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.

View from the Window


 8x10 acrylic on canvas panel, © 2018
Collection of the Artist

This is a painting of the area where my instructor from college lived after I left Utah, and he had left the college. It is in the Hyrum Dam area. 
    I remember the significance of the area because when I was in pottery, the instructor had a slip that was called Hyrum Dam. She had dug up the clay to make the slip herself. That stuck with me; this moody painting reflects a distant past that cannot be visited again except in our memory.

Springville Strang House


12x12 oil on panel © 2017
Collection of the Artist

Nostalgia has a fascination as we can look at a scene, seeing how it was over 100 years before. Well, maybe that vision is only on the screen of our mind—at least until we put it in paint on a wooden panel. I have spoken before of taking a class and being productive. It was only once a week, and I had plenty of time to work on projects in between the class times. This was one such project. I had admired the home on 4th North in Springville and did some research as to the owner and construction, 1898. It stands as proud now as when it was new basking in the afternoon, fall light. It was fun to be carried back if only for a while to when there were not houses next door, and the street could be rutted by rain water and wagon wheels.

 

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.

 

Olive Tree, Study


11x14, oil on panel © 2017
Collection of the Artist

I like taking a class after I've been away from painting for a while, and in 2017 I took an adult Ed class at Utah Valley University. It was a very productive time for me, as I painted four other paintings in addition to this one. My focus was on getting the:
1. color right for the leaves, 
2. leaf texture right, 
3. gnarly wood,
4. atmospheric perspective in the background, and
5. ground color and grasses.

I like to challenge myself when I don't paint much just to see how I can perform.

Colorado Spring

 


10x8, oil on canvas board, © 2017
Collection of the Artist

When painting, sometimes everything works in your favor—and that is what happened with this painting. It was an adult education class at Utah Valley University, and I was using oil. I put a wash on the canvas. I mixed a dark with UM blue and Alizarin Crimson and put on the dark brush at the top and used a color shaper to manipulate the paint to look like canes. Then I used a brush and odorless mineral spirits to remove and draw into the wash of paint. I was surprised at how easily the paint began to reveal rock, and I added some thinned blue and opaque tans to solidify the rock formations. I finally added the wild flowers that were growing up through the painting.
    What I'm really saying is that in a matter of an hour and a half it had painted itself. Telling me what it wanted, which I did to reveal the composition. 

Recognition: It was awarded an Honorable Mention at the Spring Salon of the Utah Valley Artist Guild. The judge told me that was how oil painting was made to be. 

Mom's Wedding Dress

 


10x8 oil on canvas panel, © 2017
Collection of the Artist

I believe this to have been taken to commemorate the marriage to my father in 1935. I painted it in a class on oil painting. I like to get back into painting by participating in a class or some structured event when I've not been actively painting. The photo reference was black and white and the instructor, when he saw it, said good luck with the dress—the collar. Well when I finished it, he said, "genius." I think he liked it.

Fletcher Cosmos

 


11x16 acrylic on canvas, © 2016
Collection of the Artist

A family up the street was one of the first to come into our new home and meet with us. They became special friends. When they left the city for a warmer climate, I passed their house and the Cosmos were in bloom. This struck me as the Cosmos, a galactic flower, bloomed in array as if in the heavens. We too are orbiting in the Cosmos. Are we as beautiful as these—thank you, friends, for being in our universe if only for a little time.

Deep Forest Fall


6x6 acrylic on panel, © 2016
Private Collection

I happened upon an image of a scene and interpreted it to be this small painting. In the fall of 2016 I exhibited it in a show. A friend who was helping with the installation saw the painting from across the room and told me she thought it was "stunning." That is not a word I often hear in conversation and was very meaningful to me. It was a work that came together rather easily and I believe that the freshness is what she related to. It must have been something that others related to as it was purchased. I sold two paintings in that exhibit—a novelty for me. I loved the painting and hope that whomever bought it loves it as much as I do.

New Mexico Chimesa

 


5x7 acrylic on canvas panel, © 2016
Private Collection

In 2012 we moved to Utah and made a journey to New Mexico to visit a relative. They were very gracious and took us around to see the sights. It was fall, and the Chimesa (Rabbit Grass) was in bloom. They were very striking to my eye. I didn't recall ever having seen them before, but I returned to Utah and they were all over in my neighborhood. It's funny that you can take for granted something close and have to make a trip to find that what you have next door is as beautiful as the same thing that you found in a far off place—the trip and its setting allowed you to have the sensitivity to see what is next door.

Forgotten Farm: Maple Street, Omaha


8x6 acrylic on panel © 2016
Private Collection

Sometimes you may drive down a street that you have done many 100s of times before, and you notice something out of the corner of your eye—a house nestled in the trees. You stop and take a picture of the event. Then years later you drive down that same street and there is a parking lot and stores where you once saw something terrific that stopped you in your path. So it was with this scene from Nebraska—an old farmstead forgotten by time. I painted it many years after the original event and took it to an exhibit and it sold. I didn't anticipate that someone might interpret the painting back to their reality and want it.

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.



Rio Grande Gorge


24x36 acrylic on canvas © 2014
Collection of the Artist

My wife and I road tripped to New Mexico to visit her brother in White Rock. They were the most gracious of hosts and escorted us around to the sites that they had become accustomed to in the years of living in the area. Taos, Santa Fe, and Chaco Canyon were among those that we saw. We stopped for a vista of the Rio Grande Gorge that had been cut into the floor of the desert. It was fall, and the Chemesa were blooming. It was a beautiful day, a beautiful vista, and paint cannot not do it justice. 

 

Summer Poppies


10x8 acrylic on panel © 2014
Collection of the Artist

Driving down Center Street in Springville in the late summer afternoon, I had to stop. A house had poppies in bloom, and when the sun is just right the petals are luminously bright as if they were the source of the light. It was a quick stop, and now that we all carry a camera in our pocket, it was not hard work to capture a fleeting moment in time—memorialized in paint.

 

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) 

The Gap in Hobble Creek


11x14,  Acrylic on panel, © 2013
Collection of the Artist

We drove up Hobble Creek Canyon looking for a place to paint at a later time.  We were coming back down the canyon when the beauty of the moment was one that could not be ignored. We stopped and took a picture of the road and the gap.  It was not a place to set up an easel so I contented myself to paint it in the studio. What a beautiful place to live.

Hobble Creek Glow


11x14, Acrylic on panel, © 2013
Collection of the Artist

My wife and I went on a morning excursion up Hobble Creek Canyon—about five minutes from the house. French easel in hand I found a quiet spot not far from the road where I could observe the morning splendor and the sounds of nature.  Any day painting is a good day.

Spring Thaw


10x10 Acrylic on panel, © 2013
Collection of the Artist

We took a spring trip up Provo Canyon to a cabin above Sundance Ski Resort. Here we found a small stream fed by the spring melt. I took several photos of the last vestiges of snow as they filled the streams. A quiet, peaceful time walking in the brisk air enjoying the sounds of awakening.