A Day Off

I decided to take the day off yesterday and do a little fishing. The forecast called for a high in the upper 40s after a night in the teens. While the temperature may have reached the 45° mark in some places, it sure as hell never got that warm in the creek gorge!
Of course, that seems to be the theme so far this year... delusional weather prognosticators missing forecasts by 10° or more, the first of April is baring down on us, and the nights are still so cold the river eddies freeze over with more than just a little ice. Still, I can't help myself and sometimes I just have to get outside... and fishing seems to be the most agreeable excuse. After all, there are only so many nights I can spend tying flies by the fire without getting some of them wet.
I hiked more than a mile downstream from the road planning to fish my way back to the truck. Wood ducks and hooded mergansers flushed ahead of me as I picked my way through the giant icebergs that still line the banks of the stream. A great blue heron squawked in disgust having his hopes for a trout lunch thwarted by my approach. I was taking my time and being pretty careful. The last thing I needed was to twist or break an ankle!
My starting point was a spot lined with giant river carved rocks and old hemlocks on the far bank. The water was clear (and COLD!). It didn't take long for my feet to feel the affects of the icy water as I drifted my flies through the deepest sections of the run. I fished for what seemed like an hour or so without so much as a bump from a trout. I occasionally changed flies hoping one of the combinations of fur and feather would appeal to the trout. I realistically thought to myself that the extreme cold temperatures of the night before had probably pushed the fish into a state of near dormancy, not moving an inch to eat anything... no matter how enticing. But then it happened... my line hesitated during the drift and I lifted my rod. To my surprise, it was a nice brown trout!

 

I was happy. The fish fought hard and I marveled at its markings and color before letting it go. Five casts later, I had another.

And so it went for the rest of the afternoon. I caught the occasional fish... enough to keep me focused and happy. My feet got progressively more numb until I found myself stumbling along the trail unable to feel the ground beneath me. I even took time to get a few underwater shots of a nice healthy rainbow in an unusually clear stretch of stream.

 One thing about photographing fish in conditions like this... you work fast! It doesn't take long for all the heat to be sucked from your hands and turn them into useless clubs. For the next 15 minutes after taking the photo above, I might as well have been wearing boxing gloves. My fingers were not working at all!

When It Doesn't Work

Already this year I've had the discouraging experience of spending over 6 weeks on painting only to realize it just wasn't going to work. All the planning and design work sometimes goes swirling down and out of sight like a wad of dirty toilet paper. The frustration of realizing the painting wasn't going to ever be what I wanted was compounded by knowing I'd wasted so much time trying desperately to make it work. The more time I had invested in the piece, the more I felt I needed to make it work... and the problems seemed to multiply from there.
This is by no means the first time I've thrown a clunker. In most cases, I just put a painting away for a while and come back to it later to reassess and perhaps attempt to save the piece with fresh eyes. Other pieces seem to somehow be flawed from the moment I start putting down paint and are destined to be sanded down and re-gessoed for another try. Then there are the projects that are nothing more than a thorn in my side and the most therapeutic way to deal with them is a large fire in the back yard!
It's not easy to talk about these failures. Sure, we can say things like we learn more from our failures than successes... blah blah blah. I don't buy that. At least not with my paintings. The painting I spoke of at the beginning of this post was a 20x40 mule deer piece I intended to use as my marquee piece at an upcoming show. Failures like this leave me kicking chairs and throwing paint brushes. 6 weeks is a lot of time to spend slaving away with nothing to show for it. I don't seem to learn anything from that!

2 clunkers and 1 new panel, all back to "square one"

So today, while prepping a board for a painting I need to start for a looming deadline, I sanded and gessoed 2 of those damned clunkers that have been leaning against the studio wall. With a fresh new surface and endless possibilities, these failures have been given a chance at new life. It was a good day... and I didn't even have to start a fire.

"Desert Hunter"

"Desert Hunter" 7x9 acrylic

This one will be headed to the NatureWorks exhibit in Tulsa, Oklahoma next week. This will be my first experience with this show and I'm pretty excited about it!

"New Day"

"New Day" 6x8 acrylic

This one (along with 20 others!) is headed to Charleston, SC for the Southeastern Wildlife Expo.

 

"Shady Characters"

"Shady Character" 10x10 acrylic

Not a bad piece to wrap up January 2014 :)

January's Black Cloud

There are winters that seem to breeze by without much drama or strife and pretty much transition from fall to spring leaving me wondering where all the snow went. This in not one of those.
It's only January and already I've been skulking around here with a scowl befitting a monster villain on Scooby Doo. I haven't resorted to throwing things yet, but I can feel it coming. It's that black cloud again and I know when it gets here, it can be awfully difficult to shake. Otis the Wonder Dog has been staying pretty close and keeping an eye on me... frequently putting his feet up on my painting chair and giving me doggie kisses because he knows. He always tries to help, dropping his favorite ball on my foot and wagging his tail.
Keeping my mind busy with work here in the studio has kept me productive, but done nothing to improve my disposition. It was 22° outside and the forecast was calling for highs in the single digits most of the next 10 days. I really needed a break.
Knowing it would not be any warmer for the next week or so, I put my fishing bag in the truck and headed for a trout stream. At the very least, I would get some fresh air in my lungs and work some of the cobwebs out of my brain. Of course I was hoping for a trout or two, but that was almost too much to ask on a day like this. Still, I need to get out and go through the motions.
As it turned out, the fish were cooperative and I managed to catch a few. It seemed strange to hear myself laughing on the deserted stream, but the trout made me giggle. The sting of frigid air on my hands after releasing them was another story.
For 3 hours, I moved cautiously along with the wind and snow biting at my face. I'd make a few casts letting my flies cover the better areas of the pools, take a couple of small steps upstream, and make a few more casts. I knew the trout would be very near the bottom in this cold water and my flies were constantly hanging up on rocks, sticks, and leaves. But every once in a while, the line would pause and I'd lift my rod to feel the dull throbbing of a fish. Of course, under normal circumstances this would be nothing remarkable. Today, it was shear joy... if for no other reason than the contrast of my mood just hours before and the absurdity of fly fishing in such nasty weather.
I had planned to fish until dark, but could no longer feel my feet. It wasn't far back to the truck, but when I got there, my wading shoes were frozen solid. With my cold fingers operating at about 30% dexterity, I had a hell of a time getting my boots off. The wind was picking up and there came a sense of ergency to get this done. I really wanted to be in the cab of the truck getting warm!
By the time that was done, it was beginning to get dark. I carefully put my fly rod back in its case and stored the reel in my fishing bag. The truck had been running, so it was warm inside and I huddled inside letting the heat soak into my body. Again, I heard myself laughing. It's no wonder people think I'm freakin' nuts!

"Latent Velocity"... revised edition

"Latent Velocity" 12x9 acrylic

Another of my favorites from a couple of years ago got a makeover today. Sometimes when a painting doesn't sell, there are small tweaks that can be a tremendous addition to the overall appeal of the piece. Sometimes it's as simple as changing the frame. In this case, I've done both and the impact is about as good as I could have hoped for. I'm pretty happy with the results. 
Anyone want to buy some old frames? HA!