2012 WATERCOLOR SKETCHING

in BOISE, IDAHO with

Mark W. McGinnis*

- students will be accepted on beginning to advanced levels

- Class Fee — $200.00

- to reserve your place contact Mark McGinnis 208-921-7189 or markwmcginnis@gmail.com (Fee payment on first day of class))

- minimal materials needed, a list will be given upon enrollment — all travel by private cars

- daily demonstrations – individual instruction throughout the day -  group discussion will take place on location at the end of each session

June 4-7, 2012

(schedule subject to change due to weather)

Monday, June 4 –1-5pm  K. Albertson Park (course introduction, orientation, and sketching)

Tuesday – June 5 – 1-5pm sketching at the Julia Davis Rose Gardens or Zoo Boise

Wednesday – June 6 –1-5pm sketching in the Hull’s Gulch, Boise Foothills

Thursday – June 7 – 1-5pm sketching in the Botanical Gardens ($4.00 admission)

*Mark McGinnis was a professor of art for 30 years at Northern State University, has had over 120 exhibitions nationwide, and published five books.      www.markwmcginnis.com

2011 Sketching at Hull's Gulch

To base one’s economic system on consumption is a very modern form of human social organization. Certainly people have been consuming and with the elite consuming far beyond their needs since early civilizations, but the organization of the success or failure of a nation’s economy being dependent on excess consumption grew to maturity only in the 20^th century. I was born at the halfway point of that century and have enjoyed the comforts of it for the past 61 years.

The end of the Cold War in the final decades of the 20^th century and the dominance of capitalistic consumerism in the world market have increased the pressure on the planet’s resources. First world consumer societies have seen the re-forming of third world nations into consumer societies as primary new market. China’s remarkable transition to “Communist Consumerism” was alone a tremendous new pressure on the planet.

Global warming is in part a result of the consumer society and is but one symptom of the many to come as the more of the world’s population become modern consumers. I do not think that any person on the globe can be blamed for wanting to be comfortable – that is to have adequate food, shelter, clothing, education and medical care. The question is, “Can comfort be obtained without destroying the planet?” Since it is obvious that it cannot be obtained through the consumer society model, how can it be obtained?

I am certainly not the first ask these questions and one of the most appealing answers to me came from E. F. Schumacher, who in the 1970’s promoted a return to small, sustainable economic systems. Much has evolved from his and like ideas in the past 40 years, but nothing to keep pace with or challenge the huge expansion of the consumer society. The financial and political forces behind consumerism are monumental. This is remarkable if one again reflects on what a short time this system has been a dominant economic force.

I wonder, could people be happy with smaller, simpler, sustainable economic structure that did not demand consumption that destroyed the planet?  If the incessant pressure to consume were removed or drastically reduced (advertising), and a new emphasis was put on relationships with human beings and nature rather than stuff to buy, I believe many people would not only find it a manageable transition, but many would also be more content and less stressed.

But a problem arises when the consuming slows. In an economy that is based on consumption, we see the dire troubles that arise with a simple recession. Jobs are lost and people have nowhere to turn for making a living. So obviously, a different way to structure a society is needed. The potential of problems in large authoritarian governmental control of society was seen in the Soviet model of the 20^th century. Scandinavian democratic socialism has fared better and been more sensitive to the environment but that does not seem the whole answer.

To me, even smaller economic units have appeal, such as social units based around natural geographic boundaries and ecosystems. Population limits seems inevitable. I am sure many brighter minds than mine are thinking about and working on this problem, but we do not hear much from them. This is no surprise considering our media is itself sustained by the consumer model.

I am sure there are those who say that we will economically evolve out of these problems. That may well be. Human beings are remarkably adaptable mammals. But I hope we will apply conscious, active problem solving to transform our society before massive suffering begins on a global scale, a catastrophe that could begin before the end of this century.

I don’t think it would be a matter of major sacrifice for the first world to begin this transition to non-destructive economic structure. It would more require a change in priorities and expectations. Now that the economy is showing most of the population in the U.S. a bleaker future with consumerism than the last generation experienced, it seems time to present alternatives. But again, where are those alternatives? I am going to start looking.

copyright 2012 Mark W. McGinnis

Walt Whitman #32, 8" X 8", Acrylic on Paper, 2011, Mark W. McGinnis---------- The old, old urge, Based on the ancient pinnacles, lo, newer, higher pinnacles, From science and the modern still impell'd, The old, old urge, eidolons. -- Walt Whitman

WATERCOLOR SKETCHING

in THE BLACK HILLS of SD with

Mark W. McGinnis*

June 25-29, 2012

- students will be accepted on beginning to advanced levels  - Class Fee — $250.00

- contact Mark McGinnis 208-921-7189 or markwmcginnis@gmail.com for class registration, fee payment, and more information, register asap (fee may be paid on first day of class)

- minimal materials needed, a list will be given upon enrollment

- students will arrange their own lodging (camp, motel, friends, sleep in car, etc.) We will be meeting each day in Custer, so it is recommended but not mandatory to stay in that area. We have had good luck at the Mile Hi Motel (1-800-964-5344) or the Rocket Motel (1-605-673-440) both in Custer. Reserve lodging ASAP.

- all travel by private cars (car pool as much as possible)

- daily demonstrations – individual instruction throughout the day and group discussions will take place on location at the end of each day

- optional group evening dinners and evenings on your own (pack lunches Tues., Wed., Thurs.)

June 25-29, 2012  (schedule subject to change due to weather)

Monday, June 25 –1:00pm meet in front of Custer County 1881 Courthouse

(411 Rushmore RD, Custer SD, for orientation)  1:30 – carpool to Bismark Lake in Custer State Park for initial demonstration and warm-up)

Tuesday – June 26 – All day sketching in Wind Cave National Park

Wednesday – June 27 – All day sketching in Spearfish Canyon

Thursday – June 28 – All day sketching in the Sylvan Lake Area

Friday – June 29 – 8:30am to noon sketching at Horse Thief Lake & Trail

*Mark McGinnis was a professor of art for 30 years at Northern State University, has had over 120 exhibitions nationwide, and published five books. www.markwmcginnis.com

2011 Black Hills Watercolor Sketching Class

Grand Canyon #1, Acrylic on Panel, 16" X 20". 2011, Mark W. McGinnis

Mark W. McGinnis Open Studio

Saturday, October 22, 2011, 4:00 – 8:00pm

 4477 W, Emerald Street, Suite C250, Boise ID, 83706

 208-921-7189

You are cordially invited to Mark W. McGinnis’ Fall Open Studio. Featured artwork will include acrylics, black ink paintings, and watercolors from the artist’s recent residency at the north rim of the Grand Canyon. Also on display will be 36 paintings from the McGinnis’ Walt Whitman project (this marks the half-way point of the series). Please feel free to bring friends.

Whitman #35, Acrylic on Paper, 8" X 8", 2011, Mark W. McGinnis

Grand Canyon #4, Acrylic on Panel, 16" X 20", 2011, Mark W. McGinnis

After over 40 years seriously trying to make the
stuff, it seems a rather strange time in my career to ask myself such a
question. At different points in my life the answer would have been quite
different. When I was young there was a great challenge involved in making art.
As my proficiency grew there was the recognition gained. Sometimes I felt my
art could inspire my students who wished to be artists. Several times in my
career I was making art for the pure joy of creating color, texture, shape, and
making new visual experiences for myself and the viewer. At times I felt I was
trying to communicate things with my art that needed to be said on a social
level. I used the process of making art as a self-education tool gaining
knowledge in politics, economics, and religion. I used art to embellish and
hopefully add new dimensions to literary works.

But the real question is why do I make art now? I am
no longer teaching. I have a little trickle of retirement income that keeps me
from starving (and my art never did sell and still doesn’t).  I have lost my youthful fervor and conviction
that my art could change the way people think. So why continue to make it? I
could read, or stream Netflix all day. I could go for long strolls in nature. I
could go to the gym and have a leisurely swim, sit in the whirlpool and steam
room. I could play cards with or go to the movies with Patricia. I could get
lost in the endless amusements of the Internet. I could take up a hobby like
woodworking or papermaking. There are many ways I could keep busy but I keep
making art (and it keeps piling up).

Maybe I should look at each types of art I continue
to make and think about why I make each variety — watercolor sketching first,
because it is the easiest. It is simply fun. To sit out in nature, let your
head go blank, and make a quick impression of some element of your surrounding
is a therapeutic exercise. Next black ink painting – being in the continuum of
this painting tradition has great appeal to me, although I am certainly no
purist. To sit and grind your ink and then use a brush and paper as artists did
1500 years ago has great appeal to me. This being my most recent medium it is
also still very challenging which takes me back to very early motivations for
making art. My literary projects are done with acrylic on paper – they are
small 8” X 8”. I have completed three books totaling over 300 paintings and am
36 paintings into a 72 paintings series based on passages from Walt Whitman.
Many people think of illustration as being very confining, and if done within
limitations it is. I have varied the amount that I limit myself depending on
the project. In my Cloud Messenger book I was truly telling a story and my
approach to the work tries to keep the paintings as an aid in that process. In
my project based on the haiku of Kobayashi Issa I felt a need to maintain a
stylistic approach to match the natural beauty of the short verses. When
producing the 103 painting for my Gitanjali book, following the 103 poems by
Rabindranath Tagore, I did not feel inclined to maintain one stylistic
direction. Something about the freedom and diversity of the literature let me
express myself in with a variety of approaches through the series. In my
current series on Walt Whitman this freedom is without restraint. Whitman’s
remarkable creativity, audacity, and energy give me the opportunity to try to
show some of my own diversity. The reason I enjoy these projects so much is
that, once again, they present such unpredictable challenges both technically
and conceptually.

The
final body of work I continue to work on is a series of acrylic on panel
paintings titled, Sentient Landscapes.
Or at least that is what they are called now. They began as a series called The Tree of Life and Death. Then I
changed it to Metaphysical Landscapes
– now Sentient Landscapes. Never have
I messed around with a series title so much. Most are 16” X 20” and a few at
24” X 36”. After I had stuffed my daughter’s 4 stall garage ¾ full of my crated
artwork, I swore to keep my work small for the rest of my career, but the urge
to go big again is always there. When I ask myself why I do this series the
answer is not so clear. To me this seems my most “serious” current body of
work. When I recently needed to write something about the series I wrote, “This
series attempts to produce images that go beyond our perceptual abilities and
create visual experiences that make us think in new ways about our relationship
to the natural world.”  Hmm, that sounds
pretty good, but it doesn’t fully express what is happening in the work. Maybe
what is totally happening cannot be put into words, which would be a good thing
for a painting. When I think about art I love – the poetry of Tagore, Whitman
and Mary Oliver, the paintings of Paul Klee, the ephemeral constructions of
Andy Goldsworthy – the connection to the human condition and/or our
relationship to the universe is always given not in explicit terms but in ways
that have the capacity to change with each individual who interacts with it and
expand their consciousness. I do not know if this series will ever reach that
level, but I know that is why I do it.

The bottom line is that I make art because I have to. It is not an
option. I don’t really need the praise anymore (but I never turn it down). I am
confident that I will never reap any marked financial rewards from my work
(maybe my daughter will from all that stuff in the garage when my ashes are
mingling with the mud of some river). But, I will go on making it. With my
later years hopefully will come the common sense to keep it small.

Copyright 2011 Mark W. McGinnis

Grand Canon of the Colorado River is the title of a 1902 essay by John Muir.
While Muir is best known for his writings and work in California regarding
Yosemite, the Sierra Nevadas, and the big trees, this essay was in lengthy
praise of the beauty and grandeur of the Grand Canyon.  The essay is what first stimulated my
interest in the canyon and led me apply for an artist-in-residence position at
the park. My only contact with the park had been a quick stop at the south rim
during a southwest trip some years ago. My first impression was the crush of
the tourists and it tainted my impression of the canyon itself.

Muir’s essay let me see the canyon interpreted through his
passionate prose such as, “It seems a gigantic statement for even nature to
make, all in one mighty stone word, apprehended at once like a burst of light,
celestial color its natural vesture, coming in glory to mind and heart as to a
home prepared for it from the very beginning. Wildness so godful, cosmic,
primeval, bestows a new sense of earth’s beauty and size. Not even from high
mountains does the world seem so wide, so like a star in glory of light on its
way through the heavens.”  When I stood
at the edge of the north rim for the first time and thought back to his words I
was taken with their accuracy. I was seeing what he had seen nearly 110 years
ago and probably very close to what people saw 30,000 years ago standing in the
same place. Thanks for this remarkable continuity goes to naturalists such as
John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt and from their efforts the national parks system
which has preserved this remarkable place. Due to its vast size and difficulty
of access it may be that the canyon preserves itself, but I would never
underestimate the capacity of man to exploit even the most inaccessible place
on earth if it involved a profit. Humans have, in fact, stopped the carving of
the canyon. The dams on the Colorado River have harvested the rivers energy to
make our toast and light our homes rather than continue creating this great
natural process.

My aesthetic reaction to the canyon was somewhat unexpected. While
it held all the beauty and more that Muir had written about, it seemed to me a
purely experiential event. It was not something that could be communicated with
words or produced images, however well crafted. Certainly the scale had
something to do with this reaction. The vastness of the canyon can conceptually
be extended when one comes to realize that from the north rim one is only seeing
about 10% of the canyon, a fact that boggles ones perceptual understanding. It
seems the old “tip of the iceberg” cliche but is really a nice
metaphor for how little perceptual faculties show us of reality. This led me to
think of how I, as an artist wanted to deal with the experience I was having. I
knew, due to the very uniqueness of this environment, that I wanted to focus my
efforts on works for my “Sentient Landscape” series. This series
attempts to produce images that go beyond our perceptual abilities and create
visual experiences that make us think in new ways about our relationship to the
natural world.

I decided that instead of depicting the canyon from any of the
hundreds of beautiful viewpoints that I experienced in the first several days
of the residency I would find elements of the canyon and the glorious ecosystem
of the rim and put them together in new ways that expressed my reaction to the
canyon. The first two paintings (I always work in pairs) were quite different
compositions. The first was a view of the Grand Canyon from Transept Canyon
where my cabin was located. To that view I added items that had captured my
imagination on my walks — an exaggerated agave plant  in full bloom, a burned pine being engulfed
by an enlarged buffalo berry bush, the sky filled with a pattern of leafy
asters. The painting evolved through many changes, something quite unusual for
my process. I added new elements and left others out until the painting was
complete. The second painting was of an unanticipated subject matter, the
Colorado River. From the northern rim you can only see a few small pieces of
the river from the overlooks. When I saw these small distance strips of green
river it quite literally took my breath away. There was something so subtly
beautiful and powerful about the images. This was the engine that in a short
six million years had created this unequaled landform. For my painting I
decided to focus on a short strip of river that I later found out also
contained an area that had centuries ago supported a large village and complex
irrigation from the river. My intent was to paint the river and surrounding
landforms in a fairly naturalistic manner and add a variety of elements in
surprising proportional relationships. On completing the river and landforms I
abandoned that approach and instead converted the plateaus above and below the
river into a close up of the puzzle-like ponderosa pine bark.

The second week of the residency saw a
second set of paintings. Both were influenced by the concept of looking through
something small to see something big, as in the river painting. The first was
inspired by an aspen tree that had a large, natural, vertical wound in the
trunk that could be called feminine. I took that section of the trunk and into
that wound I placed a view of the canyon featuring a famous spire from the far
north of the canyon. The second painting was inspired by a small cave under an
overhang I discover on one of my trail hikes. My concept was to place an image
of the river at the back of the cave and have a variety images in the
foreground of the cave. After painting the cave and the river I painted a half
dead pinyon pine in the foreground. As I was painting the dead branches of the
pine that reached toward the river I automatically let the branches dissolve
into the river. It was perfect. It was all the painting needed. I added no
other elements and it is one of my favorite works of the residency.

The third week brought the final two
paintings of the residency. Since the five years I spent in the southern Black
Hills living amongst ponderosa pines and often painting them, they have been my
favorite trees. The north rim of the Grand Canyon is home to a great forest of
ponderosa pines that extends into Kaibab national forest that surrounds the
park. Outside my cabin stand a grove of the trees, some maybe three to four
hundred years old. As I was admiring the trees one evening the thought passed
through my mind that if landforms of the region had developed a bit differently
and the Rocky Mountains had drained into a different path for the Colorado
River, this raised plateau of the forest would have continued over where the
canyon now exists. This thought lead to one of my final paintings that depicts
the canyon, again from the transept, but with a forest of ponderosa pines
floating over the top. I moderated the natural awkwardness of the trees ending
in nothingness by depicting the bases of the trees as burned. That leads me to
the final painting of the residency. I used a burned pine in the the first
painting of the series and fire has been big influence on my experience on the
north rim. Nearly everywhere in the park there is evidence of fire, some old
and some recent. During my three weeks at the park there were numerous fires.
Most were controlled burns but as I prepared to leave lightening started a
major fire north of the northern most overlook. The park service presents fire
as natural and needed component of the ecosystem. I have agree with this
approach. I think many people are disappointed when they drive into a burned
area, as they wish to see  pristine
forest, not understanding that fire is the way a forest stays pristine. The
problem is that we prevented fires for so long that the dead materials on the
forest floor create so much fuel that when the fire comes it consumes all.  Back to my painting, as I walked through a
heavily burned area of ponderosa pines I found the charred remains of some
extremely sculptural. One of these became a symmetrical focal point of my final
painting. With a northern view of the canyon in the background and a raven
perched on top, the pine was my final piece. I had known for some time that I
wanted to use a raven in one of the paintings. I had ravens in my North
Cascades and Olympia paintings for the Sentient Landscapes series. There are
plenty of ravens at the canyon, but for the first two weeks they avoided me and
would not let me approach close enough for photography. In the third week that
all changed. It seemed everywhere I went was raven ready to strike the very
pose I wanted for the painting. It happened half a dozen times. I was pleased
with the results of the final work and completed all but the metallic in the
border which I finished in my studio at Boise.

In most cases I would rather have a month
for a residency but in this case I was ready to head back to Boise and my comfy
studio after three weeks. The altitude at the north rim is nearly 9000 feet at
some points. This is a far cry from the lowland 2300 feet of Boise. I displayed
all the symptoms of altitude sickness that there are and as a ranger told me,
“It will start to get better in about three weeks.” The second
problem was allergies. I have always had a bit of trouble in new locations, but
this was a new record. Sneezing, eyes watering, and not being able to breathe
persisted for the three weeks. Finally, my chronic back pain just continued
doing its thing. Despite all this I am very happy I came, had these
experiences, and made these paintings.

The Grand Canyon, especially as experienced
from the north rim, is an extremely rare place. It is every bit as wonderful as
expressed in Muir’s 1902 essay. In large part we have the U.S. Park Service to
thank for that. I am not certain what role my art has to play in this world. I
am only certain that I need to make. To think about and then visually express
my reaction to place as magnificent as this seems to be a credible use of my
efforts.

Copyright 2011 Mark W. McGinnis

(scroll way down for all images)

Grand Canyon #1, Acrylic on Panel, 2011

Grand Canyon #2, Acrylic on Panel, 2011

Grand Canyon #3, Acrylic on Panel, 2011

Grand Canyon #4 Acrylic on Panel, 2011

Grand Canyon #5 Acrylic on Panel, 2011

Grand Canyon #6 Acrylic on Panel, 2011

I met a seer,

Passing the hues and objects of the world,

The fields of art and learning, pleasure,
sense,

To glean eidolons.

Lo, I or you,

Or woman, man, or state, known or unknown,

We seeming solid wealth, strength, beauty
build,

But really build eidolons.

The
old, old urge,

Based on the ancient pinnacles, lo, newer,
higher pinnacles,

From science and the modern still impell’d,

The old, old urge, eidolons.

Densities, growth, facades,

Strata of mountains, soils, rocks, giant
trees,

Far-born, far-dying, living long, to leave,

Eidolons everlasting.

All space, all time,

(The stars, the terrible perturbations of
the suns,

Swelling, collapsing, ending, serving their
longer, shorter use,)

Fill’d with eidolons only.

The above five verses are gleaned from Walt Whitman’s 1876 twenty-one verse poem Eidolons. Eidolon is a word of Greek
origin meaning phantom or apparition. Whitman lays out that all we express, all  we are, all we do, all that is — all is phantoms. A similar concept was a
dominant part of eastern thought, in India expressed as maya — simply put, all  we experience is illusion projected by our limited capacities.

As our capacities have expanded though science the evidence that what we experience as life is illusion has been verified
to the extent our limited capabilities allow. All of what we experience as our
solid existence is infinitely tiny bits of energy that appear to temporarily
manifest as forms our consciousness calls me, you, chair, computer, earth, etc.
— eidolons. This can be difficult to absorb. Human beings have found it much
easier to formulate religions, philosophies, and other designs to try to give
the apparitions more substance and solidity.

While this realization that nothing is as it seems may be unsettling it can also be reassuring. For one thing, it is a powerful
example of the relative nature of point-of-view. If we can accept that what we
experience is a very limited and partial view of reality it seems obvious that
we must be humble in our fragmentary understanding, be this in personal
relationships, political arenas, or cosmic awareness.

As creatures who will always be incomplete in perception and understanding (no advance in technology will ever give us
complete understanding) we must learn to use our minimal intelligence to make a
positive and possibly enjoyable experience (be it an illusion) of the short
years we have as individuals and a species in this shifting flux of energy.

We are hardwired with survival and propagation instincts that drive much of our behavior, albeit strangely
disguised in this stage of civilization and culture in which we live. We also
have the capacity to move beyond security and sex and delve into some of the
more refined behaviors of conscious existence – compassion, creativity,
contemplation. I believe that it is in this realm that we have the most to
offer in shaping and refining the eidolons in which we exist. While these
illusions seem to be largely shaped by the cause and effect of the energy
forces that ripple through our lives, I think we have the capacity to send
positive ripples into that energy. We are, after all, not only part of that energy;
we are no more or less than any other component. This is the great egalitarian
truth of existence.

But here is where the big obstacle lies. The eidolons are so convincing and the sweep of the illusion is so swift, and our
time is so short in the tumbling series of apparitions which we see as our
lives, that few see the opportunity to send out those ripples. Most people feel
that they cannot “change” things as they might like to. War, poverty, hunger, inequity
seem to be a permanent part of the eidolon and maybe they are. But to make an
impact on that ever changing energy field one does not need to eliminate hate
or greed, one needs to help a neighbor or teach a child or write a poem or sit
quietly. Everything we do impacts everything else – we have no choice. It is
only a matter of what kind of impact we wish to have.

I understand that this all seems to have a bit of a wishy-washy flavor, but I am coming to the conclusion that wishy-washy
is the nature of being. I think I have been taking existence far too seriously.
We creatures who have had the mixed blessing of consciousness have often made a
mess of it and created eidolons of pain for ourselves and others. It is time to
understand our limitations and drift in this energy field with harmony and
gratitude.

copyright 2011 Mark W. McGinnis

Mark W. McGinnis — “This journal documents a three week trip to India in 2000. It is a tale of an an arrogant American who believes he can handle whatever he encounters in a distant land. This myth is rapidly dispelled by India. The primary purpose of the trip is to research for a book of Buddhist animal wisdom stories I am planning. I travel part of the Buddhist pilgrimage path and have some of the best and worst experiences of my life. The book features my sketches and photography from the trip and a sometimes humorous and sometimes painful narrative of my travels.”

Available from:

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and

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If you should purchase and enjoy this book, please write a review and post to Kindle, Nook, and iBooks  — thank you