Denver, CO
kayjuric
I first discovered this spot in August of 2013 while we were driving to Fishing Bridge in Yellowstone National Park. The location is in Pelican Valley, a lovely expanse which has a number of meadow tributaries that empty in to Yellowstone Lake. It has some of the richest wildlife diversity in the Park, including grizzlies, and subsequently many of the hiking trails are closed at times during the year. What first attracted me to the scene were the beautiful expanses of marsh grass that had many meandering channels running through them. They’re so beautifully curved, cutting gorgeous swinging, swooping lines through the grasses, along with other subtle animal trails running in various directions. The lake and surrounding mountains have a shimmering pastel appearance that is punctuated by stands of conifers reflected in the water; it’s a marvelous place to be. We were lucky enough to return there this last August.
During that trip I took several hundred photos and from one of those I painted the piece “Wetlands, Pelican Valley” in my studio. I did make a few adjustments: I made it a cloudy day, and I made the water reflection brighter so it would “pop” a bit more and accentuate the lovely shape of the waterways. I made the grasses a bit deeper in value however I kept the outline of the trees, distant mountains, water and trails. Overall I wanted to convey the feeling of a wide expanse.
I was raised on a family farm in southeastern Nebraska. Being outdoors was just part of everyday life and it was a great childhood. Every summer after wheat harvest our family would plan the big trip for the year, usually west, to the Rockies. Colorado, Wyoming, the Dakotas. The anticipation was felt by everyone. We all enjoyed looking at maps, planning the trip, discussing familiar roads and new unknown territory, trading stories about favorite spots and funny experiences. For me, the real excitement began as we drove west, and about halfway across Nebraska we began to encounter unplowed fields: rangeland, land fenced but unchanged by humanity. I found this fascinating and new, being from an area where nearly everything had been worked over. Vast areas of land had been plowed under in the last century and a half, trees cut down; land “improved” and shaped. And being out West where this sort of thing was not as prevalent, well, it was new and beautiful to me, even as a kid. I haven’t lost that excitement which is why I work to capture that wildness. It’s my way of connecting with the land, the beauty of it as it is now, it’s the same as it was before people, and it’s what will be after we are gone. It’s eternal, spiritual, restorative. I call my work contemporary because, well, I’m a 21st century artist exposed to, absorbing and reacting to a remarkable variety of historical influences. As a Western landscape painter it’s not my goal to create images in the style of our predecessors such Moran, Bierstadt, Church and others, but instead to learn from them, put what I’ve gleaned in my back pocket and strike out on my own.
We regularly visit national parks now, quite often actually. I discovered the scenic area in this picture by accident. We were driving the meandering road that I had mentioned earlier, on our way to somewhere else, admiring the geology, the forest, the wildlife and we found ourselves in this unusual valley. It was one of those serendipitous things.
I start with photos, lots of them. I used to do pleine air but sort of got that out of my system in college. Now I’m happy to shoot images in the field and work with my photo library, not worrying about the light changing on me and how much time I don’t have left! I start with great photos. I may use several for one piece, cobbling together various elements from different pictures to make one image. Sometimes I’ll use one photo for a painting without changing too many things, that’s the lucky exception. I put together a composition that works, do a couple of 5 x 7 sketches to see if it holds together. Lately I’ve been studying the golden ratio, other times working with dividing the picture plane in thirds. When I’m ready to start laying down paint, I start with a gessoed canvas panel or canvas on board, which will be covered with an undercoat of acrylic burnt sienna. When it’s dry I decide where the horizon should be. Then I’ll begin laying down the primary movement lines with vine charcoal to get the placement right, then go in with graphite to continue drawing the elements of the piece. I don’t get too specific, just rough in the placement of the parts. I used to paint tight, intricately realistic still lifes and portraits and began to feel burnt out after a few years. I felt more like a human camera than a painter, so I moved away from such tight duplication. I rough in the painting and start laying down scumbly undercoats of color with large brushes, working the surface slowly, defining the major shapes and lines with dark colors and not rushing it.
My palette hasn’t changed much over the years: Titanium white, cad yellow light, cad yellow medium, yellow ochre, cad red medium, cobalt blue, ultramarine, sometimes cerulean blue, burnt umber and sienna and sap green. Sometimes ivory black and cad yellow light for a green. I use a variety of oil paint brands, with Liquin and Gamsol.
It would have been easy to have gotten caught up in details, but I kept up the mantra “Keep it simple.” I was pleased with the grasses and the diagonal trails in the piece; the placement suggests an expanse of space. And it’s intriguing to think of what animals used those paths.
Questions about you:
I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of Nebraska Lincoln, my focus was on lithography. My master’s degree is not in art, but is in library and information science. Interestingly, while I was in grad school in New York City I made it a point to try and visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art once a week, which was an art education in itself. Recently I’ve taken a couple of pastel workshops from Denver artist Bruce Gomez and am presently in a masters painting class with Denver artist Kevin Weckbach.
Each of us can remember when we’ve had a particular transformative experience. It may have only lasted a moment but it has the potential to turn your thinking around. I had one of these in August of 2010, when we were on a family trip to Yellowstone and stayed in the Old Faithful Lodge. Our rooms had original prints on the walls by then Livingston Montana artist Russell Chatham, whose work I was unaware of at the time. The prints were of elk feeding in winter. I was captivated by his work and became a little obsessed. I called the front desk to find out who made these pictures and when I got home started researching his work and never looked back after that. His pieces have such a strong atmospheric, tonalist look, the compositions are great, his colors are restrained. I saw what power well-chosen simplicity of design and subtlety of value could hold, and I think it was at that point that knew my work was going to change from exacting realism to something that was more challenging and rewarding. Other artists I admire: the landscapes of my former instructor at the University of Nebraska, Keith Jacobshagen, Richard Diebenkorn, Texas painter Nancy Bush, Rockwell Kent’s landscape paintings, Jack Levine, Victor Higgins, Maynard Dixon, Andrew Wyeth and Winslow Homer. These are the artists whose books are always out on my workbench.
The ultimate question:
Have I missed something?
I think you’ve covered it!
The interview was done in June of 2014 by editors of The Artist's Magazine and has been reproduced here with their permission.
Copyright 2010 Kay Juricek. All rights reserved.
Denver, CO
kayjuric