Here is the confluence of the Columbia and the Willamette, as viewed from timberland on the ridge NW of the two cities.
Caleb doesn't believe Finnegan cries when he leaves the house, but it's true. Finnegan sits at the window and whimpers and whimpers until a cat or a squirrel or a jay or some teenagers or a dog goes by.
At the top of Cathedral Park with 575 lbs of Newfoundlands.
Stephen O'Donnell and Susan Seubert talk about their current shows at Froelick Gallery.
Carson Ellis lives on an old farm in Tualatin. Her job there is to keep the owls in the barn hayloft comfortable without letting the floor beneath them rot away.
I went out to visit yesterday with the intent of painting a split oak next to the pond. But then I saw the owls. And then I saw the goat in the goat tree. And then I saw this cloud hovering between the water tower and the nut drying house.
So I'll have to go back sometime.
There was a protest and march in Portland, Oregon on the evening of the inauguration. I went down with a promise (to myself) I'd make it home early so we could all get ready for Saturday's march. I built a new, water-proof pocket-notebook and caught an empty #4 out of St Johns.
I could barely hear the speakers over the crowd at the Square. I watched friends and joined the march as far as the Morrison Bridge. I left briefly, but rejoined near Burnside and then left again before the police started hitting the marchers (and passerby) with tear gas canisters and rubber bullets.
Here are the larger drawings copied later from the soggy, little ones.
Holy Tornado. My love of drawing pictures of Senator Kaine is only exceeded only by how much the idea of anyone in the DeVos family running the Department of Education makes me want to puke supplement chunks and self-help lies.
The evening of the second day after the snow, the moon rose and the PGE trucks were out fixing broken power lines. Light from the PGE truck turned the soccer field and the (now head-less) snowman orange.
By the morning of the second day after the snow, the big snowball had a large head.
A large snowball appeared in the soccer field the first day after the big snow.
Hail to the citizen.
This is how you learn concertina, rocking it back and forth, button to button, until your fingers are familiar with the diatonic surprises and can go more or less straight to the notes when you're ready to start chasing melodies; a beautiful process just so long as you don't have an audience.
I had planned on posting this morning view of the St Johns Bridge without comment, then the news came through that Scott Pruitt had been put forward to head the EPA. I trust there are Republican Senators who still respect science. I trust they will receive enough phone calls from their constituents and other concerned Americans that they will choose not to confirm Pruitt.
I don't expect to like the eventual head of the EPA, but I do expect to see one who, however she approaches it, respects the reality and causes of global warming.
I mostly paint what I love and care for.
I love a good snowpack, like this one in the Colorado Rockies.
A good snowpack provides water throughout the year in a way no reservoir can. Our snowpacks are rapidly declining with the expansion of climate change. If you've ever liked any snow painting I've made then I'm asking you to do all you can to slow global warming. Please.
End our reliance on fossil fuels. Call all your politicians and demand they live up to and exceed the Paris Accords. Give money to activists and researchers. Do not vote for or defend anyone who would lie, or even hesitate, about the reality of climate change.
This sky was waiting for me when I returned to Oregon after spending election day in Iowa.
Update: When I painted this I had just woken up with the desire to scrawl this across all of my pictures. My compromise now: to paint and scrawl this one again and again as often as I feel like it. Since the first one is in my watercolor notebook, all the following ones will be on loose sheets of watercolor paper and available for sale. 10% of these sales will go be paid to non-profit organizations as a sort of trump-tithe. Here is the link to purchase the current version.
As my daughters get older and we stop going to playgrounds I draw fewer children . I always assumed it would be this way. But there are still plenty of people to note in passing. Especially those who, like this morning, demonstrate the measures sometimes required to get a child out of the house trauma-free. Often such measures don't feel like trouble or inconvenience: if we grumble then it's 95% facade, just enough to acknowledge their acknowledgment of the above and beyond they're receiving this morning.
The Ranger Describes The Lake opens at Froelick Gallery this Thursday, October 6 alongside new work by Lli Wilburn.