

The opposite of subtlety is intentional storytelling, where you’re crafting a narrative that’s explicit and easily comprehensible. Since a painting is essentially a snapshot that captures a moment in time, you must work to tell the before and after. Narrative painting can convey complex ideas, sometimes better than words can.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025: