cardinal

this mountain horizon was painted in a few stages over the past half-year or so. it's meant to represent the view from our house toward the east, out across Mingus Mountain and the Black Hills mountain range.

we went camping there last fall. and we'll camp there again a bunch this summer, I hope. 

I can't remember now how this idea came to me, but my larger-scale plan is to complete three more paintings, one for each of the other three cardinal directions.

this one, of these tall, distant guardians of the sunrise, is the first one I'm happy enough with to say it's finished.

it is a dark painting. the mountains themselves are all lost in shadows, outlined by light barely breaking up into the blackness. the east often symbolizes new beginnings and springtime blossoms and fresh air and new growth, so I wanted this piece of art to tease those things out through contrast.

I think the other three will do the same in some way. at yoga church we regularly, ritually talk about the seasons and the elements and their associated senses and directions: east is air and smell and springtime; south is fire and summer and sight; west for autumn and water and tasting; north for winter, touch, and hibernating earth.

my south-facing summer painting will have rain clouds. so far, the westerly autumn one features the most pastel pink streaky sky, full of glow. for the north, I have clear, vibrant blue above a stark, sagebrush-speckled plain.

those others are coming along, in various stages. maybe I'll finish them in an order that matches the clockwise association of seasonal progression-- south next, then west, then north. if I time it right I might be able to present the next three alongside the proper solstice or equinox.  

then there will be the question of how to display them together. in a row? in a square? on the corresponding walls of a room? we shall see.