Progress on the large Hatteras painting

Here are a few progress shots on the Hatteras Island Dunes painting I last blogged about:

Though I am trying hard to address the picture as a whole, it is some kind of work just getting the canvas covered. I have been painting pretty small lately so I am kind of shocked at the amount of paint I'm mixing and using. I think this is especially true because I'm not used to using such an absorbent surface.

In the process of working solely from my painted studies, I've noticed that one of the main reasons I love the smaller alla prima pieces is the amount of broken color in the painting. Color is laid next to color, sometimes within the same stroke, and brush strokes aren't overly licked or blended. The result is that you can achieve a really fresh look with the little ones. It's not impossible to do this with the larger paintings, but you do have to really work wet-into-wet the whole time, and start loading on the paint to get that kind of effect. To have that kind of expectation with a painting of this size may very well be an exercise in futility, especially since I am not able to paint on it every day. On the other hand it is really impossible to replicate stroke-for-stroke what I have done in the smaller studies, as the brush size-to-canvas ratio would mean I'd likely have to turn to using house paint brushes!

So with these "reality checks" in mind, I am still striving to capture that fresh, breezy, beachy essence, even if the nature of this beast is very different from the original. I find myself working more background to foreground on the bigger paintings (rather than strictly dark to light) in order to keep the paint surface workable. Nevertheless, I am saving most of the lightest highlights toward the end because they are the most opaque and have the thickest application.

Hatteras Island W.I.P.

I'm starting something new (and big) today of the Hatteras Island dunes. It's a motif I have been exploring for a while now, though mostly in my field studies.

I'm painting this on a 30x40" gallery wrapped canvas, which is a little more absorbent and has a bit more tooth than my usual stretched linen. Hopefully this won't fight against me too much. I need bigger brushes! I want to keep this loose and fresh, like the plein airs, with not too much detail (but just enough.)

Right now I am referencing an image of my inspiration plein air (now sold) on my monitor,  and a second study painted to scale up to 30x40" that I worked up in the studio. The colors are really off in this snapshot, but you get the idea:

In the second study I tried to recreate the feeling of the original plein air, but  with a few compositional adjustments to the horizon, sky, and beach path.

It feels good to be working on something large. I have avoided it lately because of my sporadic schedule, but things don't seem to be changing much in that area of my life any time soon, so what the heck.

Spontaneity

Here's a little plein air I did a couple of weeks ago, before our most recent beach trip. This view is just around the corner from me. It shows another side of the Bellevue neighborhood; a little less neat-as-a-pin, and a little more unkempt and funky, but still with that spontaneous burst of color.

"Splash of Color" Oil on Multimedia Artboard, 6x8"

The Crape Myrtles are still hanging on.  I hope I can get out a few more times to paint before they fade completely.

There are some benefits to time limits, but I think one of the biggest challenges to working with them is deciding how much of it to commit to R&D (research and development) and how much to commit to production end product. Of course with art, there is plenty of overlap, but I still consider my plein air painting time R&D. That doesn't mean that many aren't "frame worthy", but they are small and spontaneous and not all of them are completed statements. This is good because it allows me a certain freedom in my approach, with less deliberation and concern for the end result and more for the process and just really studying light effects, color temperature, values, and textures.

However, studio paintings are still paramount to my work, and at some point I need to get  some larger pieces done,  no matter how much the great outdoors may call me.  My goal with all of this is to see how well I can carry over the spontaneity and that feeling of the light from my field work into a more complete statement with my larger studio pieces. In terms of subject matter, they may not always seem to relate all that much, but for me the two disciplines are very interdependent.

Back at the beach

First I forgot the white paint. Then, there were the fire ants. Next came the wind. "Why exactly do I do this?" I'm thinking to myself. But then I saw the Jolly Roger flapping in the breeze, and I was hooked. So I held on to my hat (and easel) and set to work.

This little 8x8" oil was done from our gazebo on the Outer Banks Dunes, looking out at the neighboring gazebos. The clouds were what attracted me but the Jolly Roger flag was a fun little detail that sealed the deal.

Featured in Plein Air Magazine's OutdoorPainter.com!

I'm on the road and struggling with mobile blogging right now, so I will keep this post brief. But I'm excited to announce that Plein Air Magazine has featured me and my work in their EZine article about "My Favorite Place to Paint".  The location may surprise you. Check it out! http://www.outdoorpainter.com/news/my-favorite-place-to-paint-jennifer-young.html

The Crape on the Corner

I've long admired this pretty crape myrtle on my summer morning walks in my Bellevue neighborhood, so I decided to pay it a little tribute today:

"The Crape on the Corner" 8x10", Oil on Panel Contact me to purchase!

When we see Crape Myrtles blooming in Richmond, we pretty much know summer is here to stay a while. And if the heat isn't already upon us, it  is sure to quickly follow. Yes, folks, it was definitely hot out there! This painting pretty much demanded some Permanent Rose, which (of course) wasn't among the supplies I packed. I suppose I could have gotten by with Alizarin, but it wouldn't have been the same. There are definitely advantages to painting in my neighborhood; my studio (and agreeable husband) were just a couple of blocks away.

My lunchtime view

A major goal of mine this year has been to return to a regular practice of plein air painting. I've made kind of a slow start of it, but with a young child and a constantly changing schedule, finding the time to do this has been a major challenge to me. Before I had my daughter, I became accustomed to traveling around in search for the perfect painting site. Now, that's not really practical, (or most times, even possible). This is actually most peoples' reality and it's only in hindsight that I realize just how spoiled I was to ever have been able to do this in the first place! But these kinds of constraints shouldn't prevent me from plein air painting. After all, an exotic location does not (necessarily) a good painting make. And in fact, painting my world around me, just as it is, provides a pretty good challenge and a good discipline.

This is the view I behold every time I eat outside on my patio (which I do quite often in the temperate months). You may recall the distant flower bed from another recent plein air I did in the spring. This is a different view, from beneath the shade of our Crepe Myrtle:

"Patio View, Midday" 10x8", Oil on panel To purchase, please contact me!

Of course, painting my current reality doesn't mean I have to include everything. Here's what you don't see on the other side of that column:

Bellevue charm

Not too long ago I joined up with the Virginia Plein Air Painters group (VPAP)based out of Richmond VA. I paint often on my own, but painting with a group definitely has its advantages. The group meets once a month at a different location to paint outdoors together. Funnily enough, this month's location was my own Bellevue neighborhood. Obviously since this is my home, I've had plenty of opportunities to paint here. But  I really never tire of this area because it is so charming and architecturally interesting, not to mention that it is lush with flowers. Painting with the organization allowed me access to the private  gardens that would otherwise have been off limits. Here's this morning's effort:

"June in Bloom" Oil on Panel 10x8"   

I think the challenge to anyone who attempts to paint in Virginia is the number of different greens one encounters. Today's was no exception! But it was a challenge in a good way, as it really made me try and discern all of the variations and the subtle shifts in color temperature.

My Facebook page, plus two plein airs from the OBX

It's been such a while since I've provided some blog love, but there's been so much going on this summer that it's been hard to keep up. However I do  have two little plein air pieces I'd like to share, having just returned from a fabulous week on Hatteras Island in North Carolina's Outer Banks:

These are both 8x8 studies done on birch panels, painted from the lower and upper decks of the beach house we rented in Salvo. I only painted on a couple of mornings (it was the hubby's vacation too, after all) but I so love painting there that I look forward to doing more and more of these in time. Here you can see me through the picture window, painting on the deck, while the kiddos finished up their breakfast. You might just be able to make out a cup of coffee on the railing. I had my breakfast delivered easel-side, too! Not a bad way to spend the morning. :-)

I didn't get to paint out on the shore due to either the timing or the wind, but hope to do so when we return to the Outer Banks in about a month. Though the legs are starting to go, I'm still lugging my big old Soltek easel around. However I'm finding it more and more cumbersome for travel. I may have to dust off my little Prochade kit for my next trip, though I will need to get used to the much smaller palette size again, and the fact that it does not stand up well at all to any kind of wind.

This is the first time I have painted on shellacked birch panel, but I really like it. I prepared my own panels with Zinsser Bullseye Shellac, two coats per side, and sanding in between. I have heard about this kind of panel before, but it was most recently recommended by Matt Smith in his workshop that I attended in the Spring, so I was eager to try it after that. I was a little afraid that the shellac would make for too slick a surface, but it was the just right amount of smoothness and tooth. It did take a little preparation, but once the panels were sealed, the wood provided a lovely blonde tone on which to paint...no extra toning needed.

One final note, I have finally created a Fan page on Facebook, on which I plan to update with announcements and goings on. You'll find a link to it in this post and also in the right sidebar. I guess I'm not exactly on the bleeding edge, but at least now I can finally say, "Like us on Facebook"!

Shopping local

As the title of my blog might imply, one of my passions is to travel and paint the beautiful places I've been. But home commitments these days often don't allow me the time needed to go farther afield for scouting subjects and painting them. Instead of lamenting this fact (which I admit I did for a while) I have decided that if I don't find some options for painting close by I will not get very far with my work (or my sanity!) So I've started shopping local. I really only have a few mornings to myself so I need to get in and out of a place pretty quickly in order to pick up my daughter on time from preschool. The Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens are close by, and they are a lovely option, as is Bryan Park. But there really are a lot of interesting subjects even closer to my home, in my Bellevue neighborhood and even my very  own gardens.

There are a couple of challenges to my place. First of all, I live in an urban neighborhood. While we have tons of gardeners here and lots of green space we also have small lots and lots of large trees. So you have to get used to painting close in, and you're not going to get many sweeping vistas around here, which is the kind of subject matter that I have been most attracted to since I first took up landscape painting.

Secondly, aside from a very brief (but lovely) appearance of sunlight in the early, early morning, a good part of my back yard in particular remains in shadow until about 10:30 or 11 a.m. That means that the most interesting play of light and shadow only makes a presence for an hour, or at most an hour and a half tops,  before the shadows shrink up and burn off at high noon.

On the other hand, having planted every shrub and flower,  I know my garden intimately and  have had plenty of time to observe how the light comes over each bed. So I can set up my easel where I want it, walk back to the studio to do some work there, and then return to my plein air setup at the optimal time when the light is just right. I can work in this way all they way until the time I need to pick up my daughter from preschool (a 5-minute commute), and then just throw my gear into the studio right before I leave to get her. This was my approach for the little plein air below. It's not a big painting, but I still needed to finish this up in two different sessions due to the lighting situation mentioned above:

"The Curved Bed" Oil on Canvas, 10x10" Contact me to purchase!

At home we call this bed "The Bump Out", but I thought  that would be a weird title for a painting. At present there is still a sense of order, but in summer it's a lot more colorful, but also a lot more chaotic. ( I really tend to crowd my gardens terribly. This is a bad habit but I'm trying to get better, and not be so afraid to pull things out, give plants away, or just toss them if need be.) The summer flowers are beautiful, but  I like it at this time of year too because you can still see the "bones" and underlying form before the wildness ensues.

Lessons from the workshop

I thought I'd share a few of the studies I worked on during the Matt Smith workshop I posted about earlier this week. I will first preface by saying that my haste in preparing for this class came back to haunt me, so while I was well prepared in terms of my art supplies, I misunderstood what I was supposed to bring in the way of reference materials. The support documentation said to bring plein air studies and/or photos, and for some reason I took that to mean that plein air studies were preferred (maybe I was just hooked on the idea of plein air!) I probably should have asked beforehand about this because I did feel a little puzzled when I was packing about referencing a small scale plein air to make another small scale painting. (I usually translate small plein airs to larger works in the studio, but the recommended canvas sizes were all under 12x16"). In any event, I packed a number of my plein air pieces for reference, and then as a total afterthought printed off a few of my photos "just in case."

After seeing one demo and hearing the discussion though, I realized the error of my ways. I talked to Matt about what I should work from and he said he would rather see what I could do with my photo references for this class. Matt did bring a number of his own photo references for people to use, but I really dislike using other people's references. Even though we are composing with light and form, I want references that reflect my real experience of having seen (and felt) a place.  So I did what I could with what I had, but I really wished I had brought a more extensive selection of my hundreds upon hundreds of photos I have in my personal archive.

This  first painting is also the most incomplete:

In all of my paintings the common feedback from Matt was to take my brush and "knock back" some of my brushwork that competed with my statement or focal area. For instance, in this painting, our conversation went something like this:

MS:  "Is this painting about the light or shadows?" JY: "Well, I like the highlights on the edges of the poplar trees the best". And with that he took my brush and blended back the rather boisterous brushwork that was beginning to take shape in the shadow passages. MS: "You're giving equal weight to both." Next he mixed a bold tree highlight and swept it upwards on the edge of one of my poplar trees calligraphically, making the highlight really jump out. JY: "Ah, I see! But...I wouldn't just leave it like that...would I? It looks pretty unfinished." MS: "No, not necessarily. But you may restate and knock back several times before you get it right."

 I have such a love of brushwork, but it probably can work to my disadvantage sometimes. The hard part, I think, is figuring out what, exactly, is "right", and what is too little or too much. It's all about finding that balance, where active areas are juxtaposed with quiet passages. It's the quiet passages that play a supporting role and allow the more active ones to take center stage. To paraphrase something Matt said in one of his talks, it can't all be "important". Filter the noise and find the important elements.

I soon abandoned the first study, deciding to just keep that as an annotated lesson.  The second 8x10" painting below is more complete, and may look familiar to some long time blog readers. That is because I painted this scene before en plein air, and blogged about it here. The photo in the link is too dark overall but even so, I think this second study is much more infused with light. (So this exercise will be very helpful to me when I translate the concept to a larger painting, which I really am excited to do now! ) For the painting below, though,  I thought I'd try it again using just my photo reference and see what kind of feedback I could get, and whether it would look decidedly different as a result.

I really loved the composition as it was, so it remains relatively the same in this second attempt. But in terms of paint application,  I got some helpful hands-on feedback from Matt again. Again he took my brush and knocked back the brushwork of the distant trees to make them sit back more and look less stylized.  Fair enough. He then demonstrated "opening up the shadows, using reflected light cast from nearby objects to cast color into the shadows. He put a touch of blue, for instance, on the shadow side of the tree trunks reflecting the water, and the warmer tones reflecting warmth from the stones or earth. That was awesome. After that he showed me how an assertive hand used to apply just a few intense highlights could suddenly make the painting pop. I reworked some of what he put in but played with those general ideas. But that rim light of his along the trunk and the 3 or 4 dabs of bright green paint on the tree leaves remain just as they were applied. (And don't they just sing?)

I felt I was finally getting somewhere on this final painting (below), though we had some helpful discussion early on about using perspective to direct the viewer to the focal point. He again knocked back the distant mountains with no paint, just several swift blending strokes (sigh.)  I don't consider this painting really finished either but I love the composition and I think I would like to try this again on a larger scale. It's the Dordogne as seen from the top of the Chateau de Beynac.

I think overall his main critique of my work was that he wanted to see both more paint and a more deliberate, assertive handling of paint. And it's really hard to do the latter without the former. As he put it, you need to have enough paint there so that it expresses the character of the medium. Otherwise you need to ask yourself, "Why are you painting in oils?"

The class was listed as an intermediate-advanced class and I felt the instruction and the students lived up to that. I left the class pretty exhausted but with a lot to think about on my 6 hour drive back home. It will be interesting to see how I can apply Matt's feedback and insights to my work, while still making my paintings "mine". Once or twice the feedback was hard, but I soon realized, as with any class, it's important to leave your ego at the door and come with an open mind if you really want to learn.

Matt Smith workshop

Oh yeah, I have a blog! ;-) Actually, I didn't forget; I've been doing a little traveling up north to the New Hope School of Art to take a workshop from the very talented painter Matt Smith. The trip was noteworthy for a number of reasons. First, it was the first time I have been away from my daughter for more than a night. (That part was hard.) But second, it was also the first time I've had in 4 years to do nothing but paint and immerse myself in "art stuff" for four days straight. (And that part, my friends, was luxurious!) I haven't taken a workshop in a very long time. But now that my daughter is getting a little older, I really feel like it's time to amp up my art life in some significant way and infuse my work with new insights. So when I heard Matt was coming east to teach (he's based out West, so that's something I'd not caught wind of before around here) I knew it would be an excellent opportunity to do just that.

Matt hails from Arizona, and is best known as a painter of the Sonoran desert near his home, as well as the snow capped Canadian Rockies and other places out west that epitomize the classic western landscape. What initially attracted  me to his work though was not his subject matter, but the sensitivity in the handling of  his brushwork and edges. They are both bold and delicate at the same time.  But after seeing him demo and talk about his approach, I was equally impressed by the purposeful way he composed his paintings and orchestrated his compositions to create  powerful statements. I won't get into a blow by blow description of day 1-4 of class, but I will share some of the significant things I took away from it personally, most likely in more than one post.

The interesting thing about this workshop was that even though Matt is best known among artists as a plein air painter, the class was held entirely inside, in the studio. I'll be perfectly honest here and say that when I signed up for the class I was mildly disappointed that the format would not include at least part plein air painting, especially since Matt himself is a seasoned field painter and the area where the workshop was located was very scenic. (It was the birthplace, in fact, for an entire movement of landscape painters, known as The New Hope School and Pennsylvania Impressionism.) Largely though, that disappointment was entirely personal. My studio is my workhorse, but plein air painting is more exciting to me. Also with my life situation at present, I just don't get the longer stretches of time needed to trek out in the field as often to paint.

When I asked about the reason for the indoor class, Matt's response was that in his years of teaching, he has seen the same problems pop up again and again, whether in the field or in the studio. Maybe he felt it's better to address these fundamental issues in a controlled environment rather than adding another layer of difficulty with the environmental factors that plein air adds. In any event, the format turned out to be fine. In fact, there was plenty I needed to work on just with my studio work,  the studio environment definitely allowed Matt to get to each student several times a day with valuable feedback. As it turned out, the weather was not great any way, and we probably would have needed to seek shelter for at least two of the four days due to rain and wind.

Matt did several very good demos (using his photo references). He used a Strada easel, which I think was a rather new purchase for him. He talked a lot about equipment and painting gear, which, as any regular reader of my blog may have surmised, is a topic of great interest to me. The Strada is made of metal and looked like a neat little box (I think his was the mini, which is presently sold out.)

But even without the two winged accessory attachments added to provide more workspace, it was a very heavy box for its size. Matt said he liked it because of its compact size (it easily fits into a backpack) and durability for travel, but personally I could not deal with the heft. A Gitzo travel tripod was also part of his setup, which looked great for its ease of use and small size when folded (also easily fitting into a backpack), but a quick Google search soon told me this item was way out of my price range. (Wowsa!)

Matt, by self-definition is not a colorist. In fact, of the fundamentals he sites as essential to a good painting (Drawing, Value, Design, and Color) the most expendable he says, is color. Even so,  I found his palette fairly wide, with four blues, two earths, two yellows, an orange, one red, a violet, and a couple of greens (plus, of course, white.) He used no medium other than his oil paint and a very tiny amount of Gamsol to thin his paints.

His start consists of a very light sketch, soon followed by masses of color, working broadly to get his main elements and shadows down. He then builds from there, thin to thick, dark to light, broad to more detailed. One thing I found interesting is that he almost always left his sky a white canvas until close to the very end of the process. Obviously this is working to his great advantage, but try as I might, I couldn't resist my normal method of putting the sky in early on. This was especially the case if there was any water in the landscape, as I find  I need that sky information to know what's being reflected.

I've a lot more to say on the subject but I should probably try and paint something now! In my next post I'll share of few of my studies done in the workshop, as well as some valuable take-aways that I received from Matt's feedback.

Redbuds and Forsythia

The pear and cherry trees are already leafing out now, and sadly I missed the small window last week to paint them in their full glory . But spring marches on, and this week the redbuds are blooming.

"Redbuds and Forsythia" 8x10", oil on linen Contact me for more info.

The location is Bryan Park, which is lovely in an unkempt kind of way. It's very near my home, so it's a good spot when I only have a few hours to myself (which is pretty much always!) This painting is a bit of a frenzy, but it was (again) a windy morning, and I had to hold my umbrella down with one hand to make sure I wouldn't fly away like Mary Poppins. I dunno, maybe some of that mania transferred to the painting in all of those active brush strokes!

Frayssinet shadows W.I.P.

I had a rough time painting last week. Plein air season is upon us and I have been waiting with baited breath for the weather to cooperate so I'd have the  opportunity to get outside again. But there are just some times when the odds seem stacked against me. Some of the prettiest, mildest days turned out to be mommy-duty days for me. My painting days were full of wind and intermittent clouds and showers. I did get myself outside but the wind and weather weren't cooperative and I ended up coming home with a couple of wipers. That's the risk of plein air painting. Just because you put in the time, it doesn't mean you will come home with a keeper. And with such limited time, it can be hard to justify the effort. So why do I do it? Well, it challenges me to think on my feet and  be in the moment. It gets me out of my comfort zone, and when its not frustrating the hell out of me,  it's pretty fun and exciting.

It also gets me jazzed for new paintings in the studio, which is what leads me to my current post. I started this piece after one of those frustrating wipers, and by comparison to my battle with the wind, it felt good to just paint! At this point I am just settling on my composition and laying in some of the shadows and highlights. This will be a painting of a little street in Frayssinet, a tiny village tucked in the Lot Valley of Southern France:

I painted another version of this scene with different light and a different orientation before, but this painting will focus more on the little cottage to the left  in the foreground. The cast shadow across the top of the canvas is from my easel. Sorry about that! I'll try to get better progressive shots as I go along.

A good value

If you have been reading my blog long enough, you may find that I obsess a little over art supplies and gear. A few months back a fellow artist mentioned that a great tool for judging values was a Kodak Wratten 90 filter. So for a few months I was on a mission to find one that was A) big enough to comfortably look through (ideally 4x4) and B) low enough in price so as not to break the bank. After searching online and watching the bidding wars on eBay, I found the combination of the two criteria impossible to meet. Then one day it dawned on me that I used to have a little red value viewer tool that I'd picked up in a sewing store. I don't know what happened to it, but I thought I'd poke around on Amazon to see if I could fine something similar. Lo and behold, I stumbled upon this little number:

Like the Wratten filter, this value finder helps neutralize color so that you can more accurately discern the values in your reference. Not only that but it has 3 view finders of different aspect ratios that will work with a range of canvas sizes. It also has optional guidelines that you can overlay to check composition, AND a couple of value scales to check your paint mixtures.

The drawback is that the filters are red rather than the nice grayish neutral of the Wratten filters. This may not appeal to everyone. But with a $14.95 price tag it is a good option and specifically geared toward the painter. I have been using it with studio work and it does a good job at neutralizing color so that I can judge values with more accuracy.  I haven't used it outdoors yet but I think there it would be even more useful when making on the spot judgements, and I look forward to taking it along with me (hopefully this week) now that the weather is warming.

Hatteras Island study

I once had a painting of the Outer Banks that I loved; but for whatever reason didn't sell. It was in my inventory for a number of years, so instead of confining it to the bins any longer, I decided to embrace the fact that I still had possession of it. In fact, I decorated my bedroom around it, painting the walls a beautiful soft gray color that perfectly picked up some of the muted tones in the painting. Unbelievably, two weeks after I had my beautiful "new bedroom" complete, I received a call from a collector asking if it was still available. Yes, I sold it. I am trying to run a business, after all. I do have one or two pieces that I am trying to keep for myself, but for the most part, I'm just not one to turn down sales. So what does this have to do with the painting below? No, it's not the "one that got away" (you can see that one here). This piece is one of a few studies I'm working on in preparation for  a large new painting I intend to hang (at least for a little while) in my now repainted bedroom. Well,  I had a nice big gallery wrapped 30x40" canvas, and a nice blank wall, so I figured, why not?

"Hatteras Dunes, Study I" 6x8" Oil on Canvas

This study is based on two different plein air paintings I did on Hatteras Island on recent family vacations. I am largely basing my composition on a piece called "Hatteras Island Dunes II". But because that painting was 8x10" (a 4:5 ratio), I have to make a few compositional changes to format the new piece to a 30x40" gallery wrapped canvas (3:4 ratio).

As you can see in this new composition, I have changed the direction of the sandy path that leads to the beach and rearranged some shrubs somewhat. I also felt like I wanted a bit more sky showing than in the plein air, so I have lowered the horizon a touch to allow for that. For the sky I am loosely referencing both the above mentioned plein air, as well as another plein air piece from last summer, which you can see here.

I don't seem to have any actual photos of these scenes to reference, so my sole references are my plein air paintings. This is a bit different for me as I usually use both a photo source and my painting when I work from plein air to studio. So it will be interesting to see if I can make this fly! My plan is to try at least one more study before launching into the big canvas, but this is a good start.

Studies

I'm baaaack. And I'm kicking off my return to blogging with a new Varenna study. I actually hesitate to call this a study, given the amount of time it took. I guess a month away from painting has left me feeling a litle rusty and slow! In any case, this painting will serve as a preliminary study for a larger piece.

Varenna Study Oil on canvas, 6"x9" Contact me for more info.

We have had rounds of winter sickness followed by school closings due to snow, so with my foray back into painting being twarted quite a bit, I had the thought to develop a number of small scale studies of some larger painting ideas that  I've been wanting to tackle. I'll be painting some of these to scale up to my larger sizes. For example this 6x9" piece will scale up to 24x36".

I've painted various views of this harbor a few times now, which you can see here,  here, and here. I guess you can tell I am enamored with this particular view of this  lovely Italian lake town! This composition emphasizes the strong horizontal of the walled town jutting out onto the lake, contrasted by the verticals of the buildings and tall cypresses.

While I almost always sketch out my composition on paper before I tackle a canvas, I usually leave the painted study for when I am out in the field painting from life. In fact, I have painted lots of studies and lots of larger scale studio pieces and quite a bit in between. Not all small paintings warrant a big statement, but I haven't been all that great about developing my viable studies into larger, more fleshed out studio concepts.  My schedule has been so sporadic for such a long time now, and with not much chance of an end in sight, I really feel like I need to have a more methodical  approach to my work habits. I am hoping that by tightening up my studio practices a bit, I might find more equilibrium when I do get a chance to enter the studio, and I will waste less time and feel less at a loss about what I am going to tackle next.

Well, nothing informs like experience, and since these small ones can presumably be completed in a fraction of the time, (ahem!) I thought it was worthwhile to have a go at a few of them, done, specifically with larger paintings in mind. I will also mine some of my other small works, in particular the plein air pieces I've done, as I think a number of them have potential for further development. I have worked from a number of them here and there, but I think there is more potential (especially in my James River series) and it could be something fun to do during these cold winter months when I'm not getting outside.

Small works auction launch!

This week I am trying something new- auctions of some of my smallest works and studies. I've been toying with the idea of auctions for a while, but quite frankly have not had the time to dive back into eBay since my experiment with it for charity auctions some years ago. But, after reading an article  on the FineArtViews newsletter written by Keith Bond about holding low-tech auctions, I was inspired to give auctions another try right here on my blog. Like the author, I have a number of small works (under 8x10) and studies that I don't consign to galleries, either due to economics or to the fact that some of  my paintings fall more into the category of "studies".  While I do like to save some of my studies to reference for larger studio paintings, a lot of them have a nice degree of finish and/or a quality to them and I think they deserve to find a home. These are  original paintings and perfectly sized for gifts, so it's a good way to get some of that holiday shopping done early.

Here's how it works:

*Each auction will be announced in a blog post with all the vital information. Since I also blog about other things, any "live" auctions will live on an "auctions" page located in its own tab at the top of my blog entitled (you guessed it) "Auctions".

*All auctioned items are offered unframed.

*Each opening bid will be set much less than my retail price, with no reserve. Each bid beyond the opening bid will increment by $25.

*These offerings are for a limited time. Each auction will end at the time specified in the listing- highest bidder gets the painting.

*When the auction has ended, I will send the winning bidder a Paypal invoice.

*Shipping via U.S. mail is free.

First up on the block is this little beaut celebrating the spirit of autumn:

"Falling Leaves on Wilmington Avenue", Oil  6x8"

Starting bid is just $100. This auction will end on Sunday, November 10th at 8 PM (EST). Just click over to the Auctions page to bid! This auction has ended.

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 overreliance 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 workspace. 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"  Click here for more info!

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 (shrug) 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!