When I first moved here three years ago, the rains fell, day after day. My bank, unfortunately enough, was located 25 minutes up valley in St. Helena, a community as yet undiscovered by me.
What I found was dirt black, gnarly vines, growing from neon yellow fields of grape vines under cool mist colored sky.
Sublime.
Thus began my vineyard paintings, sometimes "realistic" sometimes abstract. (Think vineyards at 60 mph)
Going back up valley a few days ago, the third year of my residing here, the vineyards did not let me down.
This week in the studio: Here's a look at me spackeling then brushing on a layer of gesso on a stretched canvas panel. It's like frosting a really big cake.
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