Thursday, January 8, 2026

More Travels Via Painting Memories

Our last blog post got me to thinking how our paintings enable us to travel in our minds to places to which we wish we could physically return.  And what better vehicle could there be than writing about those memories as I gaze longingly at photos of those paintings.  Yes, traveling in one's mind can be healthy without mushrooms.  So, on these cold, dark, snowy days, why not stay the course a little longer.

While this blog is a continuation of our representational art, perhaps future blogs will highlight whimsical subjects and, for me, a few favorite portraits.  we've posted on our website, www.corneliusstudio.com.  For now, here are a few more paintings Amanda and I spent extra time revisiting.




Denali Remembered

Alkyd on canvas. 24 x 30 inches


What a hike!  We parked the car at Denali National Park's Eilsen Visitor Center, shouldered our packs and only pausing for a photo on which this painting is based, descended to the McKinley River.  We timed crossing the heavily braided river with morning hours when water levels would be at their lowest since the trek necessitated wet feet and the higher the water, the wetter we'd be -- not to mention higher water would increase chances of getting swept off our feet, if we even dared to risk it.


   In those glacial flour laden waters visibility was less than the width of a piece of dental floss.  We made it by probing the depth of each channel with long poles we carried to give us extra stability and to use to turn ourselves into human tripods. Safely on the other side, we dodged crevasses as we crossed the silt and rock covered Muldrow Glacier to camp for the night.  Morning gave us a fresh start up Denali's foothills where we climbed to the highest elevation we've ever hiked -- where vegetation was almost nil. Surely any photography up there would be of a barren landscape.  But -- see the next painting...



High Refuge by Don Cornelius, Oil, 16inches x 20inches


High Refuge

Oil on Canvas  16 inches x 20 inches


Ahead, something moved.  No way!  What was a flock of Dall sheep ewes doing at that elevation?  And what a background for a photo of them!  "High Refuge" depicts what we found that day --  except it needed an extra something for it's composition.  Yes, a transplant -- the sheep in the right foreground came from a photo I took of another flock on Sheep Mountain another mountain range south, close to the Matanuska River.




High Country Winter
Oil on canvas. 16 x 20 inches


Now that I've introduced you to that lone Dall sheep from Sheep Mountain, let me introduce you to more of the flock as we found them that fine winter day.  The base of the mountain looked deceptively close when we spotted them from the Glenn Highway.  OK, it would have been close in summer, but under several feet of snow and lacking skiis or snow shoes, the definition of close changes. 


But, when we reached the wind blown slopes, where you could see your feet again, excitement swelled with each step as we crept towards the ridge.  Out of sight we closed the gap between us hoping that they would still be there when we revealed our position.  Success!  Not only were they there, but they seemed totally unperturbed by three interlopers.  Needless to say I shot more than a roll of film as we hunkered down on that ridge determined to look no more threatening than a ground squirrel.




White Rocks on Red Mountain

Oil on Canvas  20 x 24 inches


A friend and I took an early spring hike in yet one more mountain range further away from Denali.  Our goal -- Red Mountain on the east side of the Chugach Mountains.  We reached the base on skis where much to our joy we found a snow-free ridge to ascend.  We only expected to see exhilarating beauty and that's all we did find until just as we decided it was time to turn around, we flushed three rock ptarmigan.  Much to our relief they only flew over the ridge to land in the south facing rocks.


The contrast between those white birds against the red rocks, where they landed, proved camouflage dosn't always work as well as it's meant to.  But it sure made for remarkable photos.  I wonder if those birds were aware of how exposed they had become.




Raven's Roost Ridge
Watercolor  9 x 12 inches

This time the artist is Kären but the photo chronicler of the scene, me.  Raven's Roost is the mountain that shields Petersburg from the golden rays of sun all but a few hours during our short winter days.  While most hikers approach this landmark on a US Forest Service trail (coincidentally named the Raven's Roost Trail) which originates in town, there is a back way.  A no longer maintained trail -- the markers are all that remain, but not the pathway -- can be accessed from the Twin Creek Road on the south side of the Ridge.  I was surprised how many animal trails eased the climb to the ridge and what a fine view it led to -- the north end of Wrangell Narrows and beyond that Kären documented with her watercolors.  A less expected treat was finding a number of Sitka black-tail deer with new-born fawns.  Maybe that's why that black bear was also present.  



Northern Exposure
Alkyd on canvas  12 x 24 inches

As long as we seem to be looking at paintings of high places, how about high latitudes?  I based this painting on a photo Kären took on the north side of the Brooks Range in Alaska's Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.  It started out as an abstract piece that somehow morphed into something more realistic.  I originally included a caribou and a half with the intention of adding an entire herd, but it looks like they migrated on.  Maybe they joined the two that were watching Kären when she obeyed nature's call in that area.  While she faced away from the caribou and unaware of their fascination with her, she was startled to see her fellow rafters with binoculars looking in her direction.  She reports having finished her mission in record time.  It seems she was between the caribou and her fellow nature enthusiasts.  Talk about awkward feelings!



Tranquility
Watercolor

Back down south, here in sub-tropical Alaska, Karen painted Crystal Mountain, the highest mountain on Mitkof Island.  A popular recycled-plastic boardwalk connects a paved parking lot with Blind Slough Rapids where fishers of King Salmon in summer and hikers, whenever the snow yields, find refuge from the stresses of society.  It's a testimony to benefits of the US Forest Service providing multiple uses of the Tongass National Forest.  Had Kären included more of the critters we've spotted in the area, she would have added multiple species of ducks, swans, porcupines, moose, and black bears while friends would add brown bears to the list.  Oh dear, I forgot to mention one of Kären's favorite critters -- red squirrels. 

Way back when -- I even camped on top of Crystal Mountain -- the route to which follows a rocky subalpine ridge past tiny tarns (small mountain ponds) that make you want to just surrender and let them be your destination.  Oh, so much to see and so little time!  You can see that snow-covered ridge just to the left of the summit of Crystal Mountain in Kären's painting.



Now "what the?" you might be thinking.  No, this one is not a painting, but an example of Kären's creative mind in action.  I'll let you figure out what she found, and the two of you who made it all the way through this post, can tell us what you think.  Hint: it's not a double exposure.












Friday, January 2, 2026

Revisiting Memories through Art

A Christmas visit with our daughter, Amanda, ended up with us looking at some of our favorite paintings that reside as copies on our computers.  We also challenged our mental acuity to complete a puzzle we had made from one of Kären's painting.  Wow -- her brushwork! Her visual surprises.  It made me appreciate that painting so much more.  


So given it's the end of the old year, I thought I'd post images of some of the paintings from past years where the back stories we shared with Amanda felt like we were in a time capsule -- and, of course, the puzzle.  In this post I'll stick to representational paintings -- except the puzzle.



Alaska Monolith
Alkyd on panel 12 x 16 inches

During a visit to Alaska's Matanuska Valley, I revisited some of the areas where we spent so many happy hours hiking, skiiing and photographing the joys of living in Alaska.  And yet, somehow, after countless trips into the Hatcher Pass area of the Talkeetna Mountains, I never noticed this peak.  Talk about an artists special abilities to see what so many miss!  Hopefully this painting, based on a photo I took that day, rectifies that problem.



One Last Thing
Acrylic diptych, Each 9x12 inches

Creating Shutterfly calendars during our visit led us to focusing on Kärens photographs of ravens.  Which leads me to include one of my favorite paintings by her, a diptych of a pair of ravens with one of them getting in the last word.  In case you didn't notice, each painting is of the same bird.  Yes, that's one of the advantages painting has over photography.



Along the Cutoff
Alkyd on panel 12 x 16 inches

It was May and yet winter still lingered along the Haines Cutoff between Haines, Alaska and Haines Junction, Yukon.  Ahead of us, as we drove north, a mountain glisteneded like it was coated in ice.  We had to get photos of it.  And then a pullout appeared.  Look closely and you'll see a willow ptarmigan that greeted us when we turned off the highway.



Along the Dempster
Watercolor. 9 x 12 inches

Kären captured this view during one of our very favorite drives -- the Dempster Highway leading from near Dawson City, Yukon, 478 miles (769 km) north to Inuvik, Northwest Territories.  While the route is an artists and photographers dream, it does present several challenges -- a rocky road surface made to shred tires and the further north you drive mosquitoes so thick that when you face into a stiff wind, they take advantage of the shelter you provide and your back look like it's been spray painted with pepper.  But, the views and wildlife -- oh my.



El Cabezone
Alkyd on Canvas  20 x 24 inches

Gazing out our plane's window as we approached Albuquerque, New Mexico, we viewed 
in the distance
 one reason why the southwest holds such mystique -- El Cabezone.  We had to see it up close.  Sure enough, in a couple of days we were bouncing down a dirt road closing in on a trail leading up the volcanic plug.  But, wait, the most artistic view of El Cabezone seemed to be looking up a stream bed we crossed on the way.  So here it is.  For the record, we were able to climb half way up the mountain until it transformed from a hike into a technical climb.



Baird's Retreat
Watercolor  14 x 21 inches

To keep up her teaching certificate, Kären had to take so many hours of continuing education.  And, somehow a class on brown bears qualified.  To meet the course requirements she had to complete either a written paper or a painting.  In true Groth fashion she did both, with the paper including illustrations, plus a separate painting -- each one being completed, in true Kären fashion, on butcher paper -- a surface not considered to be archival.  I was so taken by the painting of Baird Glacier I convinced her to create another version on a surface (watercolor paper) we could have framed and enjoy without watching it deteriorate.


Bessie at the Helm
Watercolor  9 x 13 inches

Kären based this painting on a photograph I took of my kayaking. companion, our golden retriever Bessie, as we kayaked out of LeConte Bay in the USFS Stickine - LeConte Wilderness Area.  After two nights camping 
in the fiord
, the second near the face of LeConte Glacier, a drizzle had descended on us.  So I decided to head back to Petersburg with Bessie pointing the way home -- well maybe would have if she had been awake.  Come to think of it, that night camping close to the glacier is worthy of a blog post because, let's say, it failed to meet the definition of uneventful.
  


Four on the Point
Alkyd on Canvas. 18x 24 inches

17.5 miles south of Petersburg the only bridge across Blind Slough leads to the Crystal Lake Fish Hatchery. We never fail to stop in the middle of the structure to enjoy the views both up and down the Slough while we try to spot wildlife from bears to swans.  I based this painting on the view further up the Slough where four alders that grow on a point of land jutting into the Slough were backlit by the morning sun and as it's winter coat of ice was relinquishing it's frozen grip 



Tongass Backwater
  
Alkyd on canvas. 18 x 24 inches

In days of yore we had a fleet of watercraft.  A 17-foot fiberglass boat, a 17-foot Klepper kayak and a 17-foot aluminum canoe -- all purchased under different circumstances with no consideration of length.  The day I took the reference photo for this painting a friend and I paddled the canoe upstream from the bridge across Blind slough -- come to think of it -- past the alders in the above painting "Four on the Point."  There we landed at the mouth of a tiny stream that used to drain a large pond created by a beaver dam.  I say "used to" since the beaver are no longer there so neither is the pond.  But, I digress.  I painted "Tongass Backwater" from the mouth of the stream.  For the record the day we discovered the pond was missing, we dragged the canoe around log jams and over all-matter of foot-entangling brush (never finding enough water to float the canoe) only to discover a grassy meadow behind the beaver dam.

And now, (sound the trumpets) Kären's painting that we had made into a puzzle.


Why Snowmen Don't Have Noses
Watercolor  16 x 20 inches

Kären let her imagination run wild as she joyfully painted this rendition of the view from our living room window.  Somehow our local deer herd seems to relish carrots they have stolen from the snowmen while our house has been moved across the street.



And finally, the "Why Snowmen Don't Have Noses" puzzle.  With only  252 pieces it still proved to be a real challenge.