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Seeking Inspiration and Other Mental Notes
When I need inspiration I go driving in the desert, a practice that inevitably leads to hiking in the desert; for me there is no other way. This time I needed to find the trees that I had described and somehow gather in my head all the raw ingredients for the six images I was seeking. I have enough compartments in my brain for several works at once, so, armed with my faithful digital camera, I took three real trips and one trip to the past.
North Shore Road (willows and many distractions)
They
say that a crucial difference between amateur and professional photographers
is that amateurs don’t take enough pictures. I sure don’t want to be accused
of such error, so I try to make up in quantity what lacks in quality, when it
comes to taking pictures. In any case, I always end up with a bunch of photos
that elicit a quizzical: “What was I trying to –er– capture there?”
The sole act of driving and coming to a screeching halt when I think I see something that could be neat also makes for very unusual driving habits when gathering reference materials, so I travel alone and make full use of solid brakes and 4-wheel drive.
Seeking
the beauty of the Mojave Willow in the cool and sunny desert winter proved fruitless...quite
literally. At this time of year, most desert vegetation looks like a forest
after a forest fire, naked and blackened and not at all representative of the
prime specimens I was seeking.
But I did find that a rainy winter makes for very lush ground cover, that in the low winter sun the contrast of colors is breathtaking, and that the recent rains had bathed the desert into a kaleidoscope of color that I had rarely seen before.
I did find some willows, incidentally, and much more importantly, I found the perfect setting for the willow in my head, a setting that had eluded me until this drive. And I was tempted with not one, not two, but three glorious hikes in the unusual 30 degree chill of the morning sun.
And
I had seen willows up close and personal before and knew of their tangled drooping
branches, long bean-like pods and wispy leaves. 
Aside
from the general beauty and mettle of a tree that can withstand to live in a
dry wash most of the year, the most salient feature of the Mojave willow is
its incredible multicolored flower. Thinking on how to capture the setting,
the general aspect of the tree and the details of its jewel-like blooms was
the key of the composition for this first work and set the tone for the rest.
Mt. Potosi and Mt. Charleston (white and pinyon pines)
Climbing
the steep roads that lead to either of these peaks always seems a bit surreal.
One blink, the city is behind me and I find myself in the familiar desert lands
with yuccas and creosote as the major features. 
Two
blinks and the yuccas get taller, the Joshuas appear out of nowhere and the
canyons seems to deepen; it is here that I love to hike, but today I keep climbing.
Three blinks, around a bend on the road and pines appear out of nowhere, desert
behind, I find myself now in the midst of a pine forest and rugged rocky peaks.
Just like that.
Pine trees are the friendly type, familiar to all and common everywhere. But I was seeking settings again, somewhere I could put "my" pines that would tell of where they dwell and how they live and the gifts they had given the earliest inhabitants of these lands. The Southwestern White Pine was almost too easy, abundant everywhere and always flanking idyllic meadows bathed in sunlight and silhouetted against the sky.
Inspired
by my willow adventure and the setting of the white pine, I was off seeking
the perfect pinyon; I knew I wanted to picture pine cones and needles but also
the rocky crags where the pinyon clung and the mountains that served as majestic
background.
It was colder than I was dressed for and I found myself scrambling on icy rocks and patches of snow trying to get just that perfect shot, the close up, the far away...the low sun inevitably in my face, my fingers freezing and clawing the precious camera.
Finally, there it was, the perfect crack on the rock with two pinyons side by side, respectfully on each side, protecting the source of water. Too many photos again, none perfect, but all would serve to engrave in my memory the place I wanted to draw.
I apologize to my friends in the North for not having traveled to the Sierras and the breathtaking Lake Tahoe shores to acquire the images for the pines. I have been there before and undoubtedly the memories of this Southern trip will become entangled with the Tahoe pines I have seen before many many times. The advantage of the artist over the mere mortal, I think, is that the whirlwind in our brains mixes carefully all of our memories in order to produce a unique work of art.
Copyright © Maria Arango, 1999-2999
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