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This is my second Artist Initiative Grant blog post. It's about my first grant painting, and my love affair with the Big River.

The Mississippi

Crossing the fourth longest river in the world leaves me with what can only be described as civic pride. On my bike commute to my studio in downtown Saint Paul, I often pause somewhere along the Robert Street Bridge to take in the view. There's always something new. One of the early signs of Spring is seeing eagles scavenging the corpses of carp that are peeking out of their icy tombs. After the April Fools Day snowstorm last week, I saw coyote tracks leading out to open water. Brave soul. That ice couldn't have been more than an inch deep in places. Right now the current is fast, and there are full-grown trees heading to the gulf of Mexico, or more likely, the next available sandbar.

One can't help but marvel at the size of the river. At 3,902 miles, the Mississippi is only 15 miles shorter than the third longest river, the Yangtze. Its discharge rate is almost six times greater than that of number 2, the Nile. It's only 300 miles shorter than the longest river in the world, the Amazon. The Upper Mississippi River Basin (the portion of the Mississippi contained in Minnesota) drains over 120 million acres. Everything is dwarfed by the Mississippi. 

A Front Sneaks In at Dawn

Looking towards the southeast from the bluffs near Hastings, the widening Mississippi River twists and turns through hundreds of braided channels before it eventually fades into the distance, is joined by the St. Croix River, and becomes the 21 miles by 1.7 miles wide Lake Pepin. This stretch of river is rich hunting grounds for outdoor painters.

I painted the original field study for this studio painting in October of 2016. (to the right>) My painting buddies, Bob, Bob and I had to hike about a quarter mile for this view. We were set up shortly after sunrise, had been painting for a little over an hour, all business, intent on capturing an incredible sunrise; totally unaware of a late summer storm front that had snuck in behind us. I don't recall who finally turned around and let out a gasp. As fast as humanly possible, we packed our gear and hightailed it out of there. Day turned to night. The storm was out of the South and we were heading North. Luckily, I managed to beat it home, get the car in the garage with nary a nick from the hail that less than a minute later turned the world white. Part of the joy of plein air is the memories that go with each painting.

Keeping it Fresh

Paintings done outdoors on location are generally smaller and more impressionistic than larger studio paintings due to the fact you must paint fast to capture light effects that are changing minute by minute. The challenge with larger studio works is to maintain that impressionistic quality even though you have all the time in the world, AND a larger canvas upon which you can obsess over every detail. One must stay vigilant. Focused.

My intention for this studio work was to create a sense of deep atmospheric space without getting bogged down in details, in large part, by quickly scumbling thin layers of paint, leaving tiny gaps where the weave of canvas and layers of underpainting show through. (See detail to the right>) From a distance the painting looks fairly detailed, but up close, it disintegrates into a mesh of loose brushwork. 

In My Next Post 

The braided river in this painting is the result of centuries of sedimentation. Simply put, as the river widens, it slows, dropping it's load of silt. Channels are constantly being carved. They change the direction of water flow, constantly shaping and reshaping sandbars and channels. A portion of this process is natural. In the Upper Mississippi River Basin, a much larger portion is not. I will leave you with an aerial photo from Google. More on this in my next post. 

(bottom photo)