East Meets West

"LINE LAKE"
Beartooth Pass, Montana
Oil on Rag Board
20" x 16"
(Not for Sale)

My first taste of the Beartooth Highway revealed view upon breathtaking view and frankly, it lit me up in ways that the gentle eastern landscapes of Maine never managed to do. Here is but one turquoise gem set perfectly in the sweeping timeless jewel of this rugged landscape. (sigh)

This was the great difference between the wild open landscapes of the American Rockies, and Maine where the forests are thick and the views mostly intimate and close. I never could have comprehended the feel of this place without experiencing it first hand. Some find the openness too exposed and disconcerting while others become smitten and take root.

The western landscapes inspired a feeling of expansiveness that set me to writing and painting with a near insatiable intensity for a span of years. This was the profound effect of the open horizons, soaring mountains and extraordinary color palette -- a virtual feast for the wanderer's eye and there were barely enough hours in any given day to express it all. I so tried to take root here and though I remained over a period of eight years, the way to sustain it financially never appeared. Always seemed like I worked twice as hard for half the result, and there was not enough purchase in the thin rocky soil, or perhaps I was better use to the world somewhere else.

In the end, I returned east to be with family and put down some roots. Though I found new appreciation for the subtle beauty of Maine, years later I still feel the call to wander west for a good dose of big sky now and then. It tends to get into one’s blood, under the skin, wedged up under the fingernails like the most stubborn dirt.

Line Lake rests upon the Montana/Wyoming border -- a sheepherder's trailer sits waiting with basic supplies and shelter, the wind blows, as it always does and during short windows of time we humans get to visit this towering wilderness before Mother Nature asserts her complete and undisputed possession of it. And it is good. Perfect really. What could possibly improve upon this flawless beauty?

This image appears on the back cover of my first book, Confessions of the Hired Spatula, so rather than sell the original, I have indulged myself in retaining it for "the artist's private collection."

Color Me Blue...

"GARDNER LAKE"
Beartooth Pass, Wyoming
Oil on Rag Board
19.25" x 22.25"
$800 USD Unframed


At nearly 11,000 feet there is little but sparse tundra vegetation clinging to fierce craggy soil and hard scrub bracken bordering the small glacial lakes. The Beartooth Pass offers but two seasons; winter and almost winter and the latter is extremely short. It is not a place for those who fear heights, cold weather or lightening and the nearest cozy lodging can be found 20 miles down the mountain at Red Lodge, Montana.

I began this painting the previous day but quit when an imposing storm system rolled in. Today another dark thunder cell loomed with howling winds and plummeting temperatures that quickly settled into my bones. Even the paint on the palette was nearly too cold to mix and a less boneheaded individual might have given up completely. Just then a voice behind me said, "Hello, say do ya mind if we interview you?" A big fuzzy microphone and camera were then thrust at my surprised face – every blue frozen inch of it, no doubt looking dangerously sexy and perfectly suited for prime time.

Say hello to Doug McConnell and his traveling film crew from the Backroads series, here on special assignment filming a segment on Yellowstone and the Tetons, all of them looking marginally pleased to find an artist painting on this forbidden stretch. Sure, why not? I have a sense of humor and I was already running high on adventure, having recently escaped the last cooking job at the Flying Resort Ranches in Idaho. I was basically traveling through the mountains painting and camping before determining where to go next. Officially, I was footloose and fancy free with no legal address. The date of my last hot shower was also in question.

With fierce winds brutally whipping us, the cameras rolled, Deborah squeaked her little story (so cold the mouth was barely cooperating by then), a quick shot of the painting in progress was included, and off they went, those magnificent men in their filming paraphernalia. The producer was funny, and kind enough to send me a copy of the segment. The painting was ultimately completed. And revisiting these images, I would gladly be there again, if only…

I searched up the Backroads show and learned they had just concluded a 23-year run due to lack of funding in August '08. However you can find them at http://www.openroad.tv/ where portions of the Yellowstone and Tetons segments are posted. As for my little 15 seconds of fame, it fell to the editors cut. S’okay… it is part of this image, frozen right there in the paint.

A Fear Of Flying

"CHAIN LAKE"
Beartooth Pass, Wyoming
Oil on Canvas
8 x 10
(Private Collection)

Since we're meandering around the Beartooth Pass, I may as well put this one in and admit the full spectrum of my humor during the earlier years spent dancing on the edge.

There is but one road that accesses the Beartooth Mountains, and it is a rare adventure through 12,000 foot peaks where the snow accumulates upwards of 30 feet in the winter, glaciers remain through the summer and you can get stormed off the pass on any day of the year. Twenty-foot poles border the road, and these are to guide snowmobilers during the thick of winter. It is a steep drive up, no matter which end you start on and one hopes both the transmission and brakes are in good order. At the mid point it features one postage-stamp sized little convenience store called The Top of the World, which has no phones (really, they're not holding out), a few cabins, and a rescue service for those who get into trouble. Up the road is Island Lake Campground and just yonder this little gem called Chain Lake. I perched by the side of the road to paint here, just me, the picas (little rock varmints that make a funny "gneeee" sound) and the cars passing by.

At one point, a woman approached, presumably to peek at what I was painting. She had a German accent, we exchanged pleasantries, and I soon discovered her true intention, which was to verbally unload a great fear of heights, now fully activated driving through the Beartooth Pass, which is really no place for a person known to be afraid of heights. But she and the husband had driven it 20 years ago, and presumably enough time had passed that she dared try it again, or she imagined the mountains had gotten smaller, or perhaps she had better drugs.

At its highest point, the Beartooth Highway reaches 10,974 feet and rests above tree line with a series of hairpin turns on both sides of the pass that would raise the hair on even the most calmly disposed neck. Looking downward, one can easily imagine one's swift demise, bouncing and plummeting down 1,000 foot jagged rock slides and cliffs, coming to rest as a mere stain at the bottom. The few species that seem to have mastered this terrain include the Mountain Goats and Sheep, which leap straight up the side, and the Grizzly Bears, who do whatever they damn please.

What exactly was she thinking? And just why was she pestering me about it -- must have a magnet somewhere...I continued painting while Nervous Nellie embellished on her fears. Suddenly that sick humor, which I could easily blame on my father, kicked in, and out of my mouth came, "Well ya know... there's only one way to cure that problem..." Honestly, I had no idea how to cure that problem, and no clue what I was going to say except that her mouth was now hanging open in rapt anticipation. "Just drive up the road a piece and find a nice little high point... then make like a bird!" That was a lame attempt, even for me, but it did serve a purpose.

Terrified, she gasped, "Your painting is lovely, but your sense of humor is HORRIBLE!" As she began collapsing fully into the drama, the husband appeared quickly with a protective arm and whisked her away, hissing admonitions at the demon artist as they went. Might not have been funny to them, but in the moments that followed I nearly peed myself laughing. Just me and the wind and the place to myself again.

In retrospect, having settled some business in my own interior and finding a greater compassion for the human comedy, I realize how often the things we fear are sometimes those that fascinates us most. The hypnotic flame that burns the curious fingertips, the edgy bad boy relationships that end in predictable heartache... and it does take a certain amount of consciousness to catch yourself, choose things that make you happy instead of taking yourself for a white knuckle ride. Above all, if you're going to dance on the edge, best to learn not to complain about the inevitable wreckage because you know better, and it only annoys the pilgrims.

Here's a cool site about the Beartooth Highway http://gorp.away.com/gorp/activity/byway/mt_beart.htm

A Windswept Roadside Attraction

"OLD ROADS AND WATERWAYS"
West of Whitehall, Montana

Oil on Rag Board

9.5 x 19.25"
$700 USD unframed

I remember being here in the cool sunshine and wild winds that threatened to both topple my small production and freeze my tookus in the process. But the view so barren in its windblown subtle tones became rich in a way. And it was worth the discomfort, even the cool stares I received from hardlined ranchers driving by who must surely have wondered, who is this fool on the side of the road?