Newest Painting Is Complete--"River View at Kingsley Plantation"

     I felt a little rushed to complete this 18" x 24" acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas in time to deliver it to Paddiwhack Gallery for a special exhibit. However, I am quite pleased with the result. "River View at Kingsley Plantation" utilized my cabbage palm painting photos and study, mentioned in the most recent previous post. It may not seem like a big deal to everyone, but creating the palm trunks and especially the palm canopy (and even the part of a canopy visible on the far right) required special study and careful work.

     Then, the first try after my studies produced a very nice canopy on the furthest palm away from the viewer (which appears in the middle of the three seen), but I painted much of it out and started again. That canopy had been very high on the canvas and was not seen in full (in other words, the viewer of the painting saw maybe the lower two-thirds of it at most). On e-critique advice from Linda Blondheim and on further reflection myself, I concluded that for good composition and better balance, that entire palm canopy needed to be lower so that it would be seen in full. Other changes from the main reference photo (seen below)--made to enhance the composition--included painting in a more interesting sky, adding a kite, which is one of Florida's gorgeous soaring shore birds, and simplifying the tall grasses.  My literal rendition of the bulkhead along the river at the Kingsley Plantation National Parks historic site bothered Linda. She would have preferred a softer, more organic, curving line, perhaps of the mud flats that line the river bank at low tide. I did consider her suggestion to replace the bulkhead, knowing that it would certainly work well. However, in the end, I stayed with the straight  bulkhead as it is, partly because viewers who have visited Kingsley Plantation have seen it there and partly because something about the sharper angles appealed to me as a change from some of the softer composition edges I have used in other pieces. 


     You can see other changes from the actual scene that I made in the painting. But, you can also see that this particular photo already represented a composition that appealed to me without major rearrangement. Compared to the times that I have used a reference photo that had appealing elements but was not composed well and required major revision in painting, beginning with a solid photo composition is much simpler and more satisfying.

Question of the day: Do you personally prefer fairly realistic--or even near photo-realistic paintings--or some other type such as impressionistic or abstract?

A Second New Salt Marsh Painting--"Castaway Island Cedars"

     "Castaway Island Cedars" is the second of two paintings begun at a painting workshop with painter/teacher Roger Bansemer. I described the painting process for "Castaway Island Palms" a few posts ago when it was finished. Both are 9" x 12" acrylic works on gallery-wrapped canvas using reference photos and notes from my outing to Castaway Island Preserve on the intracoastal waterway here in Jacksonville, Florida. Each scene shows characteristic North Florida native trees and other vegetation growing in or near salt marsh areas, scenes like those that greeted the first Europeans to step on the shore of what is now Florida.


     With apologies for the slightly washed out look of the palms photo, here is the other painting. As always, you can click on the images to enlarge the view.

     I used the same limited palette for these two scenes so that they could hang harmoniously as companion pieces, but made certain each could also work alone. This palette includes: cerulean blue, ultramarine blue, Payne's grey, cadmium yellow light, Indian yellow, cadmium red light, white, and buff, with some burnt umber in a few of the mixes. As described in the "Castaway Island Palms" post, this is my first experience using Indian yellow, a warm, slightly orangey hue. It's very nice. I rubbed each canvas with an uneven burnt sienna mid-tone before painting, which provides a warm undertone unifying the entire work as well as a base from which it was easy to judge the tones (relative darks and lights) of the rest of the painting. Beginning with what I planned as the darkest darks, then moving to lights and mid-range tones, I laid in the rough shapes of the composition, then gradually worked in greater detail. "Castaway Island Cedars" came together more quickly (or in my case, less slowly :>) than the palms piece.


     For each of these paintings, I had excellent reference photos, including those that showed more detail of the red cedar branches and needle clusters, or other crucial detail areas. Several times in the workshop, Roger Bansemer stressed the importance of starting with well-composed reference photos with adequate tonal variation. Sounds obvious, maybe, but I have begun with so-so photos more than once in the past and then struggled to compensate for a poor composition or monotonal appearance. There is a point beyond which I am not good at "making it up"--especially in trying to add something to the given scene that is not actually there. Some aspects of a scene are fairly simple to adjust. Given the lush, varied vegetation here in coastal North Florida, I inevitably need to leave things out to make a pleasing composition, which is simpler than adding elements. The horizon (which is often near the horizontal center of photos) can be moved easily to avoid cutting the composition in half (much less pleasing to the eye than placing it a third of the way from the top or bottom--or at another less symmetrical level). Beyond that, the fact that these works both came from good, solid reference photos helped me complete them with less stress and difficulty than sometimes.
Question of the day: In visual art (including photography), how often do you think about or notice the placement of various features of the overall composition? Do you know why you are particularly drawn to certain compositions?  

Growing--Planning a Painting Composition--Jacksonville Park Scene

A new 18" x 24" landscape painting on gallery wrapped canvas is nearing completion. I am pleased with the way this scene is turning out and will show you the final version soon. In the meantime, here are the original reference photo, an early line sketch on the canvas, and the first painting stage--blocking in the darkest areas.

As we explore our wonderful coastal North Florida scenery, I take a variety of reference photos for landscape painting. Some photos, like this one, comprise an overall view of a place I might paint in the future. Others record odd bits of information: everything from close-ups of particular tree trunks, to interesting cloud formations, to ripple patterns on our rivers or ponds. One wise word of advice for landscape painting I have heard from more than one instructor is, "Don't make it up." Of course, we do use artistic license to move elements around or to add, say, an appropriate water bird to one of its favorite habitats. However, for me at least, it is crucial to see and photograph the actual water bird or examples of a particular variety of tree in order to paint them convincingly.

While studying reference photos, I make rough sketches of possible compositions based on that location. I try the horizon fairly high, then lower; place only a few tree trunks in the scene, then sketch it with more trunks in a different pattern. In the sketches (often with 5 different grey to black values of markers on cheap paper), I also vary the values, placing the darks, mid-tones, and lights differently each time. A composition with equally distributed values is usually much less interesting than a composition with mostly one value, some of another, and just a bit of the third main value.

For the scene in this photo, I decided to leave out some of the bushes behind the grassy area to reveal the river running behind them. A bench or chair would appear near the riverbank to invite the viewer to enter the scene and rest awhile. Choosing what seemed the most promising small sketch, I outlined the major shapes on the canvas with vine charcoal, which rubs off easily later and which acrylic paint covers well. In some compositions, I begin by "sketching" with a brush and paints in the family of colors I plan to use (more about the palette chosen for this piece in the next post), but for this one, the balance and rhythm of the lines seemed important to place first.

In the top photo, you see a beginning placement of some of the values, especially some of the darkest areas. The foreground shadows first attracted me to the scene and will provide a visual path to the focal point (the bench and its surroundings). The other darkest elements will be some of the tree trunks and the hanging branches at the top of the canvas. Unlike some paintings, this one was pleasing even in the early stages; the composition and value "map" felt right.

Question of the day: As in other creative pursuits, including problem-solving in work and daily life, we are all very different regarding the degree to which we plan ahead. Clearly, I am a planner--how about you?

Blog Hop, Part II--My Creative Process

A great blue heron, seen at  Jacksonville's Hanna Park

Somewhere in Michigan (a scene from memories)

     Thanks again to Mary Paquet for the invitation to contribute to the blog hop project by responding to four questions. I continue here with the two last questions (see my previous post for Part I). And don't miss Jo Castillo's post on Monday, Dec. 15; I "tagged" her to be next in the blog hop and know that you will enjoy her lively creative sense and fine art works.

3) Why do I create what I do?

     I have always enjoyed sewing, knitting, and crocheting, but did not believe I had any talent for the visual arts I so admired. My love for color and for the beauty of the natural world kept tugging me toward giving landscape work a try.

Castaway Preserve Cedar

Castaway Preserve Palms

     Finally, about 11 years ago, I signed up for a week-long class in acrylic painting at the John C. Campbell Folk School in North Carolina--expecting to enjoy playing with color and making creative messes, then to toss them and return home renewed and relaxed. Well, with an excellent teacher and time to practice and learn, I painted pieces that I really liked. No tossing occurred, and I was hooked! Now, with more workshops and lots more practice behind me, some pieces even sell. More importantly, I find continued delight in creating acrylic landscapes and learning more all the time. Another Folk School class this year started me in silk painting as well--a fluid, often unpredictable medium that gives me additional pleasure. Creating art is a whole new world for me and a rewarding pursuit in semi-retirement.

Jacksonville Beach

Jacksonville Beach

4) How does my creative process work?

     While considering this question, I used the little search box at the top of my blog and entered "painting process". Oh, my--I have written many posts that include discussion of the creative process in general and of the particular processes involved in individual paintings or silk scarves.

An early work--A favorite retreat near Warwick, NY

Silk scarf (using resist)

Silk scarf (natural blending--no resist)

     So, what are the common threads in varying processes for individual pieces? For processes in making the silk scarves, please see recent posts on that topic.
     
     Nearly all landscape paintings begin with a photo or a cluster of reference photos. Since I am endlessly fascinated with coastal North Florida scenes and want to convey the beauty and serenity I find in exploring out-of-the-way places in this area, I study angles of light, color (how to capture the incredible range of greens?!), and take notes to accompany the photos I take from various angles and distances.

     In the studio, the next considerations are composition (including tonal balance--the lights and darks) and color palette. In our area, good composition almost always involves leaving out some of the lush growth and sometimes other elements. Sketching--very roughly--a few possible versions of a scene, sometimes moving the point of view or focal point, helps me decide on a final version. Here are some previous posts that discuss composition.

     Choosing a limited number of colors helps both in unifying a painting and still gives an incredible range of possible hues. I don't try to match the actual scene so much as try to capture a feeling while staying in a realistic color range. Sometimes I go for low contrast and cool serenity, sometimes warmer, lively vistas. Again, here are some previous posts with more about color and palette for interested readers.

      Revision is the other most crucial piece of my process. The beauty of acrylics (especially for a learner like me) is that they dry quickly and cover well. I can paint over an area that does not please me, take out a superfluous bush, or whatever. Sometimes before a major change, I try it out by cutting a shape out of construction paper that approximates the change, tape it to the canvas, and squint to judge the effect on the composition.

     When wrestling with a piece that is not cooperating, it helps to remind myself that any work is a valuable learning experience (taking myself too seriously is fatal). At times, I put a painting away for a time and work on something else. A fresh look later on often yields a solution.

Question of the day: Do you enjoy hearing about the creative process or watching artists work? Or would you rather simply experience the art for yourself with no background or explanation given?

Learning and Growing--Painting Process for a Study of a Cypress Swamp

This work-in-progress is an 8" x 10" study using reference photos (I have posted two of them) from our visit to Babcock Wilderness Adventures, near Punta Gorda, Florida, on the Gulf Coast. I am considering what to paint on a 30" x 40" canvas waiting in the closet, which is larger than anything I have attempted so far. So, I am planning a few studies to try out some possibilities.

I first made full-page black and white copies of a couple of my photos to help me see the layout clearly. I love color so much that I have trouble seeing the "values" in a potential composition. "Value" refers to the relative lightness or darkness of objects, as if on a grey scale, and interesting value variation is a crucial element in good composition. Failing to consider value relationships can lead to a bland result, even if colors are varied and pleasing. I decided to make the sky and some of the background just a half-tone darker than they look in the photo so that the sunlight on the cypress trunks would draw the eye as the lightest areas in the piece. The reflections in the water also needed to be darker for the contrast and sense of mystery I hoped to achieve.

The actual scene has a cluttered appearance that is fascinating in nature, but not necessarily good in a painting. So, I decided to concentrate on the powerful cypress trunks themselves, to have some semi-abstracted vegetation on the far bank, and to leave most of the rest out. That one diagonal line in the photo is appealing, but just stole the whole show in my preliminary sketches (even though it was not intended to be a focal point), so I regretfully left that out, too.

I'll say more about the palette colors and later composition decisions when I post the final version--it is nearly done. Today, I wanted to show you the way I revised the scene before painting. Given that I was leaving out so much, the piece needed (in my opinion) a few more cypress trees. So, I played "cut and paste" with the photocopies until I had a pleasing arrangement of five trees, receding to the far bank. A rough line drawing helped in assessing placement.

Linda Blondheim provided very useful advice, as I was using her e-critique services during the early stages of this study. After getting the piece to the stage in the photo above, I had put it away while I completed a larger work and now am ready to finish it. Linda's question, "What do you intend as the focal point?" had me experimenting with a few possible finishing details. Soon, I will show you the result.

Question of the day: I love to hear about other people's thinking processes--in any context, whether is has to do with art or not. Do you find that interesting, too?

Learning & Growing--Art Classes & Cypress Swamp Painting

I recently showed you a painting of an iris, adapted from a reference photo taken by someone else and wrote about some of the difficulties I encountered. Well, I have done it before. Today's painting, of a cypress swamp (or marsh), is also adapted from someone else's photo, this one from a nature magazine. I am sorry that I cannot credit the photographer (even though my rendering is quite different from the photo). Since this painting was mostly completed in a painting class using reference material the instructor provided, I no longer have information on the photo or the magazine. Given the strong dark tones and bright contrast in this painting, I hope that it looks something like the real thing on your monitor (it is a bit too yellow on mine).

My landscape painting mentor and friend, Linda Blondheim, is an excellent teacher, both tough and sensitive. She listens to her students' expression of what they would like to achieve in a painting and (if that vision is achievable) helps them get there--a rare teaching gift. Looking at this cypress swamp piece reminds me of the enriching day and growth as an artist I experienced in a design and composition workshop with her a few years ago. By the way, all the best artists I know are self-described learners and are continually pushing themselves to grow and to achieve new directions and goals.

I was privileged to study with Linda again recently at a full day workshop learning about using values well in the landscape ("values" in art refer to the whole range of darks to mid-tones to lights). I know that this is one area in which I need improvement--I get so taken up with the brilliance or the subtlety of colors in nature that it is difficult for me to judge values sometimes or to balance them in an interesting way in a composition. Among other topics, she introduced the Notan system for making values "sing" in our work. It was especially meaningful to work with her earlier this month because her schedule requires her to stop in-person teaching for a time, and I am thrilled I could be in her final workshop (for now--all her students hope that she will return to teaching in the future).

For anyone who would like painting instruction from Linda, she is continuing on-line teaching, both individual and class instruction, and her e-classes are excellent. In fact, her next class unit will be an expanded version of the one-day values workshop I experienced. For more information, go to HER WEBSITE and click on "artist resources" at the top.

Even if you are not looking for painting classes, her remarkable paintings and fascinating articles about her beloved North Florida, its history, farms, ranches, wetlands, and preserves are well worth a visit to that website (click on the link above). If you think all of Florida looks like Miami or the Gulf Coast, you will be amazed to see the paintings her lifetime of exploring has inspired.

Now, about the above painting, an acrylic on a 9" X 12" canvas panel from a workshop with Linda a few years ago. Like many of my accounts of the painting process, the story of this piece is a tale of mistakes along the way and hurdles overcome. The basic composition, under-painting, and some of the finishing were complete by the time I left the workshop. Under Linda's guidance, it was looking fairly good then. Linda had scanned a good quality copy of the magazine photo for me to bring home as i completed the scene, but I had difficulty getting it to look real. Finally, an insight struck as I studied the copy of the photo for the millionth time. The photographer either had used flash or had other additional lighting on the stumpy cypress knees in the foreground so that there was a combination of natural back lighting and dramatic light falling on the foreground. Although that made for a striking photograph, trying similar tones in my painting made the scene look phony. Softer, mid to dark tones in the foreground made a real improvement.

Question of the day: What is your current growing, learning edge?

Learning and Growing--Painting Process on Dune and Beach Piece, "Spring Breeze"

Today's post is designed for readers interested in my landscape painting process and in composition design in particular. The photos above show earlier stages of "Spring Breeze", with the final version at the top. The lower left photo is quite early, with some elements, like the sky and footbridge, more developed and others, like the wildflowers, just barely indicated. It was a real challenge to get the balance and focal point to work well on this piece. My painting mentor Linda Blondheim provided invaluable advice during a couple of months of using her e-critique services. With her guidance, I gradually added more curve to the path--even the second version of the path in the photo on the right changed further later on. The evolution of the path illustrates how landscape artists sometimes need to adjust features in the actual scene for a more pleasing composition. The first version reproduces the way the path actually looked in my reference photo, but adding curves and more variation provided a much more graceful lead into the scene. In a departure from my usual process, I painted the footbridge in a fairly detailed form early on because I was strongly drawn to the sharp shadows cast by the railing. Since that area was my intended focal point, I worked to render the bridge in correct perspective from the beginning.

I have no idea how often I painted out and revised the wildflowers on the left side. Although they are a major element, I wanted them to balance, but not compete with, the footbridge and its interesting shadow pattern. An important step in solving the overly even seesaw look of the foreground was to make the left side dune higher. At one point, I cut some scrap paper into a much higher dune shape, taped it (with masking tape) to the canvas, and emailed that image to Linda. She agreed that a higher dune made the composition more interesting than having so many elements on roughly the same level, but suggested going a bit lower than the line of my cut-out. However, I hesitated before revising the dune so radically because Jacksonville Beach dunes are not that steep. We landscape painters vary, I think, in the degree to which we are willing to change the actual scene when we work from nature or reference photos. For several days, this work-in-progress stood on the fireplace mantel for consideration while I worked on other paintings. The need for a greater variation in line won out over realism. Also, since steeper dunes grace some nearby beaches, the change was not completely out of line.

If some of you are interested, I will talk about the process of painting the sky and clouds in "Spring Breeze"in a future post. It can be difficult to achieve a semi-transparent, wispy effect with acrylic paints, so sharing our methods could be fun.

Question of the day: More of a reflection than a question this time: For me, achieving an interesting balance of compositional elements in a painting, with both dynamic tension and restful features, seems like a metaphor for a set of life skills we all need. What do you think?

Learning and Growing--Cypress Swamp Work in Progress

I just got back to this cypress swamp piece today after working on a new, larger landscape painting for awhile. I had mentioned in my last post that I was using Linda Blondheim's e-critique service in the early stages of this 8" x 10" study. She was complimentary of the overall composition at the point I showed you last time, but asked, "What do you plan as the focal point?" Even though I was liking it in that form, with the simple pattern of cypress trunks against a soft background, it did need something more to draw the viewer's eye. The reference photos (seen in the previous post), as you may recall, came from our visit to Babcock Wilderness Adventures, a tour of extensive, varied preserve areas near Punta Gorda, on Florida's Gulf Coast.

I experimented, just lightly sketching one or more egrets or other wading birds in various spots in the scene, but they seemed "too much" somehow. I liked the simplicity and relative emptiness of the piece and wanted just a hint of something more. But what? Walking past the pond in our neighborhood just as a frog, turtle (or some critter) put a nose up gave me an interesting idea. Perhaps I could suggest the rich underwater life in this swamp without showing any particular creature by painting in some ripples to suggest that a frog, fish, or maybe even a gator had broken the surface of the otherwise still water. So, here is a start in that direction, which I hope will add a subtle hint of life.

I will continue to texture the nearest cypress trunk to the ripples (right foreground). Now that a subtle center of interest will be there, I will reinforce that with more contrast and texture and will tone down the trunk in the left foreground just a bit to avoid competing. There is also more work to do (as you can see) in developing and filling in the background and in completing the water and reflections. This one is developing slowly, given its relatively small size, but I am completely enjoying the process and am in no hurry. Given that I may paint the scene in a larger format later, I believe that taking care with composition and values now will be well worth it. Even if this is the only version ever, it is providing a pleasant creative journey.

Question of the day: Do you suppose that the tranquility of the cypress swamp I am representing has influenced my mood and pace in this work? The process has not caused any frustration--unlike some other slow-to-fruition works. Thank you, Florida Wilderness.

The Encouragement of Past Achievements

     In the previous post, I mentioned having hit a fallow time in my painting. Browsing images of some of my past paintings was helpful--especially the works that were most difficult to complete. The dune bridge piece pictured here was very stubborn and resisted my efforts to produce a harmonious composition for some time. Looking at it now and recalling the many wrong turns I took in painting "Spring Breeze" reminded me of the wisdom of the saying "this too shall pass". I have felt reluctant to paint, unproductive, and just plain unable before. So, feeling that way should not be scary now and certainly is no excuse for hopelessness. 

     Linda Blondheim's e-critique service helped me rescue this piece from what seemed like an impossible mess. Some of the fixes she suggested did not work; others were ideal. Some of the adjustments I tried on my own were helpful; others were disastrous. But, with persistence, the sort of painting I envisioned creating finally emerged. In the visual arts, some revisions can't be evaluated until you see them in relation to everything else in the composition. Fortunately,  acrylic paints permit painting out unsatisfactory areas and covering them with new shapes, colors, and forms. I would be lost without the possibility of "do-overs".


     The main problem with what you might call the "first draft" was a lack of balance, I think. Keeping the viewer returning to a central focal point gives a work its power, and the wildflowers competed with the foot bridge for awhile. Also, being too literal about the slope of the dunes I had photographed for reference left me with too little variation in the line of the dunes. Since the horizon is inescapably straight, I needed to exaggerate the height of the left side dune and add more undulations to the dune outline (without overdoing it) as a contrast to that straight line. One trick I used to "try on" various dune lines was to cut a paper outline and tape it over the piece--then a different outline, etc., until it looked about right. 


     So, looking back on creative challenges I have faced and coped with in the past helped me get past the funky time and get back to work. "Spring Breeze" and other works remind me of the inevitable ups and downs of the creative process. This is not the first time I have felt as though I have forgotten how to paint, nor will it be the last time. All I need to remember is that the frustration has always been a temporary speed bump and that with faith and patience, the joy of creating will return.
Question of the day: Can you recall a troublesome season you experienced that you were able to work through in time? Can you draw strength from those memories to help you face new challenges?

Learning--Reference Photos for New Landscape Painting Projects

Each of these photos is slated to serve as a reference for a new coastal North Florida landscape painting. The sandpiper feeding in the foam spun by Atlantic Ocean waves is started on a 9" x 12" canvas board. So far, the major change from the photo is to swap positions of the bird and seaweed debris--didn't want our feathered friend skittering right out of the painting :>). The major challenge of this piece will be to render a pleasing, faithful impression of the sea foam and the wet shimmer on the sand. Even in the photo, that ridge of foam looks a bit unreal--so stay tuned for how my wrestling with it all turns out. It will be great for my learning process to work on this scene.

I think I mentioned the other photo a few posts ago when we had some fun conversation (thank you, thank you, commenters!!!) about a dune scene that left the viewer no clear way to cross over to the beach. This scene shows one of many dune-preserving boardwalks on Jacksonville Beach, the only permitted way to cross our precious dunes in order to protect them and the life forms they support.

Right now, I have just begun to sketch possible compositions for the new dune scene. The photo cuts the composition almost in half vertically--not acceptable. Secondly, I am not happy with the way the foot bridge competes for attention with the white fence. So, I have been juggling the elements in thumbnail sketches in a way to feature the foot bridge, the intended focal point. Once the plan for the composition is ready, I will consider the palette--will punch up the color and contrast some, but still keep it natural and a bit soft. Lots to think about for this one. It's time for me to paint something new in an 18" x 24" size (or possibly even larger). Dune Crossing may be the one.

Question of the day: If you are an artist or have a creative hobby, what is your planning process? Are you more intuitive and inclined to pursue that flash of inspiration spontaneously; do you have a meticulous planning or preparation process; or are you somewhere in between?

Painting of an Egret

"Silent Stalker"

     The painting, "Silent Stalker", shows an egret in one of our neighborhood ponds standing motionless waiting for a frog or small fish to come within striking distance. It had been wading very slowly and (fortunately for me and my camera) then waited in utter stillness for quite some time. Unfortunately, I could not stay long enough to see it actually spear prey.

     After preliminary decisions about the composition and palette, this 12" x 16" acrylic piece on gallery wrapped canvas moved along fairly quickly whenever I worked on it. However, due to several interruptions--especially time spent working on a large sunrise painting for our son and his wife--the egret piece was set aside a couple of times.

     In some ways, it is less refined than most of my work, and I anticipated at least several more hours of work when I put it back on the easel to give myself a break from the large piece. However, after some adjustment of the shading in the egret's feathers and subtle increases in the contrast of lights and darks in the foreground, it was pleasing as it was. It hung in the studio for a few days for me to look at now and then--and still it seemed right just the way it was. Sometimes it is very difficult for me to decide when a painting is done and to avoid the temptation of refining the life out of it trying to make it "perfect". For once, deciding to stop was not too hard. 

Main reference photo

     The main reference photo reveals the minor simplifying changes I made to the composition as well as greater changes made to enhance the colors. This represents a very common scene all over our coastal North Florida region. We love our beautiful, graceful wading birds.









Question of the day: Are you ever tempted to "overdo" or to be too perfectionistic in a project of some kind?

Details of New Painting and More About the Painting Process

The Lyons Club Park Boardwalk painting got off to a decent start in terms of composition, but some other aspects of the process were unsatisfactory at first and required revision. For those of you interested in the painting process, that is the topic today. The photos are close-up detail shots of the new painting I showed you last time as well as a photo of the entire piece.

As I mentioned last post, I shifted the viewpoint a bit from the reference photo, but you could see that I retained the basic elements of the scene without radical change. I raised the horizon line, which often seems to land in the horizontal center of my photos, because a painting should (almost) never be cut in half by a major element or line. I made small, grey-tone sketches of several possible compositions to consider and gridded over them horizontally and vertically into thirds (resulting in nine smaller rectangles). I try to place my focal point near the intersection of two of these lines, which is pleasing to the eye (these are sometimes called "sweet spots"). In this piece, I regard the center of interest as the area in the upper left third where a single tree stands and the boardwalk comes to a point and makes a sharp turn to follow the river bank. That is such a compelling angle that the viewer's eye is inevitably led there. But I include a path over to the right and then visual paths up, down, and around so that the viewer's eye will naturally move through the entire composition and find other areas of visual interest as well.

I thought I had chosen a perfect palette for this painting, but needed to change it along the way. I use a limited palette for each work, meaning a selection of certain tube colors which will blend well to create the entire range of color variations for the scene. Even though the viewer may not notice the use of a limited palette, the result is more pleasing and harmonious than using many randomly chosen colors would be. The palette I choose varies with the subject, weather, and season. This painting has no tube green at all; greens are blended from blues and yellows, and modified with red, purple and grey. After one change, the final palette consisted of cerulean blue, cobalt blue, paynes grey, dioxizine purple, cadmium yellow light, yellow ochre, cadmium red light, buff, and white. Although the photo is almost entirely in greens and blues, I wanted a livelier scene and added shades of purple in the water. Then, I used burnt sienna (a favorite color) to add a range of tones in the marsh grasses. This was a mistake, in my opinion. The burnt sienna did not blend well with the blues and purples I had used, so I put it back in the drawer and experimented with other shades for the grass. Some of our North Florida marsh areas include a sort of brownish burgundy grass that seemed likely to fit in, so I worked that into various spots in the grass along with some buff and greenish blends. This particular burgundy is a blend of cad red light, paynes grey, and a little purple (used with care--the purple is strong).

This painting came together a bit more quickly than sometimes (I am a sloooow painter). If you have any other questions about the painting process, please feel free to ask either in a comment or to email me (see profile for address). I enjoy sharing "shop talk" with interested readers.

Question of the day: What aspects of the painting process (if any) are of interest to you?

Intracoastal Waterway Views Near Jacksonville, Florida

     Among our lovely wetlands and waterways here in Coastal North Florida, the Intracoastal Waterway provides a variety of views both for the boater and from the land. During an unusual warm spell last week, my friend Dee and I had a pleasant lunch to celebrate her birthday, sitting on the deck of the Ponte Vedra Beach Barbara Jean's Restaurant, situated on this waterway.


     Dee had suggested that we lunch there some nice day to enjoy the views from this waterside restaurant. A true friend, she keeps my landscape painting in mind wherever she goes and has guided me to discoveries and scenes I might not have found otherwise. 

     These photos show the bank across from us (you are looking west at the mainland from the long, narrow off-shore island on which the Jacksonville area Atlantic Ocean beaches lie). The vegetation is so thick here that it is difficult to pick out an ideal painting composition from what naturally presents itself, but every element is good background for inclusion in possible paintings. The bare cypress in the vertical photo (say hello to the osprey perched at the top) could anchor an excellent painting and provide a strong vertical and a perfect contrast to a green expanse. 

     As we ate and chatted, the tide began to run out (headed north--to our right from here) and revealed a growing beach-like area on the opposite bank that also added variety to our view. And various dead trees, stumps, and angling tree trunks serve as sculptural elements that could enrich a painting composition.

     I am grateful to Dee for showing me this area, which is markedly different from some nearby stretches of the intracoastal waterway bordered by flat, wide salt marshes (like the views in the old movie "Prince of Tides"). In other areas, thicker wooded areas include stately, centuries-old live oak trees dripping with Spanish Moss. And of course, the stretch of the intracoastal that runs straight through the heart of the city of Jacksonville, following the St. Johns River, provides boaters a completely different kind of view of tall buildings, our symphony hall and live theatre venue, along with riverside restaurants, shops, and entertainment sites.

     Just as I did the last time Dee took me on a find-some-paintings tour of some of her favorite spots, I'll let you know when any of these elements--or perhaps, a full scene--appear in a painting. 



Question of the day: Aren't observant friends, appreciative of the natural world around us, a treasure to cherish?

Landscape Painting -- "On the Jones Creek Trail"

"On the Jones Creek Trail"

 My newest acrylic landscape painting, "On the Jones Creek Trail", on 16" x 20" gallery-wrapped canvas, was inspired by lovely walks in the Jacksonville Arboretum and Gardens with my husband and little Shih Tzu dog. The memories and photos used as reference material (one of them shown below) span several visits, and this painting is a composite of scenes along one of the trails, which weaves in and out of a woodsy area, with many views of Jones Creek. Here in coastal North Florida, natural vegetation can grow so thick that I need to "clear out some underbrush" to create a pleasing, balanced composition for painting. However, what is included in the painting is truly growing near the creek in this amazing park within Jacksonville, Florida. 
 

     Our city is blessed with a wealth of parks, preserves, and nature trails. The arboretum was rescued from unused land owned by the city (which had acquired it after a mining company had strip-mined it for materials used to make titanium). Although illegal dumping and the residue of mining had compromised the area, some citizens could envision its future as an arboretum and natural recreational site. You can read more about the delightful park it has become and see photos here. My husband, a master gardener and member of the North Florida Native Plant Society, worked on clearing and planting projects with many other volunteers. My previous posts about visiting the arboretum also show its uniquely North Florida beauty.
                                                                                     

One of the reference photos used in painting

     I used a mostly cool palette for this painting because it represents a transitional season toward the end of winter, when vegetation here is more subdued in hue than in spring and summer. The acrylic paints used include cobalt, cerulean, Payne's grey, lemon yellow, yellow ochre, burnt umber, and titanium white with a few touches of naphthol red to temper and vary the greens.

     I hope you enjoy taking a walk in the arboretum with me.

Question of the day: What kinds of natural environments have been restored and preserved in your area?

"Castaway Island Afternoon", an Acrylic Landscape Painting

     One of the many preserves in our coastal North Florida area is relatively small, but is a favorite of mine. Castaway Island Preserve is on the Intracoastal Waterway with residential neighborhoods on both sides. It's an easy drive from our home and has yielded lots of painting reference photos over several visits. Part of the preserve is salt marsh with raised walkways that allow visitors to access the wetlands. I love it there and have made several paintings from Castaway scenes; I'm sure there will be more to come.

     "Castaway Island Afternoon" is a 24" x 18" acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas, designed to be hung as is or to be framed--either way looks great. Apparently my camera was tipped a bit when I took the photos (the reason the cedars look as though they are slightly leaning toward each other). Whoops. Since I have now signed the piece and given it a protective coating (for which I use a combination of matte and gloss acrylic medium), it is more difficult to take a good photo. Now it shows a bit of a sheen in photos, so I'll be content with the one I have.

     There is more than a little artistic license taken here. The hues are punched up from the actual scene, and, as usual, I had to clear out lots of vegetation and plant debris from the exuberant growth we see in coastal North Florida. So, the initial planning of the composition was crucial and involved several tonal sketches (using a range of artist's grey-scale markers) and various arrangements of the elements in the scene. 

     I also experimented with a few possible palettes and finally chose: cerulean blue, ultramarine blue, Paynes grey, lemon yellow, yellow oxide, Indian yellow, burnt sienna, burnt umber, buff (unbleached titanium ecru), and titanium white. The result is lighter and brighter than some of my other Castaway Island paintings, such as "Castaway Island Cedars" and "Castaway Island Palms". A side note on those two: although I used the same palette and canvas size so that they could be hung as companion pieces, they have ended up apart--which is just fine, too. The smaller cedars piece turned out to be a personal favorite and hangs in our home, while the palms piece was a perfect fit for the home of our older son and his interior designer wife. I was honored when she requested the painting and happily made a gift of it.

Question of the Day: Do you have favorite places in nature that you revisit to recharge or for creative or spiritual renewal?

     

Learning--Painting a Sandpiper and Studying Value Balance

On April 3rd, I showed you a photo of a sandpiper at the edge of foamy surf at Jacksonville Beach, a scene I wanted to try to paint. Here is that photo again and the current work-in-progress (looking a bit darker than it is "in person"), a study in acrylics on a 9" x 12" canvas board. Click on the photo to enlarge it if you wish. The painting was challenging because of the relative lack of color in the photo, but that was an advantage in using the scene to study balance in tonal values. For non-artist readers, by "values" we mean the tonal range of darks and lights (and all the in-betweens) regardless of color. The aim was for most of the painting to fall in a mid to mid-light range with a secondary emphasis on the brightest light tones in the foam and highlights on the sandpiper. That way, I reasoned, the darkest areas, on the bird, the shadow edge of the foam, and the weeds washed up by the surf, would stand out and draw the viewer's eye. On the whole, I am pleased with the way the tonal balance has worked out.

When I put this piece away for awhile a few weeks ago, I thought that it needed major work. However, a few added touches brought it to this point, and it seems (possibly) near completion. As I've mentioned before, knowing when to stop working on a painting, when further "fussing" might make it worse rather than better, is an art in itself. For now, it is perched on a small easel on a nightstand for contemplation :>).

You can see some changes from the photo, the main one being to reposition our feathered friend so that she did not run out of the composition. The line of foam is tweaked a little in shape. Originally, I had planned to change that line of foam somehow because it is so thick that it almost looks phony. However, at this point, it follows the look in the photo and seems pleasingly whimsical. To give a touch of perspective, I used warmer grey tones in the foreground, bluish greys in the mid-ground, and more or less straight greys mixed with white in the background. Almost none of the grey tones are simply mixes of black and white although some are variations of Paynes grey, a wonderful deep bluish grey. From the foreground to the foam line, most of the grey tones come from a mix of burnt sienna with either cerulean or ultramarine blue, lightened with white. Any grey or brownish neutral that results from mixing complementary (or near-complementary) colors is livelier and more interesting than a mix of black and white.

Some of you readers are avid bird watchers and may wonder precisely what variety of sandpiper this is. Answering that is well beyond my level of bird identification skills. Even our small guide to field identification of birds lists a couple dozen varieties of sandpiper, a daunting number of them found on Florida's coast. The dark legs narrow down the possibilities, and it seems most like a sanderling to me in size (about 6 or 7 inches long), beak shape, and coloring. The sanderling, like many Florida shorebirds, is brown and white speckled in summer, more black and white in winter. My photo, taken a few years ago in October, seems to show the winter plumage coming in.

Question of the day: Isn't it fun to tackle challenges--like painting a scene with little color?