Jackson Hole, Wyoming
I just returned from a great trip to Wyoming, where I was working on two writing projects. I had two tasks–to report on an event sponsored by the SKB foundation, and to do research for a writing project on the history of visual art in the Wind River Mountains and their adjacent valleys.
Wyoming feels like home to me, especially Dubois. I started most days with a 5×7 painting, often before 6 a.m. My research took me to Cody, Jackson Hole, Dubois, and Pinedale, and along the way, I visited friends, ranches, restaurants, and a little patch of land called Yellowstone National Park. The Grand Tetons impressed as usual, the wildlife made my heart beat faster, and the research was fruitful. Most days I cooked my own food, as I was staying at a friend’s vacation home.
Here’s the lowdown, by the numbers:
• 3,700 miles in the air going from NYC to Wyoming and back
• 1,197 miles in a rental car driving around the state of Wyoming
• 11 days
• 14 in-person interviews
• 1,174 photos
• 3 videos
• 6,620 words of note-taking
• 13 paintings
Work like this makes me feel alive.
The 5x7s I painted in acrylic while in Wyoming. (I gave away the 13th one.)
The photos and videos of chickens in factory farms are horrifying. The research into birds given antibiotics–and what that means for both us and the chickens–is scary. And a free-range, organic chicken costs almost five times as much as a Perdue chicken in my neighborhood.
We have found halal chickens are the best value when we want to eat ethically. But we are pretty strapped for cash, and we have two hungry boys. So about half the time, we buy Perdue chicken or similar. Fairly taste-free, so oversized that our older son ponders whether they have benefited from breast augmentation courtesy of Uncle Rico, this chicken meat needs a lot of help.
Today, I sliced open some skinless boneless breasts and put slivered scallions in the cavity. I sprinkled lemon pepper on the inside, then bound them around with two slices of par-baked thick-slice bacon, misted them with olive oil, and baked them.
We had already had a big meal at lunch because my wife teaches at night, so I only made asparagus to accompany. To sauce it all together, I took some of the rendered bacon grease, fried some garlic, added white wine, lemon juice, and water and a bit of chicken bouillon paste, and reduced. I added some dried rosemary and thyme, then mixed about three Tablespoons of sour cream with one Tablespoon of flour, and thickened the sauce with that. I poured that over the finished chicken and the asparagus.
I interviewed two artists I admire who also like to go birdwatching. I was interested in how they approach birding differently when they have their artist’s cap on. Here’s what they had to say:
How Do Birders Bird, and How Do Artists Go Birding?
With apologies to Godspeed You! Black Emperor, I present this fun little painting.
Lynne and I saw this song sparrow nearly every morning for a month on our morning walks to Dyckman Fields. We walk together for exercise, but it also gives us a chance to talk to each other beyond the admin stuff that dominates so much of our household conversation. Each morning, this little bird inspired me, singing his heart out, head tilted up to the skies. Wonderful.
So I took lots of photos. I drew him a few times and settled on a pose. I drew the pose on a piece of wood I–ahem–upcycled from the curb, and sent the photo to my good friend Jim Coe for advice. He is a bird expert and a fine painter, so I wanted to know if I were veering too far off the path on this. I am not a very tight painter, but accuracy counts. That’s the journalist side of me.
So he gave some tips and i burned it and then I painted it with acrylic. I love this darling little thing, but I put it up for sale here.
I make pernil almost twice a month for my family. Everyone loves it, and it’s economical. Pernil is a pork shoulder that is slow roasted with Puerto Rican spices. Our neighborhood is a great place to buy the pork shoulder; the customers want a pernil that has lots of fat in it and a thick layer of skin on one side. If you buy a pork shoulder in a fancier neighborhood, it will be too lean and trimmed too close to be of any use to me. I don’t pretend that my pernil is authentic. True Puerto Rican style would be to cook the pernil so that you can eat the chewy skin. I braise it. I also don’t make my own sofrito. I’m not a good Puerto Rican, but I get a pass because my Southern roots blend well with that cuisine in a few crucial ways.
Here’s my process.
Pork shoulder, Sazon Ranchero, three packets of Sazon powder, Adobo powder.
I cut a slit along the top of the skin and cut a big pocket in between the skin and fat and the meat.
Cutting a pocket in between the meat and the fat/skin
I put Adobo powder, Sazon powder (both Goya) all over the shoulder and plenty in the pocket. Then I squirt as much Sazon Ranchero liquid into the pocket that it can hold, squishing it around so it gets all the way down into the bottom of the pocket.
Squirting Sazon Ranchero into the pocket and squishing it all around.
Add a dribble of vinegar to the bottom of the pan, then I put it in the oven at 9am at 200 degrees.
A bit of vinegar before it goes in the oven.
At 6:30pm, I take it out and suck all the pot juices out with a turkey baster. That liquid gold will be used to cook the rice. (I also put some in the small colorado beans that I have simmering with diced carrots and onions.) Then, I pull off the skin and pull out the big bone from the shoulder, and serve the pernil in a big bowl with tongs.
Rice n beans and pernil
I put lots of hot sauce on my pernil. Ω
Lots of Frank’s Hot Sauce for me, please!
I’ve been sort of obsessed with triangles lately.
I know when it happened, but I’m not sure why. It started with this:
No one knows for certain where this teepee-like structure came from. Artists of all ages often build interesting little installations in Inwood Hill Park made from natural materials. So it could be that. One person swore that there was a movie shot at the spot, and the film crew built it as a set.
Regardless, my younger son and his friends were thrilled with it. And the more I looked at it, the more I was struck by how the triangle shape of the shelter was echoed in the very dark lower trunk of the tree at the top of the hill. Then I saw that the massive rocks descending the hill were triangles. And the sky holes formed by large tree branches, too. Soon, I saw triangles everywhere.
I came back to paint the shelter, making sure that the dark trunk of the ridge tree was in the composition. That study was good and pretty interesting to me, but I wanted to push it.
“Shelter (study),” 2017, acrylic, 12×6
One Saturday, my wife and I decided it was a good day for “divide and conquer,” meaning we split up the boys and each of us does something with one of them to keep them from killing each other (and ganging up on us!) I took Charlie to the park and took my plein air kit. He took baseball equipment and his scooter. I saw triangles in the marsh scene. I painted this:
“HH Bridge Abstraction,” 2017, acrylic, 12×12
That was exciting to me, although it seemed to horrify or puzzle most passersby.
The next week, I took this painting back to the shelter spot, and painted over it, abstracting the scene into triangles. I knew what this was for. I wanted my friend Danny to own this one. At first, I thought I would leave about half of the original painting, shown below, which depicts Dyckman Street, looking down Seaman Ave. But the leaves and hillside gradually took over the canvas.
“Dyckman View, 2017, acrylic, 36×18. Painted over.
In the end, only a bit of the first painting showed through. I liked how the pre-War buildings of Seaman Ave were peaking through a painting of a very different kind of shelter. This was Inwood from the times of the Lenape people to today. I shot a photo of “Shelter,” but in progress. I mailed off the painting to Danny without photographing the finished product. Doh!
“Shelter,” 2017, acrylic, 36×18. In progress, on location.
I started reading about triangles. I learned that they are symbolic of many things. The downward pointing triangle appealed the most to me. It represents abundance, plenty (the “cups” cards of the Tarot), fertility, the female genitalia, water. The upward pointing triangle symbolizes power, stability, maleness.
But mostly, I saw triangles all over in the landscape.
The next triangle painting explored the female angle of triangles. I painted my wife’s legs.
“Legs,” 2017, acrylic on paper, 10×17
That worked out well, with the legs abstracted to show the warm and cool of colors on the form. Next, I took a photo of mine of a summer tanager and abstracted it a bit with triangles. I liked how I could use triangles to break up the preponderance of blue sky. The triangles also suggested the tree branches pretty well.
“Tanager Tangent,” 2017, acrylic, 18x 36. Available in my Etsy shop.
Then, I painted with my friend Tony Winters, and this gave me a chance to paint the Henry Hudson Bridge from a different angle, using triangles.
“Rocks at the Foot,” 2017, acrylic, 12×9. Available in my Etsy shop.
And this latest triangle painting is for our downstairs neighbor, the wonderful MJ. It’s my gift to her on her 9th birthday.
“Future Perfect,” 2017, acrylic, 12×9
I don’t know when this will end or where it will lead. Right now, I am happy to go back and forth between triangles and more representational work. Ω
**Visit my Etsy shop if you are interested in one of the paintings: https://www.etsy.com/shop/BobBahrArt?ref=below-listing-title
“Good Shepherd,” 2017, acrylic, 12×16
I painted this piece this afternoon, standing in the median at Broadway and Isham, in Inwood, NYC. My kids go to Good Shepherd School. Buy it here.
I painted over an old painting.