The Drama of the High Peaks: Why I Paint the Clouds

It’s easy to admire a perfectly cloudless day on a mountain summit. These "bluebird days" mean we rarely consider our fears of the cold or the damp. In the peak of summer, the daylight runs long, and the promise of a swimming hole or a cold beer at day’s end makes the climb feel uncomplicated.
While I appreciate those pristine days when traversing an exposed range, my heart—and my oil paintings—gravitate toward the "in-between." I am drawn to the weather just before or after the clouds close in, obliterating the vision of the valley below.
Finding the Narrative in Atmospheric Landscapes
In my studio, I rarely eliminate clouds from my work. To me, they are the primary narrator of a mountain landscape. They speak to what might happen or what has just passed:
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The Undercast: A thick blanket that settled in the valley while we slept.
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The Front: Tattered waves of mist cresting a ridge as the wind picks up.
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The Transition: That suspenseful moment as we wait to see if the sun will "burn off" the fog.
Drama, Danger, and the Sublime
As a contemporary landscape artist, I see clouds as more than just weather patterns; they represent the reality of the land and forces beyond our control. Sometimes, my clouds hold a hint of danger—foreboding and unsettled. This creates a sense of artistic drama and "the sublime" that a clear blue sky simply cannot capture.
Other times, the clouds depict the pure joy of a broken storm. When the air is shot through with light and the humidity clears, the "malice" of the mountain vanishes. These are the moments I strive to capture on canvas—the shift from tension to relief.
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