Leaves

I realized three things from my last post. First, my old iPhone does take not the best of photos. Here is hopefully a better image.


Second, I never included anything that gives a sense of scale for you to realize that this is a big painting.


Finally, to put that in perspective, here is a detail of the leaves that I will be painting for the foreseeable future.


More to come...

-jb.

One Month of Painting

Large paintings are like marathons. Or, like the philosophy of Dory from Finding Nemo. The point is, you just have to keep painting.


These photos were taken over a period of one month.


The working time between these two images is just over 40 hours.


Aside from not getting frustrated at the grinding pace, the main challenge is keeping the foreground tree lines clean.


They are defined by the negative space of the green, and after each small section, must be scraped back into existence using a razor (especially the smaller branches).


This way, there are channels for the trees in the background paint which in the end will create a flat painting, contradictorily making it appear more three dimensional.


But the nice part in this long stretch of painting green is finding the areas that I missed (either aspen tree or leaves) and filling them in, either with yellow or with the absence of paint.


And yes, filling in the last of the green was a wicked exciting day!


-jb.

The Road Home

Aside from the curious habit I've picked up of beeping when crossing a state line, one of the true gleeful moments of a long roadtrip is seeing your starting and ending point etched in green and white. It promises a long shower and a familiar bed in not to short, or, depending on the size of your hometown, at least finite order.


But my favorite part of getting home is walking into my studio after a prolonged absence. There is a smell in that moment that could be the most calming in the world. If I could bottle it I would, instead I can only offer you the painting that greeted me.


And due to my woefully delinquent blog posts, you may or may not see it tomorrow one month and change more complete!


-jb.

Santa Fe, NM to Linville Gorge, NC

When the highlight of 1,500 miles in 36 hours is seeing three blades of a wind turbine loaded onto giant trucks making a right turn off the byway onto the highway, all I can say is, boring!


Then again, I wasn't exactly taking the scenic route, Arkansas has a lot of trees, and FYI, Tennessee is a long state driven lengthwise. But the the end point was worth it, camping with great friends in an ancient gorge deep in the Appalachian Mountains.


-jb.

The Third Leg: Boulder to Santa Fe

Even if I didn't have business in Santa Fe, the roughly twelve hour detour to spend the same amount of time there would be worth it. What an art town! Highly recommended.

But, no pictures. So instead I offer you the end shots. These are bookends for each panorama, so I know where one stops and another begins.


Sometimes they are functional like this grey card, used to set the camera's white balance. Or, they tell me what filter I am using.


As previously blogged, a lot feature my favorite tripod, the roof of my car.


But sometimes I let my dogs be the feature.


And if not they still find their way in.


Honestly though, mostly I have a huge collection of pictures of my feet, in this case, the rare sans footwear.


ps. This blog was brought to you by my iPhone, which I now know is smart enough to know that when I shake the living daylights out if it, I want to undo the last stupid thing I did (like pasting a rather lovely person's phone number over this entire blog (minus this ps.) before hitting save).

-jb boyd.

Boulder Rocks

The location and the way the City of Boulder set up it's open space policy decades ago assured it to be unique, but my crazy crew of cousins makes it even more special every time I visit. This time proved no different. Wether being fed like a pig led to slaughter, water skiing (or in my case, water eating) on a lake at sunset in the shadow of the Rockies, or climbing to a perch on the side of the earth, I had a smile on my face the entire time.


This is from the top of the Third Flatiron, overlooking Boulder, Denver, and the seemingly endless plains of the Midwest. Personally though, call me lazy. I like letting gravity do the work.


Finally, on the beginning of a safe descent back to sea level, you can see the rock we climbed over my left shoulder. Thanks again cuzs!!!


-jb boyd.

The Second Leg: Jackson to Boulder

Sometimes the best parts of a long trip are when you return to familiar places.


One of these is the stretch of road that crosses the western half of Wyoming. It is a beautiful area ringed by mountains, and luckily on this day, pock marked by the shadows of clouds.


This photo illustrates the use of the ladder to gain perspective and space, while the last is the opposite point of view, just a few inches off the ground. In this case, the low angle creates a unique space as the bushes become space markers, connecting the foreground to the middle ground and beyond.


-jb boyd.

Whenever Asked...

...the rather mundane question of, "What is your dream ride?" my answer is "A 4WD cherry picker that gets 30mpg." Needless to say, the conversation quickly moves on from me, and I don't bother to check the trades to see if Detroit is unveiling one anytime soon. But seeing that my aging champ of a Subaru fits a ladder, I make due.


The added height builds in foreground perspective, and the ladder fits nicely on the roof. Except a few odd looks from passing cars, and being nervous on the windier days, it works well. But a cherry picker would be better. I wouldn't have to worry about finding a curve to drop the road from the photo.


PS. Turns out I have been without electrical outlets and a reliable Internet connection for a bit too long. Oh, and I also had a blast of time in Boulder. So please don't think I have the luxury of the longest road trip of all time. I am back in Charleston, but behind on my postings...


-jb.

What A Day!

What a place! Back on roads I know by heart, driving through the scenery of my subconscious, looking at mountains that feel like they are cut out of paper, and today it was my current playground. After a magical kayak ride with my nieces and sister (google Oxbow and Ansel Adams), I headed back to Rockefeller Gateway like a magnet drawn to a block of steel. Before I really realized where I was going, I was wading across a creek and heading to Huckleberry Springs. If I had to make a list, it would be one of my five favorite places I have ever been a part of. Water is heated by geothermals and forms pools in the elbow of a river. The log in the center of the photo is far edge of nature's hot tub. (FYI: click on the image for a better view)


In my memory, this was a full moon wintertime treat. But the curves of the creek are the same in the setting sun or moonlight, grass or under feet of snow, and I soaked in every moment. Then on the ride home I was greeted by another friend, the full moon. Rigging up an impromptu tripod with a ladder and a box of brake pads, I laughed at myself as I shivered in forty five degree weather between the long exposure shutter clicks. Some things change, but beauty doesn't.



-jb.

Mount Taylor

As stated previously, I had my eye on a peak. Above the tree line, round with a long expanse of ridge, it had all the makings of a perfect photo spot. Problem was, I didn't plan to head up it. I planned on taking the dogs to the top of a false peak above the home in which I am staying. So I grabbed the water bag, the camera out of habit, whistled for the dogs and hit the trail. In retrospect, whenever you head into the backcountry, bringing a cell phone or GPS and a map is a good idea. Both I left on my bed. When I arrive at the top of the false peak (see the blog post from ) I saw another peak just above. Merrily I headed up, noting the trail was getting thinner. Upon reaching it, there was the true peak of Mount Taylor, basking in the high altitude sunshine. Feeling good and with two happy dogs by my side, I reasoned that the trail was becoming more defined and whatever I planned on doing could wait. Down I went to begin another ascent. After losing the trail I found it again and began a serpentine climb to the true summit. When the trail finally ended, faced with either pushing on or heading home, I opted for the former. Noting my surroundings carefully, I began a somewhat arduous bushwhack up. But I knew the peak would be worth it. Every opening in the trees revealed parts of the valley floor distant and clear. So I made it, and photographed it from every angle, corner, peak and dale, even trying to climb a tree only to be repelled by ferocious tree ants. Then, hungry, slightly sore, and ready to be heading down, the bad decision was made. There were three false peaks to choose from. Based on my landmarks and what i had seen the day prior, I choose #2 and decided on new markers to make a straight line descent to it. Ooops. But after a seriously fun descent, finding the trail I used to find my way up only to lose it again, I found myself eventually on the wrong/right ridge. When you are lost, you are lost. I was smart enough to know this, so knowing that heading downhill and and following the water flow, eventually you come across a road. After shimmying through barb wire, running into a herd of cattle (FYI, I'm knee deep in manure), and stealthily creeping by cattlemen repairing fences in a state where messing with cattle is punishable by hanging, I found the road to take me home. Only bad news was that I was two thousand feet below said food shelter and hot shower, and a three mile hike back up it was an lamentable end to an otherwise fine day. In the end though, I would have done nothing different (except maybe bring the map and GPS) because look at the photo I got!


-jb.