The Third Tee

Last week I finally got out to do a little plein air painting again. Since the leaves were pretty much at their peak, I decided to try a new location that would really feature the fall foliage. This is the golf course at the JLCC, where we have a pool membership:

"The Third Tee" Oil on Birch Panel, 8x10

I am not a golfer, but I am told it is the 3rd Tee. We would often looked down at this lovely view in the summer while having a light dinner by the kiddie pool. It's a great dining spot in the good weather. We get to relax and take in this great view at sunset, while our daughter splashes around and plays.

It was fun to return in a different season, with a different vibe altogether (very peaceful!) This pond actually backs up to the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens, where I've also frequented for local plein air excursions. So along with the occasional golfer, there were plenty of water fowl and songbirds to keep me company.

Week-long study with Kevin Macpherson

Last week I did something I haven't done in a very long time...devote myself to the art mistress from morning to night for an entire week. And it was a week studying with the talented Kevin Macpherson at that! As you may have read from my previous blog posts,  I am a big fan of his paintings and his books. He is truly one of the best teachers I have encountered so far. Not only is he a highly skilled painter, but he has a way of honing in on and distilling essential information that actually penetrates my rock-hard noggin.

The workshop took place in a beautiful new space called Chesapeake Fine Art Studio, run by artist Hai-Ou Hou in Stevensville, MD (great location- about 20 mins. away from Annapolis). If you are an artist on the east coast,  it would behoove you to check out her site. Hai-Ou is quite the painter herself, and also appears to be drawing some of the best and brightest painter/instructors in the plein air and traditional/representational painting movements.

I really wish I had time to delve into all I learned during my workshop experience, but life is slamming me pretty hard right now. This week marked a return to the "real world" (insert the sound of  needle scraping across a record here) with kitchen renovation, school activities, and doctor's appointments commanding most of my time and energy.

But my biggest take aways from Kevin's instruction had to do with value and composition. He spoke a lot about light and shadow, and how one can create much stronger paintings by clearly indicating which elements belong in the light family and which belong in the shadow family. (This sounds simple in theory but it isn't always so easy in practice.) He stressed seeing and painting "shapes, not things", with the idea that if we are too wrapped up in painting a "thing" we lose the ability to really see it accurately and how it relates to the rest of the painting as a whole. We spent a good deal of time really learning how to see the true value of things (er, shapes, that is!) He stressed using a color isolator in the field to identify true value and color, determining and laying down your darkest note of color first, followed by the rest of the shadow family, and finally the values in the light family, keying everything up from that very darkest note, so that you really can get a handle on color and value relationships.

In essence, how dark you key your darks will determine how light you key your lights. I use the analogy of playing "Chopsticks" on the piano. You can play low on the scale or high on the scale, but the arrangement of notes and their relationship to each other are the same no matter how high or low you move along the keyboard.

His demos didn't disappoint. In addition to demos in the field, mid-week during his opening he did a remarkable demonstration in the studio (from a photo) on a canvas sized at about 20x24" . During that opening he also presented an inspiring and highly entertaining lecture. This lecture, I understand, was very similar to the one he presented at the Plein Air Convention. Not being able to travel as much as I used to, I really appreciated having the opportunity to see this presentation, in a much more intimate setting.

Though we were meant to work largely out of doors, we had our share of rain and wind. When the weather didn't cooperate, it gave us the opportunity to study (in the gorgeous and spacious studio) some of the more pertinent points Kevin was trying to drive home. We spent a good deal of time studying value relationships among the "light family and shadow family". On another occasion we delved into "The Golden Mean" or "Golden Section" (the informal subdivision of space) and he presented a fascinating slide lecture with many, many inspiring examples of  how it has been used by painters throughout history.

Here are a couple of my plein air paintings done during the workshop that actually reached a level of finish:

At the week's end, I left feeling completely exhausted and totally exhilarated at the same time. I didn't leave with many "finished" pieces, but that wasn't my goal at all any how. What I did leave with was a wealth of knowledge and insight, as well as a good deal of creative spark. Whether that spark ignites a fire, is now totally up to me.

Morning Wash, Venice

We have been prepping for a kitchen remodel these last few weeks, so this little studio piece of Venice has been patiently waiting on the "back burner" (pun intended.) Today I got so tired of seeing its mournful state of incompleteness on my easel that I attacked it with the brush. Here is the result:

"Morning Wash", Venice Oil on Linen, 16x12"    I remember the day I and my traveling companion were taking photos of this little neighborhood. It was our first morning in Venice and we had spent it pretty much as nearly every American tourist does, snapping away with our cameras and ooh-ing and ahh-ing over every nook and cranny of the place. Then we turned the corner and, almost against my will, I blurted out, "Oooh, laundry!" My friend laughed, and of course, I realized immediately how silly that sounded. But to an artist, it has the potential to add both visual interest and an element of the human presence, even on an otherwise empty street. It's a mystery to me how the Italians can make even clothes hanging on a line an intrigue. But I guess it doesn't hurt that those clotheslines are surrounded by beautiful ochre stone, magnificent architecture and, I suspect, a little bit of magic too.

P.S. If you're wondering what happened to the still life I had started  in my last post, I gave it the 86. I will try again at some point, but I think I was  little overly ambitious with the size given my limited time. The flowers croaked before I could get them down, so I had to just chalk it up to one of the ones that got away.

Clearing Sky on the Outer Banks

One of my favorite times on the Outer Banks is just after a storm. The sand is a wet, deep, ochre, the surf still churns, but the clouds begin to lift and light up and eventually give way to that brilliant blue sky. This is a painting about just such a moment.

"Clearing Sky on the Outer Banks" Oil on Canvas, 30x24

 

I worked on this off and on last week, though there was lots of "off" time, as my daughter and I enjoyed our final week together in "summer mode" before the start of preschool.  We sent the summer off right, with a trip to the zoo and a good deal of park and pool play as well. With all of the back to school prep though,  the home life has felt a little hectic recently. Nevertheless, we got it all done without (much of) a hitch, though I think we were both ready to return to the more normalized schedule that the fall ushers in. In a way, this painting feels a little like a metaphor for me today. The storms are (for now) behind us, and hopefully we can enjoy a nice stretch of clear skies ahead.

Sand Play

If you live in Richmond. Virginia and heard someone crying out in agonizing frustration this afternoon, it may have been me trying to bring this painting to a satisfactory conclusion.

"Sand Play" (NFS) Oil on Canvas, 12x12"

This was actually an experiment, and one of those "what would happen if..." paintings that I probably would have put unfinished in the "circular file". But my four year old daughter (who is the subject of this piece) saw it in progress.

"When I grow up to be a beautiful woman," she said, "I will give this painting to my little girl". (How cute is that?) Of course, after that, I had to finish it. I may add a little touch or two, but it is more or less done. When my daughter saw the final, she squealed with delight and said, "Thank you Mommy!" That made it all totally worth it! (And now the neighborhood can enjoy their Labor Day weekend in peace.)

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.

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:

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"!

French landscape painting in progress

School's out for summer today so over the next couple of weeks we will be in transition mode as we settle into a new summer schedule.  I'm painting this French 16x20" landscape IBKT,  (in-between kid time) and I forgot to photograph this as a step by step.

I started this late yesterday and today I'm trying to address the  whole canvas in a general way first,  so that when I return to the easel I can jump right in to the next level of detail. I really hope I can work on this wet into wet the whole time though, as it's so much easier to manipulate edges when the painting remains open. It needs a lot more work, obviously, but I'm enjoying the simplicity of this composition so far.

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.

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.

Varenna Shoreline W.I.P.

I feel a bit like Punxsutawney Phil, poking my head out into the public for a brief moment, only to run back into obscurity and wait out the rest of winter. It's not really fair to blame a pudgy little rodent for my absence and for all of the crazy snow days we've been dealt this winter. But given he's fictional and defenseless and  I've no one else to point a finger at, Phil it is. Nevertheless, I've started a new painting based on the small study I posted in my last entry. This is the tonal lay-in on a 24x36" canvas. Some of the lighter  areas got a little too "tonal" as I made adjustments to the drawing, (most notably the boats) but as I have my study and photos, I will make those corrections when I get into color.

 There are only slight variations in design at this point-- just a minor reshaping of the distant hills to slow the speed of the downward slope. I also simplified and "skooched" back (sorry for the technical lingo) one building that sat directly behind the villa sitting closest to center to minimize the confusion of these overlapping forms and hopefully  create a more elegant design.

I 'm generally happy with the color plan I used in the study though, so at this point my plan is to follow its lead as I start my next steps of diving into color.

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.

Finally complete- Tuscan Hay painting

I'm taking a break from chopping my vegetables to finally wrap up the latest Tuscany painting I left flapping in the breeze on New Year's Day. After I had my composition established and my canvas covered, it was time to go back in to further develop the background, middle ground, and foreground. It sounds very systematic, but this was really more of a back and forth dance because the value, scale, edges, etc. all have to relate and are interdependent with the other elements in the painting. For instance, in the image below, I thought I had the background fairly finalized...until I took a step back and decided the buildings were too large and too prominent in relation to my foreground house. As I moved forward to the center of interest it became apparent that these two areas of the painting were battling for attention. So I went back and softened the distant village and reduced the size and contrast of the buildings a bit more, and further softened their edges.

Here's the final:

"Tuscan Hay" Oil on Linen, 20x24"   

Happy 2014! A glance back and a look ahead

Happy New Year everyone! I'll be sharing my final post on the Tuscany painting I've been working on later this week. But since this is the first day of a brand new year, I thought I'd write about my one single solitary goal for this year. It isn't really even art-related, though it affects my art and pretty much everything else in my life. So I hope you bear with me while I meander off the art topic for a moment to tell you what it is:

To feel good.

I have alluded to my health struggles a couple of times on this blog, but since my goal will likely require a period of absence from posting, I feel like an explanation is due. After the birth of my daughter I was challenged with an autoimmune condition. While thankfully it isn't usually life-threatening, it can really diminish the quality of life, and, for the past three years, wellness has eluded me. In fact, I can count on two hands the days when I have woken up in the morning without chronic pain and utter, utter exhaustion. Layer on top of that a high energy tot who deserves time/love/attention from Mama, and the guilt and regret of not being able to give my all, either to her or to my former workhorse standards in my art career, and you have lots of gaps in studio hours and blog posts, and a lot of feeling not so good about myself in general.

In spite of all of that, 2013 was a phenomenal year for me, career-wise (go figure!) Some really neat show opportunities, and a big jump in sales made last year one of my best since the "bottom went out" in 2008. The Tuscan Sun Wine label project kicked off 2013 and came to me completely unexpectedly. It was a really exciting opportunity for which I feel extremely grateful and proud. But it required a tremendous amount of work in a very short window, and during that whole project I basically ran on fumes (and coffee). It was probably not the best thing I could have done for my health, but I just "powered through", waking at 5 am to work before the roosters (and my own little chickadee) rose, regardless of how little sleep I had gotten or how lousy I felt.

It's all worked out and I feel wonderfully blessed in my life. But I'm at a point where I'm really tired of "powering through", and I'm coming to realize that working smarter, not harder is not a "want" but an absolute must. This means taking some REAL time for some self care and really paying attention to managing my stress and health. Otherwise, I am not going to be able to maintain much of an art career or be a very good wife or mother, either.

I've had incremental health improvements in the past year, but I still have many, many days where I will take a nosedive and I can find nothing in particular that I have done to cause it. So starting next week I will be embarking on a month-long elimination diet, designed to identify foods that I may have unwittingly become sensitized to. I've had some "food allergy" suspicions lately and I have, for some, time eliminated gluten. But for the next month I'll add dairy, sugar and alcohol, legumes, and grains to that list of no-no's. If you want to know what's left to eat, you can read more about my game plan here. Now, I am a former vegetarian and I love my dark chocolate, my cheese and my good glass of red wine (hey, what can I say? I'm half French) so this whole concept ain't an easy one to swallow, so to speak. I already consider myself a pretty healthy eater, but this way of eating is going require a whole lot more time and effort. More cooking, a lot more planning, and I won't have all of those starches I relied upon to round out my family's meals (and get it quickly on the table).

So January is going to be all about food logs and meal plans and sourcing grass-fed, pastured what-nots, and less (or maybe none) about painting. It's possible my energy could go through the roof and I'll have so much excess that I won't be able to keep myself away from the easel. (Wouldn't that be nice?) But it's just as likely that things will get worse before they get better, so starting next Monday I'm giving myself a pass, officially, on painting for the next 30 or so days. Hopefully it will take less time than that for things to normalize, but I just don't know. In any event, it's my hope that the effort will be worth it and that I will be at least on the road to becoming a stronger, better, healthier happier person (and thus being a better, more focused artist.) And speaking of health and happiness, here's a gluten, alcohol, sugar-free (and then some) toast to yours in 2014 too!