Witnessing a Miracle of Nature

     Mark and I (and Magnolia the Magnificent, our Shih-tzu) were privileged to witness a miracle of nature this past weekend--newly hatched baby sea turtles scurrying to the ocean. Since I seldom go to the beach without a camera, usually for taking painting reference photos, I was able to snap a few pictures, including my size seven, medium foot in some to show how small these babies are. After a few photos, I was happier to simply watch in awe as the turtles scampered by.


     Sea turtles often hatch at night, when it is safer from most predators, but these emerged before 8 p.m. We are thankful they did, because being present was a once-in-a-lifetime thrill. Onlookers waved birds away as dozens--perhaps almost 100--little turtles headed straight for the ocean. They were quite fast, and overcame most obstacles. Even a footprint in the sand can create a mound more like a huge dune for these little ones, but they steadfastly kept on going--over, around, whatever it took. If they flipped over, they waved their legs awhile, but usually needed to extend their long necks and flip themselves right side up with their heads. Although we are not supposed to touch them, some onlookers couldn't resist "helping" the turtles who seemed to be in trouble. It is particularly amazing that they knew which way to go from their nest well above the high tide line because it was still light enough out that their usual guidance system of going toward to lightest area (at night, the glow of the water) would have been weak.

      If you would like to know more about these amazing animals, now a protected species given the steep drop in their numbers, here is one interesting web site. I am awed and thankful to have been present to see in person what we had only watched on TV before. That Saturday evening is now in my memory bank along with other remarkable scenes I can call to mind when I need a lift--or anytime I begin to recall the multitude of experiences of nature I am thankful for.
Question of the day: What unique, remarkable experiences of nature live in your thankfulness memory bank?

Creativity, Spontaneity, and Planning--Starting a Beach Painting

My regular readers (bless you, one and all!) know that I am a planner. Too a fault! Even in my creative endeavors, I plan. Previous posts have described my usual painting process (if you are interested, enter "painting process" as a search term in the box in the upper left corner of this blog). However, I know planning and taking care with things can be overdone--especially in projects like making a painting. You will chuckle to hear that this week, I am "working on spontaneity".

Since the flurry of finishing paintings for the exhibit at Paddiwhack, I have been working on a vertical piece showing a curving path. It has been moving ahead very slowly, and recently seemed as though the adjustments I made to try to improve it were making things worse. Some paintings are just very stubborn, even though they looked like a great idea in planning and sketching. The best response is sometimes to put it away for awhile and to begin a new piece.

This time, I decided to plunge into the new piece with minimal planning, no sketches, and no tonal studies. It seemed that I had become too careful, too picky over details--and, stuck. What appealed was to start a smallish piece in unusual proportions (12" x 6") with a fairly low horizon focusing on an interesting sky. With a few reference photos and four paint colors (so far), I forced myself to quickly lay in the first coat for the piece in about 20 minutes. It was fun!

Here are a couple of the reference photos--including one of our Shih-Tzu, Magnolia (aka Maggie) tearing down Jacksonville Beach--one of her favorite spots. The block-in of the painting is rough, but seems like a good start. The sky is a mix of cerulean blue and white near the horizon and ultramarine blue and white further up; the ocean uses the same colors, plus a bit of Paynes grey near the horizon. All blues are tempered with a bit of Cadmium red light to neutralize them (tube colors sometimes look phony in landscapes). The beach under-layer is mostly Cad red light and white. This will be adjusted, as our sand is actually somewhat grey-beige, but I want a warm tone present in both the sand and the clouds (which are yet to come).

Question of the day: Am I the only nut who sometimes needs to "work at spontaneity"? How do you overcome creative blocks?

Growing--A Completed Commission--Jacksonville Beach Scene

I have been working on this commissioned piece for awhile now and am thrilled that my client loves the way it has turned out. The client is a former neighbor who has moved to Virginia and wanted a small painting to remind her of their time here in Jacksonville, Florida. She had admired a similar painting I had made, a 12" x 16" acrylic on gallery wrap canvas but wanted a smaller version. This is 9" x 12" is also painted on gallery wrap canvas--she liked the contemporary look and the fact that it will not require framing.

The new piece has brighter colors than the original and a couple of pelicans--a common sight over the Atlantic Ocean off our coast. The client had particularly wanted one or more pelicans in the scene, which proved to be a challenge on this scale. I needed to make them recognizable even though they are a bit less than 3/4" long from beak tip to tail. We emailed back and forth, with me lightly painting in possibilities and she suggesting modifications. She was always enthusiastic and flexible, letting me know what she hoped to see, but always adding, "But use your own artistic judgement; I trust you completely." As any artist will attest, that is a model client! It has been an absolute pleasure to paint this scene for her, and I hope that it will remind her of good times here in coastal North Florida as she enjoys her new home in Virginia.

The photos show the completed work with pelicans, a close-up detail, and the original painting that gave her the idea for this one. Her piece is brighter, with more contrast and more intense color than the subtler original. She says that it is exactly what she had hoped for. How great is that?

Question of the day: Isn't it fascinating to discover the range of preferences among different people in terms of art work?

Learning--New Painting of North Florida Beach, "Spring Breezes"

Adapted (fairly freely) from a photo I took at Jacksonville Beach, this painting shows a dune crossing at a relatively quiet spot along our amazing off-shore island. Wildflowers were loving the early spring warmth (hint, the photo was not taken this past, unusually chilly, winter) on a March day. "Spring Breezes" developed slowly, even though I had made sketches and careful plans. Something about the look of it seemed lifeless to me along the way in spite of the bright blossoms. Fortunately, I was scheduled for another month of e-critique with my painting mentor, Linda Blondheim, and she helped me realize my original vision--plus.

Today, I won't go through the whole story of the evolution of this piece. Perhaps I will post more details about the painting process soon, but for now, have decided to let it speak for itself. After all, if visual art needs words, we are not fully doing our job :>). Of course, some visual art is meant to be paired with words or other media, and that can be wonderful. That was not the plan in this case, and I hope it stands alone. You can click on the photo to enlarge it and see more detail, but I also have some detail photos to accompany a future post about the painting process. Just one note about the scene: If you are familiar with Jacksonville Beach, you know that our dunes are not really this high. Hence my earlier disclaimer about freely adapting the actual scene--using my "artistic license" again, friends. Just one more thought before I close for today:

Question of the day: For me, the paintings that I have struggled with most sometimes grow on me, even becoming favorites. Does that happen for you--whether in visual arts or any other challenging undertaking?

Growing--Painting Process--Using a Limited Palette

When I first started painting, I used whatever paint colors I thought would best mimic the actual landscape that was my subject or sometimes used my "artistic license" to attempt to improve on nature, choosing whatever colors I wanted. Although this approach can work, and some of those pieces turned out well, I have been more pleased with the results of using a so-called "limited palette" approach. That means using just certain selected paint colors throughout one painting. Two happy results of this change were that the pieces seemed to have better internal unity and were more pleasing to the eye (in my opinion) and secondly, that I discovered a tremendous power and range in color blends. Even a limited palette can produce amazing variety in color and tone. Rich neutrals result from combinations of opposites on the color wheel, like producing an earthy, warm brown from mixing red and green (which can be varied with different reds or greens from the tube) or like the range of lively greys emerging from purple/yellow or blue/orange combos. Alternatively, one can use the opposite (complementary) color in small amounts to soften a tube color. For example, a too-strong blue for painting a realistic sky color can be knocked back with the right orange, or even with a few drops of burnt sienna.

The painting in today's photo shows early spring wildflowers at Jacksonville Beach against a white fence, photographed near an oceanfront home. A dear friend purchased the painting at my Open Studio Reception this past November, so I visit it often. The other photo shows some of the palette experimentation and notes that led to the palette used for the piece. Other color combos I tried and rejected for this particular painting are saved in a file for possible future use. The colors used here are cerulean blue, paynes grey (which is also bluish), sap green, cadmium red deep, burnt sienna, Naples yellow, buff, black, and white, with a touch of orange added later for bright highlights in the flowers. This May, I started a second painting from the same set of beach photos, one which includes a nearby bridge over the protected dunes down to the beach, and am using this identical palette again. If some of you are interested in this topic, I will include palette details in an occasional future post showing paintings. Please let me know what you think.

Question of the day: I think I have asked this before, but can't resist again--where would be without color in our world?

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?

Exploring & Growing--The Refreshment of a Different Point of View

When our sons were Sesame Street age, I sometimes watched that wonderful show with them. One delightful piece I still remember featured video of a variety of creatures and a catchy song, each chorus ending with the claim, "It all depends on where you put your eyes." The camera gave us glimpses of the world as it may look to a giraffe, for example, contrasted with the way it may look to many other critters with eyes at radically different levels.

Strangely, that song has popped up in my mind several times in recent days. What's that about? Is my subconscious trying to tell me something about my perspectives, goals, or viewpoint? If it is, I will do my best to listen and learn from it.

I have posted in the past about our love for walks on the beach. We are grateful to live near the mighty Atlantic Ocean and enjoy the many moods of the waves and weather there. Somehow, our little Shih-tzu, Magnolia, who is too short to see much out the car windows, always knows when we are crossing the bridge over the intracoastal waterway. Her excitement builds as we drive on the offshore island side of the bridge where the pavement is wavy and gives us a mini-roller coaster ride. We both anticipate our beach time with joy.

However, I also love the distinctive and varied salt marshes in the Jacksonville area and enjoy contemplating the stretch of golden, green and/or brown (depending on the season) marsh grasses visible from the bridge. When the tide is low, more water birds are poking around among the mussel beds and crab holes; when it is high, more fishing boats congregate.

One fine day on our way home from the beach, I decided to explore the neighborhood closest to the marsh on the mainland side and made a sharp right turn just off the bridge. When I could see through to the marsh between yards, fences, and old trees, I had a whole new perspective on the bridge, marsh, and intracoastal waterway. The photo above is one view this lovely area provided.

So, as the Sesame Street song continues to invade my reflections, I recalled this experience, which struck me as a metaphor for the richness available in life--depending on where I put my eyes. Don't have anything profound to say about that just now, but I'll keep on looking and listening.

Question of the day: Where are your eyes these days? Have you recently found a new perspective, are you hopeful for a change in viewpoint, or is your outlook just right for this time in life?

Exploring & Growing--Landscape Painting, Jacksonville Beach scene

I have showed you some of my landscape paintings in previous posts and have described the creative process for each. If you wish to see them, you can view posts from June 12 & 17 and May 1 & 7 or simply enter "landscape painting" in the search box above. The June entries showed how my individual composition decisions used and yet modified the scene in the original reference photo. 

I have a painting of a grey heron at a lake in Hanna Park, here in Jacksonville, Florida almost finished and am excited that I will be showing it to you soon. That painting also grew away from the original reference photo as I worked and struggled with the vision I had for it. Although I am very happy with each of those finished pieces, I can recall vividly how I despaired along the way, wondering why the painting refused to gel--why it seemed determined to remain clumsy and unsatisfactory.

Today's painting is a different case. Although you will see differences--a painter almost never simply copies nature, this photo and painting are more closely related than usually happens. Exploring Jacksonville Beach with our little beach-loving Shih-Tzu one mild late winter day, I saw early flowers blooming by a white concrete fence. I took several photos and decided that the one above would make a lovely medium-sized painting. It required minor adjustments only to make a painting I am very fond of. Some paintings require extensive sketching, planning, adjusting, and revising to grow into a vision I like. Then again, sometimes, all I need to do is to observe nature and go with the flow.

Question of the day: When creativity comes easily, do you ever wish it happened that way every time? Would that really be for the best?