First plein air of autumn!

Happy Friday everyone. Here's a little plein air piece I did this week when the kiddo was in preschool. This was done at one of my fav local spots, Bryan Park. The weather has been gorgeous lately so I was thrilled to finally get back to some good old field painting at last! There were several really good views that I noted, but I settled on this lakeside view with its nice reflections and early autumn foliage. This is totally alla prima, with just a bit of tweaking to the wet paint edges when I returned to the studio. I started it at about 9 a.m.:

"Early Color, Autumn" Oil on Linen, 12x9" For more information, click here!

I haven't mentioned plein air painting gear in a while, but it occurred to me on this outing how much I appreciate the simple shopper that I use to cart around my Soltek easel and all of the rest of my gear. Longtime readers may recall that I have a history with the Soltek that goes back about 7 or 8 years. Well, since the one "tune-up" I had, it is still going strong, though my dilemma about an adequately appointed backpack still exists. However, I picked up this little number several years ago on a whim at Burlington Coat Factory (of all places). It has a front and side outer pocket, and  fits my easel, panel carrier, and the rest of my painting gear (as well as a few personal items) perfectly. Most importantly it is on wheels, which, when used in the appropriate setting, is much easier on my back.

Now this bag won't help much trekking through the mountains or hopping over river rocks. But for city painting (which I do most often now due to time constraints and family obligations) it works great. It does have short straps on the top to carry up stairs, etc., but the bag is so long that with my 5' 4 1/2" frame they are used pretty minimally.  I have to admit that I have dragged this bag on its wheels through a field or two on a number of occasions, as well as a good many cobblestones. Remarkably it has held up great! The money I spent for this bag ($19.99) has served me well.  This I cannot say for the $70 beach cart I attempted to drag over the dunes last summer. After only traversing 10 feet on its virgin expedition, the cart's two front wheels promptly went "kerplunk" in the sand!

Another garden plein air

Here is this week's plein air effort, once again at the botanical gardens:

It's incomplete as I started late and had to close shop before the two-hour mark. It was a beautiful morning, but the light quickly shifted from sun to overcast clouds, making my previously well delineated, high contrast subject suddenly a muddled mass of leaves and confusion.

Or maybe it was just my mind that was muddled? Every so often the light would peek back out, but not quite often enough to provide the kind of clarity I needed. In any case, this is as far as I got before I had to call it quits and pay the babysitter.

I painted this general location some time ago, though the arrangement (and light) was different. I had planned on painting another setting, but a large group was visiting the gardens this morning and had taken over my spot, foiling my plans.

Being short on time I decided to take another stab at this scene. I'm not sure if I will finish this piece. I may just treat it as an artifact of the morning's experience to learn from as I look forward to the next outing.

Plein air with the birds!

I spent two and a half hours yesterday morning literally contemplating the birds and bees at the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens. And of course, painting (which is the reason for this post!) I have watched this garden grow over the years that I have lived nearby, and it has become one of my favorite places to wander and paint. In fact, it has recently been awarded one of the "top 10 gardens worth traveling for" , and I feel really fortunate to be just down the road. At the far end of the garden, through the "woodland walk", one can come upon this little scene; it is a sanctuary for birds, butterflies, bees, and maybe even a human or two:

"Garden Sanctuary" Oil on Canvas, 12x9" Click here for more info!

I have really missed plein air painting. It takes me beyond "production mode" and more deeply into the experience of painting nature. After yesterday's session I made a resolution; my goal for the next 60 days is to paint en plein air once a week. There may be a week here and there that my mommy duties will have to take precedence, but generally speaking I think this is a manageable goal. So if you notice me falling off task, you have my permission to nag, or slap me with a wet noodle--your choice! ;-)

Plein air on Brown's Island

I realize I have been pretty delinquent with my blog these last couple of weeks, and I still need to share the final of my latest Tuscany studio painting. I won't bore you with any personal details, but suffice it to say that some of the other "stuff of life" kept me out of the studio and away from the computer for a bit. But I'm happy to say things seem to be normalizing again, and with that has also come a break in the weather. After weeks of blazing heat and mosquito-loving humidity, the air has actually been cool in the mornings! The days still warm up by noon but the heat doesn't stick to you. I am sure it won't last but right now it feels like September. So to celebrate on Friday, I made a break for some plein air painting on the river.

Before I had my daughter, when I was doing a lot more plein air painting, one of my favorite local painting destinations was the James River Park system. It still calls to me, so even though I can often feel pressed for time to even complete my studio paintings, when the opportunity knocked for some time to paint en plein air on a gorgeous day, I had to take it.

I must say though I felt pretty rusty and out of practice. First, I unwisely did not prepare the night before, so I had none of my gear together. It took me about half an hour to get everything packed. Then I forgot to tell the sitter this or that, so that delayed even leaving the house. Then I had the good angel/ bad devil battle inside my head as I tried to wimp out of going down to the river at all:

Devil: It's too late. By the time you get down there and set up all of the good light will be gone.

Angel: It's not THAT late. It's still morning light, just do it!

Devil: You don't even know where you're going to paint. You'll be lugging this load of gear around for hours trying to find a spot to set up.

Angel: Where we are going there are a dozen or more painting possibilities. The hardest job will be deciding what to paint.

Devil: Shut up, Angel.

Angel: Right- plein air painting it is!

This is the same kind of argument that goes on inside my head when driving to the gym. And like exercising at the gym, plein air painting is an exercise that demands a lot of practice before you really see the results you envision, or feel in the zone. The first two (or twelve) times you practice you still feel flabby and out of shape, and maybe a little frustrated. But then one day you start to notice that you are toning up and actually improving, and you are encouraged to go further and maybe even up the ante.

Well I admit I feel somewhat flabby at the moment (both literally and figuratively, though I have to say that plein air painting is still a lot more fun than going to the gym!) Nevertheless, As you may have guessed, the good angel won the argument. Here's the painting:

"James River Overlook, Brown's Island" Oil on Canvas, 12x9"

As the title would suggest, I painted this piece at the James River park on Brown's island. It's more of a study than a "finished" piece, but it was so great to just get out there and make the attempt.

We have had a lot of rain this summer, so the river has been pretty brown and swollen. To get this view I set up on the footbridge that leads out to an overlook on the James River and acts as a historical Civil War marker telling the story of the fall of Richmond in 1865. I think it is a really inventive and powerful exhibit, entitled "Three Days In April 1865".

"Along this bridge, the events of the first week in April 1865—when Richmond, the capital of the Confederacy, fell to the Union army—are recounted in the words of people who were present at the time. Some were witnesses and others participants as the Confederates evacuated the city, the Union army marched down Main Street, and enslaved Richmonders gained their freedom."

I set up on this footbridge, which was technically the exhibit. You can see my approximate vantage point at this link. I'm not totally certain that my site selection would have been approved by the museum curators had anybody been policing the site, but luckily I didn't leave a trace of having been there (other than this painting, of course)!

Painting my garden

The gardens around my studio and house are really picking up steam with summer blooms. I think it's best described as a cottage garden, and borders on chaotic at times. This is the same spot I shared with you in early spring...much improved now, I think!

My little "fountain" of succulents in the garden opposite the studio is now surrounded by a flowering butterfly bush, purple cone flowers and towering lilies (just about to bloom) And here's Ted, alternately my garden cat and studio cat. He likes to support me whenever I am being industrious:

With such an easy access garden, you'd think I'd paint it a lot more often than I do. I mean, you really can't get any more convenient when it comes to a plein air painting location! But there are a couple of challenges to overcome. First, the light moves pretty quickly in my little oasis,really only remaining constant for less than 2 hours. Inevitably even small paintings seem to require more than one session. Secondly, while I do have some painting time during the week while my little girl is with a sitter, any time she sees me painting outside she wants to "watch" (which quickly evolves into wanting me to push her on the swing, blow bubbles, etc.)

Nevertheless, I did get an opportunity over the July 4th weekend to complete this painting in the yard while Dad distracted DD:

"The Cottage Garden" Oil on panel, 12x9" Contact me for more info!

The dunes, once more

We have stolen away to the beach. Well, that's not entirely accurate, as with a toddler we aren't really "stealing away" anywhere any more. More aptly put: We have loaded the entire contents of our house into the van and 6 hours later unloaded it into the beach house just in time for a total melt down. Our toddler was none too happy either. ;) But somewhere around the 24 hour mark I think we all settled into a groove, and I actually got up yesterday morning and painted.

"Dunes, Early Morning" Oil on Panel, 10" x 8"

This was originally to be a sky painting, but I got drawn into the light on the dunes once more. This was painted from our balcony ( our footpath to the beach is on the left. ) It's a great spot, but east-facing, and in the morning, completely sunlit. I started this around 7:20 a.m. By 9 I was roasting and had to wrap it up. I am mobile blogging so the color is seeming a bit washed out, but you get the general idea here of the morning's attempt. (Updated image)

From study to studio (work in progress)

I feel like it has been ages since I have painted en plein air. Perhaps I feel this way because it is true! But while time, obligation, and health have kept my plein air painting at bay lately, I still think about it very much (not without a lot of longing) and I find myself digging out what plein air pieces I still have and meditating on them. It seems to me that even the weakest studies contain valuable information. Studio works have their place and purpose, and (the good ones) posess a grandeur that is harder to acheive en plein air. But there is a quality about the plein air paintings that continues to distinguish them in my heart and mind as something very special. As incomplete and insufficient as some of them are, they are infused with life and an immediacy that I still find hard to match in the studio. Still, given my life situation at the moment, I shall have to try.

One day recently when I was feeling particularly "homesick" for plein air painting, I came across this little piece that I painted during my trip to the Dordogne. It was tucked away in a stack of unfinished studies that I have not looked at in a long time:

 

I put it away mainly because I ran out of time to finish it on site, and I really haven't thought much about it since. It doesn't have the wildflowers that were in the field, the middle distance is unresolved, and it is lacking contrast in the row of nearby trees, as well as some other detail. But what it does have is some really good information about the light, as well as a nice loose, light touch that reflects the breeziness of that morning in early summer. And as I looked at it with new eyes, I started to think about new possibilities, and how I might translate the information in this scene to a larger studio canvas.

The location was near a public park just on the outskirts of a little village in France called St. Germain de Bel Air. There were these enormously tall trees that I believe were poplars. They always remind me of Monet because he painted a series of these trees in the countryside near Giverny. I was attracted to the scene not only because of the trees, but because of the way they lined the simple country path that led to the village, and the shadows they cast in great diagonals across the picture plane.

We will see how it goes, but here is my (very) preliminary layout on a 24x30" canvas.

Independence Day

It was hot and humid and overcast. Our baby had been sick part of the week prior and through the long weekend with a 102 degree fever and hand, foot and mouth virus. And to top it all off, we woke up on July 4th sticky and without power from a tremendous summer storm the night before. But believe it or not, I had a great morning, as I was allowed the privilege of escaping getting outside early to do this little plein air painting.

  "Pond Reflections" Oil on board, 12"x9" Click here for more info, or just contact me to purchase.

The location is Young's Pond in nearby Bryan Park. I've painted this location before a number of times, and this approximate scene once before, which you can see here. There were a number of nearby spots I could have chosen, but on an overcast day it's nice to paint a water effect, as then you have some luminosity built in, when the light is otherwise fairly flat.

I spent about 3 hours on site working on this piece, which was longer than I normally would do on location. But I think the combination of fairly steady light conditions, and my private glee at having the entire morning completely to myself kept me lingering longer than I would have otherwise.

Here's a shot of my setup right before I started.

Next time I would like to get out even earlier than I did, to try and capture that wonderful atmosphere (aka humidity) before it settles into just plain old hot heavy air. But with a baby, you gotta do what you gotta do, and I was happy to get out at all. My setup has remained pretty consistent over the years, with my Soltek easel still being my go to plein air easel due to the ease of use and quick setup time.

The sun made its appearance often enough that shading myself, my painting, and my palette was a concern. I brought my umbrella with me, but it is a pain to set up and doesn't really work that great with the Soltek (one of the easel's down-sides...I've yet to find a really compatible umbrella that can attach to it without falling over.) So If I can get away without, I usually do. This often means avoiding standing in the blazing sun, even if it means forgoing a preferred view. Otherwise my painting ultimately suffers (not to mention my skin.)

In this photo I've set up my painting panel so that the sun (when it peeks out) is behind it, making it shaded. I am relatively shaded by tree branches overhead. Since I am right-handed, my subject is to my left, so that I am not having to reach across my painting when I look/paint. Often times I can shade my palette simply by wedging another panel between it and my painting. In this case I am using a flat wet panel carrier called the Art Cocoon.

This is actually a pretty neat concept for a wet panel carrier, which I read about some time ago on another artist's blog (when I still had time to read them) owned by Ed Terpening . The advantage is that you can use the carrier for different sized paintings with the provided inserts, and it is nice and lightweight and not bulky. But the down side for me is that it is made out of cardboard, which eventually warps (especially in our hot Virginia climate) and when that happens it stops protecting the painting effectively.

For that reason, my go-to wet panel carrier is still the RayMar. It's a little more expensive, and bulkier, but still lightweight. And its coroplast construction means that while it won't last forever, it lasts a good long time and doesn't warp.

Postcards from the Outer Banks

This past week we stole away to the North Carolina Outer Banks for a glorious week on Hatteras Island. I had hoped to post while we were away, but I couldn't get my technology straight to do any mobile blogging. But here are two plein air pieces I completed in the early morning hours, just as the sun was coming up over the dunes. The hubby even took on full babysitting duties so that I could paint the view from our deck. What a guy!

"Hatteras Island Dunes I" Oil on Linen, 12"x8"

"Hatteras Island Dunes II" Oil on Linen, 8x10"

Top ten reasons to paint your back yard garden

1. You can paint it better than it actually looks (a few more roses here, a few less weeds there...)
2. Unlike a public garden, you likely won't get taken unawares by the sprinkler system.
3. You are intimately familiar with how the light travels through the garden at different times of the day.
4. You are intimately familiar with the location of the latrine (and more than likely it will be free and fairly clean.)
5. You can leave all of your gear set up during breaks (and probably won't need to get someone to watch your stuff as you break for the above mentioned latrine.)
6. You can do your part to reduce the carbon footprint (no need to drive anywhere.)
7. Forgetting to pack an important supply is easily remedied.
8. Plenty of opportunity to take weeding and pruning breaks (okay, this might not be such a good thing for your painting, but your garden will love it.)
9. You won't look like a crazy lady wandering through the park staring at trees, with luggage, a big floppy hat, and a compass. (You'll just look like a crazy neighbor wandering around her yard with luggage, a big floppy hat, and a compass.)
10. The reception to the wireless baby monitor extends just to the edge of your yard!

"Under the Limelight" Oil on board, 8x6" Contact me to purchase.

This little painting is kind of a cross between a still life and a plein air painting. The Japanese lantern sits at the corner of my garden under the limelight hydrangea (hence the title.) Since the hydrangea isn't yet in bloom, I've punched up the corner with some potted geraniums.

Pigeonniere W.I.P.

I am short on time today, so this post will be short on words (rare, I know!) I do have pictures to share, however, of my current 20x24" painting on the easel. The plan is for this to be a larger, more developed version of the plein air piece I did in France (shown here) with more of the sky featured. Compositional sketch:

Tonal sketch:

Sky lay-in (first go):

Ground and shrubs lay-in:

Now the fun begins! :-)

Painting on a colored ground

Every so often I'll get a question about my painting process that I think might be an interesting topic to share here on my blog. Recently an artist friend asked me about the red ground I prepped my canvases with at one time (I think he must have seen the "Springtime Glory" demo from my site). I'm sure I've addressed toning a canvas a few times here on the blog, but since I've been asked about painting on a red canvas a number of times, I thought it would be a good idea to address this question specifically. Here is his question, followed by my response: Question: Are you still using red underpainting most of the time? Is that landscape specific or do you switch up for sky/water? 

My response: As for the red ground, I never use it any more. I really only used it for landscapes. It was fun because the underpainting gave vibratory effect due to it being a complement to the greens.  But it was too much of a distraction for sky and water, and ultimately I personally found it so for all of my landscapes, especially as I moved a little closer to realism.  Plus I got too lazy to tone my canvases that color as I'd have to let it dry first. Otherwise the red would lift and get mixed into my painting too much. Now in the studio I either just paint on a white canvas, or tone it with just a quick wash of transparent red  oxide (a.k.a PR101- the color I used in the tonal underpainting here).  That still adds a warm tone but is muted enough that it doesn't distract. It also isn't as high staining so I can apply a wash and then start painting immediately after.

*This artist is a studio painter, but I'll add here for the benefit of my blog readers that if I'm painting outdoors, I pretty much always use a mid-toned canvas of either gray, or a wash of trans red oxide or raw sienna, as sun on the white canvas creates too much  bounce and glare.

Winter Solstice reception Friday at Glave Kocen Gallery

This is a cross-posting with my newsletter so I hope that the readers of both will forgive the repetition. If you are in the Richmond area, I will be participating in a group invitational this Friday night at Glave Kocen Gallery. I will be one of ten artists featured for this one night event exhibiting winter themed art. But this is not just an art show. It's also a fundraiser for a great cause. Spearheaded by The 1000 Strong Project, proceeds from the sale of the show will benefit Comfort Zone Camp (CZC). CZC offers free camps for kids nationwide who have experienced the death of a parent, sibling or primary caregiver. The 1000 Strong Project has also produced some great art calendars (in which my art will also be featured) that will be sold at the reception to benefit the charity. So if you are in Richmond, come out for some fun, see some great winter-themed art, pick up some calendars for holiday gifts, and support a great cause. Here are the details:

What: "Winter Solstice" Art Reception for The 1000 Strong Project and Comfort Zone Camp Where: Glave Kocen Gallery, 1620 W. Main Street, Richmond, VA 23220 When: Friday, November 12, 2010, 6-9 PM Hope to see you there!

Summer's End

The Paint Annapolis plein air exhibition ended on Sunday, so on Monday I drove up to Annapolis to pick up unsold work from the competition. It would have been nice to do some more painting up there while I was at it, but I had to get back home so it was rather a whirlwind trip. I rather like this little skipjack, patiently waiting for some action as it sits in a drive just behind a veggie garden. It's probably my favorite piece from the event.

"Summer's End" Oil on board, 9x12"

October Maples

When I woke up the other morning it was so stunning outside that I decided to leave the studio for a bit and do some plein air painting in my Bellevue neighborhood. Dave and I passed these gorgeous maples on Newport Drive during our walk in the 'hood the previous evening and I made a mental note to check them out again in the morning :

"October Maples" Oil on Linen, 9x12" For more information, contact me!

This is not the greatest of photos, so I will try and re-shoot this tomorrow morning when the lighting is better.  There are some areas where I might've wanted more refinement, but I am going to sit with this a bit and see how I feel about it when I can look at it with fresh eyes.

One thing I realized from the timed exercise I mentioned in my previous post was just how long my plein air paintings look like absolutely nothing. In fact, a common occurrence with me lately is the feeling of a sinking heart as I look at the confusing mess that is my painting and wonder if I might be better off just scrapping the whole thing. Bleh!

But then I'll think something like, "Just work on it a little more and then you can quit if you want to." Only a few strokes later (if they are good strokes) I find myself excited again and some logic begins to emerge.  It's almost as if something switches in my brain (on or off? I don't know.)  Maybe I just let go of the outcome and relax enough that somehow I can see the scene before me not as an overload of "things", but as a rhythmic pattern of lights and darks, colors and shapes.

This is not to say that there aren't areas for inprovement in this painting. But at least I managed to get the impression of place down, which, based on how the painting progressed in the earlier stage, was quite a surpise to me.  I guess the moral of that story is not to give up too soon. Some paintings are indeed "false starts" and probably just doomed to fail. But then there are those that have potential and a solid start and just require more patience and relaxed focus. Bargain with yourself to just stick it out a little longer and see what happens. By doing so, you often have little to lose and much to gain.

Time and process

Well, for the most part, my resolve last week to get "back to painting" crumbled, as I found myself distracted by a number of other issues. I haven't been in the best command of the schedule I'd set up for myself, setting aside my painting time to do a million different errands and tend to personal issues as well. The tendinitis continues to bother me, too, which isn't helping my stick-to-itiveness.  In hindsight, in spite of my injuries, I  probably should have made myself stick as much as possible to the same schedule regardless of whether I'm actually "painting"-- filling the gaps with new art-related activities (like reading one of my gazillion art books!) In any event, I am starting again--finally-- with a color block-in which I'm including below:

Because of the shoulder/arm thing, I've had to make a few changes to the way I work so that I'm not in a huge amount of pain by the end of the day.  I've lowered my entire painting setup, paint for shorter intervals, and also set a timer when I am painting to go off every 30 minutes. It reminds me to stop and stretch and give my muscles a chance to release the locked position I tend to take when I'm hyper-focusing during painting.

Coincidentally, artist Robert Genn wrote an interesting little article last week in his twice-weekly newsltetter about the timed exercises he uses for  attention and focus, (which naturally caught my attention!)  In the article, Genn suggests that by imposing shorter time limits on a work session (in his example 37 minutes), one is required to come into sharp focus, thereby energizing mind and spirit (and often one's painting as well.) I don't think Genn is suggesting that one should always commit only 37 minutes to complete a painting! Rather, these are exercises to 'shake things up' and breathe new life and energy into old, comfy work habits.

It's a good idea. And it's one I've implemented myself (though  I used a kitchen timer rather than an elusive 37-minute hourglass.) While Genn required his students to complete small paintings in his timed exercises, I've also found that the practice works great for plein air and larger studio paintings when you want to track how long you spend working on each stage of the process.

For instance, in plein air painting, where the shifting light already imposes a certain time limitation, the amount of time you spend establishing your composition is important not only to the painting as a whole, but also because it will dictate how much time you have left for the block-in and finishing. So for a smallish painting, I might wish to limit myself to 15-20 minutes to lay in my composition- DING! And 40 minutes for a block-in-DING! That leaves another 30 minutes to (possibly) an hour to make changes, refine shapes and edges and finish before the light changes too drastically (DING! Brushes down.)

You can play around with division of time if you wish, but the result, as Genn suggests, is often that you learn to hone your focus and think better on your feet, without giving yourself the chance to "noodle around" endlessly or jump into detail  too early in the game. It helps in more ways too, than just keeping you on track. For some reason, the timer helps to address all of the canvas during each of the timed stages, thereby avoiding the tendency to  get lost in only working (or overworking) one section of the painting to the sacrifice of the others. I'm not sure why this is. Maybe it's just that using the timer stage-by-stage causes you to take a more deliberate, conscious approach at each stage, making the approach more methodical by breaking things down into digestible chunks.

While the timed-stages works particularly well for plein air painting (when time is truly of the essence,) I've found the same principal can also be worthwhile when applied in the studio, either by similarly timing myself at different stages in larger pieces, or, as Genn suggests, by (attempting to) finish an entire smaller piece in a short interval, as an exercise drill or a warm-up. So I thought I'd try it for the painting above, timing the initial compositional sketch and the color block-in at 15 and 40 minutes, respectively. I don't intend to finish this piece in just an additional hour. It's a 24x30" canvas and I certainly don't want it to look completely slapdash. On the other hand, I do hope to keep it as fresh as possible to re-energize myself now that I'm getting back to work.

Of course, anything can be annoying if taken to the extreme, but I can see how using the timer periodically can serve a useful purpose. It also provides good insight for me about my process, and just how much time I am spending therein.

Post- Paint Annapolis

Sorry to say, my blog has suffered a bit from benign neglect since I left for my travels a few weeks ago. Rain and 30 mile/hr wind consumed most of our beach vacation, so while it was still beautiful, there was no chance of painting boats or coastal motifs before the Paint Annapolis competition that followed just a week later. Paint Annapolis itself was fun and enlightening, but since I am still dealing with shoulder tendinitis and pain, it was physically stressful and pretty exhausting. For the first two days, it seemed that I had brought the crappy weather I'd had at the beach right along with me up to the Annapolis event. The weather did turn beautiful during the last portion, but I think I kind of "blew myself out" trying to get something interesting down early on while the weather was gray and the light exceedingly flat.

The previous paragraph makes it sound like I didn't enjoy myself at all, but that was not the case! In fact, while I didn't come home with any prizes, I still received a lot of reward. My early struggles notwithstanding, the city of Annapolis is charming. I had a lovely host for the event, and everyone I encountered in the event organization, and even in the town at large, was warm and friendly. AND I'm delighted to say that I sold a study right from the easel!  :-)  I also found myself among some incredibly talented painters and it was truly inspiring to see so much fine work being produced by my contemporaries. Almost all of the artists were friendly, uplifting, and inclusive, making the atmosphere feel more like a (highly motivated) community than a competition.  So much so, in fact, that by the time it was all over with, in spite of my exhaustion, I was actually sad to see it end.

"A Banner Day", Oil on linen, 12x12"

As a painter, I also I learned a lot. I learned that if it isn't happening, don't force it. I learned that if the light is truly uninteresting, you're better off sleeping in a day or two and staying up at night to paint nocturnes!  I learned that in the overwhelm of an unfamiliar environment, I'd be much better off painting simple studies successfully than failing at capturing a very complicated scene. I learned that even in the anxiety of knowing you only have 3 days to paint,  you really do have to pace yourself, take care of yourself, be kind to yourself, and give your mind and body enough time to rest and relax. And I learned that all of the things I thought I knew can so easily fall by the wayside in this thing called "competition".

As is usually the case with me, I learned much of this more through error than through trial. In a way, the lessons I learned at the competition are only larger-than-life versions of the lessons I learn all the time through the act of plein air painting. These paintings can be like mini thrills-of-victory or agonies-of-defeat, though often they fall somewhere in between. Much is made of the victories (and with good reason) but for the painter who is fortunate enough to recognize it, they all hold value. The value lies in what you take away from it.

p.s. The painting posted was painted during the sunny portion of the event. It's from the quick draw called "Dueling Brushes". Please contact me for purchase inquiries. I posted about this event also last year and you can read my account here.

A Spot of Shade

I can always find something to paint in my own Bellevue neighborhood.  This is a lovely back yard garden down the street from us. I painted this from across the street so as not to be too voyuristic. ;-) :

"A Spot of Shade" Oil on Panel, 10x8" Contact me for purchasing info!

There may be few homes in Bellevue proper that would qualify as sprawling mansions. But what it lacks in that department, it makes up for in beautiful gardens and loads of charm. When my husband and I walk through our 'hood, we always note how lovingly the yards are tended. More often than not, even the smallest bungalow and the most modest yard tends to have some touch of personality to it. It's a special place.

Coexistence

I'll be traveling the next couple of weeks and I have a million things to do to get ready. But the weather has been so beautiful that in spite of my chores, I can't resist going outside. I returned to the James River site near Tredegar to do another piece under the railroad bridge, this time in early morning:

"Coexistence" Oil on Linen, 12x12"

Unlike the painting posted the other day, there were no "bathers" this time (none of the human variety, at least). But there's still something about this place that really appeals to me. I think it's the contrast I enjoy --this juxtaposition of the urban structures and natural forms, coexisting, at least for that moment, peacefully and rather beautifully.

I'll be leaving this weekend for our annual beach trip to the OBX (Hatteras Island) then home for a couple of days, and off again to Paint Annapolis. I'll bring my laptop with me and certainly I plan to paint throughout that time. IÂdo hope to keep posting here and there, at least during the beach portion. With travel, I never know what kind of resources I'll be dealing with though, so we will see. Oh, and there is this thing called "relaxing", which I've heard is a rather nice past-time. I just might give that a try at the beach too!

Bathers on the James

I've taken two more two more plein air trips down to the James River of late, and this piece, done near Belle Isle is the result of the first. This is a study done alongside a painting buddy of mine, from the vantage point of the Civil War museum park, looking up at the CSX railway tracks.

 

 "Bathers on the James" (study) Oil on Panel, 9x12"

With angle of the light and the architecture of the bridge, I didn't get much further than a study. But I feel that this scene is destined to become a larger, more developed piece at some point soon. Initially I was attracted to light of early evening as it slanted across the track footings and bounced in the water's reflections. But as we were setting up, groups of  bathers descended on the scene. What luck. I knew there were lots of swimmers in the evenings nearby on Belle Isle, but I didn't realize how many people have come to use this part of the park (right across from the Civil War Museum) after work. Even though in this painting I merely suggest just a few of the figures (and they are barely there- only about an inch and a half high) in life they had a much greater presence and gave a very dreamlike quality to the scene before me. Everything happened so fast, so I just did what I could to try and catch the light and overall structure of scene, not getting caught up in the details but committing them to my memory. It seemed like just as soon as the bathers appeared, they disappeared into the ethers (right along with the fading light.)  I've already returned to the same spot at the same time in order to take photos in hopes that I can do these bathers justice in a larger work.