Into The Mokelumne Carson Pass has been good to me over the years. When my son was 12 I took him for a month into the Mokelumne Wilderness of the northern California Sierra, a short drive from our home in Reno, Nevada. We saw 15 lakes and camped at several of them. He hated me for it at the time. I can remember him on the trail to Emigrant Lake, stopping suddenly in a fit, demanding, "I'm not going one more step. I'm sick of this!" I kept walking ahead and mumbled, "Okay. Just be careful of the bears." I got far enough up the trail that I almost lost sight of him, then suddenly he was right behind me again. Since then he has climbed some of the highest peaks in the lower 48. He lived in a tent on top of his car for a year while working as a kayak guide near Point Reyes Station, California. And his outdoor credentials include Wilderness First Responder. He's also worked as a guide in New Zealand, the San Juan Islands, and Lake Superior. A couple of years ago he paddled his kayak across Lake Tahoe and called me on the other side, saying "One more thing checked off the list." Pivotal was that day when he had to decide to go with me or wait for the bears. The following summer I went back, just me and my black Labrador retriever, trekking inward just a couple miles to Lake Margaret to do some plein-air sketches. Ian and I had failed to reach this lake and I felt the need to see it. What a treat. A small tarn on a ledge, over which flows the stream on its exit. It appeared to be as it was over the centuries, old-growth trees, beaver dams, the most beautiful manzanita I've ever seen, and the most peaceful backlight in the afternoon. Today I look back and I feel like I was living in a different time when I went there. We're now overly aware of the effects of climate change where, in the west, our forests are going up in flames one huge swath after another. In 2021, the Caldor fire burned around the perimeter of Lake Margaret, destroying many of the trees and shrubs that cast their shade on the sparkling afternoon water. In my lifetime, I won't see it in its glory again. My print, Lake Margaret, captures it as it was, as I saw it, as it felt on those quiet afternoons. If you close your eyes you can detect the honey-like fragrance of the manzanita. Perhaps it will recover enough in Ian's lifetime that he can revel in the backlight. Do that, buddy, then check another off the list. Most of the prints we encounter today are mass produced, or they're quickly generated on digital equipment and sized to one's liking. My prints are nothing like that. I'm making original art. I call them prints only because I'm producing multiples, all of which look the same but have subtle differences because each is made entirely by hand. The blocks are carved for each color, then meticulously inked, then pressed onto acid-free cotton paper (Stonehenge, made in America by Legion and prized by printmakers for its permanent qualities). Lake Margaret is made from 10 blocks. Each includes custom conservation framing under regular glass, all done by me, and it's ready to ship within 24 hours. My ebonized walnut moulding is made by hand and to my specifications by PictureWoods, the finest available. You may also purchase the print unframed. Edition of 100 Image size: 12" x 12" with generous margin Frame: 19" w x 19 5/8" h
