This picture had its beginnings in photos taken at the arrival of the wagon train in the 2000 Death Valley 49'ers encampment. Most of the wagons now have automotive running gear, which is certainly more trouble-free and easier to maintain than the old spoked wooden wheels. But unless I want to paint them for what they are, 21st century reenactments, they are visually useless. They are feet wider, feet lower to the ground, and can't be substituted for their historical counterparts. This wagon, driven by wagon-master Chet Sinclair, was accurate and beautiful. I loved it at sight, grandma and kid waving, banners on the side, big American flag flying out the back. But the very things which made it attractive also labeled it as a reenactment. I put the photographs aside.

Crossing the creek and looking back, yields this view of the store, one wall blown out by dynamite, but still a remarkably handsome place. The brick-arched window through which the first painting looks is second from the left.

A few subjects are strictly forbidden at the Death Valley Art Show, among them, nudes and seascapes. So the Channelkeeper Bluewater Ball gave me a yearly chance to paint subject matter I would not ordinarily do. This is the second, and I think the best, of my once-a-year seascapes. I like the sun on the fog drifting down the valley.