Interstate: Illuminated

I'm in Wyoming, a place that once seemed very far away, a place that I might only see in a movie. Driving through the most eastern part of the state I was struck by its lush-looking landscape. I say "looking" because the combination of prairie grasses, which are yellowish green, and darker grass make it appear as if the ground is covered in a pale chartreuse velour. It looks particularly lush when illuminated by bright afternoon sun. While the countryside I drove through was mostly flat, occasionally there were these odd mounds, bumps and cones, some whose shapes reminded me of extinct volcanos, creating a sense of otherworldliness. It was as if the earth had been undulating and then, at some point, had stopped moving, freezing these mounds in place.

Seeing the different shades of greens, yellows and browns, the textures of the grasses, the shapes of the hills, the silhouettes of cattle grazing and the bright blue sky made me think about how I might paint such a landscape, should I ever attempt to paint again. I wondered how one could capture the sweep of the sky and the seeming endlessness of the land.