informed progress

I am reading a book about the formation of the Colorado Plateau from the earliest times when the earth's crust was still forming. Ancient Landscapes of the Colorado Plateau is written and illustrated by geologists, but is eminently accessible, and fascinating. In addition to clear textual descriptions of geological history, computer-generated maps show the succession of landscapes that probably existed as continents collided, oceans inundated, landforms lifted, and mountains eroded. The witnesses to this history are the very layers of rock that I see on a daily basis. My understanding of this land in which I live deepens with every chapter that I read. What a pleasure.

The benefits extend to the studio. My current concept of building a painting the way that the Plateau was built becomes vastly more meaningful as my knowledge of current geologic theory expands. In practical terms, it increases my visual vocabulary as I contemplate what to do with a given layer on a given painting. The image here is of a new layer on yesterday's cliffscape (see the previous post). In my mind was the early phase of continental formation and convergence in the primordial ocean. Its portrayal required finding a new way of putting down and blending the paint, because I had a specific effect in mind. I wanted to suggest isolated splotches of earth roaming in a vast ocean. I worked intuitively and experimentally, and I am pleased with the results. This is not the final layer, but it holds a meaning that is deeper and richer than the rather artificial geometric portrayal of a cliff face that I created yesterday. On the other hand, yesterday's layer provided a structure upon which to hang this more amorphous composition. Each layer informs the next. This is the way I had hoped to work when I first conceived of literally using the land around me to inform my painting. I am encouraged!