Cruised up and over Bald hill on my bike looking for a place to draw but the light wasn’t great so I settled for a bench atop the Phoenix Lake Dam and discovered my drawing pad had dissolved! Funny story. In my rush to get out the door I stowed it under my cycling jersey and that apparently wasn’t the smartest move. My sweat melted the paper. I literally had to peal paper pulp off my back. Lesson learned, Jerseys are not archival storage.
On the upside enough paper survived to do a little watercolor doodle. Maybe that’s not the right word. sweatcolor doodle. Yeah that’s more accurate.
I rode up Indian Fire Road to do a little painting this afternoon. It was a fine warm day but that all changed when that evil shadow crawled down the mountain and draped me in its icy embrace. I might as well have been standing in a snow drift. I folded up the painting gear and sprinted for home but I couldn’t out run the chilly darkness. I was so numb it took a long hot shower to stop my teeth from rattling and my toes to thaw. This months water bill will be one for the record books.
From Indian Fire Road looking down Blithdale Ridge Fire Road and Camino Alto, Looking south towards San Francisco.
For our second round of covid stay at home orders the boys and I have been trying to use our time wisely. They have spent the last few weeks speed running Super Mario Bros, mastering Punch Out, and boldly adventuring in Zelda while I have been documenting their progress in oil.
This is my first large oil in a while (3ft x 4ft) and I’m much happier with it than previous attempts. All the practice in the field is slowly paying off I guess. This time it was much less a roll of the dice and I got the colors more or less where I wanted them. It helps that the lighting in the living room never changes and the kids don’t move much when glued to their screens.
Oil on Canvas. Mostly Rublev paints from NaturalPigments. Lead titanium white, vermillion, bone black… walnut oil. 4 main passes with scrape downs in-between. A few nights of work over the last month. From life, no photo reference.
Spent the afternoon in downtown San Anselmo trying capture the warm atmosphere of all the families celebrating the victory of Joe Biden and a Kamala Harris. There was live music and lots of kids running around while people excitedly talked through n95 masks, popped champagne, ate pizza and drank beer. Joy was everywhere. It was fun to watch. Clearly no one here will miss Donald Trump.
I was painting by the post office steps today in Ross, CA and heard a great deal of cautiously optimistic chatter regarding the election. One gentleman summed up the mood of the community thus, “We might actually be able to sleep next week.” Wouldn’t that be nice.