Side of the Road and Autumn in Melrose

Side of the Road

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In my reluctance to leave the Wisdom area, I drove back roads, I soaked in the October air, watched the sky, looked at cows and horses and electric-colored trees - and painted. 

I made these paintings in the megalopolis of Melrose, Montana, a tiny town between Butte and Dillon. Lots of cows, a hotel with cabins and RV spaces, a fly shop, and the Big Hole River, winding through it all. I saw a volunteer fire station, houses, ranches and not much else. The population in 2014 was 138 - more than Wisdom's 98 but less than Wachapreague's 232.                                                                                                                   I don't think a single car passed me in the hours that I stood at the side of the road and made these paintings. The day was cool, the sun was warm and the heavy clouds softened the edges of the rocks, and brought out the deep, rich colors of the land. 

Autumn in Melrose

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More of Melrose

Above, lots and lots and lots of cows in Melrose. I'd wager that cows easily outnumber people.

Above, the volunteer fire department in Melrose, Montana. 

Below, a cool door on the fly shop in Melrose. 

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Dog of the Day

Here's Tiny, who's best friends (well, sort of) with Tanner, DOD from yesterday. Here's how their relationship works: Tiny will be sitting there, minding his own business, and Tanner will come up and bark, bark, bark, bark, bark - until Tiny finally leaps up, snarls and chases Tanner around the yard or house. Then Tiny goes back to relaxing, Tanner spends some time doing something else, and then the entire cycle starts all over again. 

Last Look and Yellow Trees

Last Look at the Big Hole

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Since I'm home, it feels right to send out a couple paintings in each of the remaining newsletters, so we can get to the choosing more quickly. I thought about posting all the rest of the paintings in this newsletter, since they're already up on the Jacobson Arts website, but there are things to say about each of them, and so I am going to string this along for a little big longer.

These final few paintings are probably the most emotional of the trip. I was feeling tired and lonely and so far from home - but I was exhilarated by what I was seeing and what I was painting, and as always with these paintings trips, I didn't want the journey to end.  All of that shows up in these pieces, I think. It shows in the brilliant colors that pulled so strongly on my heart. It shows in the wide, free splashes of paint I put on the canvas, and how I loved the silky feel of those mixed colors, those random melanges. It shows in the details I decided to allow and the many more that I decided to let pass. This trip brought me to a place of ease, excitement and freedom in my painting that I'd never experienced, and it shows in all the paintings, but especially, I believe, in these final ones. 

And I'd be leaving out part of the story if I didn't mention how very scared I was, with each piece, that the thing I found I could do - and which I did do - would suddenly be gone. 

Yellow Trees

10x10

These yellow trees, whatever they were, cottonwoods or tamaracks or aspens, they were the visual extravagance of this trip. They were the glitter, the glitz, the sparkle of this autumn landscape, and I fell in love with them. This particular grove was in Divide, on the way to Wisdom. I saw it on the trip in, and had to go back and find it on the trip out. It was so very windy, however, that I had to paint inside the van. I'm going to make a large version of this painting very soon, before the memory of the shine and flash of these trees fades.

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Scenes from the Road 

Saw this marvelous painting, above, in a store in Wachapreague. Below, the sign on the door of the gas station: "Open til Closed / 8 or 9 to 5 or 6 / Closed when door locked." 

p.s., the gas station is for sale... 

Just a pretty scene near Divide, east of Wisdom. 

Above, the Crossing, the only restaurant in town. Below is Shale, my wait person, who just earned her master's degree in Emergency Management and Disaster Resiliance at Tulane in New Orleans. She'd come back to Wisdom because her grandparents have a ranch just outside of town, and she'd spent nearly every summer of her life there, so it seemed like a good place to gather herself together and figure out where to look for work and start on her career.  

A nice sculpture outside the gallery in Wisdom. 

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Dog of the Day

It's Tanner, a sweet little dog who lives with a couple in Omaha who collect my art, and sponsored me on this trip. Next time, you'll meet Tiny, Tanner's doggie housemate. 

Bales

Bales

20x20 commission

All over the West, there are bales of hay standing there, preparation for the winter. The bales - whether they're round of gray - are enormous, and the stacks they're in are bigger than any that I've seen around here. 

I've never completely understood how hay bales are made, and I still don't really understand how the square ones are made, but I did find a cool YouTube video about how the round ones are made. You can see it by clicking here. 

This scene is just outside of downtown Wisdom. The land is mostly Bureau of Land Management land, open to everyone, and there are ranches, too. Cattle from the ranches graze on the BLM land, and in many places in Wyoming, you see signs saying "Open Range," meaning that cows or horses or bison or what have you might be walking across the road at will. 

This was a special piece that I made for a collector to give to his new love on her birthday. I hear it was a successful present!  

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Downtown Wisdom

Above, a couple of the businesses in downtown Wisdom. The Horn and Hook also had good espresso, and the bar next door, an excellent breakfast. People told me it has good burgers, too. Below, a longer view of downtown. 

 Above, the Nez Perce motel. It has eight rooms, and all were full when I was there. The place was clean and simple, with plenty of hot water and pretty good TV and internet. There's zero cell phone service in Wisdom, however. Below, the American Legion Hall.

 

Above, the view from my hotel room. 

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Dog of the Day

It's Girl, who spends her time in the gas station in Wisdom. She's pretty shy, doesn't like to be petted, but enjoys hanging out in the gas station anyways.

Afternoon on the Big Hole

Afternoon on the Big Hole

20x20

The gray sky hung in over the land around Wisdom, Montana, and though I am a fan of the huge blue sky, the gray afternoon crept into my bones and into my palette and brought our all the rich colors of autumn. 

I grew up in New England, where fall was a glory, a riot of color and heat, crimsons and deep oranges, yellows so bright they look lighted from the inside. Fall skies were blisteringly blue, clouds sharp and white, and unless the trees were blazingly colored, it wasn't a good autumn. 

The West is so different. Here, near Wisdom, under a soft, gray sky, the grasses shone subtly yellow, the evergreens made a deep, dark background, and whatever those spiky bushes are - I never found anyone who knew - they added deep red splashes with purple/gray shadows at the base. I saw no fish rising, and saw only that one guy fishing, but I know what a perfect river this is for autumn fishing and, yes, for autumn painting. 

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Scenes from the Road

The Big Hole at one of its wide points, south of Wisdom

Saw this lone guy fishing both days I was in the area. 

When you're up this high, on the high plains, you're pretty much in the sky. 

 My second day in the area, the sun did come out. 

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Dog of the Day

Yup, it's Koko, and we're celebrating her coming to live with us, just about a year ago. 

Peter saw Koko, who was being fostered by our friend Christine Stark, and he knew she was my dog. And he knew how much I needed a dog, since the death of my Jojo. So I stopped in to Christine's house on the way back from a show, and got little Koko. 

Even though we didn't know each other that well, Koko knew I was her human, and she wasn't letting me leave Christine's house without her. 

A year later, Koko is my best doggie girlfriend. She has helped bring me back to life after Jojo's death. She keeps me company, greets me with delight every time she sees me, and makes sure I take time to play, each and every day. 

Big Hole River

Big Hole River

10x10

The sky was gray and overcast when I arrived in Wisdom, Montana, but that was OK. I brought all the sunshine I'd need. Wisdom, after all, is one of my favorite places on earth, and to me, it's beautiful in sun or rain or deep clouds, and that's what I got. 

On the way from Butte, I'd seen gorgeous views, tawny, burnished fall colors, and the river shining blue and gray as it curved through the countryside. Tiny towns gave way to open spaces, and the air grew cooler and fresher by the mile. 

People were camped everywhere along the river, and cars were pulled over, too, while people scouted and waited and hunted. I only saw one person fishing, and he was on the river all day. 

Sometimes on painting trips, it's hard to find the right thing to paint. In the Wisdom area, there was something to paint everywhere I turned, and I spent no time looking for the better view, the better site. When I saw something I wanted to paint, I found a place to pull over, and I set up and painted. I could have spent a week right there, and still, I'd not have made all the paintings I wanted to make. 

This was my first painting of the Big Hole. I love the way the river curves around the little hummock. Love the colors of the grasses and the red bushes, and how they contrast to the thick evergreens on the far bank. With this painting, I felt like the paint and the landscape were one and the same, in a way. Both spoke to me, and I heard them equally. 

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Scenes from Wisdom

An eternity ago, Peter and I lived in Boise, Idaho. We fished a lot while we were out there, in small rivers and big ones, unknown creeks and world-famous fly-fishing spots. One of my favorites was Kelly Creek, in northeast Idaho. 

We took a trip there one fall, and we camped in a great spot in a national forest, down a long, bumpy dirt road. The river was gorgeous, clear as glass, full of west-slope cutthroat trout, and Peter and Gus (our bichon) and I had a great time camping and fishing. We went down that long, bumpy road, and at the other end, found ourselves in Montana, just outside the teeny town of Wisdom. 

There's nothing much in Wisdom, not really. It's a town of 100-plus people, probably about 100 buildings and a few roads. There's a hotel and a B&B. There's a restaurant, two bars, a gallery, a general store, a gas station, an outdoors store/espresso bar and a few other businesses. A few ranches skirt the borders of the town. 

And then there's everything else. The land stretches away, flat, high plains with the Big Hole River winding through. At the edges, in all directions, are mountains. The air is brilliantly, beautifully clear. The light is thin and white and sharp. At night, it's not traffic that you hear but cows mooing. I've never seen more stars. 

I fell in love with the area when we were there so many years ago, and I fell in love with it again this time. It was the start of hunting season, and fishing was still going strong, so it was a busy time for Wisdom. I could only spend one night in town, and even that was a fluke, as a hunter had caught his take and gone home early. 

I made the most of my time there, scouting the Big Hole, painting like crazy, and taking tons of photos to paint when I get home. 

 Above and below, the beautiful Big Hole River. Lewis and Clark decided to name the tributaries of the Jefferson River Philanthropy, Philosophy and Wisdom, but settlers changed the names to the Big Hole, Beaverhead and Ruby. But the name "Wisdom" stuck for the town, and just east of Wisdom is the Wise River, and Wise River Valley.

 Above and below, a couple of the ranches along the Big Hole. 

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Dog of the Day

Two were standing on the box in the back of the truck, while the third waits in the driveway. They were barking their heads off, too, as if balancing back there were not quite enough.