Nocturne in Crimsen and Gold

The Image of a Nocturne was in the Mind's Eye

The hike was more demanding than anticipated. The weeks of working out were not wasted, but they didn’t turn the clock back. The pain in the back and knees was constant. The incline along with a full backpack and unexpected snow took its toll. The old dog didn’t fare much better. At 80 this might be the final solo hike of this difficulty.

It was silent and calm on top. I was surprised at the amount of snow this early. The deer would probably be moving down before long; I was warned about mountain lion. I was told a couple of hikers had been stalked by a big cat. I wasn’t concerned about the likelihood until now. It was twilight when the dog and I hobbled into our little camp. I was hungry but too tired to cook. I opened a tin of beans with my knife and spooned from the cold can. After a couple of mouthfuls, I sat the can down long enough to feed the dog and build a small fire. Reaching in the box for the dog food I noticed a slice of bread left in its wrapping. It was a rather dry heel of dark bread. I finished the beans and bread sitting next to a warm fire. It was a fine meal.

The night was jacket cold, the full moon and cloudless sky made the landscape easy to read. Heavy-eyed, I was making a last survey of the location when I was struck by the golden light emanating from the top half of the huge granite rock looming above our camp. The ethereal view of a moon lit peak stimulated the recall of a tune. I began to softly intone the refrain. “I have seen the morning burning golden on the mountain in the sky, aching with the feeling of the freedom of the eagle when she flies.” I glanced at the dog and sarcastically said, “Only a Rhodes Scholar could wedge that many words into a little tune”. Still viewing the glowing scene, images of nocturne paintings were flowing through my thoughts stretching from Rembrandt to Remington. As I crawled into the bedroll, I was thinking I hadn’t made a nocturne since “Night Music” in ‘88. The dog laid down by my side opposite the fire that was now a mound of hot embers. I nodded off. I don’t know how long I was asleep when I was startled by the sound of something large moving swiftly through the brush. I sat up straight, adrenalin pumping, starring into the dark. I couldn't see or hear a thing. Then I was aware of the dog’s deep muffled growl. My eyes shifted to the dog, her eyes alert, ears moving in an effort to pick up a sound. Eventually she glanced at me then laid her head down. Braced on one elbow I picked up the long stick I had placed next to me and poked the embers, a little flame shot up. In no time I was asleep. 

Out of nowhere I heard ringing. I opened my eyes and for a moment was discombobulated, I instinctively reached for the alarm. Then my senses began to clear. I was on the road doing field research and living in a rented room. I turned my head to the big window. Through a crack in the heavy green drapes I could see a dull light of a new day breaking. I sat on the edge of the bed thinking I should turn up the heat when the night’s dream began coming back in bits and pieces. I always had strange dreams when lodging at the Broken Spur. I didn't know why, perhaps the ice. Then the Nocturne came into view. I found the small sketch book stored in my backpack and began drawing the mountain of my dream. After working a half hour or so I dropped the pad on the bed and prepared to meet the day. A warm shower was requisite in coaxing the old bones to move. 

I donned a clean shirt, picked up the cup of hot decaf and moved to the drawing. I sat the cup down and began buttoning the shirt while studying the sketch. The design divided the picture plane into two shapes, one light, and one dark. The dark shape encircled the light smaller one positioned at the top of the rectangle and sloped slightly downhill from left to right. A section of the big cottonwood tree extended the light pattern downward on the right. The light oval moon extended the light above the mountain on the right. To my eye the design had the abstract quality of a carnivore running or jumping through the picture plane, hind legs pulled up high to the left, front legs pointing down on the right, eyes looking down, ears perked, pointing forward as a coyote leaping on a mouse through the rime covered tundra.

Many years back I was taught that our eyes detect differing degrees of light and dark value at night but can’t readily identify colors. The eye requires light to distinguish color variations. Nocturnes, by nature, are organized with large passages of low light using middle to dark grays. As I studied the drawing, I envisioned the possibility of making a color field of dark reds, blues, greens and ochres moving through the shadow area of the painting. I remembered the 3x4’ canvas in my studio. Yesterday was the last day of field work, today we travel. It would be a six-hour drive, but the sun was coming up and it was looking magnificent. On the morrow a new painting would be underway.