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. 

Little Bighorn

Little Bighorn

10x10

The wind continued to make painting difficult as I traveled from Sheridan to Butte. I stayed off the empty, windy highway as much as I could. It was windy on the side roads, but not quite as windy as on the highway. I was able to pull into a wide place at the side of the road near the Little Bignorn River, and painted sitting in the van, my legs hanging out the side door. It was a beautiful spot, and made me think a little of Wachapreague, with the grasses and the rich autumn browns and oranges. 

It wasn't until I finished the painting and continued on my way that I realized I'd been painting the Little Big Horn, a river made famous - or infamous - by the battles fought along its banks. The Battle of the Little Bighorn was fought quite close to where I made this painting, in Lodge Grass, Montana. It was one of the major battles between Native Americans and whites, and in this case, the Lakota, Northern Cheyenne and Arapho defeated the U.S. troops, killing Gen. George Custer and hundreds more.  To read more about the Battle of Little Bighorn, click here. 

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Dan Bailey Fly Shop

We've received the Dan Bailey Fly Shop catalog for decades. It's a pretty specific catalog, quite large and glossy - and I have to admit, had I even thought there really was a Dan Bailey Fly Shop (why didn't I think there really was one? I don't know! It always seemed like the Amazon of fly fishing), I'd have thought it would be bright and shiny and glossy, like the original Cabela's, which I visited a few years ago. 

So when I called Peter and told him I'd had to stop in Livingston, Montana, and he said - No kidding, that's where Dan Bailey is! - I was delighted and surprised. And I was even more delighted and surprised to find that Dan Bailey was not a bright, shiny, glossy shop - like LLBean has become - but was relatively small and very homey, full of wood and brick, big windows, high ceilings and hardly any gloss at all. 

I was even more delighted when the guy behind the cash register told me that he was an artist. And as we talked, it turned out that he was a really good artist, well-known and apparently well-selling. 

He showed me photos of some of his paintings. They're fun, bright, graphical and many are very large. He told me he paints with nails and spoons, among other items. The pieces he showed me were mostly birds, but there's a variety of his work on his website, JoeFaysArt.com. 

He lived in Los Angeles for years, and has had had shows at museums and galleries in the US and abroad. He and his wife moved to Montana after Joe spent part of a year as the artist in residence at Yellowstone. He works at Dan Bailey to get out of the studio, he told me, and also because he loves to fly-fish. And I bet he gets a good discount. 

The history of the Dan Bailey Fly Shop is pretty interesting. There really WAS a Dan Bailey.  In the 1930s, he was a professor at the Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute. He and his wife visited Montana on their honeymoon, and spent the next summer camping and fly-fishing in Montana. She drove the car off the road at one point, and they ended up staying in Livingston for a couple days while it was repaired. 

The previous summer, Dan had found that he was unable to get fly-tying materials while he was in Montana. While the car was being repaired, he found a store in Livingston that he could rent for $20 a month, and thought that a fly shop might be a good idea. The next summer, he left teaching and moved to Montana and began the business. It took a while for his wife to join him, but she did. Some good press and some visits by famous fly fishermen helped get Dan's business off the ground, and by the mid-1950s, the shop was established, and Livingston was known as a top fly-fishing destination. For more on the history, and on Dan Bailey's successful efforts to protect Montana's waterways, click here. 

The store is now run by Dan's son, John. Joe the artist told me that John was the fly-fishing advisor for the movie "A River Runs Through It," and in the photo above, you can see stills from the movie. 

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Dog of the Day

A hard-working cattle dog heads back to the barn. 

Outside Joliet

Outside Joliet

10x10

As I drove north into Montana, the mountains became more and more a part of the landscape. Snow covered their peaks, and you could tell these mountains are massive, muscular, tough. The ranges were not huge - Crazy Mountains in one direction, Pioneer Mountains in another, Tobacco Range in a third - so these were separate ranges, with different topography, different origins, probably different geography.

Even though they were far away, they began to surround the landscape, and it gave me the feeling of being very high up, very close to the sky. 

Joliet was a small, quiet town in southern Montana, the kind of place that makes you wonder what people do who live there. It was pleasant and a little old, and in the middle just spectacular scenery and incredible, clear light. 

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Above, the Absaroka Range. I wanted to go and see these mountains, and paint them, and one of my sponsors had suggested it, but storms were blowing in at the high elevations, and I just couldn't see my way clear to go. 

Here are more mountains, this time near Livingston, Montana. I painted these on my return trip.

I began to see the Yellowstone River, running alongside the highway. 

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Dog of the Day

This time, the DOD is a couple of chickens! And I'm very proud of this. One sponsors asked me to look for a painting of chickens, and I promised I would, but wondered if I'd really be able to locate a chicken or two out west. Lo and behold, chickens! The full photo is below. 

Autumn Trees, and Near Red Lodge

Autumn Trees

Oil on canvas, 10x20

As I'm writing this, I am heading home, and it looks like I will probably get home in time for Halloween. It's a little confusing to be posting paintings that I was making as I was heading to Wisdom, but it's OK. So for at least a couple days, I'm going to send more than one painting in each newsletter. 

I made this painting on Tongue River Canyon Road, the day after I painted "Red Afternoon." That day, the "Red Afternoon Day," I had been planning on leaving Sheridan, Wyoming and heading to Montana. But I had such an amazing painting day, the colors were so beautiful and exciting, the landscape so inspiring, I stayed another night in Sheridan. That night. I saw this painting in my mind. I understood what I wanted to paint, how I wanted to see it, how I could make the trees look like flames, how the painting would feel. I went back the next morning, found a perfect spot to pull over, and painted, fast and sure of myself, before the rain came. 

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Near Red Lodge

10x10

I drove to Red Lodge, Montana, and as I mentioned in a previous newsletter, didn't find it particularly compelling. It was nice enough, but not what I wanted to see or paint. The road to the town, however, was lovely, and vibrant and alive in the brilliant afternoon sun. 

It's often difficult to find a good, safe place to pull off the road and paint. In New England, and the East in general, there are ditches along nearly every road. There are ditches in the West, too, but there are also regular pull-in spots, designed, I think, for farm and ranch equipment. These are just long enough to get my van into safely, and I've used them whenever I've found them. 

Near Red Lodge, I found a huge flat space belonging to the state Department of Transportation, I think. My guess is that they store sand there, perhaps, and park snowplows and big pieces of equipment there in the winter. But when I was there, it was empty, and lined with beautiful, bright yellow trees. 

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Yes, where there are trees in Wyoming and Montana, they are brilliant yellow, with tints of orange and green, shimmering and shining in the fall sun. The rest of the land is beautifully colored this October, if more subtle, less brash than the tamaracks and cottonwoods. 

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Dog of the Day

It's Tuffy, whom I met at a hotel near Red Lodge. His human had come to Montana from Oregon, and brought Tuffy along. The dog had belonged to the man's mother, who had died. Tuffy was missing an eye when the mother got him from the shelter, but it didn't seem to faze the dog in the least. 

Red Afternoon

Red Afternoon

10x10

When I set out for the West in October, I really didn't know what to expect in terms of color, scene, foliage. I knew that, no matter what, there would be amazing landscapes to see and paint - the mountains, hills and sky out here have always been enough for me, no matter what the season. 

Even though we lived in Idaho for a few years, I either didn't notice or didn't remember the colors being as rich and mesmerizing as I am finding on this trip. People I've asked say this is a good autumn for color, but not out of the ordinary. Maybe Boise was different? Maybe I just wasn't paying attention. I was working nights then, and honestly, didn't spend much time outside. 

How is autumn where you are? Are the colors brighter than usual this year? Are you noticing them more? I'd love to hear - or see photos if you feel like sending them. 

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Saw this house on the way to Red Lodge, Montana. I will surely paint this in upcoming weeks! 

Tongue River Canyon Road again. 

Here's downtown Red Lodge. It's a small, wealthy-looking town, with the feeling of a ski town. It was very pretty, very upscale, but had that pheeling of phoniness, so I phled less phabricated places. 

Home of Wile E. Coyote? 

This what, gas factory? is just outside of Billings, Montana. Really jars the eye. 

The hanging wall in my van, early in the trip. I'll post a more current photo soon. Pretty much every available inch in my van is covered with paintings right now. I had contemplated bringing Koko, my dog, and I am so very glad I didn't! 

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Dog of the Day

As I was packing up after making my final painting on the Tongue River Canyon Road, I saw another dog running along beside another car. By now, I understood that this was the way the people exercised their dog. I was on one side of the van, and the dog apparently stopped its run to investigate the van, but it was on the other side. By the time I came around, the car had stopped and the dog had taken off. I began to take photos, at which point, a passenger got out of the van and started posing for me!

Tongue River Autumn

Tongue River Autumn

10x10

On this trip, whenever I've asked people where I should paint, what I might miss that they, as residents of the area treasure, I've been sent to beautiful places, stunning places, places that take my breath away. Believe me, this isn't always the case! 

A woman I talked with in the Cowboy Cafe in Sheridan sent me to the Tongue River Canyon, and what a delight that was! I painted there one afternoon, and went back to paint there again the next day. 

It's just outside Sheridan,  near the metropolis of Dayton. You turn just before the town, and drive down a dirt road. Beautiful meadows line one side of the road, and the Tongue River runs along the other side. Again, I didn't go all the way in to the canyon, but stopped where the road narrowed - there was already so much to paint, I was overwhelmed. 

In addition to the beautiful homes, lovely horses, expansive fields and meadows, the autumn light caught a bright, chaotic tangle of trees and underbrush and brought out their colors, copper and brass and the shimmering orange-green-yellow of the tamarack and cottonwood trees. 

It was breath-taking, and it brought me this painting, which is a true breakthrough piece in my painting life. It's hard for me to describe what makes this piece so special, but I can say that I held the knife loosely and I saw the colors and the bits and splashed of light more clearly than I ever have. I painted this small piece with a rush of energy and abandon that I've never known, and it is still thrilling to me. I hope you like it! 

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Tongue River Canyon

I'll post some more photos of the area in the next post! 

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Cowboy Cafe

The Cowboy Cafe was a really fun place for breakfast! And the breakfast was big enough that I had it for lunch, too, which is always a nice bonus. Pleasant wait staff, happy customers, good food at reasonable prices - a pleasant place to eat in downtown Sheridan, Wyoming. 

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Dog of the Day 

You might have to click on this to see it larger... Best Halloween yard yet! 

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A Thought about the West

"Those roads provided breath-taking views. There's something special about an empty road going on and on and on to the horizon where the sun burns the world away into a dancing, shimmering heat haze that reflects the crystal blue sky, literally blurring the line between heaven and earth." 

- Dave Gorman