The painting with a special backstory

This January, I ran a photo contest. I selected ten winning entries from myriad stunning photos you sent me to serve as references for a series of paintings this year intended to connect me/you to awe and meaning. 10% of all proceeds generated related to this effort (ie painting sales, commissions) will be donated to causes aligned with Alli Harvey Art values.

The big question once the hard work of selecting photos was over was, of course: where to start?!

Here! Photographer and winner (always) is the wonderful Taylor Sheridan.

I chose the above photo reference. Taken on the very first sunrise of 2024 in the backcountry of Death Valley National Park, unlike any of the other photo references, I was there. Actually – look real close, and surely you recognize me as the silhouette.

Backing up a bit in the story, it was December 30th, 2023 when Wes and I spent about an hour at the Death Valley Visitor Center hooked up to WiFi to research possible mini-backpacks to take over New Year’s. We were both exhausted, for reasons I’ll explain in a moment, and expending finite energy on a plan to recoup out in nature. 

We got some day hikes in while we were there, too. Pictured: Wes hiking the otherworldly landscape near Zabriskie Point.

We decided on an overnight up near a sand dune feature for New Year’s Eve, and got ready to head back to our campsite for the night. Pushing our way through the double doors, a face flashed in my peripheral vision – was that – Taylor?! Hugs and surprised hello’s ensued as we greeted our friends from Reno, Taylor and Kevin, who also happened to be spending New Year’s in the park.

As we settled into conversation just outside the Visitor Center doors, we shared our plans – and quickly discovered that we had an almost unnerving amount in common. They were camped not only in the same, less frequented campground as we were, but they were in the same loop. We had firewood and invited them over to hang out that night. Wes told them they could find us in the site with the white Tundra and off-white cap.

Taylor looked confused. “Wait, what happened to your other truck?!” Her sister Bailey, after all, had driven the fabled Brian the F350 down the Alcan with me for Airstream pickup.

Wes’ and my expressions fell. Cue the exhaustion: we had just scraped through an epic failure and emergency replacement of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. We told Taylor and Kevin we’d try to abbreviate the lengthy story later on that night.

Those two came by and hung out with us for a couple hours that night – the catching up and conversation flowed freely, and to my exhausted self, was welcome fun.

Selfie outside the Death Valley National Park Visitor Center on 12/30/23. What a small world!

It didn’t take too long for us to discover our plans for the park were even more eerily aligned than we knew: Taylor and Kevin had selected the same overnight backpacking itinerary as me/Wes. I think it’s fair to say we all laughed a little nervously when we figured this out. We go backpacking in part to be alone, right? I know I didn’t want to impede on Taylor/Kevin’s wilderness time; they probably felt the same.

We collectively decided to play a rendezvous up at our backpacking destination by ear. It’s dispersed camping with no trail; so this way we’d retain the kismet of our shared plan without compromising our solitude.

You sort of know the rest: we independently forged our way up toward the sand dune. Wes and I saw their car – the only other one – at the trailhead. We set up our camp a few miles in. It was actually less likely than we thought that we’d run into each other (yet again) – we each made the decision to camp roughly at the same distance relative to the sand dune feature, and more importantly on the same side. I spotted Taylor’s headlamp flashing above us as the tell, and we hauled up in the evening on New Year’s to chat with them a bit. They pitched us on a sunrise hike up to the top of the sand dune for coffee to ring in the New Year the following morning. 

And there you have it. The above picture is that same dawn with the sun higher in the sky, and the spot where the four of us sat on the cool sand with our jetboils and instant coffee.

It was a wonderful moment that signaled a broader sense of ease in the context of our lives. It wasn’t just any ol’ New Year’s, after all – this was when Wes and I were still pretty fresh in our major life pivot of living fully mobile out of the Airstream. We’d only just left Alaska and gone full time “van life” six months prior, and were figuring it out as we went. One piece we wondered about retaining/creating amidst our constant upheaval was community. We weren’t exactly sure, yet, how or if that was going to work for us. It was one latent worry amidst many.

The fortuitous run-in sparked a conversation between the four of us: what if we went backpacking together again, but…on purpose?

Spring that year, the four of us plus our friend Adam (left) met up in Canyonlands National Park, later featured in my (recently sold!) painting “Peekaboo”, pictured hanging at my current display at Nevada Sunset Winery in Reno.

This past Christmas, Wes surprised me with a gift of an already-organized trip with the five of us to backpack in the Grand Canyon this coming April. I cried when he told me.

You can probably see why I chose this as the first painting to complete: it helps connect me not only to the beauty of the place, but a sense of belonging, connection, and shared meaning/awe with people I feel so lucky to call friends.

In conclusion, here she is – this painting packed with awe and the feeling of ringing in a New Year with hope and joy, “Dawnbreaker“, is newly up on my site and available for purchase.

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