Only Three Colors

It is amazing how many colors you can create in watercolor using only the primary colors of red, yellow, and blue. Creating a painting with transparent versions of these colors can really stretch your color skills. 

Here are two paintings started as teaching demonstrations that I later finished.

Pine River Valley
Watercolor
8” X 10”

This valley above Lake Vallecito is gorgeous. The Pine River trail gently undulates for the first few miles along the edge of a lush, grassy valley against rocky cliffs. We’ve hiked this trail in all seasons and each time we see something new.

A fence runs along the trail for the first three miles because there is an easement across a private ranch. There is an area where you’ll see yaks grazing in the meadows—yes, Yaks. Not a critter you expect to see as livestock in Colorado.

This image came from a pretty spring morning when the temperature was just perfect—not too hot and not too cold. A Goldilocks kind of day that feels like a distant memory given today’s 94 degrees. I was drawn to the backlit spruce trees that contrasted with the deep blue shadows of the ridge on the other side of the narrow valley.

San Juan Cliffs
Watercolor
8” x 10”

This was a demonstration piece I started on a women’s watercolor workshop and river trip on the San Juan River in Utah. The cliffs along the San Juan River are awe-inspiring and come in an array of colors and textures.

I helped teach watercolor techniques to the group, including the three-color challenge that resulted in beautiful paintings by the artists. I demonstrated how you begin with yellow, applying it where it is part of the final color. When it dries, you add the next layer (or “glaze”) of red or blue. The layers of transparent paint “mix”, to create colors on the painting. This gives a different result than when you mix colors on the palette and apply that color to the paper. As an example, there is a layer (or multiple layers) of yellow followed by a layer of red to create varying shades of orange. Add a layer of blue, and you get brown.

It’s a fun challenge, and sometimes I limit my palette to the primary colors to experiment and discover new ways of creating colors in a painting. This method provides a pleasing color continuity throughout the piece, which adds a unique and lively quality.

Art supplies are a powerful magnet for artists. It’s kind of a sickness, some people might say. When I discover a new color, I get a little weak in the knees. Most artists can’t help themselves: “Oh my gosh, that golden brown and delicate purple are so luscious—I HAVE to have them.” But the reality is with the basic three—plus a couple of earth tones—you have what you need to get started with watercolor. 

Red Arch

10” x 8”
Watercolor

Through my job with Great Old Broads for Wilderness, I had the opportunity to serve as the organization’s representative at a fundraising event that was a 5-day combination river trip-watercolor workshop on the San Juan River in Utah. I know, isn’t that the greatest thing ever?

I could go on and on about the trip, which was amazing. I had some anxiety beforehand, as it was my first multi-day river trip. Once I acclimated to the heat, the wind, and became “one with the sand” (as advised by a seasoned river woman), I found myself immersed in a magical landscape carved by wind and water with the most wonderful group of women you could hope to travel with.

Our watercolor instructor was the talented Suze Woolf, from whom I hoped to learn some color tricks and how to loosen up my painting. While waiting for a photo opportunity (part of my trip duties), I broke out my kit to paint the ridge to the east. This painting stayed quite loose as I was standing up, holding the paper in my hand. While compensating for the wind, I dabbed my brush into the palette balanced in the crotch of a tree, while my water container sat on the ground. (It was too damn hot to sit in the dirt.)

The cliffs jut impossibly high into the sky along parts of the river and the rock varies from smooth spans of creamy coral sandstone to black, pockmarked, and ribbed slabs of basalt. Of course, there is sand, sand, more sand, and gravel that wants to get into your sandals and chew up your feet. Crows and ravens soar above the cliffs, colorful lizards sun themselves on rocks, bighorn sheep (we saw lambs!) leap up and down ridiculously steep slopes, and feral burros bray through the night. There was no end to the visual entertainment.

We had plenty of painting time too, and while I didn’t come back with many “winners”, I learned a lot, got to know some great women, and have two or three more paintings that need finishing. More on unfinished paintings in a future post…

P.S. A big shout-out to Holiday River Expeditions, who gave us an exceptional adventure, and have the most accomplished kickass young women river guides—probably in the world.

Between Here and There

Between Here and There

24” X 18”

Acrylic on Canvas

There’s a lot of beautiful country out there and sunset makes just about anywhere beautiful—not that this is “just anywhere.” This painting is from I photo I took somewhere outside of Kanab, Utah when traveling between Durango and Wrightwood. 

The color on the landscape helped revive us as we neared the end of a long day on the road. We pulled into Kanab just after dark, hungry and windshield weary, but glad to have enjoyed the breathtaking light show during the last few miles as the sun dropped below the horizon.

Return to Hop Valley

 

Return to Hop Valley Sunrise

10” X 8”

Watercolor

 

Sometimes a place sticks with you—and at the time—you may not think, I’m going to remember this forever, but you do. This is one of those places and times that I’ll never forget. 

We left before dawn to beat the heat hiking back out from La Verkin Creek where we’d spent a couple of nights. We were well into Hop Valley when the rising sun finally hit the far wall of the narrow canyon, the walls reflecting in the creek like fire, the shadows deep blue and purple where the sun had yet to arrive. As we rounded the curve and came into the full light of the sun, the valley ahead was a riot of orange and pink. It was breathtaking. The day grew warm quickly as the color faded to bone and buff like a song fading away.

I’ve painted this before (twice!) and I had to paint it again. Occasionally I’ll paint the same thing twice (rarely thrice), using different media. It’s as though I haven’t yet finished what I have to say about a subject. There’s still more of it inside that needs to come out in a painting, I guess.

We’ve seen some great sunrises and sunsets on our adventures. A couple of my favorites (along with this one) were at the DomelandWilderness (a wild, wild place) and HERE at Trail Camp just below Mount Whitney, the morning after we summited.

Hop Valley Sunrise

Hop Valley Sunrise

11.5” X 10”

Acrylic on a reclaimed cabinet door - upcycling!

A few years ago, me and “the boys” (Clint and our two hiking buddies Bob and Peter), went on a backpack trip in Zion through Hop Valley down to La Verkin Creek. It was October, but still very warm, so the morning we hiked out, we loaded up our packs and hit the trail in the dark wearing our headlamps. 

The walk started with a steep climb out of the canyon and by the time we made it to the top and started to cross the narrow valley, the sun was up. But, the cliffs blocked the sun—so it took a while before the light hit the west side of the valley in a blaze of color. But when it did, it was spectacular. Something I will never forget.

Apologies to my hiking mates, who were ahead of me when I took the photo, I didn't include them in the painting. As usual, I was bringing up the rear.

Frosted Gingerbread

"Frosted Gingerbread"

24" x 14"

Acrylic on a reclaimed cabinet door

It was January, and we were heading to Salt Lake City. It was snowing like hell as we drove up the hill to Hesperus, cars spinning like ballerinas in slow motion despite their cautious creeping. It was a white-knuckler, for sure. 

That was the worst of it. Eventually the road got better and the snow lightened up. By the time we crossed into Utah, our shoulders were less bunched, our breathing more calm, and I finally let go of the "oh shit" handle as we drove out of the back end of the storm that was moving east.

The clouds seemed to break suddenly, erupting in blue sky and silvery bright sunshine that heightened the contrast of the red rocks iced in a thick layer of snow. It looked like frosted gingerbread.

I guess I was missing the cooler temperatures when I began this painting over the summer just before we moved. It was sweltering in that hot box we called home. Looking for respite, I took myself back to that cold day in January.