Grace House, Good-bye

 

19" x 31.125", Acrylic on metal, © 2023

Private Collection

Sometimes you accept to do something that is unfamiliar—not painting, but the subject matter. Photographs are hard to come by except from memories, so you buy models (cars [1948 Ford 100] and a Checker) and use a poor quality Google Map, street view—I envision a driver going as fast as possible in a small town in Idaho and it's a tad blurred as a result. The people are even a problem for they lived in a time when photographs were very expensive not to take but to develop. So, you find some and make comps for reference. 

    You start thinking that you can get it finished in a month and then 18+ months later you finish it. It's not that you don't work on it as it is center-stage in the studio and you ponder the composition, the colors, and textures. Did I say the photograph was of poor quality. You use your memory of a by-gone era when there weren't garage doors in place and the siding was asphalt brick. What is enough detail and what is too much? It weighs on you and you paint it several times with varying degrees of success.

    Life happens at the same time, so you edit a book or two, paint only one other painting as you feel guilty if you don't work on THE painting, but it is always in your mind—even in Paris. You don't want to be like Leonardo and not finish commissions after you have worked out all the problems.

    So, it is finished, and you say good-bye to the Grace House and Mom and Pop out to see you off as you have so many times before. Now it is not just a memory, but an object on the wall.

Rock Creek Hollow

11x22 acrylic on canvas, © 2021

Collection of the Artist

In 1856 handcart immigrants from England and Denmark left Iowa City late in the season and were caught in an early storm in Wyoming. A rescue party was sent from Salt Lake City to bring them in from the plains—it was the Willie Handcart Company. They were saved and yet pulled their handcarts to Rock Creek Hollow where the rescue party had camped in the willows against the bitter cold of the storm. That night, of being saved, my great, great grandfather froze to death and was buried the next morning with 12 other fellow travelers in a common grave laid out like spokes of a wagon wheel.

    We had a family reunion in the hollow to commemorate his death and the life of his daughter through whom most of us were descended. It was a peaceful morning, and the beauty of the location was palpable. He still lies in that common grave now marked with a brass plate telling that Ole Lykke Madsen, 41, died here. He didn't get past this place of beauty in October 1856.

8-Mile Fishing Trip

21x25.75 acrylic on silk canvas, © 2019

Collection of the Artist

For several years I've been asked to paint a "family history" picture, and they may be seen as you peruse the Blog. This is the last one that was requested by my wife's sister, who passed shortly after its completion. It is a composite of an old photograph and discussions with my brother-in-law (seen behind his father) near the beaver dams along the 8-mile stream. This was a frequent location for the family to go on a fishing outing.

  As I walked the stream looking for a spot that might serve as an appropriate location, I came upon this area where I could imagine a father and son fishing—water, crystal clear and cold as it came out of the mountains above. The small black and white photo of a similar event was not  as clear or as telling as what I would wish, but I believe that the result of the interpretation of, research of place, and attire helped make it a successful painting.

 

Pete's Plane—Hawaii

11x14, Acrylic on Linen Panel, © 2018

Private Collection

It's been some time since I've posted some work. This is a painting of a young man training to be a pilot in Hawaii between the wars, about 1935. I'd never painted a plane before and this was a challenge for that reason. The research for an historical painting is immense. It was from a black and white photograph and had to be recognizable as to the person.

Edward Oliver and Susannah Lord

10x8, oil on canvas panel, © 2017

7x5, oil on canvas panel, © 2017

I've written about an oil painting class taken at UVU. Here are two more portraits completed during that productive time—my wife's great-great grand parents. They came from England and crossed the plains; and when their wagon axel broke on the plains of Nebraska, they wintered there—Edward's first wife Sarah, a family of seven children, and Susannah, the nanny. 

    In the Spring of 1861 they were to resume their trip west; however, Sarah and their seven children decided to stay in Nebraska and farm. After Edward and Susannah arrived in Utah, he settled in Sessions (currently Bountiful, Utah). Edward subsequently married Susannah, and they had seven children also. My wife is descended through one of these children.

    The paintings were done from small photos of the couple. Edward's was very high contrast. I made a polymer lift from the photo and painted the back, like a cartoon cell, and then finished the portrait in oil. Susannah's was done more the old fashioned way through brute force and awkwardness. 

 

Mardean with Izatt Homestead Cabin, Thatcher

8x10 oil on canvas panel, © 2017

Collection of the Artist

One summer day in 1970 I went on an excursion with Mardean Izatt to Charles Izatt's homestead cabin in Thatcher, Idaho. I painted the larger work of the cabin on the spot, but years later I painted this from a photo of Mardean in front of her father's cabin. It was a special time and a moment for both of us. She never saw this painting, but her daughter wanted it for her posterity.

Mardean and the Big White House

5x7 oil on canvas panel © 2017

Collection of the Artist

Mardean Izatt as a two year old in front of the Big White House by the Side of the Road, in Thatcher, Idaho. Wind was blowing her tunic up.

 

Mowing the Yard

16x20 acrylic on canvas, © 2015
 Private Collection

The man is resolved to accomplish a menial task. It is early afternoon, and the day’s work started with milking at 5 a.m. Now there is a moment to relax and let the horses do their job.

    Mowing the yard is a thankless task that must be done. Tired from the day, the man slumps on the mowing machine and lets the cleats of the wheels jostle him as they hit the hard ground and his thoughts turn to family and the supper that awaits at the end of the day. …or he may think of nothing at all, numbed by the forward movement of the mower and the relentless noise of the cutters—just relax and get this job done.

    The man is Charles Izatt; the place is his ranch in Thatcher, Idaho. The connection is that he is my wife's grandfather.

Parley's Pride

18x24 Acrylic on panel, © 2014
Private Collection

There are always firsts. This was a first for horses.  Well, almost a first. I sat by Antonio, a Native American, in third grade. He was great at drawing horses, and I always envied his ability.  Later I entered a "contest" on the "Sheriff Dan Show" and won a sewing machine for my grandmother. But I'll not count those as horses that would compare with this endeavor.  After watching horse pulls for hours, researching horse anatomy, and harnesses, I made the attempt. Dress harnesses are not the run of the mill harness, as they are much fancier and for show.
    I have always admired horses, even before the third grade.  Draft horses are powerful athletes and responsive to the occasion and the teamster. These horses have "performed" and are now pulling the owner, Parley, around the arena which has the purpose of settling them down after the Adrenalin rush of the pull. You can see the power in the arms of the man and can hear the loud speaker host announce the next event.  What a great day for a pull.
    The challenge of the painting was to have the sense of place not take away from the horses and man. They must remain supporting characters in the display—seeing into shadows and feeling the power and desire of the horse and master, so that the spirit of the event is present.

    The meaning of the painting is expressed best here:

From “Why I don’t call myself a ‘Mormon feminist,’” Deseret News, March 26, 2015 

…“Marriage in the temple was another reminder that we can’t receive every celestial blessing on our own. My new vulnerability was ultimately like closing the proverbial umbrella to receive a shower of heavenly blessings that sometimes even drenched and always sustained. 

    “Temple ordinances taught me that my husband needed me, and I needed him, and we both needed the Savior to succeed. Those truths parallel to daily drudgeries as well. When we don’t work as a team and when we don’t turn to God for guidance, our finances are a mess, we are less-than-our best in our careers and our children exploit any semblance of a divide. The opposite has proven to be true—not any easier, but true, nonetheless. 

    “My wise father grew up on a farm in southeastern Idaho where his father trained Clydesdale horses. His favorite parable for marriage is a team of horses that can’t move forward unless they are walking side-by-side and equally yoked. He also frequently counseled me, and many others, that marriage isn’t 50/50, but each must give a 100 percent in order to succeed. 

    “Last Christmas, my dad commissioned a painting of his father holding the reins of his draft horses during a horse-pulling competition at the fairgrounds. Every time I walk past the print my parents gave each of their children, I remember to share the yoke. But I’m also reminded how the Savior holds the reins and gives us gentle reminders when we stray from a progressive path.” —Stacie Duce (Parley's granddaughter) 

Way West

14x18, Acrylic on canvas, © 2011

Private Collection

In the Winter Quarters Temple there is a painting by LaVoy Eaton which shows the Platte River and Chimney Rock in the early evening. It is a beautiful painting that I have enjoyed each time I was privileged to observe it. For those not of Nebraska, you cannot see Chimney Rock and water in the same scene unless it is raining. Nevertheless, with artistic license in hand I made a sketch of the general composition of the painting and decided to take my brush in hand to make a similar painting after his. I chose to have it a little later in the day and with more color on the horizon. One should never paint something just before a webinar on painting skies. You always will find something to correct and then correct again. I loved living in Nebraska, and I had a Great Grandmother born in a wagon bed just down the road a bit during an overnight stop at Ash Hollow. There is always a story to tell along life's trail.

Heritage Still Life

8x10, acrylic on panel, © 2007
Private Collection

Once on a business trip to Nashville, Tennessee, I saw an artist's shop next to the hotel where I stayed, and what struck me was the luscious paint—brilliant and shining. I have come to better be able to achieve this feeling of opulent paint. Painting on panels is one element, but also using a heavy coat of gloss varnish is another.

This painting was finished during the Judy Greff workshop. She uses a spatter technique very effectively, and that is what I wanted to learn. She also wanted us to paint from a still life. So in the morning hours, I took a picture of some objects and took the photo to class. Judy suggested pouncing over actual lace to get the doily effect. I tried it, and it worked great with some lace that she had. I also used the spatter technique which accentuated the antique look. I haven't done still lifes since college days, but it was a fun piece to do.

Quince Rufus Pack

14x11, acrylic on canvas, © 2001
Collection of the Artist

We had a postage stamp size picture of Marge's great grandfather. It is a high contrast snapshot pasted in a genealogy book. I thought it would be great to bring him into color.

My Youth

16x20, acrylic on canvas, © 2000

Collection of the Artist 

Once in awhile inspiration comes from the dim recesses of the mind. This one came from a time our family went on a fishing trip to Henry's Lake. There were several photographs taken that day. I awoke one morning with the idea that I had to paint this piece. It is very autobiographical as I see myself shielded from the world and its entanglements that surround me. A great piece to bring to life.

Scottish Castle

18x24, acrylic on canvas, © 1994

Collection of the Artist

I had painted the painting of the Izatt Cabin in Gem Valley for my wife's parents. Some time later her mother was making sure that her treasures went where she wanted them. She gave the painting to her son. I wanted her to have an original painting, and she had a poor print on the wall of this very Castle in Scotland. I painted this from another reference source and gave it to her. When people came to the home, they would ask, "How did you get something like that?" It seems that original paintings are unusual in peoples' homes.

Gem Valley Canal at Grace

16x20, acrylic on canvas, © 1990
Collection of the Artist

One fun thing that we did on our annual visits to Grace, Idaho to visit my in-laws was to walk up to the Canal and skip rocks from the wooden bridge that crossed the water. This little falls was over some lava rock within sight of the bridge.

When we went back in 2007, we found that the water had been re-channeled and the small falls no longer exist. I went to the middle where the falls had been and picked up a piece of black lava rock which is now in the rock garden around the fountain in our back yard.

My wife's mother was showing someone a picture of the painting, and the fellow wanted a copy. He had it blown up and hung on his wall. That spot was where he was baptized into the Church as a young person before they had fonts in buildings.

The Fishing Trip

11x14, acrylic on canvas, 1986 

Private Collection

This painting is a historical picture of my parents before they were married—that was taken when they were on a fishing trip in Idaho. It was a fun picture to see and was also one that my father enjoyed immensely.

The Milk Run in Gem Valley

11x14, acrylic on canvas, © 1985
Private Collection

This is a painting from an historical photograph of my wife's mother and her mother, Orpha Izatt, at a neighbor's ranch. It was a favorite of a niece, and she wanted it painted in color. It was a fun piece to paint—all the gray wood. I submitted it to the L. D. S. Church competition. It passed the first jury but did not make it to the final exhibit.

When I painted it, I had finished everything but the face of the woman. My wife was concerned that I would not make it right and spoil the painting. I really just painted my wife's portrait as she looks so similar to her grandmother, and it worked out okay.

Izatt Cabin

24x36, acrylic on canvas, © 1969

Private Collection

It was painted "en plein air" (outside) and finished in the studio. Because of the size of the work and the environmental difficulties, I could not finish it in the field. That day I got a serious sunburn as a result of painting at the elevation and in the bright sun. When I applied the paint, it would dry almost immediately due to the heat and lack of humidity in Idaho. It is a painting of the homestead cabin of Charles Izatt in Gem Valley, Idaho.

Still Life with Lamp

18x24, oil on canvas, 1969
Collection of the artist

The lamp and preserve jar belonged to my great grandmother, Ane Marie Madsen (survivor of the Willie Handcart Company, aged 10). I painted this in the basement of my parents' home as an art school assignment.