New Art

On winter mornings, sometimes the sky clears out and the sun touches the wall.  This allows a low and soft glow.  It comes as a surprise often and I love it always.  

Olympic Coast

Mini road trip across the Olympics with my aunties who came to visit from Hawaii. 

Art In Progress

More scenes from the Nisqually Wildlife Refuge. 

New Arts

These are scenes derived from the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge in Olympia, Wa. I was interested in showcasing the harmonious texture on each of the canvases which I believe was appropriate with the landscape. I had a very productive day because the park struck me in all senses. There are plenty of public space that offer a feast for the imagination, but the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge is quite the exceptional buffet. 

New Art

Went for a walk with the dogs at the 2 mile loop in beautiful Chambers Bay. The low-lying sun was strong against the blank sky but weak through the trees. This is the sun against the forest. 

Iphone Photograph. 

Oil on Canvas, 2014.

Autumn

"and imagination

  and the dark hug of time,

   sweetness

     and tangibility,

"to be understood,

  to be more than pure light

   that burns

     where no one is --

"so it enters us --

  in the morning

   shines from brute comfort

     like a stitch of lightning;

"and at night

  lights up the deep and wondrous

   drownings of the body

     like a star."

-Mary Oliver

Danielle Is Engaged

Danielle got engaged this year.  I took her engagement photos on Sunday at the Washington Park Arboretum.

Deja Vu

A few years ago, while on day trip to Whidbey Island with some cousins, I took notes about the landscape of Fort Ebey State Park.  After getting home, I translated the words into colors and produced the painting below.  When I visited Hurricane Ridge up Olympic National Park on Thursday, I was struck by how similar in composition the painting was to the pictures I was taking.

Awe

Because the universe is so vast and incomprehensible. 

New Art

Was out backpacking up Park Butte on Monday, September 8.  Didn't see much of Mt. Baker but on the few times that I did, I was astounded. This is my rendition of the mountain.

Sketching, outlining, coloring. Beginning stage.

Finished.  Mt. Baker: 18x24" oil on canvas. 

I didn't bother with adding details to this piece.  There's something to be appreciated in its compositional simplicity. 

Bonuses:

I'm a little unsure about this piece. I wanted to paint something abstract. I don't think this image captures that. 

This one is okay. The sun above Puget Sound. I'll keep it.

New Art

More than two years ago, after a weekend of arduous hiking to camp down the bottom well of the Grand Canyon, Randi and Ross drove me to the airport in Phoenix 'round the golden hour.  The horizon I saw out of Ross' truck struck me as among the most luminous and vibrant glow I have ever beheld in my entire existence.  Arizona's reputed sunrise and sunsets do live up to the expectation, and it was a certain challenge to absorb the full extent of its awe-inspiring beauty.  It took a couple of years to achieve, but here's a facsimile of the landscape which I saw from off the interstate.  The layout mimics the design of Arizona's Flag; I see the entirety of the canvas represented as the flag itself, utilizing a technique similar to tonalism.

Vertical texture on the center left evokes precipitation.  

Detail

Almost done!

Detail

Bonus:

When I'm more prepared, I'll craft a more concentrated rendition of Glacier National Park as seen on the Highline Trail.

Tenebrous mood above darkened mountain peaks.

Texture.  That weird impasto of light on the lower right frame of the canvas denotes the elusive weather that high altitude peaks sometimes create.  A lightning, maybe?  

New Art

This is a night scene depicting a backcountry camping trip with the flashlight traveling left to right on its way to the tent (not shown).  The few points of pure yellow has a kind of delayed exposure effect which is supposed to invoke a sense of side-to-side movement.  Furthermore, the almost translucent lightness of the tree mimics the way we look at objects rising above the horizon at night - whether those things are a fabrication of the brain or not. The only part that's totally certain, however, is the inclination of our eyes to arrest light, no matter how diminutive. 

Taken by my phone.  Its high sensitivity to light infused some of the darker shades with diminished intensity.  Not sure how to manually set the ISO on an iPhone.  

On a separate note, I had a dream about getting swept by the rising ocean tide. It was a scary experience given that I don't like going in the water. 

Gallery

18x24 inches

18x24 inches 

24x36 inches

20x20 inches 

20x20 inches

New Art

This was inspired by my drive through the Great Plains of Montana. I was on my way home to Washington State from spending a few days at Glacier National Park. I drove through the Plains approaching sunrise and was struck with awe at the vast landscape. 

Bike Crash

Not the first time I have fallen off my bike, but definitely among the memorable ones. Was riding my bike last Friday, August 22, at the Interurban trail. I went for an easy <20 miler when about 14 miles in I crashed on a pair of train tracks.  The crash occurred as I was riding Zarathustra, my bicycle, up a small hill. At the top, the trail curved a sharp left, and amid this curve were the tracks. I knew that there were RxR crossings but there were no signs indicating a sharp turn. Aggressively, I turned my handlebar towards the path but the momentum I was in couldn't manage a safe maneuver.  Consequently, I slid off trail, wheels collided with the metal casings on the ground, and I fell headlong off the saddle and then over the handlebar.  Zarathustra was a few feet away when I struck the ground which caused painful abrasions on my left knee, elbows, waist, and palms. I took my phone to call someone for assistance, but realizing I was nowhere near vehicle access roads, and that everyone I knew were at work (this was at precisely 13:00h) I decided against it. I walked my bike a sweltering and painful 3+ miles back to my car then drove to the nearest emergency clinic.

New Art

August 24, 2014. This depiction of SoDo in the rain is a pastiche of an original - artist of which I can't recall. Documentary of cityscapes is an unfamiliar territory for me as the atmospheric compositions that focus on space and neutrality serve more as my own personal artistic milieu. The complicated lines and varying focal points were challenging in this piece and the errors may be detected on the odd sizing ratio of the street lights and vehicles on the road.