North Florida's Natural Beauty

     Recently, my friend Dee and I brought our cameras for some time exploring  my immediate neighborhood and a roadside creek view a couple miles up the road. We both appreciate the natural beauty in coastal North Florida and often share tips about places to see and photograph water birds, hawks, eagles, or other wildlife. Dee had borrowed a camera from a friend to see whether she would like that brand and that particular zoom lens for herself. I just used my usual humble camera, but we both captured some good shots. Now, I will consider which of my photos might make or be a part of a future painting.

     The egret haunts a retention pond just a few houses away from our home. The grey skies and soft winter light made for subtle scenes at the creek.

     

 Question of the day: Do you take time to look around you daily?

A Walk in the Jacksonville Arboretum

     On a warm winter day last week, my husband, Maggie the super dog, and I enjoyed a magical afternoon walk on the trails at the Jacksonville Arboretum. This delightful preserve, reclaimed from the edge of a former waste dump, has been creatively transformed into a multi-use park and education center. Husband Mark, a master gardener and member of the area Native Plant Society, participated in that transformation, along with many other tireless volunteers. They cleaned up trash, cleared and leveled trails, labeled some trees and plants, and selectively planted others--carefully adding only true native specimens (plants that would have greeted the first European visitors to Florida centuries ago). The 120 acre arboretum is notable for housing several distinct ecological zones in an accessible, walkable whole. 

     We hiked the easy lake trail and then ventured onto another trail above a ravine, where several streams flowed through the area. The experience was fun (doggie delight adds a wonderful dimension), refreshing, and renewing. Although we were within the city limits of Jacksonville, Florida, it felt like a faraway adventure into forests, scrub land, and meadows. I was particularly grateful to be able to walk for over an hour and a half--exercise that would have been difficult and painful before my recent total right hip replacement. It feels miraculous to consider further exploration and gradually greater walking distances in this amazing coastal North Florida region. And, of course, I took a number of reference photos for future paintings, so stay tuned for what that might bring.





    For more information about the Jacksonville Arboretum and Gardens, the web site is here. Other than that, the photos can complete the story of a wonderful day.
















Question of the day: What are some of your favorite walks or hikes near home?

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?

Castaway Island Preserve--Another Amazing Jacksonville, Florida Park

Looking for some new reference photos for landscape painting, I recently visited the Castaway Island Preserve and found it fascinating. My photos don't fully capture its charms, I fear, but have given me much raw material for paintings. Sometimes all I need is good background information (a unique tree, a winding channel in the salt marsh, a particular bird) to meld into a composition that represents the area without copying any particular spot exactly. Although I had neglected to check the tidal schedule for the day, I was in luck to be there when the high tide was just receding. Thus, the marsh was quite wet, and birds, crabs, and other critters were active.

This wonderful small preserve includes both woodland and salt marsh ecosystems with views out to the intracoastal waterway, which runs between our off-shore beach island and the North Florida mainland in this area. We are parched for rain, unfortunately, and have some wildfires in the area. The day I explored Castaway Island, smoke hung in the air--sad to see and smell. However, I did the photo documentation I could under these conditions and have a nice packet of about 4 dozen prints to carry along with other photos to a painting workshop I will be taking this weekend. I hope to start two 9" x 12" canvases at the workshop.

In one photo, you see the dock at the end of the park area, where a woman had put a something on a line into the water (crabbing perhaps?). The intracoastal waterway is in the smoky background with a sailboat and a powerboat passing each other, going in opposite directions. Another photo shows the beginning of the path to Castaway Island (a short bridge crossing a channel in the marsh is the only clue that one is has crossed to an island). On the island part of the preserve, there are about 12 informative big boards along the main path, each one describing the life of one of the preserve's "survivor" species--other than that, the area is quite untouched. Two other photos show the wetlands, grasses, etc.--one includes a great blue heron fishing (actually blue-grey in color) which will take sharp eyes to see, even if you click on the photos to enlarge them.

For this visit, I took the paths through the salt marsh; the park provides extensive boardwalks over the wettest areas, helping to protect the natural habitat as well as making exploration convenient for the visitor. Another time, I'll explore the wooded areas further from the intracoastal. We are fortunate indeed in the Jacksonville, Florida area to enjoy a rich variety of habitats and to have many thousands of acres in these areas protected in preserves and parks.

Question of the day: Isn't it amazing how deep the creative and spiritual renewal available to us when we explore natural areas?

Exploring--Off the Beaten Track for Painting Subjects

Last post, I showed you a 2009 visit to Kingsley Plantation in the Timucuan Preserve, here in Jacksonville, Florida. Today's photos are from our visit to the plantation with out-of-town friends a couple of weeks ago on a pleasant, bright day. After viewing the ruins of the slave cabins, the buildings, and exhibits, we wandered the extensive property. I am always drawn to water, so took a trail by the river, where views of marsh grasses and small islands added charm to the view.

I took a number of photos, as I usually do in interesting coastal North Florida areas, hoping that some will provide inspiration for landscape paintings in the future. In addition to photos that might, with cropping and a few adjustments, become the basis for a painting, I take various photos to help me remember details. The bark or leaves of a particular tree, the mud at the edge of a river, a close-up of salt marsh grasses, a cloud formation, or any number of other details can provide the information I need back in the studio. Without good photo records, studio painting would be guesswork and would not result in the kind of expressive, yet representative, landscapes I like to paint. Of course, not every painter works this way, and many wonderful paintings evolve by other methods. But, for me, "making it up" does not produce the kinds of interpretations of actual locations in our beautiful area that I try to paint.

You may enjoy imagining how you would use these photos in a painting. The view of the path is intriguing, but lacks the variation in color and in lights and darks a painting needs. Guess I'd imagine more breaks in the trees on the left to add more sunny patches on the shadowed walk, then intensify the drama of the bright area where the trail curves out of sight with sunlit tree trunks and foliage. The river view has multiple possibilities; one would be to use a 6" x 12" canvas I have and paint a narrow panoramic view.

Question of the day: Do you, too, find yourself captured by a scene off the beaten path that other people might pass without noticing?

Growing--Landscape Painting Experiment--Tranquil Creek Bend

I first showed you this painting about six months ago and am repeating that post for newer readers. Two photos show portions of the painting for more detail (and as always, you can click on a photo to enlarge it). Once again, the location is a spot that many people would walk by without stopping to look. A small bridge on Hogan Road crosses Little Pottsburg Creek near our home on the south side of Jacksonville, Florida. On the lookout for scenes with water features, I pulled over to explore and was especially taken with the view in one direction, where the creek widened and curved out of sight around a bend. A thickly wooded bank on one side was countered by oddly charming, spindly trees rising above bushes on the other. The trees reminded me of children experiencing a sudden growth spurt practicing in dance class, somehow combining awkwardness and grace.

This is the second painting to emerge from photos taken that day. I decided to push myself away from my favorite palette and began with a pinkish sky. Although the sky was actually a pale overcast grey, the pink tones somehow captured the bright, warm haze of that morning--the kind of light that requires sunglasses in spite of pervasive cloud cover. One painting goal was to let the sky set a certain mood and to continue experimenting with a limited palette of ultramarine blue, cerulean blue, Paynes grey, cadmium red deep, burnt sienna, yellow ochre, and white. All greens, browns, and blackish tones are mixed from these colors. The second painting goal was to try to evoke the tranquility of the moment and the feeling of mystery as the creek glided around a bend and out of sight. The reflections in the water seemed central to portraying the stillness of the scene.

As usual, pursuing the goals of this piece gave me fits along the way, and it was even more difficult than usual to decide when to stop revising and to declare the painting finished. For some reason, I continued to tinker with small details, to wish it looked a bit different (but not knowing precisely what to change), and to put it away repeatedly to pull out days later for more tinkering. Of course, this can be the ruin of a decent creation, and I finally had to exert some self-discipline and just STOP. Have you seen news features about chimps, elephants, or other non-human animals who paint amazing abstracts? One commentator remarked that the unseen co-artist is the person who pulls their work away and gives them a fresh canvas. Left to themselves, they would happily continue slapping on more and more paint--producing, presumably, a less interesting result. I can definitely relate to the chimps who might not be the best judges of when to stop painting. However this piece, now signed and finished with a light coat of medium, has been declared officially complete and has hung on our bedroom wall for a few weeks. And, as it catches my eye in lamplight or as morning brightens, it has definitely grown on me. Update since the first time I posted this: This painting and several others are now available at a lovely local shop in the San Marco section of Jacksonville, Trends Home Decor. If you visit there, you will be amazed at the variety of distinctive art, home accessories, and furniture at affordable prices.

Question: What experiences have you had with the art of knowing when to stop?

Exploring--A St. John's River Park in Jacksonville, Florida

I hope you enjoy seeing scenery in and around Jacksonville, Florida, because this post has more :>). Since both our super sons and their wonderful wives were busy on Mother's Day, Mark and I enjoyed a quiet afternoon. The weather was so spectacular, clear and pleasantly warm with a light breeze, that we decided to take a walk in a park we had seen only briefly before when we were house-hunting seven years ago. The Lyons Club Park (that's the way the map spells it), lies on the western edge of a point of land along the St. John's River just before this north-flowing river makes its last winding turn east to empty into the Atlantic Ocean several miles from the park. After a delightful walk, we took a peek at a second lovely park, a preserve area just across the main road on the north edge of the point. Always on the lookout for "paintable" scenes, I took some photos as we walked in Lyons Club Park. One shows typical vegetation along one of the well-kept paths. Another looks back at the way we had come, a park boardwalk along the marshy river bank. The third shows the industrial port views across the river at this point, an interesting contrast to the parks and preserves that line some of the river bank, the lucky riverfront homes, and to the city skyscrapers and urban river walk downtown. We continue to be grateful that we chose Jacksonville for our home in this semi-retirement phase of life (and beyond, we hope). The variety of wetlands, wooded areas, beaches, and extensive preserve lands--the varied habitats and ecosystems are amazing. What a super home for a landscape and seascape painter! Exploring and discovering new areas of natural beauty are an important part of creative living for us.

Question of the day: What are the best natural features of your area?

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?

Exploring--A Pocket Park in Jacksonville--Hunting for Painting Subjects

Yesterday, Maggie The Wonder Dog, and I took advantage of an hour of free time to go hunting for landscape painting subjects. I pulled out my trusty Jacksonville map and looked for green patches--trying to find a park we had not yet explored. The goal was not to find a grand, well-landscaped, or popular park, but rather to discover one of our wonderful city's numerous "pocket parks". All over Jacksonville, FL, small patches of preserved land hold onto nature's charm, whether they boast ancient live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, salt marsh wetlands, or one of our countless lazy creeks, reflecting images of cypress or palm trees in murky water.

River Oaks Park shows as a curved sliver of green on the map, not far from our home on Jacksonville's south side, set along a dirty, neglected creek where it empties into the mighty St. John's River. Grand homes claim most of the land area along and near the prized riverfront, but this one small stretch of scrubby wild land has been saved from development. Perhaps it remains partly because it is anything but premium building land, with lots of squishy low spots along a muddy creek.

Since we were alone in the park, Maggie could be off leash and was in doggie heaven, tearing around on the large grassy area, sniffing interesting smelly, dank low spots, and cocking her head to discern individuals in the symphony of bird songs and calls. Although there was heavy overcast, the light was a bit too intense for ideal photography but I couldn't resist snapping away. The park is no garden spot, but is instead exactly the sort of unlikely place I discover interesting painting subjects. There were several old live oak trees on the drier grassy stretch, while the skeletons of dead cypress and many fallen trees and branches created tangled sculptures on the creek banks. Dark, still water perfectly reflected each scene in the clear light of an overcast winter day.

Can't say yet what I might paint from this outing, if anything. Even so, recalling the park's sights, sounds, and smells provides painting inspiration and these sensations will sink into my subconscious to percolate and bubble up in unexpected creative insights sometime in the future. I look forward to returning to this quirky little park some sunny late afternoon for a different perspective on the scene. Although the light was bright yesterday, the pervasive overcast created no shadows at all, and I missed them. The character-filled trees I photographed seemed to be lacking something without long shadows to attest to their dignity.

Question of the day: What unexpected source provides creative inspiration for you?

Growing--New Landscape Painting--Tranquil Creek Bend

This is one of my newest paintings, completed just in time for the Open Studio Reception. Two photos show portions of the painting for more detail (and as always, you can click on a photo to enlarge it). Once again, the location is a spot that many people would walk by without stopping to look. A small bridge on Hogan Road crosses Little Pottsburg Creek near our home on the south side of Jacksonville, Florida. On the lookout for scenes with water features, I pulled over to explore and was especially taken with the view in one direction, where the creek widened and curved out of sight around a bend. A thickly wooded bank on one side was countered by oddly charming, spindly trees rising above bushes on the other. The trees reminded me of children experiencing a sudden growth spurt practicing in dance class, somehow combining awkwardness and grace.

This is the second painting to emerge from photos taken that day. I decided to push myself away from my favorite palette and began with a pinkish sky. Although the sky was actually a pale overcast grey, the pink tones somehow captured the bright, warm haze of that morning--the kind of light that requires sunglasses in spite of pervasive cloud cover. One painting goal was to let the sky set a certain mood and to continue experimenting with a limited palette of ultramarine blue, cerulean blue, Paynes grey, cadmium red deep, burnt sienna, yellow ochre, and white. All greens, browns, and blackish tones are mixed from these colors. The second painting goal was to try to evoke the tranquility of the moment and the feeling of mystery as the creek glided around a bend and out of sight. The reflections in the water seemed central to portraying the stillness of the scene.

As usual, pursuing the goals of this piece gave me fits along the way, and it was even more difficult than usual to decide when to stop revising and to declare the painting finished. For some reason, I continued to tinker with small details, to wish it looked a bit different (but not knowing precisely what to change), and to put it away repeatedly to pull out days later for more tinkering. Of course, this can be the ruin of a decent creation, and I finally had to exert some self-discipline and just STOP. Have you seen news features about chimps, elephants, or other non-human animals who paint amazing abstracts? One commentator remarked that the unseen co-artist is the person who pulls their work away and gives them a fresh canvas. Left to themselves, they would happily continue slapping on more and more paint--producing, presumably, a less interesting result. I can definitely relate to the chimps who might not be the best judges of when to stop painting. However this piece, now signed and finished with a light coat of medium, has been declared officially complete and has hung on our bedroom wall for a few weeks. And, as it catches my eye in lamplight or as morning brightens, it has definitely grown on me.

Question: What experiences have you had with the art of knowing when to stop?

Exploring--Our North Florida Back Yard, Part II--Flowers and Rain

I continue to marvel lately at the degree to which I am a happy homebody even though I love to explore, both in our own area and to lands far away. You have seen this love of local and travel exploration in previous posts. Today, I offer another homebody post, exploring right in our back yard, now made into a delightful refuge by my husband Mark's hard work. As I mentioned before, we have a cozy fenced-in area and a wilder tree and fern-filled space beyond that with a small creek at the back of our property.

The flowers inside the fence are mostly in pink and purple tones, set against plants with a range of green and variegated leaves. I took these plant and flower photos (and many more!) for painting reference, planning to do a series of small pieces picturing Florida natives both from our yard and growing wild. You see a purple flowering passion vine, bright pink penta, and caladium foliage. The penta blooms at the foot of the brilliant mandevilla vine climbing a wrought iron obelisk, which you saw in my last post.

One particularly pretty rainy day in October, I took a few photos in the yard. It was one of those rains that made everything look clear and sharp. If you click to enlarge the photos, you will see raindrops pattering onto the patio and streaming down against the house. Perhaps I'll get brave enough to try to paint these scenes. Painting a rainy scene realistically is difficult, but I know I would learn from the effort no matter what the results.

Now that I am semi-retired, I have extended my reflection and meditation times and feel a better, calmer person for it. In addition to starting my day reading and meditating in an easy chair with a view out to this lovely back yard--feeling thankful as the day slowly brightens, I also take more moments throughout the day to step outside and breathe deeply. Whatever I have been busy with or stressed about melds into the whole in its proper proportion, achy old joints seem a bit less problematic, and I give thanks.

Question of the day: Are you primarily a "no place like home" person, a happy wanderer, or someone who savors both home and wider exploration?

Exploring--Near Home Again--Salt Marsh Trails

I am fascinated by salt marshes--by the rolling sea of grass, by seasonal variations in the texture and color of the grasses, and by the changing patterns of land and water as the tide rises and falls. Since all the land in a marsh is fairly low, these patterns are not set; the incoming tide flows in some established channels, but also spreads in unique ways that subtly change the scenery from one day to another. These North Florida wetlands are quite different from the Michigan wetlands I grew up with and the wetlands of other places we have lived. I feel enriched to have lived in Western Michigan, the New York City/Long Island area, Southern California, greater Atlanta, Georgia, and now in Jacksonville, Florida. I am thankful for this land and for the rich variety of natural beauty near each place we have lived, as well as in the many other states we have been fortunate to explore.

We have hiked several times in the Theodore Roosevelt area of Jacksonville's vast Timucuan Preserve. A favorite trail leads to an observation platform looking out over the marsh--the views in the above photos. The trail is named after Willie Brown, a man who once lived in a small, isolated, primitive cabin (the cabin footings remain, midway along the trail) in the woodsy region on the way to the marsh. Thus, walking the trail provides two distinct types of terrain and habitat. The view from the observation platform is particularly interesting late in the day, at nesting time for the many water birds who range out from the area.

Next post I will show you two small paintings, studies for possible larger pieces, based on these and other photos from our exploration on the trail a couple of years ago. I took the photos when my sister visited from Maryland, and we explored this area together. Although we have been back since, something about the tidal patterns in photos from our first visit most strongly moved me to paint the scene. For some reason, photos from more recent visits have not struck me with the same power, even though our experience of the natural setting has been amazing every time.

You see the marsh as it looks in early January, warmed by the brown and golden tones of winter grass but yielding fewer bird sightings than in nesting season. I enjoy the lonely expanse and the limited palette of the scene in winter, which focuses my attention on the interesting patterns of the waterways as the tide begins to recede from an earlier high, exposing mud, mussel beds, and tiny scurrying crabs.

Question of the day: What natural beauty has enriched your life recently?

Learning and Growing--Landscape Painting, Part I

Occasionally, I will repeat a post or two that were well-received for the sake of my newer readers. I know that few of you will go back to read all previous postings. Also, frankly, this is a crazy busy time for me, and this helps me keep on my twice a week posting schedule. Today's entry is the first of two about this scene on Little Pottsburg Creek. Please excuse me, fellow bloggers if I am not able to visit and comment on all of your wonderful blogs as often as I would like for the next few weeks. I'll be back full-force before too long.

Landscape painting is a balancing act and requires priority setting and focus. I have written about balancing life goals and projects before, and have realized that a similar balancing process goes into the decisions involved in painting.

Few, if any, painters copy what they see in exact detail. We must discern what aspects of a particular scene drew us in and feature them. Other aspects need to recede in importance or even be left out. Sometimes an element needs to be moved or added for the sake of the composition. However, such changes require restraint. If a weathered barn is surrounded by purple wildflowers except for a trash pile in my sight line, filling that area with similar or compatible plants or a glimpse of bare earth is an acceptable adjustment to enhance the overall scene. However, it wouldn't make sense to paint a profusion of tropical passion flowers or cacti instead. The integrity of the location matters. Now I know that some lovely landscape paintings are completely "made up" by the painter from some combination of memories and a desire to create a scene that looks a particular way. I have done that myself, with fairly good results.

However, the "made up" places, at least when I paint them, do not resonate with the same depth as those based on an actual location. If I have truly been there, have seen, heard, tasted, smelled and touched the natural elements, I believe the truth of that experience shows in the art work. Yet, I do not paint simply what I see with my eyes or experience with my other physical senses. The painting arises out of my personal response to a natural place.

Holding the real and the "ideal" mental vision in tension to produce an interesting painting of an observed scene is infinitely rewarding. Sometimes this is quite difficult and requires extensive adjustment along the way--at other times, the process flows more easily. Wrestling with the balance of light and dark tones, with the way colors appear under variations in natural light, and with the arrangement of shapes and elements is a deeply moving, uniquely personal, creative experience.

The scene in the photo above is near our home. It's no place special--definitely not on anyone's sight-seeing itinerary--just a wide bend in Little Pottsburg Creek. Chunks of old concrete jostle the rocks and mussel beds in the muddy shallows, and trash lies half-submerged in the water. Still, something in the scene drew my attention. So I carefully recorded details mentally, snapped a few photos, and went home to figure out what the appeal was. If I tried to capture the feeling I had experienced in this everyday North Florida location, what would I paint? The result was an excellent learning exercise for me, which I will show you in my next post.

Question of the day: If you painted, drew, or more carefully photographed this creek bend, what would you feature?

Exploring & Learning--Our Magical Public Libraries & Reference Books for Artists

For weeks, I have been meaning to write about the delights of exploring public libraries. From the time my mother first took me to Muskegon, Michigan's castle-like Victorian library as a small child, libraries have held a fairy tale magic for me. Since the last post featured books and since I recently found a terrific series of photo reference books for artists, now is the perfect time for this subject.

I am an absolute library junkie and did my best to raise our sons to share that obsession. It seems particularly timely in a difficult economy to remember the remarkable resources available free of charge in public libraries. As much as I love books, I purchase relatively few--in particular, very few novels. They are free at the library; I read each one only once--why would I buy them? The library is also my favorite source for current non-fiction (often works I have heard about on public radio) like the latest nutrition book, exercise DVD, financial advice, business trends, and other works that I want to look at, but don't need to purchase. Most libraries offer wonderful additional services, such as children's story hours, student and adult programs, free computer use, and a variety of media (beyond books) available to borrow.

Admittedly, we do purchase books, too. We have kept a number of worthwhile books from our years of study and from my adventures teaching philosophy and math. I also like having reference books handy, so our shelves hold atlases (up-dated periodically), travel books, books about words and writing, nature field guides and bird books, books about architecture, home repair, sewing, knitting, music, history, and many other topics. Other long-time friends include poetry, quality art reproduction collections, and thought-provoking, spiritually meaningful books.

Of course, I also own some books that inspire and assist my painting. For example, when my own reference photos don't provide quite enough detail for accurately painting birds in a landscape, my various bird books provide rich detail about that particular species--everything from characteristic textures of feathers and subtleties of coloring to unique patterns of flight and characteristic posture when standing or perching.

Still, the world is full of wonderful books we don't own that the library can provide. The pages above were scanned from a series of books by photographer Gary Greene, who generously and explicitly invites artists to photocopy or scan and then adapt images from his books (as long as they do not try to profit from an exact copy). As always, you can click on the images above to enlarge them in order to appreciate the remarkable detail in Greene's photos. His beautiful books spark my creative process even when I don't use any of the specific images for a painting. Our library system has a number of his works, and I am currently waiting for one to come in on a transfer from another branch. The above pages appear in Artist's Photo Reference, Reflections, Textures & Backgrounds. The volume I am waiting for showcases boats and marine scenes. When it comes in, you can bet that along with it, I'll carry home an armload of additional, irresistible finds from my magical library.

Question of the day: Are you a public library junkie? What are your favorite recent library discoveries?

Learning & Growing--Purple Iris Floral Painting

About a month ago, I showed you a magnolia floral painting I had worked on as a change of pace from my usual landscapes (scroll down to August 11 or enter "magnolia" in the search box above to see it again). This purple iris painting is an older work, one of my first close-up florals. Among other things, I learned the value of perseverance from this project.

I can't remember anymore how long this painting was a "work in progress," or how many times I was tempted to scrap the project due to to the fact that some of the changes I tried made it worse instead of better. Works in progress are supposed to progress, aren't they? This one definitely gave me trouble.

Probably one issue with the painting was that I used someone else's photo. A friend (thank you, David Young) who is known for his breathtaking photos of people from around the world, sent me a packet of varied photos several years ago. I was inspired to try to paint this iris from one of his photos with a few adaptations to fit my own vision for the image.

Although I am quite pleased with the final result, I felt hampered along the way by the fact that I had not seen, touched, and smelled the flower myself. A wiser artist than I was would have at least sought out live purple irises somewhere to observe, sketch, and photograph. I will do that in the future. I know some artists can create excellent paintings strictly from photos of places, people, or natural things they have never seen in person. I am humbled by their skill. For me, I have learned that nothing can replace being there. In addition to various technical problems I had to iron out for this painting, it was difficult for me to bring the blossom alive on canvas--we had never actually met. The result--and sort of a solution--was to paint an image that is more stylized than natural.

Venturing outside my comfort zone can be a thrill. But when an effort to do or to learn something new seems too unpleasant or too hard, I try to remember this painting experience. Of course, some attempts fail. No shame there, I believe--the shame would be avoiding the new for fear of failure. But in the thick of any difficult struggle with a new venture, I recall the BATTLE OF THE IRIS and persevere. After all, I think this image turned out all right. In any case, I learned and grew as a person and as an artist from this project.

Question of the day: Have you battled any irises lately? What growth or learning resulted?

Exploring--Right Near Home--Hanna Park

In my April 23 post, I wrote about the curious fact that many of us neglect interesting destinations near our homes. When we travel, we seek out the parks, botanical gardens, historical homes, birding sites, or whatever other types of attractions most interest us. Yet, we let our home lives get "too busy" to play tourist in our own cities, parks, countryside, and historic places.

Here in Jacksonville, Florida, we are fortunate to enjoy visits from a number of house guests who are eager to see the fascinating history and varied natural beauty the area offers. Entertaining visitors provides the perfect excuse to play tourist right here at home. As a painter of local landscapes, I explore often--with or without visitors. Of course, I carry a camera on these outings, alert for possible subjects for landscape paintings. I have written about the joy of exploring near home in several previous posts and have another lovely spot to show you today.

When my husband's youngest brother from Wisconsin came in March, we went to Hanna Park, which I had not visited before. Maintained by our city, this lovely park provides 450 wonderful acres to explore for an admission price of just $1. Its ocean beach, fresh water lake, trails, wildlife, and wonderful vegetation were just waiting to show off for us. The day we visited, this stately great blue heron stood watchfully at the edge of the lake. I was able to snap a few quick photos out the car window from a couple of different angles. Although they were not carefully composed photos, I believed that a painting might emerge from these quick snapshots. The photo above became the main reference for a painting I have almost finished. Note: remember that you can always click on a photo in the blog to enlarge it. 

In the next post, I will show you the painting that resulted. In the meantime, I will leave you with a question like one I posed on June 12 about choices in the artistic process.

Question of the day: If you painted, drew, or more carefully photographed this scene, what elements in the photo would you use? What elements might you feature, change, or delete? 

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?

Learning and Growing--Landscape Painting, Part I

Landscape painting is a balancing act and requires priority setting and focus. I wrote about balancing life goals and projects last time, then realized that a similar balancing process goes into the decisions involved in painting. 

Few, if any, painters copy what they see in exact detail. We must discern what aspects of a particular scene drew us in and feature them. Other aspects need to recede in importance or even be left out. Sometimes an element needs to be moved or added for the sake of the composition. However, such changes require restraint. If a weathered barn is surrounded by purple wildflowers except for a trash pile in my sight line, filling that area with similar or compatible plants or a glimpse of bare earth is an acceptable adjustment to enhance the overall scene. However, it wouldn't make sense to paint a profusion of tropical passion flowers or cacti instead. The integrity of the location matters. Now I know that some lovely landscape paintings are completely "made up" by the painter from some combination of memories and a desire to create a scene that looks a particular way. I have done that myself, with fairly good results.

However, the "made up" places, at least when I paint them, do not resonate with the same depth as those based on an actual location. If I have truly been there, have seen, heard, tasted, smelled and touched the natural elements, I believe the truth of that experience shows in the art work. Yet, I do not paint simply what I see with my eyes or experience with my other physical senses. The painting arises out of my personal response to a natural place. 

Holding the real and the "ideal" mental vision in tension to produce an interesting painting of an observed scene is infinitely rewarding. Sometimes this is quite difficult and requires extensive adjustment along the way--at other times, the process flows more easily. Wrestling with the balance of light and dark tones, with the way colors appear under variations in natural light, and with the arrangement of shapes and elements is a deeply moving, uniquely personal, creative experience. 

The scene in the photo above is near our home. It's no place special--definitely not on anyone's sight-seeing itinerary--just a wide bend in Little Pottsburg Creek. Chunks of old concrete jostle the rocks and mussel beds in the muddy shallows, and trash lies half-submerged in the water. Still, something in the scene drew my attention. So I carefully recorded details mentally, snapped a few photos, and went home to figure out what the appeal was. If I tried to capture the feeling I had experienced in this everyday North Florida location, what would I paint? The result was an excellent learning exercise for me, which I will show you in my next post.

Question of the day: If you painted, drew, or more carefully photographed this creek bend, what would you feature?