;-> but shucks, you gave it a try!
~~~
Wonderful to read this and the other notes people are sending in; thanks Frank;
and of course au contraire, the words have quite an effect.
Someone said being at the meetings among artist-naturalists was like a
homecoming; I find reading the travelogs of alla y'all really rewarding, and
vividly comforting, too.
I was out there in WA prowling around not too long after the blast, and was
also deeply (and hypervisually) moved by that terrrain; albeit aspects were
somewhat different at the time. Prominent then was the famous coating of ash
for miles and miles and counties and counties; I recall it as giving new
meaning to the word "ubiquitous."
That ash both enhanced some of the textural-type things Frank so
beautifully notes here, but also muted everythign that was to do with hue,
waaaaay down.
I remember we did some crawling on our bellies at the time too, having a
peek at the microclimate view down among the ashy scrub; words utterly FAIL
me! all I can say is "wo." To go eyeball to eyeball with a single plant
draped in that stuff, and wonder. man. ffwhew. eerie, powerful MOM
(Nature, that is)
Those of you who live out there: do you get to go out there and paint like
the rest of us are salivating to?
And on a similar: I wonder if anyone has spent time in Iceland, or had the op
to paint there? the color/texture stuff going on in that landscape is to me
total inspiration; I'd love to hear someone else's version......
Best
MKR
Frank Ippolito wrote:
> >Happy landings<
>
> Thanks Chris and Miriam for sharing a travel log from the second half of
> your trip! Its always fun to hear a little about the varous post-meeting
> adventures we take...
>
> After the meeting I took some time to explore the mountains. Most
> remarkable was my visit to Mt St Helens. Wow! The word that kept repeating
> inside my head was: awesome.
>
> Based on (wildly innaccurate) weather reports, I burned rubber out of
> Seattle to take advantage of what was projected to be the only clear day
> left to my trip. Although it was a long ride, I decided to drive directly
> to the NE entrance to the park and visit Windy Ridge overlook. I have read
> (most correctly) that this was by far the more dramatic first glimpse of
> the mountain. My drive-time would leave me with less than 2 hours of light
> after a full afternoon of driving, but I hoped that the vantage would make
> for a great sunset. I wasn't disappointed.
>
> Driving in from the NE does not allow for a gradual acclimation to the
> devastation (and the wicked beauty) of this region (unlike the main SE/SW
> entances/visitor centers). Instead after a long drive through the lush
> mountain forests that are typical for the cascades, one rounds a switchback
> and is suddenly within the scorch zone of the blast. This zone is comprised
> of thousands and thousands of standing trees that have lost most of thier
> limbs and all of their foliage- standing as far as the eye can see.
> Although passing across this landscape is enough to raise the hair on the
> back of your neck, the truely haunting sight is when you notice the tiny
> toothpick-like silhouettes of other barren trees standing way off on every
> distant ridge. At this point one cannot yet see the peak that was
> responsible for this condition- which really underscores just how powerful
> a force this place bares silent witness to.
>
> After driving a bit farther in around another switchback or two, one can
> begin to see more and more of the blast area- which is defined by thousands
> of tree trunks that are all lying flat and and pointing in the same
> direction: away from the beautiful glacial peak that has come into view in
> the distance. Across the panarama, this effect is enhanced by the built-in
> perspective of a series of lines that eminate from a single point-source.
> Remember that this is not a flat landscape. These felled trees follow the
> contours of various ridges and valleys, and the visual effect is one vast,
> moving texture. That is, until you connect the huge logs that immediately
> surround you with the distant landscape they are part of. The late
> afternoon light only served to add relief to this dramatic scene. Many of
> the trees piled together within the valleys that surrounded each ridge. And
> scores of them floated on the surface of newly formed (and newly moved!)
> lakes that dotted the area.
>
> Finally the road leads you out to Windy Ridge, which sits only a few
> unobstructed miles from the crater- and 2/3 as high. Mt St Helens blew out
> sideways and the result is a horseshoe shaped crater that sits facing NW.
> >From the NE, the setting sun's glow was being reflected out from the
> interior of the crater and seemed to underscore the power of the now
> dormant volcano.
>
> The rest of the mountain still retains the rugged beauty of it's three
> nearby sisters (including the iconic Mt Rainier.) Large glaciers still
> cover its slopes and the ice's blue color combined with the volcanic ash's
> soft gray hue to produce a mix of deep and deeper purples and cool blues in
> the evening light . The edges of the glaciers seemed to have a dark border
> that reminded me of how two areas of watercolor glazes might overlap (the
> artist never sleeps). In all, the moutain and surrounding vista appeared to
> me to be one large three dimesional watercolor painting. Hmmmmm. I wonder
> whether a full size easle could pass as carry-on luggage.....
>
> Finally completing this illusion was the additional texture of the host of
> new, young trees that are growing everywhere. For those of you who are
> unaware, this blast site is now teeming with life. Except for a deep river
> of ash the runs SW from the crater, all of the landscape described above
> houses signs of renewed life in every form. Most striking was the odd
> result of such a large number of similarly aged/sized fir trees. For some
> reason, this results in a strange vibrating pattern across the terrain.
> Imagine a huge vibrating moire pattern, if you will.
>
> After a dramatic sunset that I will not soon forget, I drove out in the
> deepening dusk. By the time I reached the scorch zone, night had decended.
> But the afterglow of Parrish Blue still hung in the sky, serving to
> backlight the jagged silhouettes that lined the way. As I drove on, I was
> certain that no picture I had taken that day could possibly hope to
> represent what I had seen. And I was equally sure that any words I chose to
> describe my trip would fall just as short....
>
> Frank
>
> Frank Ippolito
> Principal Scientific Assistant
> Dept Vertebrate Paleontology
> American Museum of Natural History
> 79th Street & CPW
> NY NY 10024
> (212) 769-5812
> [log in to unmask]
--
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"Occasionally you may witness healing phenomena
that could shake you out of your wits."
--Daskalos Spyros Sathi
M.K. Rasmussen
Real Life Art
Baltimore, MARYLAND
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