Shadows of the Blue Ridge

Well it took a while but now I've wrapped up my 24x30" studio painting that I started in my last post. I finally got rid of that white canvas. Hooray for small miracles! Here is the painting fully laid in, with the sky. I decided to keep the sky fairly simple in this one because I want to play up the large tree:

Next, I go about refining everything and adding more paint overall:

And then, the trees:

"Shadows of the Blue Ridge" Oil on Linen, 24x30" (SOLD) ©Jennifer Young

Mountain Shadows

Continuing with my exploration of the southern landscape, I started a new 24x30" painting today based on my recent trip to the mountains. Here is the initial tonal drawing to determine the composition and basic shapes. This is an early morning scene so the shadows are nice and long:

Next I start the block in, very broadly, laying in the darkest patterns first, followed by the lights. Aside from the usual burnt sienna I use for the tonal sketch, I have limited my palette to three primaries plus white (cadmium yellow light, alizarin permanent, and ultramarine blue).

The sky will be my lightest light, but I've put off laying that in until I have something of the mountain laid down.

Here's where I am after a few hours' work:

Next I will start laying in the sky and blocking in the haybales before going back in to refine overall. I think I've gotten some good information down so far. Now I just need to keep building on it and solidify my plan. More to come soon!

A gray morning in the mountains

It's been a while since I have painted a studio piece of the American south, but my recent trip to the mountains has inspired me to explore the subject back home in the studio. This little mountain painting was a bit of an experiment, as I tend to shy away from painting gray days. The light is flatter, color is more "local", and values tend to be a lot closer. While I have sometimes been "forced" to paint gray days when I'm field painting, without that beautiful sunlight casting shadows across the picture plane, composing a subject of a gray dayis a challenge I too often tend to avoid. So this is a painting of facing that resistance head on.

"Morning in Gray and Gold" Oil on Linen, 12x16" ©Jennifer Young

It doesn't hurt, of course, that in the mountains many of the grayest days are incredibly stunning and full of quiet majesty and spectacular atmospheric effects. The sun was scarce on the first half of my painting trip, so I had plenty of opportunity to observe these effects.

This painting is based on wiper I did on site. The wiper didn't survive (which is why its known as a wiper!) but the memory did, as well as a number of photos I took of the area. This location is a birding trail I happened upon while exploring Nellysford, VA. I think those yellow flowers are goldenrod (?) They were everywhere, along with many other stunning wildflowers. The main attraction for me though, was the mist and clouds that settled on the distant mountains, with just a bit of the mountaintop peeking through. It was really something to behold.

A trip to the Mountains

This past weekend my fabulous husband gave me a wonderful gift of a getaway to the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was just an overnighter, so I didn't have a ton of painting time; but I did have enough to do this little mountain study.

I also spent part of the trip scouting around for future painting sites.I was in the town of Nellysford, VA (near Wintergreen) which has long been a favorite of mine. In the past though, I have always been able to scout while my husband drove. Driving on my own through this gorgeous countryside, I realized how oblivious I have been in the past to what a white-knuckle a drive route 151 can be (sorry honey!)  It wasn't very easy to ogle without also risking driving oneself off a cliff. I did find a few spots to pull over though, and even though the leaves haven't yet made their autumn transformation there, it was still stunningly gorgeous and inspiring.

The above painting is really a study. I was mainly interested in getting a feel for the planes and shadows of the mountain. I struggled with the canvas panels I brought though. They were oil primed linen, which are supposed to be primo, right? But I found them to have a both a heavier weave and yet to be much slicker than I am accustomed to, at the same time. It might just be a matter of getting used to them, but they gave me problems last weekend and I felt like the surface was a major distraction.

I also learned that my over-reliance on my handy dandy rolling bag has caused my plein air painting gear to get a little hefty. I love using the Soltek easel (when it's functioning properly) when I'm around town, but if I am going to get back into traveling I really need a lighter setup for my backpack. I do have a very light setup already, but it has proven almost too light for me, and I find it to be so much less stable-feeling  than my Soltek or other pochade boxes I've used in the past. I also have become extremely reliant on the large paint-mixing surface of the Soltek (which I have expanded even further--more about that in a future post). So the tiny mixing area of my current travel box makes me feel like a giant in Munchkin-land.

Yet again, I may just need to get myself accustomed to the change. But I've been finding myself eyeing another paint box of late (here we go again!). I've had my eye on it for a number of years. It's by Alla Prima Pochade. The models I am considering are either the Bitterroot or the Bitterroot lite. I can always rationalize needing an auxiliary easel for travel and for use in case my Soltek breaks down again. They seem really well made and are so intelligently designed (I've seen them before in action.) But will either one significantly reduce my setup size while still allowing an adequate paint mixing area? That is the question.

Plein air challenges

The artist's studio is a sanctuary of sorts, where one can create in peace and solace without interruption or (for better or for worse) outside influence. Its a controlled environment in every sense, from the lighting to the temperature to the people allowed (or not) into the work space. In this sense, plein air painting is exactly the opposite. One can control neither the lighting, nor the weather. Nor can one control the comments and opinions from onlookers. Sometimes the lack of predictability adds to the excitement of the experience. At other times the lack of control can be downright annoying.

Such was my experience last week when I returned to Bryan Park to paint the 9x12" piece below.

"Morning by the Stream", Oil on linen, 9x12" (SOLD) ©Jennifer E Young

When I started, the sky was bright but clouded over nearly completely, giving the land a soft but still luminous quality. Halfway through my session, the light burst through with blazing clarity, only to subside and reappear intermittently throughout the rest of the painting session. Next the wind picked up, prompting me to grab onto my umbrella periodically so as not to fly away over the rooftops.

I've learned to deal with Ma Nature and expect her many changes of mood. (Women!) Harder, for me, is to manage the human element. I simply hate the awkwardness of being interrupted when I really need to work, especially now that I'm a mom and I have only so many daylight hours set aside for work. But I also hate being rude.

I was all set up, and right before I laid down my first brushstroke I hear a man holler from across the park, "Oh wow, an artist! Can I watch?" Unfortunately I had forgotten to put my headphones on (the ultimate "leave me alone" apparatus) so I had to acknowledge the comment. I oblige...and then the questions start. "How are you going to paint the ripples on the water? Why are you painting that canvas all brown? What's that contraption there?"

At first I attempted politeness, but soon I realized this was only encouraging him. I would never get this painting started if I didn't put an end to this barrage of questions once and for all, and he wasn't picking up on my polite little hints. So finally I resorted to bluntness. "I don't want to be rude," I said, "but I need to get started, and I just want to warn you that once I begin painting won't be able to talk and paint at the same time. It's that whole left brain/ right brain thing. Haha."

I was awarded with an awkward silence and a very strange looking stare. I imagined the headlines:

Artist Drowns in Shallow Creek (painting also ruined).

But finally he broke the silence with a curt, "I'll leave you alone," and turning on his heel, he disappeared as quickly as he'd come.

Any way  in spite of the struggles and weirdness, I feel like I had a good painting session. I may do a little something more to resolve the background...or not. Overall I'm pretty happy with the composition and I feel as if I got a sense of the place and conditions of the day, especially considering what a day it was!