NOTE: This is Rick. Don't tell Tricia I'm here. Webmaster privilege.
:)
When we camped in the Sangre de Cristo mountains outside Santa Fe, I was inspired to paint the absolutely beautiful mountain light: in particular, one evening as dusk fell. The lights of the city were just visible in the distance, and the moment was poised on the edge of my eyesight failing to detect detail in shadow. The sky was luminous at 12,000' of elevation.
I took a series of photographs but a camera does not perceive light as a human eye does. Cameras can only capture the average amount of light in a scene, at a given moment. Our eyes are more sophisticated, constantly adjusting aperture (light sensitivity) and focus as we move them: we can look at sunlight reflecting on water, then into the shadows of the woods...seeing detail in both instances.
Astonishing tools, really.
So, five months later, I am painting partially from photographs, and mostly from memory. My memory of light — of the feeling — from that moment.
I have a very capable instructor, although she will not let me call her one. This is my second oil painting — Cabinetmaker was my first — my first landscape, and I have no other word for: "Tricia...how do I build the underpainting? What is the paint/thinner/varnish ratio again? Do I optically mix colors on the canvas or do a modulated blend?"
Except "teacher".
The photos are snapshots of the painting, early in the process. Photo on the left is mostly underpainting. Right photo has a second layer of paint: mid-ground mountains are gathering mist, the near mountains are growing conifers. There will eventually be a foreground layer of aspens mostly obscuring the left and lower left of the scene. Details as they happen.









