Larson Creative, LLC

These are elegant and high quality printed notecards of some of Greg’s favorite paintings.

Purchase any combination of six 4” x 5 1/2” Notecards. Includes envelopes and box. $24 (add $6 if shipping is required)

This historical bridge built in 1886 was designed to allow wagons to cross the Cottonwood River. The massive stone bridge nestled in the river valley in the Flint Hills now goes to nowhere but is a unique place to visit. I've been to this bridge numerous times and finally found the best light at early morning in mid-June.

The cliff swallows were flying and diving through the air, passing underneath the bridge where they built their nests.

The patience of years to find the right view and right light to bring out the best of the location made me very happy as the watercolor took shape.

Elmdale is located just east of U.S. Highway 50 about six miles southwest of Strong City, Kansas in the Flint Hills. There are a few buildings and storefronts, but little activity occurs in the sleepy farm community.

I've always been interested in the sizes, shapes and materials that make up the buildings, and found a small facade with a beautiful tree behind it.

This gothic cathedral in Clermont-Ferrand, France, has a feast of details to explore, from the spires to the gargoyles. This view is a less prominent location on the north side of the cathedral, looking at the east, or backside of the spires.

I liked the tree, which gives the painting some color. The cathedral is built with grey volcanic rock from the mountain range to the west of town where the famous Puy-de-Dome peak is prominent.

The painting was a patient study of perspective, details and shadows. It was a labor of love to spend time on each part of the picture, from the rose window at the bottom-left to the crosses at the tops of the spires. How did they attach the top stones to stay there for centuries?

I walked on New Year’s Day in 2024 below the dam at Shawnee Mission Park in Johnson County, Kansas. Since it was a holiday, there were few people on the Gary Haller Trail, and the train tracks in the valley were silent.

It was unseasonably warm and just ten days since winter solstice. As I approached the bridge, I noticed how pronounced the shadows of the truss were on the floor of the bridge. The only visible green were the cedars on the hillside. Everything around the bridge was dry and brown.

It was a challenge to get all the grass and trees painted to accurately portray what I saw that day. As I worked the painting in the studio, it was fun to try different techniques to show the trees and grass canes.

The world is a magnificent place for me to explore. This painting is a scene from a snowshoe hike in the Minnesota north woods that I visited prior to the pandemic.

I like the quietness of the forest in the early morning as the sun filters through the frosty air. I wanted the viewer to feel the silence and to look at the clothing and ski mask, then notice that my eye can be seen through the lens of the mask.

This painting is very personal to me. As an introvert, I feel it is a very representative self-portrait, one that shows me in my shell, in a safe, comfortable place in a dangerous environment. I’ve spent lot of time outdoors in extreme conditions and have learned how to dress to remain comfortable for extended periods of time.

This view is from a terrace room at Hotel Mansart on Rue des Capucines, looking northwest. I was fascinated with the rooftops in Paris. The chimneys are sculptural and the standing-seam metal roofs are the norm.

I enjoyed including the upper floor dormers and windows, and was fortunate to have some nice shadow lines that angled across the chimneys. This is just one of thousands of rooftops, but I thought it captured the essence of being near Place Vendome in the heart of the beautiful city of Paris.

This spring of 2023 I spent five days in the area of Siem Reap, Cambodia. It is near the Angkor Wat Temple and surrounding lesser temples.

Most people have seen pictures of the main Angkor Wat Temple, but I found the lesser temples, which were smaller and crumbling in the jungles, very fascinating. The sunlight and trees create shadows that play on the stone structures and the crumbling stones around them. In some places the trees and roots are growing on the structures.

The temples gave me a mystical, eerie feeling as I walked on the steps where thousands of feet had trod.

This painting is #1 of a series of three that I’m working on. My goal is to impart what I felt there. When I do a painting, I consider it a meditation on the viewer’s vantage point.

The silence of the Cambodian jungle cast it’s spell on me as I toured the lesser temples of the Angkor region. There were many stone gates throughout the jungle as well as temple towers and mazes of stone columns and carvings. This gate caught my attention, and made me think of it as a time portal in some sci-fi movie.

Using this view as a watercolor painting, I liked the portal as a focal point, and the symmetry of the steps that lead to the opening. The jungle creates a lush backdrop to the ancient space.

This view has everything in it that I like as a watercolor artist and as a retired architect.

The wall textures and colors as well as the architectural elements of balconies, arches and windows create a wonderful backdrop for the canal.

The reflections on the water and the boats give a sense of movement, and the small bridge railing in the foreground anchors the viewer, giving them a sense of placement in the painting.

I’ve had viewers tell me they can almost see the water moving and can hear the boats bumping into the buildings. The view reminds me of times in Italy when I could smell the minestrone soup aroma or an Italian pasta cooking. Add wine and some opera music in the background, and you’ll have a multi-sensory experience.

In the spring of 2023 I made another trip to Singapore. On a rainy day, I took the metro to the Marina Bay park and visited the indoor Flower Dome. It was a huge dome with trees, plants and flowers from all over the world.

I decided to photograph anything that caught my eye. These pink lilies fascinated me, due to the petal size and the dark pink striations on the petals. All of the surrounding plant life seemed to showcase the lilies. The variety and textures of the plants adds to the overall composition.

Cape d’Or (Cape of Gold) is the location of a remote lighthouse on the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia. The remoteness, the basalt cliffs, and the changing currents of the bay make for a picturesque site.

I was fortunate to stay two nights at the Lightkeeper’s Guesthouse. I wish it could have been a two week stay. This has to rank near the top of my list of places where I want to commune with nature and just sit in peace and listen to the silence.

The tides create various currents at the cape during the day, which seafarers call “dory rips.”

This view is from early morning on a clear day. It was the last morning of the visit and it was very hard for me to leave the place. My heart wanted to stay there.

While on a group bike ride one Saturday morning, I discovered a junkyard located next to an oxbow near the Blue River, east of downtown Kansas City, Missouri. The East Bottoms, as it is called, is one of three low-lying industrial areas which were supported by the early railways as Kansas City emerged. The other two areas are called the West Bottoms and the North Bottoms.

My fellow riders looked at me curiously as I stopped and walked up to the fence surrounding the derelict car bodies, or castaways. I realized the fence was covered with vines and saplings, so I walked along the fence and held my iPhone above the barbed wire and took a few photos.

Looking at them the following day, I decided the first photo was worthy of a watercolor. It becomes a view of a voyeur, peeking into an auto graveyard/boneyard. The colors and shadows fascinated me, as well as the designs of what now are considered older vehicles.

It continues my quest to juxtapose man and nature in settings in out-of-the-way places.

In eastern Chase County along U.S. Highway 50 in Kansas there stands the remains of an old grain elevator along the BNSF (Santa Fe) train tracks. The forces of man and nature are chipping away at what is left of the structure.

When I took the time to walk onto the railroad property and look at the south facade, I saw a real patchwork of textures and materials, and decided to make it a watercolor project.

I like to get into a zen-like state while I paint, and do not let time be an issue to worry about. I think about every surface, the sun angles and color reflections. It is a labor of love.

I added the tractor-tire ruts at the bottom of the painting to create a rich foreground and add some depth.

What more can an artist ask for in terms of subject matter? Blue sky, ocean, gulls, rocks and a shipwreck all work to create a composition that shows both life and disaster.

The D.T. Sheridan was a tugboat pulling two barges of coal up the Atlantic coast when on a foggy November day in 1948 it ran aground on Monhegan Island in Maine. In 1970, a storm pushed pieces of the hull up onto the rocks where they remain today.

I could hear the waves crashing on the shore, the gulls screaming, and I could smell the pungent odor of Lobster Cove at low tide nearby as I painted this scene in the studio.

For those who have ventured into and through the Grand Canyon, whether by hiking or rafting, their view of the world is forever changed. I was fortunate to be able to raft through tthe canyon in late June of 2020, just two weeks after the Grand Canyon National Park opened after the first wave of the COVID pandemic.

I selected this view to paint because there is so much variety in rocks and the way the sunlight and shadows play on them. I felt it was important to show the raft in the water to add to the sense of scale to the painting.

I also thought of John Wesley Powell’s journal entry during the first successful river trip through the canyon. On the day before the beginning of the big rapids in the canyon, Powell penned the line: “We are going down the ‘great unknown.’ Thus I used his description for the title of the painting.

I never tired of watching the rocks and scenery change during the day, along with varied light conditions and rock formations - and, yes, my view of the world is forever changed.

This is an iconic view of the Grand Canyon from an overlook near the Nankoweap Granary, which was built by ancient Pueblan natives. The only way to see this view is to hike from a raft-trip campsite on the sandbars below. There is about twenty minutes of climbing irregular stone steps on a path. Several hundred feet above the river, this view becomes breathtaking. I was already out of breath from climbing.

Back in the studio, I selected this image to paint which includes some hikers at the overlook. The shear scale of the Grand Canyon is overwhelming, and I thought this view does a good job of incorporating the Colorado River and the redwall cliffs to create the feeling of depth as one looks into the distance.

This large painting is my attempt to better show the true colors of the red rocks of the Sedona area. The clear blue sky, the blooming yucca plants and the pinon trees reflect the beauty of this Southwestern scene.

While in Chicago in 2008 to see some exhibits at the Chicago Art Institute, I decided to explore the streets in the Loop on a Sunday morning. For an architect, Chicago is like a candy store - there are so many diverse sizes and styles of buildings.

I slipped out of the hotel as the sun came up and began exploring the Loop with my digital camera as one would explore a forest, just taking my time to look for any detail, building or scene - big or small.

As I turned north on Garland Court, the sunlight was reflecting off the building tops and filtering down to the street where the lamps were still shining. The street, which is sometimes an alley and sometimes a street unveiled a patchwork of buildings with a mixture of size, style and age. It was an intimate setting in a huge city. Since I don’t get to the large cities that often, the view was an incredible find, and I didn’t hesitate to take a picture with my camera.

To the north, I could see the Trump tower under construction and a neo-gothic pencil tower that I’ve since learned is the Mather building (Chicago Quarters Hotel).

The streets had no activity that early on a Sunday, so when I decided to paint the view, I added the cab and a self portrait of me in the lower right, walking to the north.

Amazingly, this view no longer exists as I painted it. Sometime after the 2008 visit, a large tower was built two blocks north, and it obstructs the view of the pencil tower.

I hope you find joy in looking at the details and the light in this watercolor painting.

The area between downtown Kansas City, Missouri, and the Crown Center development has now become a vibrant mix of condos, pubs, eateries and businesses.

One evening in the spring of 2021, I sat outside a restaurant on Main Street, waiting for some friends and I noticed the reflections in the windows across the street. Each window was an abstract painting unto itself. As the streetcar passed by I took a photo, thinking that there might be a watercolor in the scene.

As I painted, I wanted the viewer to feel the bricks and see the reflections on the windows. I’ve also begun to paint myself into the scene whenever possible on the sidewalk.

This sign evokes the memories of small towns in the mid-twentieth century in the U.S. I discovered it one summer afternoon while wandering the sidewalks of Abilene, Kansas. I particularly like the architectural facade elements that surround the sign: the brick, the cornice detail, the storefront lights, etc. I wanted the clouds to be those familiar afternoon clouds in Kansas - ones that could easily build up into fierce thunderstorms.

This small chapel in the Flint Hills in eastern Kansas is adjacent to the Elmdale Cemetery. Like many places in the Flint Hills, it exists off to the side of the mainstream highways and seems like the world has forgotten it. To me, these are the special places of solitude, where one can feel the age of the earth and connect to it.

This schoolhouse is an iconic Kansas image. It is located on the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve about a half mile north of the visitors center on highway K-177.

It exudes the rugged feeling of the Flint Hills landscape. On the day that I took the photo for inspiration to do the watercolor, it was a sunny, and windy, January day. The dry grass was blowing to and fro, and the swing and flag show the effects of the wind.

The Amelia Earhart Childhood Home is a peaceful setting in Atchison on a street overlooking the Missouri River. The home appears simple from the street, but it is much larger than it looks due to additions that were made.

As an architect, I liked the little details on the front (column details, balustrade, central-arched window, etc.). In the foreground is one of a pair of greyhound statues. They rest peacefully, as if waiting for Amelia’s return.

The maple and the oak tree in the front yard remind me of the beautiful trees in the International Forest of Friendship arboretum on the south side of Atchison, which is a memorial to Amelia Earhart. It is worth the trip to see both the house museum and the arboretum.

I have a dear friend that lives in the woods on the outskirts of Atlanta. The property has massive trees, a running creek, and many clearings and fields. There are several outbuildings and structures scattered around the open spaces. This one caught my eye, mainly because of the old chevy truck. I was also fascinated with the stored lumber, as well as the tree saplings that were trying to overtake the front corner of the shed. The shadows from the sapling play on the truck’s hood in this image that exudes Americana.

This little town along the Ohio River in Indiana has one of the largest historical districts in the U.S. (approximately 1.5 miles long and .5 mile wide).

I spent three days in town, enough time to get acquainted with it, viewing the architectural styles and details. It was tough to visit the coffee shops and diners, but somebody had to do it.

One morning I parked the car on a side street and began walking to the main thoroughfare. The stairs and doorway stopped me in my tracks and I took a picture of it.

Back in the studio, I became intrigued with the wrought iron benches, realizing that this river town had a lot of wealth in the 1850s. Townhomes didn’t just have railings on the steps, they had elegant benches.

The architectural details, down to the bricks pushed me to the limit on my patience while painting. The most difficult part was painting the portion of the black bench that overlapped the black door. I added the flag for some interest and balance, but the focus of this painting is on the steps and doorway.

This is my most ambitious watercolor painting to date (February 2021),

Tenby Harbour is a picturesque harbour on the coast of Wales, U.K. I composed the painting from a photograph I took from a tour boat at the seawall on a trip in 2008.

For a Kansan, the view was unique, to see the pastel-colored townhomes, the utilitarian buildings at harbour’s edge, and the fishing boats and sailboats anchored in the harbour.

The red boat is the star of the painting, with the majority of the harbour and the buildings being the backdrop of this scene.

This well-known lake in Banff National Park in Canada is known for it’s breathtaking backdrop of mountains and glaciers. In 2013 I was in a hiking group that was getting ready for an all day hike to some of the higher elevations.

I noticed the men working to ready the canoes for rent. It was the beginning of the day - a time of day when I like to observe and ponder all the possibilities. I looked at the lake, and for a brief moment, wished I were going canoeing, in lieu of the hike.

The hike was one to remember and when the group returned, I noticed that all of the canoes were rented and criss-crossing the waters.

In 2013, I took a leisurely walk down to Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. My goal was to open the senses and take in the surroundings, with hopes to use the experience for a blog posting.

These two small fishing boats caught my eye. The lighting and reflections were a perfect composition for a photo. They were anchored at a pier sized for much larger boats. I noticed that the fishermen had to climb down ladders to get to their craft.

I used my photo as an inspiration to do the watercolor. The most fun was painting the reflections of the boats. It’s what really makes the composition come alive.

English Rivers have a personality all their own, especially in the summertime. Lush countryside, quaint villages and lazy floating clouds provide a picturesque setting.

This scene is from a photo that I took in Evesham, England, in the summer of 2008. I was riding on a narrow cruise boat with a small cabin. I assume the cabin allowed cruises to continue in the rain. I leaned out one of the windows and snapped this picture, which includes the bow of the boat with anchor and ropes.

The view includes so many of the features I like to paint: water, clouds, architectural features, landscape and the foreground which adds depth.

I became fascinated with this small island off the North Shore of Lake Superior when I saw it in the winter of 2019. I viewed it on a cold, cloudy day when the wind chill was at least 20 below.

I decided I wanted to paint a watercolor of the island as I imagined it on a placid morning in late summer or early fall.

The location of Ellingson Island is just off the shore from the famous Split Rock Lighthouse on the North Shore in Minnesota.

This view of the Monhegan Lighthouse was just begging to be painted. The lighthouse is located at the highest point on the island so that the light can be seen from far distances.

This scene is during a sunset when the colors and shadows are most intense. The small dory and the boat anchor in the grass provide additional interest.

There is a historical museum in the small buildings attached to the lighthouse. While viewing the museum one afternoon, I looked out the window in the hallway and realized the window was one which is in the painting. I am attracted to the simplicity of the buildings and the landscape in Maine, and this painting is a favorite.

The shoreline of Somes Sound is a lesser traveled area of within the park, but no less scenic. The tide is high in this view, and it covers the stone shelf along the shore.

While I relaxed at this spot, I watched a seal chase a school of mackerels. Every few minutes the seal would surface with a fish in it’s mouth.

The sunny day created many interesting bright spots and shadows in the trees and the rocks. It was a challenge to get the colors and the reflections just right in the water.

Owl’s Head State Park on the Coast of Maine was a lucky find on the way to Port Clyde. I always like a place where the crowds don’t exist. This park has beautiful views through the trees of Penobscot Bay, and on a rise at the edge of the park is the path and stair to the lighthouse.

I enjoyed finding the right location to view the lighthouse and stair to include the sumac in the foreground - which gives more depth to the painting.

It was a fine July morning in Camden for a two-hour ride on a schooner. The temperature was cool enough to wear a jacket, which was in stark contrast to the 110 degree heat index that Kansas was having at the time.

When we pulled out of the harbor, the ship’s captain asked if anyone wanted to volunteer to help raise the sails. I just happened to be sitting by the main mast, so he had me pull on the large rope to raise the mainsail. Not too bad for a landlubber from the mid-west.

While riding the schooner, another one of the same size was paralleling our route, so I was able to photograph it with the backdrop of the Maine coastline.

I was fascinated with the sunlight and shadows on the sails, and how the sun’s color was coming through the first sail, or jib, on the front of the boat.

Curtis Island Lighthouse is located at the outer edge of the harbor in Camden, Maine. During a two-hour ride on a four-sail schooner, we passed the island from both sides. This view is from the south side - a picturesque setting with the lighthouse and adjacent caretaker’s house perched above the rocks. There are over fifty lighthouses on the Maine coast that the Coast Guard operates on timers.

This little jewel of a lighthouse is on Marshall Point which is adjacent to Port Clyde, Maine. The view is looking southeast out towards Monhegan Island, which is one of the Port Clyde ferry destinations. This lighthouse is famous for the fact that it was in a scene in the movie Forrest Gump. Forrest jogs from the west coast all across the country and stops at the door on the lighthouse.

I selected this view of the catamaran race because it showcases the cliffs on the west edge of the French Alps. The trees on the nearby hills were already beginning to show their autumn color in September. The buildings on the distant shore are where the large portion of Lac d’Annecy ends and the smaller south portion begins.

I was mesmerized with the variations in color of the water and its reflections. The forests on the distant mountains appeared through the atmosphere as a pale blue-green.

The catamarans and water evoke a movement that brings this painting to life.

When the water taxi I had chartered rounded the point on Lac d’Annecy, I shouted for joy and pointed to a sailboat race which was in progress. I told the captain that I wanted to photograph the race from close range. I felt so alive as our boat bobbed up and down while the small catamarans raced along their course. It wasn’t easy getting them in focus while I tried using a zoom lens and the boat jostled beneath me.

It was worth the effort. Sailboats are a painter’s dream. They are colorful, kinetic and give a painting life. Lac d’Annecy, at the edge of the Alps, was a perfect backdrop for showcasing the small catamarans.

While I painted this view, I remembered hearing the sounds of the French people yelling and laughing at each other as they raced around the buoys. Was there wine before and after the race?

This was one of the larger fishing boats arriving in the Siracusa harbor at sunrise. It was a peaceful scene, with quiet water in the harbor providing colorful reflections of buildings on the opposite shore. 

My imagination was rampant with wonder thinking about what it would be like to spend the night out in the quiet Mediterranean waters, working the nets, while hauling in fish, drinking grappa, and swapping stories with crew members.

In this watercolor painting, the boat and it’s reflection is the focus. It was important to get the colors and shadows correct, including the sun-bleached orange of the net’s buoys, stored on top of the boat. It was a challenge to capture all of the highlights of the morning sun on the boat, even down to the smallest detail of the reflection off the radar ring.

The sun had just appeared over the face of the Alps in Chamonix, France. After the warmth arrived, I walked up a side street, gaining in elevation. I looked back toward the town and viewed the steeple piercing the sky.

It wasn’t until I was back home, looking at the photos that I realized this view had all the elements for a good watercolor. I liked the layers which created depth. The small trees in the foreground add a nice brightness and texture to the view. The steeple is the focus, but the trees and the mountains let us know where this church is situated.

The most fun was painting the steeple. I felt like I was building it on the site. The classical organ music played on my favorite radio station, and as I carefully stroked the blues and grays with the brush, I told myself, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

This is one of two views that I have not visited. A friend of mine took a photo of this cloister that had been a part of a Monastery in Magdeburg, Germany. The building is now the Magdeburg Art Museum.

There is a lot of fascinating detail in this view - enough for a retired architect to get caught up in it for a long period of time. The vaulted ceiling reflects so many different colors and shades. The columns are one-of-a-kind. The bells . . . well they almost become the focus, resting on the timbers in the cloister.

I could hear the monks chanting while I lost myself in this painting.

After visiting Perouges, France, I believe it is one of France’s best-kept secrets. The village remains historically accurate in its 1400s appearance. The rough and narrow cobbled streets, the stone buildings and perimeter wall - they all exhude a time of long ago.

On an early morning walk, I took slow steps to observe all that surrounded me. I could smell the pastry baking in the shops and hear the birds chirping in the countryside. The narrow, dark street opened up to a view of the Fortress Church where the sun shone on the tower and cross.

Back in the studio, I decided to add a couple of monks walking toward the church in the early morning - almost ghostly in their appearance. It was as if I could see the past in the early morning light.

One of the oldest Spanish adobe-style churches in the U.S. exists on the high road between Santa Fe and Taos, New Mexico. San Jose de Gracia is an operating church in Taos County..

It is where the pinion trees transition to the higher elevation evergreens, and the sky is blue and clear with the exception of the afternoon showers or virga, where the rain evaporates before it hits the ground.

I was fascinated with the adobe wall and entrance with the weathered wooden doors. It looked like a movie set for a Clint Eastwood western. I could visualize him slowly walking out the portal and looking both directions before lighting a small cigar.

One of the most photographed bridges in Paris, Pont Neuf has two segments that meet on the Isle de la Cite. This view is from the St. Michel bridge looking to the northwest with the Louvre Museum in the background. The Left Bank of the Seine is on the viewer’s left, and the Isle is on the right.

I’ve tried to capture the typical translucent light of the daytime, with portions of clouds and sunlight along with the reflections off the water in the Seine.

This is the largest watercolor painting that I’ve completed.

The Laura Conyers Smith Rose Garden was covered with snow in early 2019. As I walked along the circular route that took me through the pillars with wooden beams and lattice, I thought: How many people stop to look at the rose garden in winter?

The heavy snow was thick on the smallest of branches, and there was pure silence throughout the park.

This was a watercolor painting challenge to understand how to show snow on bushes, and to find the shadows of blue and gray. As an architect, it was a joy for me to paint the stone pillars, the wood and the large chains that hang in their catenary curve.

During my snowshoe hike in Loose Park in early January of 2019, I stopped at the Civil War cannon at the south end of the park. This is one of several points within the park that explains the famous Battle of Westport, which occurred on the park grounds.

The nine-inch snow of the previous day created an interesting vignette of cannon, trees and ground. In the background, the snow on the trees gives them a frosty appearance, which contrasts the warm glow of the beginning of the day.

Sentinel Pass is a very remote site in the Canadian Rockies of Alberta, Canada. It is about six miles from the famous Moraine Lake. In 2011, I hiked to this location with a tour guide and a group of twelve people. We stopped for lunch at Lake Minnestimma, which is in the foreground.

The glacial snow patches created reflections that made me think of the Rorschach ink-blot images, except with white spots instead of black..

After lunch, it took us 45 minutes to hike from the lake to the pass which is the saddle ridge at the upper-middle portion of the painting. The hike was on a narrow trail that crossed several of the glacial snow patches and then switch-backed up the slope just under the ridge.

The painting was more challenging than I’d expected it to be. There were many subtle color changes of rock, snow, grass and reflections on the water. In the foreground of the lake, the reflections give way to a view of some of the rocks under water near the shore.

This scene shows the peacefulness of the remote site on a mid-summer day.

One of the larger glaciers that flows from the Columbia Ice Field, the Athabasca Glacier was a sight to behold. This view of the glacier and mountain is from more than a mile away at the Columbia Ice Field Visitors Centre. The base of the glacier was over a quarter-mile wide. With a tour guide, our group hiked on top of the glacier, around crevasses and past deep holes where the clear, cold water of melted glacial ice cascaded down into the dark blue voids. We walked a mile on the glacier and back to its base - a memorable experience.

While painting this image, I could feel the forces that scarred the rock as the giant glacier ground its way through the landscape. The glacial snow patches have a pristine appearance with deep blue shadows, and there is a clarity to the atmosphere.

Another painter and I decided to give plein-air painting a try, and we selected Penn Valley Park in Kansas City, Missouri, as our first location. It has a variety of views to downtown and towards the river and Kansas City, Missouri.

The plein-air session was a learning experience for us. I discovered that I painted at a very slow pace, and by the time I wanted to show the colors of the light, the time and the light had changed. I need much more plein-air practice.

This view was from a photo that I took at the site, and the painting was done in my studio.

The sun in August comes up in the northeast sky, with layers of color. It created muted reflections on the glass buildings and soft shadows on the brick, stone and concrete surfaces.

I discovered this view through a break in the trees along the point near the Kansas City Scout statue. The foreground of trees and hills is a nice contrast to the urban skyline. In the spirit of Thomas Hart Benton, I blended the trees in layers to give it his mural style of painting. With the cars and trucks on the Penn Valley Parkway, it appears the city is coming to life on the early weekday morning.

I was hiking around Courthouse Rock when I spied Cathedral Rock to the west, about four miles as the crow flies. My photos became the inspiration for my painting. This vista is a classic scene for the Southwest United States. I tried to capture the dry atmosphere and the pure blue sky, as well as the nuances of all the colors of the rock and soil.

During the trip, I climbed to the notch at Cathedral Rock. It was an inspirational moment to sit and have lunch in the January sun and to look out over the desert landscape.

This view is a perfect representation of the Canadian Rockies at timberline elevation.

In 2011, our tour group and guides hiked from Highwood Pass up to the timberline, where views opened up in every direction. This view looks over the valley and pass, towards the mountains to the southwest.

The hike took us through a mixture of conifer forest, larch groves and wildflower meadows.

This painting helped me experience the different colors of mountains as they change in distance from the viewer.

Loch Vale is one of many glacial lakes near the Continental Divide in Rocky Mountain National Park. I viewed the lake on a hiking trip in the winter of 2018. I used crampons on the hiking boots instead of snowshoes because the trails did not have deep snow.

Just prior to arriving at the lake, it was necessary to hike a steep snow chute. The difficulty was worth it. When I stepped out onto the frozen lake, I stood in awe of nature’s majesty. I did not move for several minutes while I watched the changing colors caused by the wind and cloud shadows on the rocks. There was so much visual stimulation that the brain was on overload while I looked at the colors on the trees, snow, lake and mountains. After a snack, it was time to leave because the forecast was for snow. Thankfully, the snow didn’t start until the last quarter-mile of the hike.

The stillness of winter, and lack of crowds on the trail made for a memorable experience of viewing the lake in silence.

These cliffs can be seen from the pull-off on Trail Ridge Road (U.S. Highway 34) in the northwest portion of the park. They are near the Alpine Visitors Center, at an elevation close to 12,000 feet.

As I painted this image in my studio, I remembered the chill in the air, even in August, with the scattered clouds moving quickly in the wind. The colors of rock and rubble, along with the green tundra grass and the subtle reflections on the snow patches made this a delight to paint.

This view is from the campsite at the end of the trail in the Wild Basin of Rocky Mountain National Park. It is at 10,600 feet in elevation and near the Continental Divide. The face of Copeland Mountain fills the painting.

At the time I camped at Upper Ouzel Creek, I had hoped for clear weather. Unfortunately, the rainy weather dampened the ground and my spirits for 27 out of the 30 hours that I spent there. I snapped a few quick pictures when the rain ceased, not thinking they were worthy of a good photo or a painting. But an artistic friend said he became lost in this view. “The picture never ends,” he said. He printed an enlarged photo, which I framed. The photo gave me inspiration to do a small watercolor of the same image.

The crease in the center of the painting is the waterfall which cascaded over the rocks and glacial snow in August. The scene is full of Engelmann spruce trees which grow at this timberline altitude. I can only imagine the harsh climate and wind that must pummel these tall, deep green conifers.

The coastlines of England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland are a sight to behold. The verdant green fields spill down to the rocky cliffs and shoreline, while the sun and clouds create a variation of light to play on the water and the rocks.

This view is from the edge of a cliff on the opposite side of a bay which is near St. David’s, Wales. The craggy pinnacle jutting from the small, rock island creates a nice feature in the middle of the bay.

This is one of the few paintings that I’ve completed although I’ve never been to the site. My painting was inspired by a photograph taken by a relative during their visit to the Galapagos Islands.

As I painted the picture, I could feel the humidity in the air, and was intrigued by the variation in color from the dark lava rock being washed by surf to the light brown shale in the foreground.

These beautiful old structures built centuries ago dot the lowlands of the Netherlands. Kinderdijk is a park where about 40 historic windmills are preserved. The windmills are in their original setting adjacent to canals that flow to the river and the sea.

I was on a bike tour when we visited Kinderdijk, so I was able to ride the bike along the canal paths. Every so often, I’d stop, get off my bike, and walk to the grass at the canal’s edge so I could get some of the foreground in the picture. A strong foreground element adds depth to the painting.

This scene is a famous one. I’ve noticed this very windmill on the front of one of the ocean cruise promotions, and I’ve also seen it as a still photo on a music channel. I was lucky to capture the stillness on a clear day, which is unusual for the environment near the edge of the North Sea. I wish there had been some geese or swans flying by, but I was just happy to capture the peacefulness in the sunlight

Built in 1178, this ancient bridge in Terrasson, France is still in use for car and pedestrian traffic.

It was a cloudy day with intermittent rain showers when I discovered the bridge. I immediately stopped and decided to climb down some old steps near the water’s edge.

Many elements of this composition caught my interest, from the variation in colors on the bridge stonework, to the building that was adjacent to the river and the bridge. Being from the U.S., the old structures fascinated me.

I decided to make the day much brighter in the painting, and located some passing storm clouds on the horizon. I could feel the flowing water as I painted the reflections of the bridge, house and trees.

On the south side of Chamonix, France, the massif of Mt. Blanc rises endlessly, to the point that it is difficult to find the actual summit with the naked eye. Glaciers string their way down the slopes, and the gondolas, suspended from the cables, travel all the way up the mountain and into Italy.

I was determined to get a good look at the peak, and took the ride on the Aiguille de Midi gondola up to the first station on the mountainside at Plan de l’Aiguille. There was a good view towards the Glacier des Bossons and the slopes up to Mont Blanc. I also stopped to watch several people launch their parasails off the cliffs to ride the air all the way down to Chamonix.

I was intrigued with the variety of colors in the rock, the ice and the mountain shadows. The picture was a joy to paint, because it seemed the changes in the colors flowed all the way down the mountainside.

The third painting in the series of the sailboat race at Lac d’Annecy has four catamarans. Three of them have rounded a buoy and are moving to the left. The boat with orange sails is still moving to the right towards the buoy which is out of the picture. These boats were really rocking and moving when I took the picture to use for the painting. I assume the participants got wet from the waves because they were sitting in tubs or nets that straddle the pontoons.

I enjoyed having the large cliff in the background, because of its sail-like shape. I used a progression of color from pale green in the distance to the brilliant blue reflections of the water on the lake.

I was very lucky to witness a daily choreography of fishing boats coming into the Siracusa harbor at sunrise on a 2012 bike tour of Sicily. The Ortigia Hotel had a rooftop restaurant, and by coincidence the breakfast was being served early because of an early start time for the day on the bikes.

When I looked out into the harbor, I spied several fishing boats about a quarter-mile apart, moving at a slow pace towards the harbor. Then I noticed the ice and fish trucks parked at the quay at the harbor’s edge.

Each boat pulled up to the trucks and it appeared they negotiated their sale and unloaded their fresh catch. The process repeated itself as the boats took their turn at the quay.

I photographed several boats as they arrived, and painted this scene first because of its simplicity - three men in a boat. They probably had clams or mussels in the tank near where they are standing.

The three-bushel galvanized tub came from an antique store in Alma, Kansas. I purchased it the moment I saw it on a Sunday afternoon while driving in the Flint Hills. It was the perfect container for keeping firewood dry in the garage before burning the logs in the fireplace on Friday and Saturday nights.

Add an oriental rug, kindling wood, and some tan rubber tile and concrete, and the outcome is a mixture of cool and warm browns, greens and grays with some deep shadows.

This still-life study reminded me of things I learned about Henri Matisse at an exhibit at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. Matisse became attached to everyday objects, not for their monetary value, but because he liked the shape, color and textures of chairs, rugs, vases, and printed fabric. They became objects in his paintings.

I found the old courthouse-style chair in pieces in a dumpster in 1975. With loving care I put it back together, which required creating some new pieces and gluing them with dowels. For over forty years, I studied the chair, wondering how anyone could draw it, let alone create a watercolor of it There is hardly a square piece of wood in the chair’s construction.

Waiting all those years to paint it must have provided some benefit, because I was happy with the outcome. The chair is like an old friend to me.

I was staying in a hotel on the Riverwalk in San Antonio. The view out my window included a construction site for an addition to the hotel. It was early evening and I became intrigued at the colors and shadows on the wood forms that supported a newly-poured concrete floor slab. There was an abstractness to the jumble of wood of different colors and the connectors that held the posts together.

I love to find art in something that initially seems mundane, like the concrete formwork. It requires the eyes and mind to slow down and absorb what is in view.

When I painted this, it was like creating a puzzle of many pieces, and each piece had its own color and texture..