It's been a long haul getting back to writing this blog, a few highlights from the interim:

Began a new format on site, what I call my *big* paintings. Compared to the tiny "Jewels" at 6x6 inches the more recent format of 24x9 inches seems large. These two are not completed, left 'em just how I ended the session in the wet spring a while back. 

The titles are working titles so ya know...

 The Flood and Beech 

The river beyond the tree was flooded, muddy brown wonderful, and the April coolness kept the trees in that lovely pink, cloudy mauve period when they just begin to sprout out their blossoms and leaf sheaths. 

Beech trees have very thin bark and in our neck of the woods the temps can freeze them so they split, this looks to be the case, but it's hard to know for sure. She's repaired the wound and climbs on up higher. 

Also interesting is the development of very rough bark on the base, under that zippy green moss. 

This is an old tree with many stories observing the life spans of swimmers and gliders down the river. 

By the way, if you don't already own Forest Forensics, go get a copy.

Green Skin and Root Beer Pond

Nice comparison of Beech and Plane trees with shade over a vernal pond, fun challenge that blue/rust/green reflecting thing. 

This wetness was great fun to paint, and kept the people traffic low but lead a few weeks later to the mosquito hatch of the century! 

The spring melt and warm sitting water was consistently followed by torrents of rain so that the river didn't drop down to it's usual level until late in summer and the vernal ponds remained — an extension of surface area for biting reproduction.

It kept me outta the woods most of the next three months after trying, trying, trying all manner of protection; with the right bug dope my skin was safe but the little nasties flew into my nose! 

Couldn't deal with that. 

And, the mosquitos were heavily supplemented by black flies. 

That's all past and I have another stack of work from the experience. 

Show scheduled for September, probably small things, no idea what yet, several tiny projects in the works. 

Last August I was featured in the pastel magazine for the largest French language how to art magazine in France. (I know, that was a long one!) And on the cover too. The magazine is quite lovely, sometimes, somewheres available in North America but the pastel supplement, sadly, is only available in France.

Praqtique des Arts, available link here.

Anybody else out there painting, what are you working on? Does this too-much-green phase in the midwest have a comparable challenge elsewhere?

http://www.pratiquedesarts.com/

"Green Begins in March" is a working title for this late winter painting done last year. 6x6 inches, pastel and gouache on sandpaper.

As usual, it is en plein air pastel on sandpaper and the location was a farm copse with a pond during the winter and spring. What was interesting was the bits of green, of course, which after a winter can seem dramatically strong. Also, the tremendous blue band of shadow which because the overall terrain was pale, dead grass, took up the reflection of sky deeply. A hazard here became apparent as I watchrd the foreground tree shadow sweep quickly to the right and change the composition to uninteresting ... another reason to be decisive at the beginning and design immediately.

During this season of painting, I was also chasing the blanched quality of light which also indicates winter and some other conditions. The damp, light absorptive tree trunks made a dramatic and graphic contrast with line-based statements.

The gouache underpainting can be tough in winter weather, however, it pays off as a design tool for me beyond what a thumbnail can do. Thumbnails are great exercises and can produce good paintings, but my own do not excite me with the moment and the energy like an underpainting can. The potential handicap can be that I fall in love with the underpainting and am hesitant to obliterate it. Risk all to gain.

Here is another from that season:

"Forebearer to Spring" is likely to be another working title. 9x12 inches, pastel and gouache on sandpaper.

Working titles are a way to tie together the image and a word or two or three. Sometimes the title process can be the most difficult part of it all, or perhaps the organizing of that process is not yet well enough developed in my work flow. "Dead Pine with Friends" was a working title that was not going to do anything useful in the wide world, but still recalls the painting more thoroughly.

These two paintings remain labeled with working titles, at least until I sit down to do formal ones.

"Indication of Spring" 6x6 pastel on sand paper.


Back in town for a few weeks between trips I have been working to wrap up pieces that were part way through and needed to be completed. This is one that I did out of my window one late winter morning and set aside for quite a while. The raking light and complexity of the distant houses made it interesting but since it is small I wanted to wait until the energy of the thing returned. It did and was an easy completion.

That's when I know the design was right, the purpose was right and the painting worth waiting for.

The underpainting was quite detailed and nearly a painting in itself. That can be a worry, too much commitment too soon and the risk of what happens in the rest of the painting process can cause all sorts of "avoidies". That is what I call the design elements, strokes or color I've become attached to.

What happens in the beginning of a painting is different from the end, so this too much too soon thing means there sometimes is not enough psychic latitude when I return to one of these to see it as a whole.

This one worked out and is a nice story of the oak leaf remnants, emerging grass among dead, dead winter sop. It's hopeful the way that sunlight can be after a long winter. It has a lot going on and is still relatively simple. Interesting too that the sand paper is a dark tone rather than the white I usually prefer. Dark and light, it's always about that.

Working title: "Dusk" 6x18 pastel on sand paper, Door County Wisc.

This piece shows quite a bit of underpainting and the delicacy that I most enjoy and with which I have wrestled over the summer to incorporate into larger pieces. It is a light touch that works well in the smaller pieces and was elusive as I changed subjects, format and size. 

Coolness but lightness in the shadows of this June painting were a direct contrast to the startling radiance of light striking the aspen. Deep dark pines in shadows with a few cedars also in shadow in the upper right. The scene is a long abandoned homestead, hence the irises in the sunlight area along with other garden flowers in a now weedy field. The large shrub left and background right of center were old, old lilacs long past their bloom and presenting an odd display of seed pods–a rangy color of rusty brown.

"Wetland Jewel #60" 3x18 inches, pastel and gouache on sandpaper.

The colors of fall are showing up and the raking light emphasizes it much more.

"City Sanctuary", plein air pastel on dark Wallis sandpaper, 14 June 2009.

Painting the garden has been a combination of fun and extraordinary challenge. Verbalizing the difficulty with fellow painters has raised the issues involved and helped pinpoint them. The design is already done. There is a wild variety of shape/color/pattern issues that both limit artistic interpretation and force compliance of some sort for there to be a rendering at all. The color swaths also add a potential compositional hazard but are required in order to anchor the subject in reality. There's a lot going on. Because there are so many shapes/patterns/edges, the effects of the sun traveling is much more apparent than when in nature a plant community is rarely isolated to a handful of specimens and also limited to a handful of species. There is a formalized aspect of the garden space that again is predetermined and limits/compells the design making artistic processing much more convoluted and risky for the final interpretation to be successful.

And, so, today I learned something important about getting the work done in a garden. Use the rectangles. Working in my currently happy format of very wide, and wider, I'm finding that the inherent rectangles of the garden can be used to structure the shapes in my painting compositions to my advantage. It is more geometric and much less organic, so be it. Leverage these things. 

As Robert Genn has said many times about showing up for the work and finding one's way, today's painting showed me how to wrangle the rectangle into a subordinate position that helps the composition rather than hacking away at it.