The last day of April in northeastern Wyoming.

A contrast to the snow, in red, yellow, and blue.

Sixty degrees and sunny yesterday. Two inches of snow for today. This is spring weather in the north west.

Small studies I'm doing with acrylics on yupo paper.

For more information about this month's residency at Jentel, check here for Jennifer Baker-Henry's blog. Jennifer is one of the two writers in residence this month, and her blog provides some interesting details and anecdotes about life here on the ranch. Enjoy!

Today's soft silent snow.
Last night's Vivaldi induced energy.

All in a day's work - well, some of it.

This is an example of scoria, which you see all over the hills in northeastern Wyoming. Scoria comes from coal-seam fires, the underground smouldering of a coal deposit. The fires in the coal seams are often started by lightning or grass or forest fires, and they can smoulder long after the flames have burnt out. They propagate along cracks in geologic structures. These types of fires have occurred for over three million years in eastern Wyoming and Montana and have shaped the surrounding landscapes.

The log cabin above houses the two writers' studios, and the structure below that houses the four artists' studios, here at Jentel in Banner, Wyoming.
For information about the Jentel Artists Residency, click here.

I still can't paint such gorgeous colors as these, but I can't stop looking at them in nature. I think they will always look better in nature, but I can understand why an artist might want to play with them. Certainly, though, what I am seeing here in Wyoming inspires me to at least draw, to sing the joys of the natural world with my hands and eyes on paper.

places of the mind

Snow crept up on us, over the night. This is a view to our east. The Big Horn Mountains to the far west are gone. But the Lower Piney Creek carries on. It guides my spirit, so I will listen to it each morning. All I ever need to do in life is remember this.



I am photographing every intriguing composition I see on my morning walks. My plan was to look at my photos and paint from them. I'm not doing that. I don't need to. I am caught by similar compositions in my walks and seemed to have internalized their essence because I'm now seeing reminders in my paintings. I am paying respect to my emotional well being and to the nature around me that is supporting that well being. And I'm doing that with landscape paintings, something I've never done before. Yes. This place is telling me things, and I am listening.

A landscape in progress

The inspirations. The lines. The colors. The shapes. The flow. The subtle.

Ahh. . . the water's edge. A walk around Jentel. A chaotic transition to artistic introspection. The gurgles and rush of water and the wind in the reeds will drive noise out of my head, leaving room for that blank canvas.

Ready. Set. Go. There's a bed? I think it's for dreaming. Or for curling up into a little ball from time to time, biting your nails.

This is a beginning. A nice, clean, light space. I've unpacked and filled up and reconfigured this space. Most likely I'll just sit and stare at it tonight in a daze. No pressure. No schedule. Just get acclimated to this new place and see what it has to show me. This is interior. There is also an unbelievable exterior. I will swallow myself up in it for the next 29 days. Art and place as I've never imagined. My whole being is beginning to spin the connections.