Wow, I get to paint something local for a change. And the scenes are local, but these were actually painted on a picnic table on the other side of the Cascades at Lake Chelan State Park a few days ago.
These are two of six paintings for a trailside project at my local park, Fort Worden State Park, funded by the Friends of Fort Worden and state parks. The trail wonders beside Chinese Pond and then into a mixed-age conifer forest. These trail panels will be like a little gallery in the forest. It’s been fun to work on something much smaller than what I usually do. I’ll have more soon.
This second painting shows the pond in winter, Nootka roses without leaves or flowers, green grass and flocks of migrant widgeons. There was discussion of the deer – too close, too big, but if anyone has been to Port Townsend, they’d understand how critical it would be to add this one species – THE species here in town. Love them or hate them, it’s life for all of us here.
Fort Matanzas National Monument is getting an Eifert painting. I was recently in Florida, south of Saint Augustine at Fort Matanzas National Monument. Boy was it hot. So hot, some of the rangers actually carried towels to help dry off, the humidity was so amazing. Of course, a big camera is a big help, so it stayed cool in the car – and then each time I got out – BANG, the humidity would hit that cold camera and I couldn’t see out of it for five minutes.
I was there to research a mural that’s coming along now for the back or their park map. So, each year, some 650,000 people will get to take an Eifert painting home with them when they visit.
I got the job done, met some great people and came back to the cool Northwest – 30 degrees cooler – and have started down the path of building one of these big paintings. While the original idea was to show the nature of this place, an ecosystem very much like what it was 200 years ago when the fort was active, we veered course at the last moment and now I’m painting it as if it IS 200 years ago. As far as the wildlife is concerned, it’s about the same – amazing for a place surrounded by humans.
Above, I’m getting a royal tour by some guys that have been here decades. Between them, I’ll bet there’s 60 years of experience here – and the fourth was so smart I kept saying ‘ahhh’, or ‘ohhh’ when I realized she was far brighter than me. That’s a LOT of knowledge going along with me to help, and I really soaked it up. It’s what I do this crazy stuff for, the experiences – and this was a good one.
Here’s a view from the fort top, overlooking cannon that actually fire and looking out on the inlet it guarded. It’s a landscape altered by hurricanes, but it’s also the ONLY undredged river inlet on the entire eastern side of Florida. I let THAT sink in a bit, then sharpened my pencil.
This could be Malheur National Wildlife Refuge – possibly 1000 years ago when the Waditiki Indians lived here, fishing and hunting the marshes during high water periods. It’s from the perspective of the Trumpeter Swans, Canada geese and ducks the Indians hunted. Looking down through the birds you see the tule and cattail houses and boats, and people going about their daily lives. I like the feeling of a gigantic landscape with a very few humans touching the land lightly. How things have changed!
I finished this painting a few days ago for Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in eastern Oregon. This is one more of that series I’ve been working on seemingly forever, but this one I truly enjoyed, because there was so little guidance from anyone involved. This is another fairly big wayside, 60″ wide, that will be part of 3 at the Buena Vista Overlook south of Burns, Oregon. Here it is in the final form.
And here’s the original sketch of the main painting. Getting the feel of a made-up place, because who knows what it really looked like then, what the Indians looked like, what they did or how many there were. I think I got it.
I’ve been working on art for Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in eastern Oregon, a continuing effort that’s finally coming together. This wayside panel I just finished is going there, telling the story of springtime water vs. fall desert. It’s been interesting to compare the two scenes – which is a completely fabricated scene. No such place exists, yet it’s at Malheur in many places.
This view is of the spring snowmelt season there, when water from the local mountains fill up this grand valley with ponds and marshes. These lakes are only a couple of feet deep at most, many are less, but the place is crammed with birds either nesting or on their way north. It’s possibly the single most important wildlife refuge in the West.
And this scene shows the same place a few months later. The lakes have dried to an almost desert landscape and the lush foliage of spring has yellowed. It was interesting to figure this out – just the cattails were challenging to understand their life-cycle.
And here is where this and two other waysides are going – Buena Vista Overlook. My new paintings will replace these old and tired ones atop a stunning view of the valley below. These are big panels, each five feet wide. They needed to be big to compete with the scene.
Call this my small effort at using art to fight our current culture of White Terrorists in America. This is the place the Bundy Gang of Thugs took over a few years ago in a Right-wing attack on our heritage. Remember? Yes, this place is OUR heritage – and then the Trump administration pardoned them when they were sentenced for their crimes. Not enough said – but if you want to save what’s left of these places, VOTE for nature!
What’s this big guy doing on our hood? Attacking a brand new rental car – starting with licking the bumper and then advancing to the really fun stuff. Damage! See that foot-long horn (one of a pair) on top of a 2,000lb creature with the manners of a child? I loved every minute of it.
Here we were at Wind Cave National Park in the Black Hills of South Dakota. We’ve been on a site visit, researching, photographing and sketching for a new and really interesting project. Wind Cave has one of the most amazing caves we’ve ever been in, 150-some miles of it, and also super high-quality mixed grass prairie up top with hundreds of bison, elk, pronghorn, deer and prairie dogs. A feast for our eyes.
This is pre-sketch drawing number 8, placed in the design grid on the back of their new map guide. 750,000 people come here each year and this will be the handout they all take home. And this is drawing number 1, beginning with some vague notion of underground vs. above ground prairie and Black Hills. Compare this to the top one and it shows how things progress and evolve in my head as I do these things on location – no studio time, no time to think, just draw – and then I have to present this as a program to park staff at the end. Nervous? I used to be but it’s just life on some higher level now.National Park Service staff and me, left, at the highest point in the park. We were discussing how often this location gets struck by lightning, which was happening. Photo by Nancy, who took hundreds of others. Melinda, next to me, came from the East Coast to help on this.
Stay tuned as this painting develops. It will be about 5′ x 4′ and be filled with many more critters, flowers and details – especially in the cave where some of the most interesting hang from the ceiling (no, not bats). If you follow me, you’ll see the entire progression from this messy beginning to a finished ‘thing’.
Stay tuned as this painting develops. It will be about 5′ x 4′ and be filled with many more critters, flowers and details – especially in the cave where some of the most interesting hang from the ceiling (no, not bats). If you follow me, you’ll see the entire progression from this messy beginning to a finished ‘thing’.
I just polished these three outdoor wayside panels for Washington State Parks. Soon they’ll be installed at Rosario Beach, Deception Pass State Park near Anacortes, right on the beach at one of the most heavily-explored tide pool areas in Washington. The three paintings tell the stories of how the tide works to create this amazingly rich ecosystem, how people messed it all up with boots and flip-flops – and finally how to walk here without screwing it up again.
I want to show you the third panel, the one about their rope path. These tide pools were decimated by thousands of feet, but the park stretched a yellow rope out to the best pools and signs (like this one) tell people to ‘Follow the Ropes”. It worked, amazingly enough, and the tide pool life returned – crabs and anemones, kelp and sculpins. It was such an easy idea, and now the place is returning to normal. Seeing this is one of the many reasons I still get a charge out of painting art for public places.
These panels are 36″ x 24″ and will be made of high-pressure laminate and probably last longer than I will.
I received some installation photos for my Lime Kiln Point Lighthouse paintings. Everyone seems to like them, so I thought I’d share it all here for the record. I painted these last winter for Washington State Parks with EDX Exhibits in Seattle. Installation and these photos were by Marius at Doty Signs in Seattle.
This lighthouse is THE place to watch orca whales up close in the wild. There’s possibly no place on Earth you can get closer to wild whales without getting on a boat, and in summer, people line the shoreline here to watch the killer whale families feeding on salmon right in front of them. This is a big deal since the southern population of orcas is endangered and it’s not looking good for a recovery. It’s a thrilling experience to see them, and I’m proud to say my stuff now explains what people are looking at. Plus, there are one or two really nice looking pieces of art!
This is sort of a big deal for me, too, as new rules don’t allow boats to approach these endangered animals, leaving Lime Kiln as the best viewing in the Northwest. It’s also a place I know well, since I had “October”, my 40-foot sloop tied in nearby Friday Harbor in the ’80s – my ‘painting platform’ as I sailed from San Diego to Alaska and most places in between. I have history here. Nancy and I, decades later aboard our 45′ floating home ‘Rumpy’ came by here one afternoon and watched in amazement as an entire orca family slowly swam directly beneath our boat (engine off). One of the big males was bigger than our boat, but they minded their manners and didn’t touch us.
A big flash of red, black and white – one of the most striking birds in North America. We see these guys often here in our forest on the northeast side of the Olympic Peninsula – two were actually on our tray feeder not long ago and they dwarfed the chickadees that fled as they landed.
To me, pileated woodpeckers represent my vision of old-growth forests and a time when there was much more of that around here. These are complex conifers, moss and ferns growing high on the trunks, a tangle of branches and twigs that took centuries to grow. I’ve tried to express that in this painting, as if we’re looking up a the tree, seeing a flash of bird and the feeling of bigness. Painting with some abstract qualities also helps, I think, and gives it a messy feeling – just the way nature is.
Most woodpeckers, but especially this one, drill holes in trees to find insects or create nesting sites for themselves. The holes then provide homes for many others, both birds and animals. These are truly important creatures for the health of a forest. You won’t find them in tree farms, just like you won’t find an elk in a cornfield.
This painting is now for sale. It’s framed and the outside measurements are about 20″ x 24″ matted and under glass for $295 total. The acrylic painting is on board and is 10″x14″, the glass is 16″x20″. We have this frame on it now, but others are available. Shipping is a bit more. Let me know if you’re interested at larry@larryeifert.com.
I’ve been painting imaginary scrapes of landscapes for a long time. I find it very rewarding to take a moment in time and build a little painting around it, a memory for me of ‘being there’. This one is actually a streamside rock pile up the Big Quilcene River on the Olympic Peninsula, Olympic National Forest. I remember, it was raining, had glistening rocks, lots of varieties of color and texture, a few bits of wood as well. It was near the old log bridge at Bark Shanty. These are cold waters, so I primed the board with Mars Red to give it all a warm cast.
The spotted sandpiper is the same, a nice memory for me of bumping into this little guy on a hike. They’re around most Western mountain streams throughout the summer, but head south to Argentina when the snow flies. You might normally think of sandpipers as birds that flock for safety, but this one is always singular. They poke around stream and lake shores, banks and beaches for lunch and have a curious habit of teetering up and down as if it’s lost its balance.
The first time I ever saw a spotted sandpiper was in the High Sierra. I was walking along a meadow bank beside the river above Tuolumne Meadows a few miles south of the campground. What a place! And here was a sandpiper, just meandering along and minding its own business as if I didn’t exist. It spent time, and so did I. Those memories make for good paintings, no matter if it’s decades later.
This painting is now for sale. It’s framed and the outside measurements are about 24″ x 20″ matted and under glass for $1295 total. Shipping is a bit more. Let me know if you’re interested at larry@larryeifert.com.
American dipper working the Upper Dungeness – but it could be any clean mountain stream hereabouts. A little space between projects, so I painted my favorite bird – John Muir’s favorite bird too. No secret why, this little bird lives where Muir felt most at home, and I do too – next to a clear rushing and wild bit of water in the high country. Dippers are so connected to this singular habitat that they’ll fly around a stream bend instead short-cutting across a meadow. ‘Dine in’ for a dipper means diving into a waterfall and walking around underwater, kicking stones around and eating insects.
Painting moving water is always a joy for me, but also has some mental anguish. It’s not easy to define what it looks like – something that is more a feeling than a fact. There is lots of bounced light, reflecting off the sky, nearby trees, sunny patches of moss that is getting direct sunlight. It’s not what I see, but more what I think I feel that is important. Did I get it on this one? I’m never sure.
I realized at the beginning that this would be a gray and green painting, cool colors. So, I started it by priming the board with Mars Red, a very brilliant purplish-red that you can see hints of all over the painting. Look carefully, you’ll see what I mean. It warmed the entire painting up a lot.
This painting is still for sale as of January 31, 2019. It’s framed as you see it here, outside measurements are about 20″ x 24″ and is $295 total, with shipping a bit extra. Email me at larry@larryeifert.com if you’re interested.
Sorry, this painting sold a few hours after posting.
