Red Rover, Red Rover, Send October on Over
It's almost spooky season, and I can almost smell it in the air. We don't have a traditional fall season here in Arizona, but there's something magical about this time of year despite the lingering warm weather and lack of fallen autumn leaves.
North Scottsdale, 2024 (photo by M. Pinkus)
It's almost spooky season, and I can almost smell it in the air. We don't have a traditional fall season here in Arizona, but there's something magical about this time of year despite the lingering warm weather and lack of fallen autumn leaves. Thunderstorms and muddy monsoons mark the transition from summer to fall. I've only ever lived in Los Angeles and Mesa, so I'm not really sure what the conventional change of seasons is like, but you can't deny that the Southwest has its own variation.
There's a special scent to the air, especially after a rainy period, and there's an actual word for it: petrichor. The official dictionary definition is "a distinctive, earthy, usually pleasant odor that is associated with rainfall, especially when following a warm, dry period." If you've never experienced this intoxicating, natural aroma, I suggest you give the Southwestern states a chance during this time of year.
To celebrate the season's change, I plan to do a few giveaways, auctions, and special sales in October and November. I've been secretly painting some fall-flavored, pumpkin-spice-enriched oil paintings and ink drawings for the occasion. Here's a little preview of one of these pieces:
Untitled Mini Pumpkin Painting, 11"x 14” (2025)
Don't forget to save the dates for the gallery debut of my painting "The Crawling Pears" at the Herberger Theater on November 7th, as well as the Arizona Artists Guild Winter Fair on November 8th. It's been a while since I've had any art events to look forward to, so I'm really excited for those dates to approach, and I'll be sure to have some fun surprises to share with all of you too.
Abstraction Distraction
After a few weeks of kicking myself over a disheartening (and annoying) art block, I've decided to forget what I know and follow my instincts with some abstract landscape pieces.
Mesa, AZ in the early morning.
After a few weeks of kicking myself over a disheartening (and annoying) art block, I've decided to forget what I know and follow my instincts with some abstract landscape pieces. I'm not sure what to think of the paintings I've done so far, but it honestly felt good to not have to worry about color, form, composition, value, etc.
“Mire” - Oil on canvas board (2025)
I've been painting in oils for a little over three years, and I know I still have a lot to learn. My ego sees this as an irritating intrusive thought, but I need to start giving myself more credit. I've grown so much artistically over the past few years and am proud of what I've accomplished so far. Three years isn't a long time in the grand scheme, and dreaming of what and how I'll be painting in the next few years is a much healthier way of thinking.
Another update in my art block battle: I bought a really nice digital camera. I've always loved taking pictures, artistic and documenting, and getting this opportunity to be creative in a different way is helping me feel inspired again. In fact, I attribute all of my composition knowledge to an obsession with snapping photos most of my adult life. I love to document my life, and getting to capture moments in time in an artistic way feels rewarding and healing.
Me with my new Canon Eos Rebel T7 Camera
As of writing this blog post, I've completed a few small oil paintings I'm excited to share, plus am currently finishing up on my third "Trees I Like" piece. I think I'm learning that, in order to grow as an artist, sometimes a change of style and media is the perfect palate cleanser.
Flagstaff in Zorn
Okay, I'll admit it! I'm in a rut. A lot of people have ruts. A lot of great people have ruts. I've had them before, and I'll have them again.
Coconino National Forest, Flagstaff, AZ
Okay, I'll admit it! I'm in a rut. A lot of people have ruts. A lot of great people have ruts. I've had them before, and I'll have them again. It's not that I feel uninspired—I have so many creative plans and events to look forward to this year. I think it's just time for me to take a step back and have a new phase.
My last phase, and last rut for that matter, was about a year and a half ago. I was feeling stagnant in my painting and wasn't sure what I wanted my artistic voice to be, or where to even start. I had been painting for a little over a year and was trying intently to learn the fundamentals while also exploring what inspired me. My colors were all over the place. I felt confident in my mixing and blending, but the work just wasn't looking the way I wanted, and I didn't feel like I could express what I wanted to anymore.
During that rut, my wife and I rented a little Airbnb cottage near downtown Flagstaff. Flagstaff is a beautiful college town, about two and a half hours north of Phoenix, and it's a special place for both of us. We took the dogs with us—Ringo and Hank—and had plans to see the Sunset Crater in the Coconino National Forest. I took a ton of photos on that trip, as I always do, and had some great shots to use as reference photos. I always find some form of inspiration on a road trip, and I was excited to paint something when we got back.
“Leaving The Coconinos” - 11”x 14” (2024)
I had been reading a lot about limited palettes and had always wanted to try the famous Zorn palette for myself as a challenge. Using this extremely restricted combination of Yellow Ochre, Vermillion, Ivory Black, and Titanium White was exhilarating! Despite not having any form of blue—Ivory Black acts as a blue in this case—I was surprised at how freeing these limitations truly were. I didn't need to think about all the various yellows, reds, and blues. The thing I learned most was that I didn't need to have such a hodgepodge of colors on my easel; it was confusing me, and having too many choices ironically had me feeling limited.
“Change Of Scenery” - 9"x 12” (2024)
I painted a few pieces using the Zorn palette, like my Flagstaff-inspired "Leaving The Coconinos" and "Change Of Scenery." I eventually started adding a Prussian Blue into the mix when I felt I needed to paint a little bolder. I truly believe that playing around with a limited palette helped me pare down to the colors and hues I really needed, and the ones that I've been using ever since.
Maybe it's time for another phase?
Artistic Lense and the Road Trip Destroyer
One of the things that ruined me being an artist is my constant need to view my surroundings as a painting.
Monument Valley Road Trip, 2024
One of the things that has ruined me being an artist is my constant need to view my surroundings as a painting. When I see a beautiful pink and orange sunset from my patio, I want to find those colors at my local art store. When I ride my bike past any random group of prickly pears, I have to stop and do a quick photo shoot. When I see a tree I like, I immediately need to break it down into a composition. I say ruined, but in reality, it's incredibly hard not to fall in love with nature and the city through my new set of artistic lenses.
It was very similar when I was in my teens, 20s, and 30s when I was pursuing a music career. It was hard to really enjoy an album or song after I knew most of the musical secrets. Luckily, my painting hasn't spoiled my love of viewing and contemplating fine art and the classic works from the masters I admire through history.
I'm learning to become more zen these days, especially on road trips, trying my hardest to just admire the scenic beauty instead of frantically pulling out my camera to take reference photos for later! All in all, I feel I have a newly acquired creative superpower, and I'm doing my utmost to not use it for evil!