Front Range 24x30 No Ducks 18x24 Where Clouds Are Born 18x24

Another happy trio of decorative wall coverings. Oh that they were more than that. Well, pictures were made for hanging just like outlaws and ...fly strips. Not much we can do about it but to enjoy 'em (the paintings, not the outlaws and flies) while we can. I've been making a lot of snow lately. We've been frolicking in it a good bit this winter and I've been able to get a nice variety of photos and ideas for wintry scenes...hope you like 'em. At our elevation we've received more rain than anything but the snow levels have crept down almost to the house here in Catalina a few times. The river (wash) is flowing too which makes for nice inspiration. See the link on this page for available paintings.

Four For The Show

For all the creative juices that flow and ebb so liberally around here...you would think that I'd be able to come up with cool and inventive names for my paintings. Alas, as a sort of last resort/cop-out I have begun to let other people, namely my daughter, come up with clever, albeit girly, titles for my latest batch of landscape wonderlands. Clever as they might sound, they are definitely feminine in their aura...casting the whole work into an oblique light that hardly reflects the sentiments of their maker. For the time being, so be it! I hope you can enjoy these latest pieces (in spite of the titledge) I do struggle with the naming process...rarely do I ever experience anything even akin to writer's block when it comes to subjects to paint or...write about. But this naming of paintings really is a horse of another color. These four are available for auction this next week.

Unending 24x18 Shining 24x18

These are being made available on auction this week. There is a link on the top right of this page that will lead you there...Maybe you came here from there and in that case you'll have no need to check out the auctions. In any case let me say that both of these are original oil paintings. The top one pictured is titled "Unending"...inspired by a scene not far from Pismo Beach, Calif. The lower one is a view from last week's excursion to Pine Top, AZ. Nine feet of fresh snow covered the mountain. The picture is from the forested area coming out of and down the hill a bit from Show Low.

Duck Hole 24x18 Skyburst 22x28

Well, I am over the Viking's loss and duck season has ended. I have been tempted to consider a waterfowling excursion into Mexico to extend the seasonal glory but I think I better sit tight and ride out the rest of the winter here. Anyway, for me, Mexico and vacations don't mix. Too many haunting and harrowing adventures south o'da border for me to so glibly clear away all those of memories enough to enjoy the pursuit of self-seeking pleasure slaves. I have had two invites lately to bask in the balmy and briny beach-glow at Puerto Penasco (Rocky Point) It's just two or three hours south of here...and a million worlds away. I sense my responsibilities lie elsewhere at the present. Maybe, if we do go, it will be to spend time with my life-long pal Leona. He's the one whose son was gunned down last month by the mafia. The salmon bench pictured below was made by our deft and artistic teamwork. ...just one of hundreds of artifacts that we've built together. Both pictures above describe the scene on the way to our favorite and secret duck hole...Eddie says "don't forget to buy some owl shot next time you're going there"

Rudy 36x24 Cow In Field 12x24

These are available from the studio. They are framed in very snazzy antiqued black 3.5 wide profile furniture grade joined frames. These are from my Master Series paintings...made over time with multiple glazes. I will consider trades for musical instruments as well as cash, gold, diamonds or guns. Sounds too good to be true doesn't it? Well, I was exaggerating a bit about the diamonds and gold part...but you can always send lawyers, guns and money. Seems you'll almost always need the first when the other two are involved. Rudy is $1295 Cow costs $675

Let's Make A Deal

Deal or no deal? I'm open to trade. If you like any of these pieces I'm posting...or want something new for your home, office or cabin but don't want to spend the shekels then...we may yet have a reason to get you into your newest and best investment of the year. I'm open to painting on commission for trade...presently looking for hunting gear and or places to hunt/fish. Let me know if your interested and what you got and chances are we can get you that special designer art piece you've been pining for. Write me at Los Hawkins @ yahoo.com and we can discuss this further. This painting has been sold.
PS. I'm also interested in musical instruments...etc.

Dusk In MY Eyes 24x48 Fruited Plane 24x48

These two gargantuan monsters will be offered on auction...if you'd like to bid see the link to "Link To Art For Sale" on the right (top)

I have yet to see the article /photo but one of my paintings made the cut for the Feb./March issue of International Artists magazine "landscape" competition. Apparently it's already hit the news stands, a very cool honor indeed. I really dig this publication...good inspiration for realist painters etc., So if your looking for some pleasant sightseeing check it out. I was informed that I'd be getting a free subscription as a prize so, true to starving artist form, I am holding out till I get my first copy. Maybe I'll check it out at Barns & Noble next time I'm at the mall searching for my teenage skate-boarders as they try to elude proprietors, mall cops and parents in their pursuit of the perfect bench to grind.

The Long Fence 24x36

The boys, fifteen and seventeen (in March) respectively, get along remarkably well. They are like twins...rarely leaving each other's side. I had Eddie out for a long day of duck hunting last week. The whole time his conversation was peppered with references to his younger brother; what he would be saying or doing if he were with us. At the end of our excursion, as the sun was going down, he unabashedly said he missed his brother Eli. So, I brag on these two and often take credit for their familial affections and brotherly love. After all, I tell them, I am their creator. That said, I was startled suddenly the other day by a rare and invective-filled commotion just outside the studio. So much was the clatter that I was forced to rise from my easel where I sat perched and still with brush in hand, poised for a last and deftly placed stroke on a masterpiece, to see what was the matter. Well, it seems, (I was told) that boy #2 had "accidentally" elbowed his older brother in the face...a couple of times. Boy #1 purposefully yet "instinctively" "...couldn't help myself" wound up and punched his little brother in the nose...hard. Now they appeared to be fighting over who was going to get a paper towel to soak up the blood pouring out of poor Eli's face. As we sat at the table for lunch a little while later the boys recounted all the times one has bloodied the other's nose, alternately finishing each other's sentences and laughing all the while. I'm just glad the punch wasn't "instinctively" placed a little lower and thus smashed 3K's worth of braces. I would have had my own "Couldn't help myself" reaction that I'm sure would have CPS breathing down my neck. I guess all's well that ends well.

Starfire 22x30

Windy Rows 24x18

My Big Fat Mexican Wedding 36x24

Yes, I had one, seems like just yesterday.

New Years Talent Show

I think we were playing Crocodile Rock...not really an Elton look-alike but I can play that (in the key of C) and still know most of the lyrics.

Robert In Korea

You might remember an entry I made here about a year ago...maybe a little more. It was a request to pray for the people of North Korea. Our friend Robert marched across the frozen Tumen river the other day (from China) demanding / pleading for relief for the people who suffer incredible deprivations there. (We have seen videos of streets strewn with orphaned kids...) Well, regardless of the guidance or misguidance of his actions please pray to the God of heaven that He take care for Robert...and especially for the people (millions?) that are starving and being tortured in north Korea. What's happening there is on the scale of the holocaust, it's not a few aberrant political dissidents on some obscure mountain top somewhere far away...it's a whole country being oppressed like you and I can hardly imagine. Here's an article about Robert

Have Yourself a merry Little...

Here's a little Christmas cheer...Ellie is learning this tune and Marissa pretty much just plays what we tell her to. Maybe I'll upload some of her blues piano playing soon.

Salmon Bench 1998

The salmon bench was an idea whose time had not yet come. I carved these fishies out of a conglomerate called cantera stone. Two inches thick, this is the balsa wood of rocks. I perforated the piscatorial silhouettes with a hammer drill and broke them free of the stone. Before they swam away I took chisels and grinders to 'em and magically made dirt come to life. Don't laugh, a lot of really smart people believe that happened once before. Anyway, I inlaid them into a big slab of cottonwood which is one of the worst kinds of wood you ever want to work with. It can be pretty but it is twisty and punky and tears and rips and continues to warp and cup long after you think it's dried. Why use it? 'Cause it's cheap and available and you're in Mexico living off of dirt, (that has yet to come to life) that's why. The frame is made of iron which we heated in a hand-cranked forge and pounded and made into very cool split feet that looked like leafs and added some other hand-forged details. All this spells a lot of work...not to mention the magic that went into it. I made a series of benches and rocking chairs with elaborate, fancy appointments that were either way ahead of their time or...a little too out of fashion . A few of them sold and a couple ended up in various rooms of my house. I gave this one away to a friend with a house full of unruly kids with too many crayons, scissors and not enough dirt out in the back yard to play in. The last time I saw it, it was hard to even recognize through all the scratches and dings and graffiti. It should outlast most of us though. Maybe that says something about wood and steel....the main ingredients in dirt. Or maybe it says something about flaky artists with too much time on their hands...

Boys With Guns Rooster Repose 12x16

My friend is a bit of a gun nut. And he is also a serious art collector. What? You don't think the two can go co-exist? Well, he has some of the biggest and best artists of the west in his collection and was on the board of the prestigious Rocky Mountain Oyster Club art show for many years. The rooster pictured above can attest to his keen sense of quality and good taste(huh?)...it hangs on a wall somewhere not far from a large Burt Proctor original...one of my western heroes. I could rattle off a list of artistical whose who (whose work hangs next to mine, lucky them) but, the real collection was the pile of armament we unloaded from a few humble vehicles the other day. We had a very fun afternoon throwing lead around the desert, shooting clay pigeons, plinking targets and enjoying the sunset within view of the Tortolita mountains. To be honest, I'm a little skittish around guys with firearms that don't have a hunting background. It seems there's something different about the way a person handles a gun if they were taught by a dad or uncle or grandpa out in a corn field or a duck blind when they were almost too small to hold up a .410. ...and almost sunk the canoe by putting a couple of shots through the hull. Anyways, these were good ol' boys and everyone was safe and very helpful with the kids. Eli took the sporting clays honors (again) and all of us (except Scott, who is a distant relative of Tiger Wood's wife) could place a nice grouping with a variety of caliber of handguns. Scott is good at golf though...he almost beat me the last time we played.

Sierra Vista 24x30 Mill Pond Blues 12x24

The bot fly larva are large and undulating and particularly gruesome when coupled with images of the Star Trek movie where Kan dropped one in Chekov's ear. Black to creamy white in coloration they start out as little eggs under the skin and grow to finger-sized worms usually found between the skin and muscle. I've wanted to learn the song Mule Skinner Blues for a while now but truth be told, rabbit skinning, although relatively quick and easy, has the potential to send you into a psychological downward spiral that even a last-minute-change-of-heart Kamikaze couldn't pull out of. Yes, your dreams of tasty, mouth-watering rabbit fricassee can be quickly dashed when you encounter one of these little beauties wriggling around your food while preparing breakfast. So was my experience the other day after a lovely morning hunt bagged some wild game for the family larder. Well, according to the Arizona Game & Fish web site there is no harm in using meat that has been host to these dainty little parasites. I guess the upside is that they have a distinct nutty flavor and are a good source of protein. I have encountered bot fly larvae many times and, in fact, so common it's become that I am probably an unwitting host to several colonies at this moment. Don't worry for me though, I should be just fine...just don't skin me alive. These are my Christmas week images (above)...at least for now. There's been a pile of visitors here lately and with all the running around and bot flies invading it's a wonder I can even keep painting.

Move Out 24x36

This painting should be titled The Generation Gap. Why? 'Cause when I was a kid all it took to spark my imagination was a field like this. It bespoke endless possibilities for adventure and mischief. Yes, hiding behind every crook of this creek, just waiting for discovery and for me to prove my mastery over God's unwitting and innocent creation were bugs and creatures and fish and fowl...that's what I see. My kids, on the other hand, if dropped off in the middle of this big meadow would scan the horizon for any sign of civilization and make a bee-line for the nearest seven-eleven with the wild hope of scoring a Slim Jim and a Slurpee. Hmm, that sounds good. Maybe there isn't as much of a gap as I thought.

Whispering Winds 30x24

The last time I had seen Daniel we were joking about ending up in a Mexican prison. His was a genuine laughter...mine was nervous. There was an outside possibility, it seemed, that some time in the clink might be in the cards if we (he especially) didn't play the hand right...Or, of course, if God almighty had other plans. If He did, I was hoping they didn't include me. At least not in regards to jail-time purification. We joked again the other night, our first reunion since his release a month or so ago. After five long months in the stir I was expecting to see a hobbled, gaunt figure with sunken eyes and a peaceful aura of benevolent acquiescence...the result of endless days of torture and starvation, scrounging for bugs on a damp cell floor somewhere in the bowels of an old fortress where the moaning souls of tormented men never cease to wail. I had dreamed of Dan as Gandolf the White and was half expecting to see fire fly from his cane. Well, in keeping with the holiday mood and all, he appeared a bit more like a jolly white-bearded, heel-clicking version of the image I had in mind. It seems the only comfort (besides family) he was deprived of was a mirror. And when he finally got a good look at himself, expecting a Tom Hanks look-a-like after Cast Away, he was surprised to see an even healthier Dan - bigger, stronger, faster. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration but he did look good and our reunion was as sweet as it could be considering the circumstances. In some sort of twisted-universe, twilight zone kind of way, we could be considered responsible for how things played out. Not that anybody did anything wrong mind you. Remember, we were dealing with a third-world country whose corruption knows no limits and which treats people and justice like so much garbage thrown out the window of a passing car on highway 15 in southern Sonora. Our adoption of Trini precipitated the forcing of hands that were being sat on, as the saying goes, and, well, it stirred up a few hornets nests besides and as a result, produced the most stress filled three years of our lives. Trials and tribulations always come. Life is full of them. Thankfully there is One, whose name is the Prince of Peace, who gives peace in the midst of turmoil. His words often come to mind "...In the world you will have tribulation, but be of good courage, I have overcome the world." Thanks again to all friends far and wide who offered up prayers, however feeble. The King eternal hears and none of us are any the worse for wear. The net of all this is that Dan has a great war-story to tell, Trini is growing and happy with her new family and Mexico has apologized, actually calling us the "victims" of their internal problems. No, no one feels that justice was served but at least we're not rotting away in a steel drum somewhere on the outskirts of Ciudad Juarez...or worse.

Sunset Blvd. 18x24

This snappy little sunset is available on auction this week before Christmas. See link at top right of page for access.

El Dorado 24x36

Available on auction here.

Santa's Helpers

That's me in the middle, red boots and all. The snow elves pictured on either side of me are grandmothers now...I seem to be the only one who barely ages. I found an old school chum recently by searching You Tube. We were in a band together...were gonna be bigger than the Beatles. What happened? Well, I am bigger than any beetle I've ever seen and ...I found a video of Mark playing guitar with Janis Joplin's original band. (BBHC still tours!?!) Had Mark moved away from the weather pictured here I'm sure he would have gone straight to the top. FYI northern peoples, your hibernation for 6 months of the year costs you that much more in productivity. Think what you could achieve if you all moved south.

Lean Into It 12x24

Rudy 36x24

I painted this very expressively...lots of paint and large brushes. I made this over several days adding glazes of colors and washes. If I had any sense I would keep this one in my private gallery for secret showings on special occasions. Senseless as a water bug, I have made this available on auction here.

The Low Field 12x24

It was dark, just after sunset on a cool and cloudy winter evening. The squad car's lights were strobing brilliant blue and red and I was half blinded. I waved the knife back and forth, reminiscent of Sulu when he fought captain Kirk (one of my favorite episodes and one that readily comes to mind whenever I find myself in similar circumstances, wildly waving a knife to stave off my opponents in the narrow hallway of a space ship). The drop point blade glowed and glistened as it arched and weaved and cut deft swaths through the still and emergent desert eve. I was completely oblivious as to how this might look to passing cars or... the video camera pointed at us from the patrol car.
We had just spent the whole day packing and moving a friend's household. We were bone-tired and more than ready to stop at Nico's Tacos on the way home. Our only goal, as we yawningly planned our future was to pick up a couple of fish burritos and spend the rest of the evening, sans girls, burping and rubbing our bellies and leaving a big ol' mess in the kitchen. My cat-like reflexive maneuver to strap on the seat belt at almost the same instant the siren blared and the flashing lights from the lawman's car on my tail filled the interior of our bedraggled mini van, left Eddie and Eli in awe. I'm sure they were wondering how I could move so fast at my age and after such a long and laborious day. Well, as I've proved more than once, a cop on your tail is a sure-fire remedy for vehicular lethargy. A very nice patrolman with a heavy German accent informed me that the translucent red tape had come off my busted tail light and as I braked I was blinding the drivers behind me; much like his spotlight was blinding me at the moment (he really said that) So, as he checked my criminal history I dutifully pulled the red tape out of the glove box (can you tell I've been through this before?) and proceeded to the rear of my car, knife in hand (ostensibly to cut the tape). I was half-way through the job when the officer returned to chat with me. Lucky for me he hadn't checked my background in Mexico and Central America. Anyway, as affable as he was ( and I, of course) my friendly gesticulating left him a bit uncomfortable. He asked if I wouldn't mind putting the knife down on the bumper as we finished our conversation. I was just getting ready to broach another subject (the weather) when I realised my faux pas. I apologized, set the knife down, instinctively stepped away from the vehicle (yes, I've seen COPS) and sprawled, spread-eagle on the pavement. Hey, don't blame me if I'm an animated conversationalist. Plus, it's not every day a cop that sounds like "Arnold" pulls you over in Tucson, Arizona.

By A Stream Near A Lake 14x11

It was a neat little house with a big red barn; a nice hay field and this pond were part of the deal. The place was for sale. The price was good and it was near the coast...had a big garden spot too. Well, we still talk about greener grass over there somewhere but the dreams of the "perfect" house and the "perfect" life (replete with the perfect fishing hole(s) and plenty of wild game) come careening and crashing to an abrupt halt when once you start to hang your hat on them. Dreams are fickle things you know; not a lot of hat hooks sticking out of them. They come and go and vanish like a slim wisp of smoke from a butane liter at a Ted Nugent concert or...The kinks, The Who, Bob Seeger, Elvis, Yes, The Eagles...I guess any number of settings wherein a liter has faintly flickered in my outstretched hand only to leave the slightest hint of a trail of a foggy, ghost-like memory buried deep within my cortex, would suffice for this imagery. Some of us have learned to content ourselves with more modest "dreams"...of actually waking from them (literal ones) everyday (in the a.m.) and making it through another sun-cycle without offending anyone or kicking the dog. This is the criteria my dreams (figurative) must meet. They are not dependent on circumstances. They are much bigger and much more important (internally) than where I live or how much sweet mula I make. Besides, we all know that character is formed by the shattering of dreams and the beautiful string of disappointments and unmet expectations our lives seem to be made up of. At least that's what I tell my kids at Christmas. They've already started haranguing me about all kinds of very expensive toys they want me to buy them. Haven't they learned anything?

Falling Leaves (Autumn on the Umpqua) 11x14

I stopped on a bridge to take a picture of this scene. Actually, I stopped on both sides, dodged rural traffic and took a series of shots while the gray getaway car idled in the grey early light of a misty morning in Elkton, Oregon. Carmen became the look-out man. And we did get away with a bag full of stolen goodies....here's the result. I am framing some of these smaller pieces and making them available at what I hope are affordable prices...all ready to hang and cover that fist-sized hole that happens to be at the perfect height for viewing and coincidentally, is the level of a teenager's head! (?) Check them out at our eBay site / store. We're hoping to come up with some more economy-sized pieces for the coming year for all our art-starved friends and the drab barren walls that hem them in. So, keep your eyes peeled (ouch!)

Harmonium 24x18

With callous candor the clandestine cattle cavort carelessly through fields of clover. Do I like the letter C ? Well, not particularly but the cumulus clouds cast cautious shadows covertly while conspiring to conquer the cow's conscience. At least that's my theory. Anyway, enough of that! It's just that there's a blow outside that's bringing in a system

and we're all excited hoping for it to paint the mountain tops white. The trip to Oregon really got my attention and seems all I can think about these days (besides my normal contemplation of things divine) is duck weather and getting wet. This picture is being offered for auction. Feel free to bid it up to the value of a whole side of beef...for conscience' sake. (theirs not ours)

Geese In Grass 14x11

Slighted goose, dismissed gander
Left for naught, forgotten fowl
What ‘ere you wrought on this thy brow
Hath plagued thee now Hath brought thee slander

Little we considered thee
In downy coat so hard to pluck
Nary a thought it’d come to this
Thy rich dark breast Thy taste of duck

Now that which craven palette yearns
For on this day of memories murky
Is not the swamp and eel and frog
It is instead our festive turkey

We pulled off a thanksgiving feat of extraordinary proportions. Four families fully feted, rubbing their turkey-stuffed bellies chortling and cackling like a yard full of happy hens...all them strangers to each other just hours before! No, I didn't even ply them with rum soaked eggnog, though I did consider it. We spent a happy afternoon with new friends around the big ol' table and spilled out onto the porch as the afternoon wore on and pumpkin pies were devoured. What could have been an uncomfortable and awkward gathering of disproportionate personalities turned out to be a most memorable thanksgiving. All this punctuated by an earlier rendezvous where, once again, I proved my sandlot prowess by being on the winning side of an impromptu football game...(I'm feeling it today) A nice prayer of thanksgiving was offered and I think we all sensed a genuine gratitude to our Father in heaven for His constant care for us, His careless kids.

The poem was inspired by the painting of the geese above (Rickreall, Oregon) and our conversation around the table yesterday. I had proposed to Carmen that we add quail and fried rabbit to the pleasant bounty. With a foreign gesture and a sigh she dismissed my salubrious suggestion for wild game . I later proffered the idea to my guests. It met with the same result. I tried to convince them of the succulent and savory attributes of wild game...to no avail. I for one would welcome the return of Christmas goose, tasty turkey notwithstanding.

Cloudmeister 18x24

The other night my alter ego met Emiliano. He's a pitcher for the Seattle Mariners from Columbia. His Tex-Mex girlfriend is a friend of Carmen's. The girls meet periodically to celebrate each other's birthdays. They are all Hispanic so you can imagine the riotous good times they have breaking pinatas and eating tons of hot sauce. The men were invited to this last party and since it was Lupita's fiesta and Juan Pablo was going to be there (my ex-neighbor and favorite auto mechanic) I put on my vest and boots and went out as "Paco". It was a great "pachanga" and we passed a food and fun-filled evening remembering good times and taking lots of pictures to commemorate this one. I calculate that 33-55 percent of my average, daily, verbal output is Spanish. That might come as a surprise to some folks but it has been that way for a long time...about half my life. It is as if we have lived a double life. Sure, there is a lot of Chicano mixing up of cultural stuff here in the Southwest. But that aside, we have two distinct circles of friends -- those who speak Spanish and those who speak only English. And since both groups are basically monolingual they really don't mix much. With both of these communities we have a long history...old friendships, adventures and shared heartbreaks and joys. We have pulled this off to such an extent that there are people who have known me for many years that don't even know my real name! I'm actually kind of surprised that Homeland Security hasn't tried to recruit me for some clandestine activity that involves slipping under chain-link fences and inconspicuously posing as El Guapo the trumpet player in a Mariachi band somewhere in Sinaloa. There are secret recipes I know of, and have privileged access to, that not even the most savvy, baja-traveling, Mexican-bullfight-attending, Puerto-Vallarta/Cancun-beach-going gringo has ever laid eyes on. Unlike my mexed-up life, the painting pictured here can be appreciated equally by people of both cultures.

Water & Sky

You value what you do...and do what you value. This handy little maxim is one of the many yokes I've had hung on me. I, in turn, like to put it on unsuspecting passersby whenever I get a chance. The oblivious bovine bask in their ignorance above...or is it that they truly value grass eating over staying dry? Many a man is right in his own eyes declaring himself to value certain virtues and beliefs. But does he do them? That is the question. Do you value money?...then save it. Do you value your religious beliefs? ...Then pursue them with your whole heart. Family?... Spend time with them. How about food?...then hoard and eat as much as possible. Wait, scratch the last one. Anyway, you get the picture.

Muscle Car?

I really didn't expect them to put the super-charged V8 HEMI in the rental car but I was still disappointed. It was used to crash the bachelor party on Friday night in Salem and as gutless as the "economic" six cylinder was the important effect was the cool and sinister profile we struck while cruising around in the charger. Greg and I kidnapped his son (the groom to be) and held him for ransom. I never knew if anyone paid it but we had a good laugh and goofed on them young guys pretty good. I stood up during the dinner and began a solemn discourse about the wiles of women and how difficult and important it was to get them figured out before it was too late. I went on to say that my vast experience, gleaned over many years of marital bliss had been deftly expressed and condensed into a nice little book that I was gifting to the groom. It was titled Everything I know About Women and had all kinds of glowing recommendations printed on both covers. The eager up-turned faces of the twelve or so young single men nodded in reverent anticipation as I expounded the book's attributes...all of them agreeing that they needed and wanted to read it too. As you might have guessed, as soon as I handed it to them they realized...the pages were blank. Yes, the book contained all of man's cumulative knowledge of womenfolk and Greg and I were joyfully accepted into the fraternal order of mindless young bucks who know next to nothing about the most important things. The next day the charcoal grey dodge was designated the "limo" and Carmen and I got to drive the happy newlyweds honkingly through the streets of Salem late into the misty northwest night.

'Tis The Season

If this video (link below) doesn't capture the Chistmas spirit I don't know what does...well, actually, this is the matter/anti-matter version of Christmas cheer-something I will play from time to time over the next few weeks to keep us merry and thankful for all the creepy things that aren't in our lives.

Happy Birds In Oregon

Here we are in Newport. Can you tell we've just had our fill of a seafood medley? Sorry Oregon but as multitudinous and melodious as your scrumptious culinary offerings are, they don't hold a candle to Sonoran coast fare. The incorrigible, non-PC side of me had a serious hankerin' for a good sea-turtle stew. All the while, our eyes and ears told us that we were being feted with the West Coast's best from the brine...it should have been enough. Craven hearts (and taste buds) are never are satisfied but, short of selling my kids to swing the deal, my eyes had me convinced that the splendiferous beauty of western Oregon should be the site of our next homestead. I hope to post some pics in the next few weeks that depict it's land as I see it. Stay tuned.

Big Mountain River 36x24

The supply of left-over Halloween candy is getting low. You know what that means. Correct, our favorite holiday is just around the corner and it's time to start putting on the weight in earnest. If we're to make it through the winter we'll need as much extra insulation as possible. With that in mind we have began preparations ...by painting large. I use large brushes and a very large palette. It is placed directly in front of the easel-makes for efficient stand-up painting. I rarely sit to paint. Sometimes I get pretty wore out and just to rest weary legs I'll sit and paint but I find I dabble way too much when seated. Dabbling at paint is not good...kind of like running out of Halloween candy. The trick is to stay decisive, think hard about each stroke and its placement. This is best done (for me) while standing...especially at a large painting. The simple landscapes I make lend themselves to large presentations. I hope to make some more wildlife / figure paintings soon. They will be smaller and more intimate pieces. This great Alaska mountain near Homer is available in the studio. See link at top right of page for link to available work.

Montana Moonrise 24x48

The Y2K thing for me was a real yawner. As much as I would have loved to have glomed on to the hype and horded all kinds of stuff I never really gave it much thought. Plus, I really wasn't too keen on the idea of having to kill off my neighbors to save a few months rations of oats and lentils. But now I'm ready. The extreme multiplication of rabbits in our neighborhood has me thinking that we'll be set come hell or high water. I don't know how long we can live on Hasenpfeffer but I definitely have warmed to the idea. The friend that built a silencer for his Kalashnikov has moved away so I'll not be tempted to borrow that to fend off scavenging stragglers wandering through after the next Y2K. No, there should be enough to go around and if/when they run out there are always plenty of pigeons ...and we all know how good I am at catching pigeons. This great Montana landscape comes courtesy of photography by Mike Mahoney-artist and writer. It is available for sale in the studio.

Sheep Cow Bear

The sheep and cow are from Oregon, the bear hails from Alaska. A friend's son is getting married this week in Oregon. Carmen and I plan to attend...and had planned on sight-seeing, fishing and hiking and photographing every beautiful sun-drenched vista we could find. We were warned that it would probably be rainy and wet...to bring slickers and galoshes. To which warning we scoffed and guffawed and cackled and giggled amongst ourselves. You see, to us rain is only a rare and valuable event-something to be savored, measured, photographed, written about and passed down as legend from one generation to another. Imagine greed-crazed starving Texans dancing in the spray of "black gold" around an oil gusher after they struck it rich. Well, that's us when it rains in our little world. To think of days on end with no sun or moon in sight...they forecasted this for us months ago!...makes one shiver with fear for the end must be near. So, I have looked at the weather channel predictions for the coming week...Oregon, you're in for more of the same. The good news is that all this precipitation portents well for the upcoming ski season...and might just make for some unique inspiration this week. If we make it back alive. These paintings are all available in the studio here...can be seen on-line at our eBay store.