Wandering Artist's Journal

This morning, from the window by my desk. My sojourn here in Virginia City is coming to an end and I’m headed back to my studio in Reno - in a much better state than when I got here (one month ago.) It wasn’t easy, but I did manage to learn a few things that I hope I can build on going forward: - I no longer need people around me all the time. I can pick myself up when I fall. - I can sleep alone in a safe place now (though darkness still scares me.) - My in-house source of advice and feedback is gone, but I have good friends who are willing and able to step in. I was reading Seneca’s letter of advice to Serenus recently and this stood out:  “Nothing delights the mind so much as fond and loyal friendship. What a blessing it is to have hearts with whom you are less afraid to share knowledge  than keep it to yourself, whose conversation soothes your distress, whose advice helps you make up your mind, whose geniality dissolves your sorrows, whose very appeara...

Looking East, from midway up Ophir Ravine A few days ago I went out for my evening walk, heading West, as usual (East in the morning, West in the evening, to take advantage of the mountains as sunblock.) West, in Virginia City, means uphill. I had no agenda, no destination, beyond getting some exercise and looking around. I was crossing a parking lot, looking up at the “V” on Mt. Davidson, when it occurred to me, “This would be a great time to try to hike up there.” Backstory: I’ve tried this mountain before. Haven’t gotten far. It’s been on my “to do” list for a year or so. Problems: I’m prone to altitude weakness and heat stress. After my last heat stroke incident (trying to find the grave of Julia Bulette) I promised some friends that I would knock it off and quit fainting in public, on this trip at least. But this evening walk was different. It was cool, low 70s and dropping fast (first clue ignored) and the sun was already behind the mountain. I felt strong, ready...

Pinus monophylla mature cone  For some reason, I’ve grown extremely fond of the scrubby little Nevada state tree, Pinus monophylla, or single needle Piñon Pine.  I first became aware of them after I moved to Reno, when I started eating the pine nuts from these local trees (purchased from a nearby grocery store.) They’re big, fat, delicious, and healthy - it’s no wonder they’ve been a staple of people in the Great Basin for at least 6000 years. But I didn’t actually know what the tree looked like until this month. Since taking up temporary residence in Virginia City, I encounter them daily. While wandering the hills and scanning the ground for rattlesnakes, I’m often stopped by the vanilla-lime scent from the clear, copious sap drippings of a nearby Piñon. Pinus monophylla, in VC cemetery These trees never get huge but the biggest ones around here are mostly about 20ft high (there’s a 30-footer in the cemetery.) The Piñons in these hills are relatively youn...

I’ve been living in Virginia City, Nevada for the last few weeks (a temporary, self-imposed, period of isolation and reflection.) I’m in a little RV, not much bigger than a gypsy wagon. It rocks and creaks in the daily winds, like an anchored boat. Sometimes at night, I partially wake and think I hear rigging, clanging on a mast. Sure, I’d heard about the “Washoe Zephyr” and neighbors had warned me about “the winds.” But, Seriously? This wind is relentless and almost sentient (demonic.)  Then there’s the humidity, or lack of it (many days in the single digits.) Visitors, and most of mine come from the coast, cannot comprehend the cascade of symptoms that result from a simple lack of moisture. They never drink enough, even when they think they are. And then there’s the altitude, and the UV index, and the unique personalities that are drawn to inhabit this strangely beautiful spot. But I’m going to save those for another day.  I’m thinking of starting up the...

"Inquisite" 24"x24" acrylic on raw canvas, ©2017 Anna L. Conti Who am I? Where am I? How did I get here? What next? When I first decided to move to Reno, my decision was based on the presence of the few factors I found essential to our (Dave's and my) survival: 1) Quality, accessible healthcare for Dave 2) Low cost of living 3) Low cost housing  4) Community of artists and independent thinkers  In the twenty months since we moved here, Reno has delivered on these essentials and given me much more - natural beauty in all directions and all seasons, the best friends and neighbors a person could hope for, and an astonishingly vibrant food, coffee & beer culture. Dave told me on more than one occasion that the last year and a half were the best of his life. For that, I'm grateful. But I was too busy keeping all those balls in the air to take more than casual notice of a few peculiarities about this place I now call home. Now that I...

David W. Sumner: 1958-2017 My husband Dave passed away, at home, on March 25, 2017. He collapsed, in his photo studio, on March 21st, was taken to the ER, admitted to ICU, and then back home on hospice on the 24th. As mentioned in the blog about his journey with Leukemia , his spleen was bleeding, as well as his liver, and he went into kidney failure after more than 20 transfusions. I know it's a cliche to say that your spouse was your best friend, but it was true in this case. Both of us have many good friends and Dave was the best friend a person could hope for. To the vulnerable & defenseless, he was a hero. To his friends, he was loyal, generous, and kind. To young photographers, he was a mentor. To most of the rest of the world, he was a curmudgeon.  I join the rest of our friends in mourning his loss. 

"Study for Fremont Cottonwood," 14"x24", acrylic on canvas over wood panel, ©2017 Anna L. Conti I just finished this small study for a big series I'll be working on this year. Twenty paintings, focusing on the Truckee River, mostly the section between the East & West McCarran bridges. I'm calling the series "The Source" and focusing on the intersection of the city and the river. The exhibition will be in November 2017, at the Potentialist Workshop . - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Location: MidTown, Reno, Nevada