Storm in Big Horn

Storm in Big Horn

10x10

When I went back to my little spot in Big Horn, Wyoming, to finish "Remembrance of Things Past," I decided to paint the storm, partly from the photograph I'd taken, and partly from the landscape I was seeing. 

Storms out West are pretty intense. I'd imagine the same sort of thing happens when you're way out on an ocean - you can see the weather coming, clearly, for miles and miles and miles. It's fascinating, and a little scary, a little unsettling, to watch the black clouds and the downstreams of rain heading toward you. 

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Public Art in Sheridan, Wyoming

I've never seen a town with the kind of commitment to public art that Sheridan, Wyoming, has. On most of the corners of the main downtown street - and many side streets, as well - there are beautiful, fascinating, fun, lovely sculptures. They bring the downtown alive in a way I've never seen. 

According to Sheridan Public Arts, the program began with an idea and a group of interested citizens, in 1992. They wanted to create a public place for art, art fairs and the like. In 2001, the Grinnell Plaza project began, funded by donations, grants and the city. The mayor at the time, Jim Wilson, formed a public arts committee whose mission was to promote the Grinnell Plaza project, and choose works of art for it and for other parts of the city. 

The committee eventually chose eight sculptures. In the years since, a 1 percent for art optional sales tax, and ongoing funding from individuals and organizations has led to Sheridan having 59 permanent sculptures and many others that are on loan to the city and available for purchase. 

One person I spoke with said that the Mayor Wilson was absolutely obsessed with the sculpture program - and it shows. It's a delight to walk the streets and see the amazing, varied and lovely pieces of sculpture in the downtown. It bring life, vitality and richness to the downtown! Wish every downtown did it. I think I will bring the idea up in Wachapreague when I get home. 

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Dog of the Day

Here's a nice golden, behaving well in Downtown Deadwood. 

Remembrance of Things Past

Remembrance of Things Past

18x36

I was midway through this painting when the storm blew in, with all its rain and hail, for hours and hours. The next day, I came back to the same spot and finished the painting, with that day's mountains and the previous day's sky. 

I'm writing this several days in advance. I've traveled hundreds of miles and made many more paintings, and I can tell you that this piece and the previous one began a process of unlocking my painting in ways I'd hoped for but never quite imagined. The sky in this painting and the trees in the previous painting (Tucked Away) have freed me from bounds I never knew were holding me down. 

Above, the day I finished this painting. Below, the day I started it.  

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Cowboy Up! 

I stopped in the Starbucks in Sheridan, Wyoming, and was working on the blog there when Don Tescher, above, came up to me and told me a series of jokes that I can't remember right now. 

We got to talking, and he said he had been a rodeo rider for 40 years. He rode bucking horses (that's what he called them, not "bucking broncs") and he had loved it. He had broken a few bones, he said, but not many, and had never spent a night in the hospital, unlike many riders. 

Don was one of 10 kids, growing up on a ranch in North Dakota. His dad was a rodeo cowboy, and Don had loved it from the moment he was able to participate. The photos below are him riding, which he started when he was 14. He won his first contest at 17, and his first trophy buckle at 18. It was a hard life, but one he loved, and he pursued even after he was married and had kids. He did go back to the amateur level, at that point, but he kept riding. He said he rode more than 1,300 bucking horses, competing in 36 states and five Canadian provinces. At one point, he was ranked 17th in the world.

Rodeo cowboys will often ride in more than one rodeo in a week, driving all night to get from one to the next. They sometimes see the same horses in different rodeos, Don told me, adding that most bucking horses only are ridden once every three or four weeks. They're treated very well, he said, and kept healthy. 

Still, I have some trouble with rodeos, the same sort of trouble I have with zoos, aquariums and horse races. I don't begrudge anyone their enjoyment of these - I used to love all of them! But I'd rather see the horses out in the fields, bucking and running and rolling in the grass, or even being ridden to corral a herd or guide them on their way. 

Above, Don's father is standing, far left, and Don's uncle is standing, far right. Below, a friend of Don's, who - amazingly - did not fall off after this award-winning photo was taken! 

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Dog of the Day

The first time I saw this, on the rainy day, I thought maybe the dog was chasing the car, or had escaped from the yard and this is how his human got him back. The second time I saw it, the next day, I realized that this is how the dog's human gets him his exercise! I saw another person doing the same thing, 20 miles away, a few days later. 

Tucked Away

Tucked Away

10x10

I set out for Big Horn, Wyoming, after seeing a billboard advertising a western art museum there, The Brinton Museum. A guy at a fly shop in downtown Sheridan also said it was beautiful, so it seemed like a good destination, and not too far, either. AND paved roads, which was especially good, as my paintings weren't drying quickly, and were (and still are) hanging all over the inside of the van. 

Big Horn is quite lovely. Lots of big fields, rivers, bright autumn foliage. Plenty of deer, too, singularly unimpressed with the people driving by them. 

I found a quiet spot to set up, and went to work. I love the way this little cabin is tucked away into the trees, and how the yellows and golds and oranges glowed in the overcast morning. I finished this painting, and started a second one, and I could see the storm moving in. The temperature fell, the sky darkened, and I could rain headed toward me. I packed everything up just in time, and sat in the van. Rain turned to a downpour, then to hail, and it was clear that it wasn't going to let up soon, so I set off for the museum,  just down the road. 

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Brinton Museum

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THE BRINTON MUSEUM was a wonderful experience! I was one of two visitors, so I felt like it was a private showing, which made it even more special.

I saw wonderful Western art by Frederic Remington and Charles Russell, whom I've heard of, and amazing portraits - many in crayon - by a painter named Winold Reiss, whom I'd never heard of. 

The 35 portraits in the museum were all of  Blackfeet tribe members, and were arresting and beautiful and fascinating. And different! 

Reiss was born in Germany, and came to the US in 1913. He wanted to dedicate his art career to painting Native Americans, and spent a large portion of his life living and painting in the Blackfeet Confederacy in Montana. To learn more about him, click here.

The museum also had a great collection of art and artifacts - head dresses, saddle blankets, clothing, bags and more - made by the Plains Indians. These were absolutely amazing! And there was a big collection of photographs by William Henry Jackson, as well. 

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Fly Shop of the Bighorns

It's been a while since I've been fishing, but when I did it, I loved it. I almost brought my fly rod, but I really needed to be painting, not fishing, sigh... Peter is a wonderful fisherman, and so when I saw this shop, I thought I should go in. 

It was a beautiful place, and the owner, above left, introduced me to his best fly-tier, above, right, and talked him into giving me some flies. Fun! Also, the owner would like to sell some of my paintings in the shop, so that's exciting - and also a good excuse to visit Sheridan again. 

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Dog of the Day

I was in a Starbucks in Sheridan when this woman came in and got a puppaccino for her dog. I asked it I could take a photo, and she invited me to pet him. She told me he loves his puppaccinos (basically whipped cream in a cup) and helps her navigate through her days. She was not completely blind, but very sight-impaired. They visit Starbucks almost every day.