I've previously blogged about cool ecosystem artwork, and wanted to recognize more amazing artists in this post.
The Nature of America stamp series featured the ecosystem artwork of John D. Dawson.
Dawson is one of the best-known artists featured in National Park ecosystem artwork, such as these brochures from Olympic National Park.
Larry Eifert may have done more ecosystem artwork for the NPS than any other artist.
The USFS has a series of posters featuring the ecosystem artwork of Steve Buchanan.
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Monday, January 18, 2016
Monday, September 10, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Ecosystem Art
Larry Eifert has created a number of murals for National Parks:

John Dawson is famous for his ecosystem postage stamps:


John Dawson is famous for his ecosystem postage stamps:
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Friday, November 26, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Great Sand Dunes Vegetation Mapping
Merlin Enthralled (Richard Wilbur)
In a while they rose and went out aimlessly riding.
Leaving their drained cups on the table round.
Merlin, Merlin, their hearts cried, where are you hiding?
In all the world was no unnatural sound.
Mystery watched them riding glade by glade;
They saw it darkle from under leafy brows;
But leaves were all its voice, and squirrels made
An alien fracas in the ancient boughs.
Once by a lake-edge something made them stop.
Yet what they found was the thumping of a frog,
Bugs skating on the shut water-top,
Some hairlike algae bleaching on a log.
Gawen thought for a moment that he heard
A whitehorn breathe "Niniane." That Siren's daughter
Rose in a fort of dreams and spoke the word
"Sleep", her voice like dark diving water;
And Merlin slept, who had imagined her
Of water-sounds and the deep unsoundable swell
A creature to bewitch a sorcerer,
And lay there now within her towering spell.
Slowly the shapes of searching men and horses
Escaped him as he dreamt on that high bed:
History died; he gathered in its forces;
The mists of time condensed in the still head
Until his mind, as clear as mountain water,
Went raveling toward the deep transparent dream
Who bade him sleep. And then the Siren's daughter
Received him as the sea receives a stream.
Fate would be fated; dreams desire to sleep.
This the forsaken will not understand.
Arthur upon the road began to weep
And said to Gawen, "Remember when this hand
Once haled a sword from stone; now no less strong
It cannot dream of such a thing to do."
Their mail grew quainter as they clopped along.
The sky became a still and woven blue.
| From GRSA |
In a while they rose and went out aimlessly riding.
Leaving their drained cups on the table round.
Merlin, Merlin, their hearts cried, where are you hiding?
In all the world was no unnatural sound.
| From GRSA |
Mystery watched them riding glade by glade;
They saw it darkle from under leafy brows;
But leaves were all its voice, and squirrels made
An alien fracas in the ancient boughs.
| From GRSA |
Once by a lake-edge something made them stop.
Yet what they found was the thumping of a frog,
Bugs skating on the shut water-top,
Some hairlike algae bleaching on a log.
| From GRSA |
Gawen thought for a moment that he heard
A whitehorn breathe "Niniane." That Siren's daughter
Rose in a fort of dreams and spoke the word
"Sleep", her voice like dark diving water;
| From GRSA |
And Merlin slept, who had imagined her
Of water-sounds and the deep unsoundable swell
A creature to bewitch a sorcerer,
And lay there now within her towering spell.
Slowly the shapes of searching men and horses
Escaped him as he dreamt on that high bed:
History died; he gathered in its forces;
The mists of time condensed in the still head
| From GRSA |
Until his mind, as clear as mountain water,
Went raveling toward the deep transparent dream
Who bade him sleep. And then the Siren's daughter
Received him as the sea receives a stream.
| From GRSA |
Fate would be fated; dreams desire to sleep.
This the forsaken will not understand.
Arthur upon the road began to weep
And said to Gawen, "Remember when this hand
Once haled a sword from stone; now no less strong
It cannot dream of such a thing to do."
Their mail grew quainter as they clopped along.
The sky became a still and woven blue.
| From GRSA |
Monday, March 03, 2008
Quality of Light

There is something about the quality of light in New Mexico, its extraordinary luminosity. Its easy to see what the artists see: quotidian light that washes away the mundane, hundred-mile color that you can feel in the pit of your stomach.
Long Walk Home. Ed Sandoval. Oil. From Southwest Art magazine.
Long Walk Home. Conor Flynn. Photograph.
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