Black Canyon of the Gunnison
11 ½” X 18”
Acrylic on a reclaimed cabinet door
This weekend I was determined to make art. And, as bad luck
would have it (good luck for me), Clint had a doosey of a cold, so I retreated
to the studio for some much needed art time.
Two weeks ago, we celebrated our 10-year wedding anniversary.
We packed up the car and headed over Molas pass and east to Gunnison, Colorado.
We had a grand old time hanging out together and exploring new places. I loved
the high plains sea of sagebrush surrounding Gunnison, charmingly placed
on a plateau under a big bowl of a sky. We saw canyons with wild, icy creeks and the snow-topped
Sawatch Mountains. We crossed the Continental Divide in yet another place and
stopped for a roadside lunch where we gazed into the beautiful Weminuche Wilderness. I
came back inspired and with plenty of photos to work from.
Our first stop was the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. It’s one
of those places like Canyon de Chelly, where you’re traveling through a
pleasant, but unassuming landscape and all of a sudden—bam—you come upon this
holy-cow canyon (in this case carved by the impressive Gunnison River). The view into this deep maw of a canyon is knee buckling. There were places where I wouldn’t
even lean on the overlook's railing—yet at the same time, I longed to have wings so I
could soar out over it.
This painting was an obsession. I’d drawn out the basic
shapes last weekend and laid in a few washes of color after spending the
afternoon wrestling with my Cascade Creek painting. I couldn’t wait to get back
to it. Yesterday I grabbed my morning tea and went straight to it, painting
most of the day, bringing the piece nearly to a finish. I got lost in color,
finally setting my brush down late in the afternoon.
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