Passage

I missed posting this previously, I think because I inadvertently stored it in a folder innocuously named new folder.  Although this painting has a few very severe drawing problems, I think there's some real strength to it.  This is a view from near the Arroyo Seco Stables looking up at the York Bridge.  I usually view the York  Bridge from the top or the other side.  

Some months ago my computer failed.  When it was restored, I got back most of my important files.  But my admirable FreeCell statistics were reset to zero.  So I know exactly how many games I've played since then. I used to share the computer and there was this pleasing element of doubt.  But now I'm certain the games are all mine.  Each game represents a few minutes out of my life.  If I add them all up, I'm getting into days.  For years, I've pondered the mystery of wasting time.  Not why I might waste time when I was supposed to be working or doing something dreadful.  But why I would fritter away my free time playing solitaire or watching reruns, when this same free time is an opportunity to do something I would love.  It recently came to me that the explanation is probably dopamine and comfort.  Apparently I crave that.    

I'm going to go walk my dog now.  He loves to walk.  It makes him so happy he practically jumps out of his skin.  He isn't able to play FreeCell, but he does chew on his paws a little compulsively sometimes.

Enchanted

This is a bit of Hahamongna Watershed Park - one of my favorite parts.  Hahamongna seems to me a slightly magical place that has been relatively untouched by time - but not without enormous effort and struggle.  In our modern world, entropy often leans toward progress.

If you leave the frisbee golf course, and walk out onto the big sand flats and south toward the damn, you'll likely walk through this spot.  A few eucalyptus trees left behind by who knows, past oaks and amid true natives.  It's like a gateway.  I lured my fellow painter out to this spot so I could paint in safety.

I was quite pleased with this painting when I did it, and I still like it, but it's starting to look a little busy to me.    Like I keep telling myself, simpler is better.  I'm mostly convinced of it.

I'm not mad for my last post.  But it's better I think than me writing to the editor of the L. A. Times.

Walk in the Arroyo

Arroyo means river bed. So just as a river might run through town, and people might stroll along it, so does a river bed. In Pasadena, South Pasadena, and Northeast Los Angeles, it's called The Arroyo. And we walk In it. It's a popular spot for dogs, horses and runners. It's a nice walk close to nature.

Matilija poppies grow there. I think they were planted as part of a restoration effort. They bloom right around May 28, for I'm not sure how long. The flowers are huge and wonderful. They make you stop and look and say wow.

I wanted to paint the flowers, but I also wanted to paint a landscape. I did both. My current painting mantras (do other people have painting mantras?) are "don't waste the paper" and "you can't oversimplify."

Walk in the Arroyo

On the day I painted the bridge from the Lower Arroyo, I saw this lovely pathway across the road from the parking lot. I considered painting there for a moment, but I realized of course someone was going to park right in front of it any minute, and they did. If only I'd had an orange cone in my car. An orange cone is going to be my next piece of plein air equipment.

Instead I took a photograph, and just last night I made a painting from it. This is in gouache. It's certainly not a masterful painting, but I like how the limited palette of contrasting colors and the wide borders make it look like a block print. I'm not likely to be making any block prints, but I really like the look. Even if there's only one of them. It's probably plenty. I'm going to try more of these little paintings.