I’ve been back at my desk for the whole week, which is a welcome relief. With the Calgary Expo, delivering prints to Discovery Wildlife Park, visiting my parents, and this past weekend out to Golden for a friend’s 80th birthday, I’ve been on the road more than I’m used to.
Someone whose job involves a lot of driving or travelling might think this is nothing and hardly qualifies as being ‘on the road.’ Still, my work involves long hours at my desk and the digital drawing board, so time away puts a big dent in my productivity.
I must draw editorial cartoons in advance to keep those clients supplied when I go anywhere. So, I have done very little whimsical wildlife drawing and painting in the past few weeks. Since that’s the work I enjoy most and where the future of my business lies, I’m holding up a virtual hand to other obligations for the next little while, saying, “This far, no further. I have animals to paint!”
As for the weekend in Golden, I’ve known my friend Babe for thirty years this August. He and I started working at The Douglas Fir Resort in Banff on the same day in 1994. I was in the waterslide facility, and he worked in maintenance. I pointed out to him on Friday that I was 23 when I met him at work, and I thought, “Who’s the old guy?”
He was three years younger than I am now.
Friends who’ve shared campsites and cabins for decades in various places, there were five of us in Golden this weekend. Babe and Sue stayed in their little house, Al in Babe’s art studio bedroom, and Jim in his little Boler trailer. I usually stay in their small cabin, a two-minute walk up a winding dirt path through dense forest. It was the first thing built there in 1993, and it is still solid, quiet, and comfortable.
We stayed up waiting for the northern lights Friday, but with none arriving by 11, we retreated to our separate spaces. I’m indeed one of the old guys now.
Around midnight, just about to climb the ladder to the cabin loft, I noticed the whole sky had turned pink and was moving. I dressed quickly, walked down through the woods to the main landing and knocked on Jim’s trailer. He woke startled, and I told him he’d want to get up and see the show.
When he saw the sky, he said I should get Al, while he went to wake Babe and Sue.
We all sat outside for an hour watching one of the most unique and spectacular northern lights shows any of us had ever seen.
In 1993, while I was in EMT training in Lac La Biche, a group of us drove out to Sir Winston Churchill Park on a very cold winter night to watch the northern lights. Many colours danced back and forth above, but what made it most memorable was seeing the sky reflected in the clear ice of the massive lake. From the edge of the shoreline, it felt like we were standing inside the aurora.
Those were the best northern lights I’ve ever seen. Last weekend was a close second.
The next morning, I admitted that just before I knocked on a dark, quiet trailer, I wondered if I was painting a target on my chest. Nobody likes to be woken from a dead sleep. Thankfully, all agreed it was worth it. After all, that’s what Saturday afternoon lawn chair naps are for.
My low-res grainy phone pics above are unremarkable compared to the fantastic captures I’ve seen online, shared by skilled photographers worldwide. Hopefully some of you got to see the show for yourselves. Photos rarely rival the experience.
On Saturday, several hummingbirds made rounds at three or four feeders Babe and Sue have around their home. Having never before captured decent shots of these tiny speedsters, I must have learned a few things over the years as I came home with several potential reference photos, more than you see here.
While these photos are edited, of course, that convenient red background is Babe’s little barn garage for his trailer, as a couple of the hummingbirds landed and sat on the safety wire surrounding the deck of the house.
My first instinct is to paint several of these poses, a line of little hummingbirds on the same wire, and devise my own vibrant colour scheme for each bird. I’m sure that seems like sacrilege to any hardcore birders, but my art doesn’t represent reality. I guess I’ll see what happens when I get into it, whenever that might be.
Regardless of how or when I paint from these pics, I enjoyed stalking the quick little critters. The best part about taking wildlife photos strictly for reference is that it doesn’t matter if the backgrounds or lighting aren’t great. Where a wildlife photographer might not see an image worthy of sharing or printing, all I care about is the detail and whether it inspires a possible painting or two.
And that’s my cue to head back to the drawing board. Next time, I’ll have some new artwork to share, or at least some works in progress.
Cheers,
Patrick
