Showing posts with label Seasons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Seasons. Show all posts

Sunday, December 14, 2014

An Old Wall

During the night, a winter storm rolled over Santa Fe, and left a blanket of snow covering everything. 

My Sunday morning ritual is to go to a local shop that is known for magazines, newspapers, art on the walls, coffee, tea and pastries. It is usually bustling with people, sometimes in groups, sitting at tables and having animated conversations. I buy a New York Times newspaper, a pastry, and cup of dark roast coffee, then find a place to sit. Amidst the cackling conversations and background music, I begin pouring over the substantial newsprint. The NY times is so rich in content, especially Sunday, that it takes me all week to go through it. The following Sunday, I buy another.

This morning, I went to find an old wall that I made an oil painting of in the spring. My thought is to paint it again, this time in winter. It will be the same size and shape. 

A French artist by the name of Claude Monet famously made impressionist paintings in a series, depicting changing times of day—and seasons as well.
Click to see Steven Boone artwork

Sunday, September 23, 2012

The Miraculous Cycle

Aspen Glory, oil on linen, 36 x 48 inches

The earth is tilting further away from the sun each day as the northern hemisphere enters the autumn season. All the plant life is responding to shorter days and cooler temperatures. Leaves are changing colors on trees that will soon be bare, and plants are busy casting seeds from spent flowers, ensuring that come spring, progeny will come forth to repeat the miraculous cycle of life.

I enjoy the cooler temperatures and changing colors, and relish the autumn season before it gets too cold. Especially, my artist eyes are dazzled by color. Here in northern New Mexico, the greatest display of color is found in the masses of aspen trees that grow on the mountainsides. They are called “quaking aspen,” because their small, heart-shaped leaves tremble at the slightest stirring of a breeze, and the light reflected off the leaves dances. In autumn, their color changes from pale green to brilliant gold. Because the aspen share a root system, they grow closely together, and the creamy white trunks shoot straight up in the air up to 100 feet. It is awesome to see entire mountainsides covered with aspen, shimmering golden before deep blue skies.

It is a favorite subject of mine to paint.
Autumn Path, oil on canvas, 12 x 16 inches

 To see more artwork, go to The Steven Boone Gallery, or Steven Boone Fine Art.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
  ~Albert Camus, (French, 7 November 1913 – 4 January 1960)

Sunday, October 04, 2009

What Poets Write About

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. ~Stanley Horowitz

I feel fortunate to live in a place with spectacular natural beauty, light that is sharp and clear, and seasons that change dramatically. Now, in the days of autumn, I have been working in my studio, getting ready for my upcoming mixed-media photo show October 16, called The World Is One Country. Yet the outdoors is so fantastic, I often leave to go hiking and painting.
A few days ago I hiked with a friend in the mountains. We parked by a stream and followed it down the mountain. The sun shone in a blue sky while the air felt brisk and chilly until we heated up from exercise and the extraordinary beauty all around us took our minds from any discomfort. The trail wound along beside the stream, sometimes forcing us to cross over by hopping on rocks or walking over fallen trees. There were obstacles in our path but as my friend said, “This is so much better than Disneyland!” The colors took my breath away more than the exertion of the hike. The evergreens had their usual deep hues, but the plants on the forest floor were all turning into blazing flames of yellows and reds. Perhaps most awesome are the aspen trees, sometimes called “quaking aspens” for the way their small, heart-shaped leaves quiver in the breeze. Now, the leaves are the color of gold, and when they quiver in the sunlight, they sparkle like gems—whole mountainsides of incandescent celebration.
Experience of nature in its pure state is what poets write about and artists try to capture. But the Creator of the universe is far ahead of our imaginings, and His work is testimony to His greatness which is well beyond human approach.
Once the last tree is cut and the last river poisoned, you will find you cannot eat your money -American Indian Proverb