© Mark Junge. All images and text protected by international copyright law. All rights reserved. Updated 04 Jan 2012
Bare sand and rock baking under the sun’s blazing fury. Surreal plant life. Gently-scented flowers dancing and bobbing on soft, warm breezes. Far-distant mountains and open spaces that seem to touch the infinite: the vast spaces of the Southwest.
All this, and more, are the deserts of the American Southwest.
Through the clear night air, we see a million pinpricks of suns far away. Our footsteps crunch against the gravelly desert floor as lizards flit in the blink of an eye and disappear under elfin shrubs. A startled jackrabbit bolts across the landscape. The deep, fluorescent-blue dome of the sky inescapably surrounds us.
This Spartan, thirsty and (sometimes) prickly world is a place where one can be alone – totally alone. If the wind is still, one can hear – nothing, the silence broken only by the occasional, gurgling “cawing” of a nearby raven in flight. It’s a place to think, to recharge one’s batteries, to leave the troubles of our world as we enter another.
Obviously, I love this place of wonder. While all types of landscapes have their beauty (and I paint those, too), the mystical, spiritual expanse of the deserts speaks to me as nothing else can. I’m an introspective, quiet and understated person living in a harsh world. Most of the time, I belong in the desert. I fit. And I’ll never tire of painting it and showing you what a beautiful and pure place it is.
All this, and more, are the deserts of the American Southwest.
Through the clear night air, we see a million pinpricks of suns far away. Our footsteps crunch against the gravelly desert floor as lizards flit in the blink of an eye and disappear under elfin shrubs. A startled jackrabbit bolts across the landscape. The deep, fluorescent-
This Spartan, thirsty and (sometimes) prickly world is a place where one can be alone – totally alone. If the wind is still, one can hear – nothing, the silence broken only by the occasional, gurgling “cawing” of a nearby raven in flight. It’s a place to think, to recharge one’s batteries, to leave the troubles of our world as we enter another.
Obviously, I love this place of wonder. While all types of landscapes have their beauty (and I paint those, too), the mystical, spiritual expanse of the deserts speaks to me as nothing else can. I’m an introspective, quiet and understated person living in a harsh world. Most of the time, I belong in the desert. I fit. And I’ll never tire of painting it and showing you what a beautiful and pure place it is.
(That last name “Junge” is pronounced “young”!)
Why Does Mark Paint the Desert?
Mark has been painting for over 35 years and has shown professionally for almost 20. His paintings appear in private and corporate collections (including a local conservation group) across the country. He has won numerous awards, as well.
The panels he often paints on are made of Gessobord™, a product of Ampersand, Inc. It is a material made specifically for paintings and is archival – while it looks like Masonite™, Gessobord™ avoids the common hazards of Masonite™. For more information, please visit Ampersand’s Website.
A typical signature includes: Mark’s name, date of creation, the Latin phrase Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam (“To the greater glory of God”) and, sometimes, petroglyphs of bighorn sheep.
The panels he often paints on are made of Gessobord™, a product of Ampersand, Inc. It is a material made specifically for paintings and is archival – while it looks like Masonite™, Gessobord™ avoids the common hazards of Masonite™. For more information, please visit Ampersand’s Website.
A typical signature includes: Mark’s name, date of creation, the Latin phrase Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam (“To the greater glory of God”) and, sometimes, petroglyphs of bighorn sheep.
