Stephen Moore Fine Art

I have a mission that I try to address each fall. The mission is to go to the mountains and try to capture the essence of the color and grandeur of the smoky mountains of North Carolina. This imperative started with my first visit to paint in the mountains around Banner Elk, Matney, and Valle Crucis. I think it was 1984 and that fall was remarkable. The colors all turned synchronously and they were surrealistic. Mountains seemed to catch fire with hot yellows, reds and oranges, none of the muted versions I normally associate with fall. I painted plein air with Eleanor Seng for two weeks, painting three to five paintings per day, and I don't think I managed to do one good painting the whole time I was there. We drove all over the mountains in my 78 Toyota Corolla looking for the best scene to paint. We found lots of good scenes, I just didn't know how to paint them. The colors were changing so fast. I would finally decide I had the yellows or reds worked out and the next day it would all be different. But we had great weather and light. We had lots of perfect cerulean skies. So I have been returning to paint the mountains in the fall again, when possible, ever since. I wish I could see that fall again and get another shot at it. But nature has not done that again on any of my trips, not even close. One of the last things my mentor Eleanor Seng said to me was, "you still need to learn how to paint the mountains." 
This is not a painful mission. I love painting on location in the mountains. And it is still a challenge. But this year we had so many curve balls to deal with. When we arrived in Valle Crucis the weather was gray and kind of cold. The second day was rain.  And the third day  we had gray again. (Yes I tried to paint it from the deck of the house we rented being very careful not to get paint on anything.) When the sun finally came out on the fourth day we were excited and pulling out of the drive, a very long curve, and we were hit by another car. It totalled my truck. We were not hurt; that tank of a truck saved us.  With some effort, we managed to get a rental vehicle, a Ford fusion hybrid. I could get the paint and a few canvases in the car but it was difficult to get my body in it. I had to lower the seat, put my rear in first, and then bend my head down past the comfort point to get in and out each time. After three days they gave us a Nissan Rogue. This was much better for me and the paintings. And it drove great in the mountains. But we had to get another vehicle to get our stuff in it to drive back home. 
Light reveals all. I know what some of you may be thinking but I am referring to  sunlight and its revelation of form and color in the great outdoors.  On many of our painting days the light was ever changing. Cloud shadows fragmented  everything. You could stand in the same spot and the scene looked totally different from minute to minute. The painting rule to get around this problem  is 'get your notan in.' This means establish your light and dark pattern and stick to it. In this context of constantly changing light I will tell you it is easier said than done. I am not whining about the light, just describing one of the curve balls we were dealing with on this painting vacation. And we had some glorious days of constant sunshine, cerulean skies, warmth, fall color, and bees.  I think those yellow jackets like the paint color or maybe it was the color of my shirt. Which ever it was, they could not get enough of me at times. In spite of the challenges, or maybe because of them, we had great fun. And there were enough light filled days to make it satisfying. Finally I have to mention my decorated paint coat. On a sunny, windy day, the wind picked up my soltek easel and launched the canvas into my hand that held the pallate. The pallate of color was imprinted on my walmart warm paint jacket giving it an entirely new look. Susan said I looked scary. I kind of liked it. It was like a big medal for braving the elements. And you couldn't buy that look anywhere. 
The peak color came late this year. I think it was the last week of October before the colors finally really popped and they were on the muted side but still very rich. We painted in Valle Crucis, along Watauga River Road, and up in Matney in the first part of the vacation. Since the rain and the wreck had taken up so much time and because the fall was really late this year we decided to extend our stay in the mountains. We stayed five more days in Valle Crucis and then four more in Jefferson so we could easily visit our friends Jeff and Emmaline. In Jefferson  we spent most of our time on a road that tracks along the New River, which ironically  is said to be a really old river. The road was called the Joe Little Road. This dirt road was just wide enough at points to pull over, not slip into the river or fall in a ditch, and let folks get by. And there were lots of beautiful, rustic scenes with splendid fall color along this road. I took lots of pictures, research. But I have to say the camera is no substitute for looking. The camera changes things and does not get the richness of color that you see. To my artist friends, there is no substitute for being there.The fleeting light, the bees, and the cold all make an important contribution too.
I am home now in Pine Knoll Shores. I still have not unboxed all of the paintings so I am not sure how many were done on this trip. I came home with some blank canvases so I didn't get everything done that I thought I would but it was a great trip all in all. Next year we are planning to rent a house for a month and will probably stay in the Jefferson area which we have only just begun to explore. Maybe we will visit the mountains in the spring. According to our friend, Jeff, the mountain fields are filled with wildflowers. And this would be the time of the rhododendron blooming. Both are visually enticing and stir my plein air desires. And to dear Eleanor in heaven, my long time mentor and friend, I am making progress painting the mountains. It has to be the most interesting of landscape adventures; four distinct seasons, an incredible variety of lights, and such rich color. I thank you for giving me this mission.