Discover

Desert Moonset with Headlights

/ Merilee / 4 Comments

When I go to the desert, there are many things that I see over and over and over again.  They are views that are like family.  Sometimes when I see these things I think, “One day I’ll paint that.”, even though I immediately tell myself that’s just dumb.

“Why would you paint that?  How could you even begin to paint that?  No one will understand why you chose to do it, so why?”  But I keep looking at it thinking how beautiful it is.  And how that particular view gives me an odd sense of comfort.

When I go to Tecopa, which is where I stay when I go to Death Valley, I always stay in the exact same room.  It’s my room.  My home-away-from-home.  I get up very early in the morning, usually around 4:00.  I go outside to look at the sky to see the Milky Way and the stars while coffee is brewing in the little coffee maker I take with me.  When I look to the west, I always see the headlights or taillights of a car or a truck driving up or down Highway 127.  I like seeing the headlights appear and disappear as the vehicle drives behind the mud hills that line the road as it goes through this portion of the Amargosa Basin, on it’s way to the tiny town of Shoshone.  If the wind is just right, I sometimes can hear the engine of the car and I always wonder, where the heck are you going at 4am???  It’s four o’clock in the morning.  Where are you going?  But they are always there, no matter what time it is.  The headlights. They are like friends.

A couple of days ago, something inside me said, “It’s time.  It’s time to paint the headlights.”  So, armed with a few terrible, blurry,  half-assed iPhone pictures and my mind and memories equipped with feelings and visions from probably close to 15 years of seeing this every time I go to my room in the desert, I decided to paint it.  For Valentine’s Day.  It’s something that is close to my heart.

Oil on canvas

20″ x 24″

Tecopa, California

Atmospheric River

/ Merilee / 4 Comments

Last month I made my way out to the desert to paint.  I like going from October thru April, when it’s cooler.  Actually, January is my favorite month to work in the Death Valley area.  It’s cold in the morning and usually pretty mild mid-day.  The sun doesn’t burn my skin through my clothing when I’m standing in it for hours painting.

This past November, however, was a little different.  It rained.  And rained.  Then it rained some more.  An atmospheric river decided to come into California and wring itself out in the deserts.  It didn’t make a great situation for painting outside, however, I was able to make a few starts while drops fell that I could finish either back in my room or at home.

This view knocked my socks off one of the days when I was turning around in a 360 to see the clouds moving across the sky.  Then I saw it.  And said, “that’s it.”  The quintessential line of dark blue desert mountains silhouetted against the sky.  But this time it had heavy, water-filled clouds slowly moving across it from west to east, dropping pockets of rain.  So I painted it, trying to catch that watery vibe.

Atmospheric River

12″ x 24″

Oil on linen

The Last of Autumn

/ Merilee / 2 Comments

I am known as a person who always chooses black and white for photographs.  That’s because to me, most of the time black and white jumps in and pulls out the soul of a subject.  There is no distraction from color.  It’s just pure form, light, shadow.

But sometimes color is what spills the secrets.  Color can have a deep resonance that vibrates so loudly, it cannot be dismissed.  Like in Autumn.

Autumn is my favorite time of year.  The closer it gets to the Winter Solstice, the happier I am.  I like days as short as possible.  Darkness has always been by friend.

I love the long, long shadows that stretch across my yard at 3:00 in the afternoon instead of at 7:00 at night.  Twilight is actually the time that makes me stop and stare into the corners of my yard.  That’s the time when it feels like the shift is changing, the daytime creatures are going to bed while the nighttime friends are getting ready to take over.  I like that.

I have a tendency to drive hundreds of miles from where I live in order to work.  Which is weird.  The world I have created in my yard is right in front of me.  It’s mystical and magical with all sorts of flowers and arches with vines smothering them.  I grow pumpkins and pomegranates, roses and natives all together in a party in my yard.

When autumn comes around, the party is at its height.  Spring is good.  Spring is actually better than good.  Spring is amazing.  But there’s something about that last show of color that explodes in November and December that stops me in my tracks and I end up staring out my windows all day long just to absorb the color.

It makes me feel alive.