My rendition of Neadeen Master's lesson.

Many of my friends went to the SDP convention this past week. As disappointing as it was not to be able to go, I was elated to finally finish Linda Wise’s Block 5 lesson and pass. Congratulations on all those who completed a board this year and a special congratulations for the few who passed. I’m looking forward to painting a board for next year.

New Beginnings beyond the Horizon

Yesterday, was day one for Al at Armour Eckrich. While he works I nest at the Motel 6 across the street, with my paints and canvas. We’ve already gone apartment looking and hope to be settled on a place by this weekend. We have such hopes for Junction City. I hope to start my art career here. It may seem like an unlikely starting point, but it is ripe for classes and for building a business.

I hope to share my thoughts here on getting started in art and outline the steps I take. Hopefully others will find my steps encouraging and enlightening. And of course, through my missteps along the way you may learn what NOT to do.

From the waterlilies growing in the neighborhood pond to the fields of goldenrod flagging in the fall season, it’s as if seeing my home for the very first time.

There is so much to capture we are taking every opportunity to explore our surroundings with cameras in hand. One weekend we visited Daniel Boone’s home where he spent his last days. The next week brought us to Old town St. Charles for the Festival of the Little Hills. A week later still, we were hunting for wildflowers in Cuiver River State Park. There are a myriad of things to see, do and explore. Our cameras have been clicking just as much here at home as they were on the road. Later on I will try to put together a link for some of our photos from around here.

When we aren’t out exploring Al fills his time writing and searching for work, and I am painting and studying art with a vengeance. The DecoArt Traditions School, opened it’s doors for business August 15 and I am camped out there every day. This is easy to do because the school is totally online and I never have to leave my house to participate. How cool is that.

If you are an artist following my blog, I highly recommend the Traditions Art School. It makes no difference if you are a novice painter or a highly skilled professional. There is something for everyone packed into each lesson. Why don’t you hit the link and check it out.

Unlike taking classes in a brick and mortar school, it doesn’t matter when you start online. You work at your own pace so there are not deadlines to get the lessons done. The very first lesson takes you back to the beginning of known art. You visit the Lascaux Caves in France and study the cave paintings. Then you paint your own. Here are a couple of my attempts:

I’ve also been busy painting my own designs. Here is a Brown-eyed Susan composition I painted for the Just Paint It challenge on the Art Apprentice Online group forum. It is based off of a photo I took of coneflowers. It’s amazing how similar the two flowers are in shape. I only needed to change my palette to turn them into Brown-eyed Susans.

As an artist I am moving more and more towards my own designs and personal expression. While up to this point my blogs have been all journey related, they will be turning to this new journey. The road to becoming an independent artist. I hope to share my struggles and discoveries along the way. Please check in often to see what I’m painting and add a comment about your own work, if you like.

Time on the road was drawing to an end. We left Colorado Springs with an urgency like a race horse rounding the track and seeing the finish line before him. How quickly the mountains faded behind us and the land flattened out before us. You would think this would be perfect land for wind farms but the windmills were mostly of the old, abandoned variety. Close to the Kansas border, a lone coyote gave us a passing glance before turning a watchful eye back to a nearby herd of deer.

We turned back to catch a shot, but the coyote and deer had already disappeared. Like so much of the trip’s sights and sounds, the moment was awe inspiring yet fleeting. By the time we realize what we are seeing, it is gone. If nothing else this trip has taught me to live in the moment, to see what is around me, and to find beauty in the mundane and plain.

Rolling in from the north, we watched a ceiling of dark clouds move in. We prayed we’d pass through the area before it broke open, but to no avail. The floodgates opened and slowed us down. Usually, this would have been a moment of pure panic and hyperventilation, but somehow I managed to keep my hysteria contained until the skies cleared. I just kept focused on getting to Kansas City, where my daughter and her husband would be dining with us.

Left to right: Chris, Sarah, Me and Al

The next morning a trip to the Nelson-Atkins Art Museum was a must before heading back home to Wentzville. I grew up with the Nelson Art Museum and the Kansas City Art Institute and it felt like coming home to visit it this last time. Surprisingly, I headed to the 17th Century Dutch paintings and saw a few more from my favorite painters. Al caught me off guard admiring a Dutch landscape.

The day was slipping away and we knew it was time to head home. A short three hours and our trip would be over. The familiar landmarks passed by echoing the end of our adventure. We felt the end was quickly approaching when we spotted this familiar site:

This journey may have ended, but our adventure is just beginning. Stay tuned.

We stayed at our timeshare in Vail, Colorado for a few days on the return leg of our trip. It’s funny that we’ve owned there for years, but have never been to Vail until this trip. We had always banked our week in an exchange company to trade in for other destinations. So you can imagine our surprise in finding it a destination worth trading into not out of.

The town has strict building regulations to maintain the alpine look in all construction. It is a walking town where locals and tourists alike meander through wide squares and narrow flower lined paths to high dollar boutiques and galleries. For the thirsty or hungry, an abundance of restaurants with open air seating are available.

We just happened to be their during their monthly farmers market, where not a bit of local produce could be found. Instead there was live music, many local artists–each unique in their own way– and good eats. And where you could sit in the plazas, if you were so inclined, and do nothing but people watch.

Speaking of which, these two young’uns couldn’t figure out if this cowboy was real or a statue. Even when he moved, they really weren’t certain. He stayed completely still until someone put a dollar in his guitar, then he would move ever so slightly. When these two put a dollar in his guitar he tipped his hat and they both ran squealing back to the safety of their parents. Watching them was priceless.

From Vail we climbed and dropped, twisted and turned our way along I-70 to Denver, then headed due south to Colorado Springs, a place of beauty I remembered from my youth. Rain was in the forecast so Pikes Peak was out of the question but we hiked through Garden of the Gods. Some of the rock formations seemed to defy physics as they balanced one on top of another. But for all the surrounding beauty, the chipmunks stole most of my attention.

Just down the road from Garden of the Gods, and at the foot of Pikes Peak lies the quaint tourist trap of Manitou Springs. We headed for lunch and I was in heaven. Artists co-ops and private galleries lines the streets.

I spoke with one of the local artists who had moved there from Chicago because of the art scene in Manitou. He and his wife, like us, searched the country for just the right spot to set up a studio. That was 20 years ago and he’s never regretted it. “You can just feel the creative energy in the air,” he said. “And the community is very supportive of the arts.”

Unfortunately, I didn’t catch his name, but I remember he was at the Green Horse Gallery. Some other studios and galleries I really liked include Commmonwheel Artists Co-op and The Business of Art Center. I hope you’ll take the time to check out these links. It is well worth the effort.

I could have spent a lot more time there, but the skies looked ominous and we still has so much more to see of Colorado Springs area. We next headed to Old Colorado City, another area known for its art galleries. We were not disappointed. My favorite gallery there was the Hunter-Wolff Gallery. An inviting little storefront with a plethura of paintings that just spoke to me. Jean Hughton, one of the painters represented by the gallery was filling in for the owner that day. We had a lovely artsy chat. She started out years ago teaching folk art in California, but moved on to landscapes, still life and florals. Hmmm…sounds like someone else I know. She is now a member of the Pastel Society and her work is simply gorgeous.

You can take a look at Jean’s work on the Hunter-Wolff Gallery website, where you can also see all of their other artists’ work. Be sure to check out two of my favorites–Katherine McNeill and John Sherman. Katherine combines her faith and her art to create inspiring pieces without being dictatic or preachy. And John’s red trees are simply breathtaking.

A heavy downpour brought our day to an end, but it was a day to be remembered and cherished. So much beauty, so much art, so many wonderful artsy encounters.

From Portland we traveled across Oregon, following the Columbia River. Parts of it, like the photo above, reminded me of a photo of China that Al has on his laptop. The farther we traveled east the fewer trees we saw until we found ourselves traveling through barren high desert. Outside of Pendleton we discovered an Indian Cultural Center to investigate.

This was a beautiful facility full of interesting history and voice recorded stories of the four tribes of the Columbia River Basin. I couldn’t take in a camera or I would be sharing the beautiful beadwork I found there. I was fascinated with the floral patterns used to decorate these native American’s clothes and horses. And this cultural institute was packed full of examples. In the living history area several young women demonstrated beading techniques and I spoke with a woman about the need to preserve the arts of our respective cultures. She too painted and told me about how different tribes would historically use different colors and designs. These are the type of random encounters that have made this trip so exciting.

Our next stop was just across the border into Idaho–Boise, Idaho that is. I had arranged a paint in with two online artist friends, Carolyn W. and Connie P. Even though I was weary from several straight days of driving, the day was a joyful oasis from the road.

Back to front: Connie P. and Carolyn W.

The temperature hit 108 that day, which made me very thankful to be inside painting. Carolyn has a fabulous studio. I could only dream to have one so nice some day.

After this trip I will always think of flowers and more flowers when I think of Washington. We stayed with Al’s Aunt Lena and Uncle Gene in the Seattle ‘burbs where beautiful rose bushes lined their driveway. Covington Days was just starting and we strolled through the Art Show connnected to it. The show was set up in the lobby of the local hospital and I have to admit that the beautiful gardens on the hospital grounds were just as inspiring as the art, if not more. And that is not saying anything bad about the art.

The next day Cousin Debbie and a friend took us to the local farmers market, where once again flowers took center stage. I swear we took more than 500 photos of flowers.

After a visit much too short, we headed out to see the Pacific. We didn’t want to come all the way to Washington and not at least make one stop at the ocean. When we climbed to the top of the sand dune blocking our view of the ocean, a strong, steady wind hit us full force. It sent a chill to my bones and sent Al scurrying back to the truck to get jackets. Driftwood dotted the beach and only a few hardy souls braved the water. Needless to say, we were feeling neither hardy nor brave.

We drove along the coast, heading towards Portland, and passed small groups, families and individuals at low tide digging through sandy inlets hunting for clams or oysters. What a neat way to have family time. I could picture a huge clam bake along the shore after a day of gathering. Treats Midwesterners like us only can imagine.

And of course, we couldn’t drive by Mt. St. Helene without checking it out. Al had seen it once years ago during a business trip and was anxious to show me all the devastation.

Yes, evidence of the eruption was still prevalent, but areas once barren with ash and fallen timbers are now coming back to life.

It was enough to inspire greater hope in the future. No matter what we go through, no matter how devastating it may seem at the time, we can overcome it and start anew.

All high rises and water, Vancouver, British Columbia is a feast for the eyes. We only had one day to take it all in so made the most of it. To see as much of the city as we could we rode the Skyline (a metro train) into the center of downtown.

Then, caught a tourist trolley to see the highlights. Vancouver proved to be the most culturally diverse city we had visited. We passed by turbaned men with long beards working fields on the outskirts of the city. We heard a multitude of languages and accents reaching well beyond the British Empire at it’s greatest. And, we marvelled at the size of Chinatown, with all its open markets and wheeling and dealings.

Of course, being an artist, for me the highlight of the city was the Art Museum where we spent hours enjoying an exhibit of Vermeer, Rembrandt and the 17th Century Dutch Masters on loan from the Rikjs Museum in Amsterdam. What a wonderful treat this was. I could have stayed in the still life room forever. The downside was I had to check my camera. How I would have loved to have photo’d all those beautiful, vibrant flowers. And oh the glass and metals! They looked so real. To paint like that would be a dream come true.

Another place I really loved was Gastown, an old district of studios, shops and patio restaurants lined along shady streets dotted with hanging flower baskets. We strolled down the streets and looked through all the windows. Then shared some wine at a street cafe, where we could people watch and take in the ambience.

The day ended way to soon.

Two of the most beautiful places we recently visited were Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks. Of course, Yellowstone is the home of Old Faithful, a geyser that faithfully blasts off steam and boiling water every hour, give or take 10 minutes either way, 125 feet into the air. I didn’t quite catch it at its full height in the above photo. Frankly, its PR is greater than the actual event. I found the unfaithful, unpredictable geysers to be of far more interest.

We walked along wooden paths through geyser fields, where steam popped out of the ground from one geyser or another. We never knew which ones would start spewing water and met with several surprises. Open mudpits boiled like heavy gravy in some places while in others sulphuric stench eminated from cratered pools of crystal blue mineral water. I can’t imagine how they determined where to put the boardwalk through the geyser fields. It felt like walking through a mine field, not knowing where the next eruption might take place. Even the trees could not withstand the hot blasts and were petrified to ghostly white.

The rest of Yellowstone is more like I had always pictured it, mountains forests, open prairies and lots of wildlife. These picas burrowed in the ground and were the cutest little things. They chittered and whistled back to one another much like birds.

We saw roaming herds of buffalo along the northwestern valley just passed Yellowstone Lake, which was so big that waves actual broke along the shoreline. Later on down the road we caught this lonely bull grazing alongside the road.

I stood less than 50 feet away from this bull elk that posed for me with a smile. That made my day.

Our only disappointment was in not seeing a moose nor a bear. Afterall, Yellowstone is known for its bears, but we didn’t see a one.

Our next destination from Yellowstone was Glacier National Park in the upper Northwest corner of Wyoming. For beauty and breathtaking views it surpassed Yellowstone.

Glacier is tauted as the park where wildflowers meet the mountains. And its slogan definitely fit it. The wildflowers were just gorgeous. I took lots of reference photo for my own future paintings. But here is a little taste of what I saw.

We also saw wildlife at Glacier, though not to the same extent as Yellowstone. Here is a mountain goat Al captured.

The only luck I had at snapping off wildlife photos was in capturing their behinds, so I’ll end with this spike buck heading home for the day. I think he had had enough of the tourists and was heading out. And so did we, heading out to Montana, Washington and British Columbia.

What better way to spend Indepence Day than to be at Mt. Rushmore. Outside of visiting our nation’s capitol, which we had already done, I couldn’t think of a more fitting place to be on July 4th. The skies looked ominous on the 3rd, when fireworks were scheduled. We found out we would need to be at Mt. Rushmore by 8 a.m. in order to find a parking place, then wait around for more than 12 hours for the fireworks. That may be exciting for someone half my age, but I couldn’t think of worse torture. So we spent the day painting and seeing the sights of Spearfish, where we were staying, and the surrounding communities. We puttered around the main street through town checking out the quaint shops and antique stores. I found an old tin teapot to paint, so I was a happy camper.

As it turned out, we made a wise choice. Clouds and fog had rolled in around the mountains and the fireworks couldn’t be seen. I heard one tourist the next day laughing about seeing the most colorful fog he had ever seen.

By the way, if you’ve never been to the Badlands, you really should go at least once. I envisioned the Badlands to be barren hills of dry desert. What a delight to find luscious green rolling plains, blanketed in wildflowers that give way to mountainous pines and big open skies. And the antelope–I had never seen one, but now we were seeing them grazing here and there. Once we even saw a whole herd of antelope chasing the wind up the side of a grassy hill. I couldn’t stop from singing, “Home on the Range” in my head. How corny can you get!

The next day we drove down to Mt. Rushmore. When we first spotted the monument carved into the mountain we were disappointed. We thought the carvings looked so small. But as we got closer and closer the presidents grew and grew. Even at our closest vantage point we were still very far away and the carvings were gigantic. We were in awe at the undertaking this must have been.

From Mt. Rushmore we drove south a little ways to see Crazy Horse. This carving is far from being done, but is amazing all the same.

What I found the most interesting aspect of Crazy Horse was the Indian Cultural Museum attached to it, where I found many examples of Native American decorative art from painted buffalo skin boxes to beaded gloves, dresses and leggings. Hmmm…I wonder how much these designs and palettes have blended into our American decorative art in general.