Fairbanks in January

Fairbanks sunrise at 10:30 am.

After spending the summer of 2015 exploring the interior of Alaska, my husband and I speculated on what it might be like in the winter. And did we want to experience it first hand? In the end, curiosity won out and we flew in to Fairbanks for a short winter visit.

Our arrival coincided with a bit of record cold weather in Fairbanks. When we landed, the pilot announced cheerfully that Fairbanks was MINUS 39 degrees. No wind chill. Just cold.

Minus 39 degrees is the coldest weather I have ever experienced in my lifetime. It was so cold that it hurt to take a breath. So cold that the liquid in my eyes started to freeze, making blinking a chore. So cold that a sniffle became a solid icicle before it could drip off the tip of a nose. 

At these temperatures, if you leave a car in a parking lot for longer than two hours, you had better make sure you have plugged it in or it will not start when you go back out. Parking lots have stands of outlets and every car has a plug sticking out of the front grate.

The University of Alaska at Fairbanks has on its campus the amazing Museum of the North. The museum is a celebration of Alaska history and culture plus an art museum. 

The Museum of the North (MON) has a large collection of Native Alaskan art (contemporary and old) plus many other pieces of note. Here are a few of my favorites from this visit.

Sara Tabbert, wood carving

This wood carving is by Fairbanks artist, Sara Tabbert. Her work is vibrant and hopeful and some day I hope to own one. You can read and see more about her here. This video plays in the museum and gives a good sense of the artist and her work.

Claire Feyes, oil painting

Claire Feyes is another Alaska artist whose work is captivating. While not a Native Alaskan herself, she fell in love with the land and the people in the land. Here is a documentary about her life and work. I enjoy the simple shapes and sense of community she depicts.

John Hoover, wood carving and sculpture

John Hoover's work stands out as Native Alaskan (his mother was Aleut, his father Dutch) and yet completely contemporary. I remember seeing some of his work in Seattle, as well as in Anchorage.

It is refreshing to take time to step away from the normal routines of daily life and explore something different. For me, this trip to Fairbanks allows me to change the channel of negative and anxious thinking to things that are hopeful and beautiful and lovely.

Fairbanks in the winter is beautiful, but I admit that I am happy to be home to PLUS 39 degrees!


"Homeward Bound" Paul Simon and George Harrison.

sketchbook -- mud flats in Cook Inlet, Alaska

The tour books warn to stay off the mud flats. My friend and Alaska native, Roxanne Colyer Clingman, warned me to stay off the mud flats. The newspapers and signs around town warn to stay off the mud flats.

The tide shift here is 30-40 feet, and when the tide is out, the bottom of the inlet is exposed. Glacial silt makes for a quicksand-like surface. Once stuck, a person faces 30 feet of water rushing in on the next tide. I was well-warned to stay off the flats.

When we explored Hope, Alaska, and I was faced with the mystery and beauty of the mud flats, I understood all of the warnings. I had to force myself to only draw and photograph them, because their attraction was strong! Here's what I wrote on the left side of this sketch:

7.1.15 Turnagain Arm from Hope Spur. 

Warnings in tour books (all) and from Roxanne: do not walk on the mud flats! 

Their quicksand siren song is lovely. Come and explore my complex curves and rivulets. 

Look into my puddles to see your future. Linger over grooves and cups, 

hillocks and terraces simple and marvel at the symmetry. 

The unspoken lyric remains that 

the song ends in doom.

Here is a short film of Alaska's landscape and a song that ends beautifully.

Taking stock

The Washington State Capitol building was visible through the haze and fog as we approached Olympia on our return.

This has been a wonderful experience, a grand adventure. I've added a slideshow to the sidebar to show some of the 90 paintings I did while aboard.

Back on dirt, I look back at some of the stats from these last months aboard M/V Dutch Treat between Olympia, Washington and Auke Bay, Alaska:

124 days
2600 miles
90 paintings
120 pages of sketches
3" of hair growth (less now that I got a haircut)
42 books read
innumerable memories

Thanks to all of you who were interested and followed along. It was a wonderful trip. But, it's good to be home!

Sitka sketches

Sitka, Alaska is a beautiful little town. We are tied up at the dock and daily walk (uphill) into town to look at all it has to offer. The Indian River is chock full of salmon now. The cruise ships have tied up near downtown (I always hate that part) and the streets are jammed with tourists. Better are the days when no cruise ships crowd the harbor and we can wander at our own pace.

St Michael's Cathedral sits at the heart of downtown and reminds everyone of the Russian influence here. Gift shops are filled with stacking dolls, Russian pottery, and furs. On one of my walks, I watched four 20-something year old guys playing basketball. They were razzing one another IN RUSSIAN! Sadly, the original cathedral (Russian Orthodox church) was burned in the 1960s and rebuilt. The copper spires are still nicely aged and green.

As I put this post together, I can look out the window of the boat and see bald eagles swooping down to catch fish in the harbor. Just the other day, I was talking to a friend on the phone when a mother and baby orca swam within 100 feet of me! This photo of a page of my sketchbook is typical of what I do when I am busy out and about while we are tied to a dock. Quick sketches and then running to catch up with my husband. Color comes later.

Finally, a quote from Ezra Pound, "The artist is the antennae of the race." Do you agree? Disagree?

We'll be leaving Sitka tomorrow and starting our journey back South, toward home. About 1000 miles of Alaska, British Columbia, and Washington before I rest my head on my pillow at home. More art ahead. And flat water, I hope!

Between Juneau and Sitka: Appleton Cove

Painting while we hang on the anchor has been a comedy of errors. And a source of frustration. If the wind blows or the current/tide shifts (which it always does), then my subject is no longer visible.

While we waited for the weather to improve and the wind to stop blowing through Peril Strait, I decided to try something new. I studied the arc of the boat and selected three subjects along that arc. Then, I painted all three paintings at once. As the boat swung, I just painted what was in front of me.

Swinging on the hook. I will try this again.

Between Juneau and Sitka: Tenakee Inlet

On a long boat trip, it's important to get out and walk when the getting is good. From my standpoint, walking on a logging road with bears in the woods nearby is OUT OF THE QUESTION! But, when we turned into Tenakee Inlet, we were able to tie up at the dock of Tenakee Springs and walk through the charming small town. With a population of less than 100, this is a very small town. Homes line the 10'wide (1.5 miles long) dirt road and we walked the road and talked to the people we met.

We anchored near Crab Bay in Tenakee Inlet and I painted this in the time before our 10:00 sunset.

Art, not just for museums

Independence Day in Wrangell, Alaska. There were the usual things like fireworks, the egg toss, gunny sack races, funnel cake, and ice cream cones. There were the less usual things like log rolling, axe throwing, and long saw contests. But, best of all was the parade.

Just the day before, I had seen many Tlingit art pieces in the museum in Wrangell. On the fourth, the same objects were being used, worn, displayed and used in their intended ways in the parade down Main Street. Hats made from woven cedar bark, drums with iconic paintings, and the beautiful button blanket, along with singing and dancing and celebrating.

Art, not under glass, but part of life. Part of contemporary life. I love it!

Another interpretation

After a day devoted to painting, I don't want to stop! Any day spent painting is a good day.

Forceful

Working with the same idea on Wallis Museum Paper. I stuck my watercolor under painting out the window to add some real water drops. Texture! Like magic!

Feminine can also be forceful.

A new way to work

Ever since we cruised through northern British Columbia and I saw many waterfalls. I have had an idea about painting them. While we were there, I did many gesture drawings of the shapes of the water. The waterfalls felt feminine to me.

Since it's raining here in Wrangell, I decided that today was a good "studio" day for painting. I set up my materials on the sundeck (might need to rethink that name after all of these gray and wet days) and started.

The bottom photo shows the simplified contour drawing I did from my original gesture drawing. Simple lines. Simple shapes.

From that drawing, I painted a washy watercolor under painting on BFK Rives paper. I wanted to establish dark to light, cool to warm shifts across the painting.

Once the paper was completely dry, I applied the pastel to follow the plan of the under painting. In this painting, I wanted to express the passive inevitability of the water falling down. Does it look feminine? Passive?

Rainy and 58 degrees in Wrangell, AK today. But I was kept warm by working with an idea.

Logistics: Plein air notes from a boat in Alaska

Not only do I need to decide the subject for my painting, I have to figure out where I can stand on the boat to see it well enough to paint it! Though cloudy, it wasn't rainy in the morning and the water in Santa Anna Inlet were mirror-smooth. This was my subject (looking out toward Seward Passage) and I could see it very well from the cockpit (a small open deck at the back of the boat).The inflatable kayak had to be moved so that I could get my easel in place. A tight fit!

Watercolor underpainting to block in the big shapes and attempt to get some of the values in there. As I painted, the boat shifted and my subject moved about 30 degrees.

While not wildly successful, I can always find something of the day in my plein air paintings. Something I got just right. In this one, it was the way the water and the sky worked together. By the time I finished, my subject was only visible by looking over my left shoulder.

Any day painting is a good day!

Mary Island Anchorage, AK

Departure from Prince Rupert, British Columbia at 6:00 am. This painting done in Alaska at Mary Island Anchorage at 5:00 pm. Life is good!

Four Days left!

I have checklists and reminder notes all over the place as we get ready for our big adventure. But first, some of the in-case-of-emergency equipment does not make me feel very happy. I ask you: do I look even a little happy here in my immersion suit? I'm probably thinking about what catastrophic events might lead to me needing to wear this crazy thing!

immersion suit -- check!

A friend told me yesterday that when she stood close to me she could hear me ticking like a clock! That's how it feels, this countdown to May 15. What happens then? My husband and I depart in a boat to head north to Southeast Alaska!

A fun stop at Armchair Sailor in Lake Union for Inside Passage charts and books of tides and currents. I looked for a book entitled "Is it a Black Bear or a Brown Bear and Does it Really Matter?" Maybe I'll have to write that one myself.

These are just the newest purchases. We also have cartloads of rolled charts and electronics gear to help us keep from getting lost.

This will be our home for a few months!