I’m teaching at Sedona the week of March 9-13, but before that, I’ll slip in a quick trip to the Grand Canyon (weather permitting) to do some painting. The light is mercurial and the scene is complex. That forces simplification and speed.
My first trip to paint at the Grand Canyon was with a student. There was snow on the ground but I camped under the stars with gear loaned to me by Ed Buonvecchio. My second trip was with Laura Martinez-Bianco. I had my own equipment and froze. Last fall, Ed and Laura and I camped together. This time, we’re staying in a hotel.
Mather Point is a quiet place if you arrive early enough. It’s by no means empty before dawn, because hardy visitors want to see the first light flash across the canyon. Setting up fast is not my strongest suit, but dawn doesn’t linger. One minute the walls are violet-blue; the next, they’re on fire.
When I painted Mather Point at Dawn, I wasn’t there to make a pretty picture. I was there to explore that moment when the reds start to rip across the canyon. The first light crept in sideways, barely touching the upper rims. The sky was a soft pastel adagio. The canyon below stayed dark and cool.
As the sun lifted, the canyon snapped into focus. Warm planes flared against cool shadows. Edges sharpened, softened and were lost again. It was impossible to get the details wrong because the details never stay the same. Nothing is highlighted long enough to be fully understood. You must accept being often wrong and just keep moving.
Even with this, it’s easy to be led astray in the bigger picture. It’s difficult to be patient and make a preparatory sketch when the light is changing before your eyes. However, that’s also when a preparatory sketch is critical.
As the sun rose across the canyon, the shadows cooled. The sky moved from its luminous pale rainbow of colors into the deep blue of a western day.
By the time the sun was up, my painting was done. The light had moved on to another version, and then one after that, and then one after that. People stopped to talk and ask questions. I slowly let my focus slip and packed up my gear.
This little painting doesn’t try to tell the story of the Grand Canyon. It represents a narrow window of time, a few moments of light, a handful of choices. In its best form, that’s what plein air painting should be.
The high desert of Arizona and the Grand Canyon are like no other places I paint. You have little idea if the vista in front of you is a mile, ten miles or a hundred miles wide. Of course, that’s why people come here from all over the world. Time and scale are suspended.
I’m heading back to the desert this March. Join me for Canyon Color for the Painter: a Plein Air Workshop at the Sedona Arts Center, March 9-13, 2026. Questions? Email me here.
Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:
- Canyon Color for the Painter | Sedona, AZ, March 9-13, 2026
- Advanced Plein Air Painting | Rockport, ME, July 13-17, 2026
- Sea & Sky | Acadia National Park, ME, August 2–7, 2026
- Find your Authentic Voice in Plein Air | Berkshires, MA, August 10-14, 2026
- New! Color Clinic 2026 | Rockport, ME, October 3-4, 2026
- New! Composition Week 2026 | Rockport, ME, October 5-9, 2026
Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace: