Red Twigs, Drying
Red twigs, drying
-- winter shed
waits for springComment on or Share this Article
Mourning Dove, 18 x 18, oil on linen
Mourning Dove is one of those paintings that I create because I needed to express something beyond words. Last year, we had attracted several pairs of mourning doves into our yard, along with the usual finches and jays. I so enjoyed watching these beautiful birds feed on the seeds discarded by their smaller friends...I loved awakening to the lovely repetitive calls they made early in the morning.
Mourning Doves form strong monogamous pairs, and unfortunately one morning we discovered that one bird had flown into the glass window - despite the bird protection we had applied - and died of its injuries. The mate continued to return to the feeding area day after day. We thought that with the passing of a season that the lonely bird would find a new mate, but again this year, the single bird returned. There were several pair that would feed...and the single bird, returning all season.
I needed to honor the memory, of the gathering dusk, of the single bird who would feed in the gravel beneath the feeders. There was something both heart breaking and yet empowering in the return of this single bird, an unbreakable bond between all creatures. This may not be a marketable painting. I don't really care. If painting is not about expressing emotional experiences that cannot be fully explained in words, then it is merely reproduction...which can be done far more efficiently and unemotionally with a camera.Comment on or Share this Article
Still Life with Plums
This painting is about the energy in the volume of space between the viewer and the large urn, the way the light fills and energizes this area. It is also about color, and some of my favorite subjects - the plums we can actually eat, and the little plums left behind on my flowering plum tree with the lovely autumn leaves. While I love the real plums from the farmer's market, the robins can clean the little plums from the entire tree in a single day, so we are all happy.Comment on or Share this Article
Roses grew out of what I discovered visually in the painting Jade Vase (previous blog post). When I painted Jade Vase, I was excited about the color harmony that developed and felt - like many artists do when they achieve a goal - happy with the results.
But in the process of analyzing what I had produced, I felt something conceptually fall into place, as if I could now fully see what I have been playing around the edges of trying to understand...it was both a terrifying and exhilarating realization. I could see the way that Jade Vase only hinted at the subject, that there was so much more I could say, and say it in a more sophisticated manner (isn't it always the case when we suddenly see visually a concept we have been struggling to understand intellectually...we call it painting more sophisticatedly...)
I knew I needed to work immediately to try to implement what I thought I could now understand. Just to see if I was right. It felt like a terrible risk, but the result is Roses, and, as a painting, more fully develops the ideas of color harmony, scale, and the role of light flowing through the subject.
I hope you enjoy it.Comment on or Share this Article
I was finally able to get back up into the mountains to take reference photos and paint studies, but the rain put an end to my plans. Instead we enjoyed a wonderful French onion soup at the Elk Lake Lodge and watched the rain come down in sheets. Sail boats were tied at the dock and empty red Adirondack chairs sat mournfully facing out toward the view...on the way home we stopped and walked along the Deschutes River. It wasn't raining nearly as hard but still unable to paint. The edge of the bank was already turning to mud as the water spread out into the grass and the footpaths worn down by fishermen.
I wanted to capture the atmosphere though, of the rain, the intermittent sunlight, and the open meadows surrounded by the mixed fir and pine forest. This is the first painting from that inspiration. I love the way the rain softens everything, and while you are out there, listening to the quiet, feeling the moisture, there is a sense of peace, that all is right with the world in that particular moment, and that we are where we belong.Comment on or Share this Article
Jade Vase, oil, 14 x 18 on mounted linen
When setting up this still life my attention had been drawn to the patterns in the materials. That would have been a visually busy yet interestingly complex painting.
But one afternoon I entered the studiio and saw the setup without the lights, only a cool blue enveloping light reflecting from high overhead, coming through the space between the blind and the window. I knew immediately that was the effect I needed to capture. Doing so was an even greater challenge than duplicating the patterns.
Jade Vase became a poetic painting. In the soft twilight light the edges grew soft and there seemed to be light spilling down and spreading out. Whenever I felt lost, I would turn out the lights and paint in the same twilight conditions of a darkened studio. This could only be done for short periods each day before the light grew too dark to see. Then each evening and morning I would look and study what I was creating in other lighting conditions. The process was both exciting and intimidating and the color shifts went through several changes until in one moment of hurriedly applied jade the painting came together. Poetic Magic.Comment on or Share this Article
This is the first annual OPA Salon show featuring small works, to be held at Crooked Tree Arts Center in Petoskey, Michigan. June 26 through August 31, 2013. I hope those of you in that area will get the chance to visit what will be a fantastic show, and I am honored that this little painting will be included.Comment on or Share this Article
Red Leaves in Snow (SOLD)
This is the edge of a winter field. It's the one time when you can really see the red in the cinder ground, and of course those few resistant leaves that refuse to leave the branch. The storm came through earlier than expected and the nearby tree lost several branches, but that is winter here. The cold comes and goes, as does the rain, or snow, or that inbetween stuff that makes it really hard to walk on the uneven ground after it freezes overnight. Why did I choose to paint this scene? Winter reveals more of the landscape than any other season. I like the cold silence, where you can hear the sounds of life - birds scratching for the forgotten seed, a distant dog barking, an intense feeling of being alive in the moment between things.Comment on or Share this Article
I am happy to announce that this little painting Weathered received the Plein Air Magazine Award for Merit at the Women Artists of the West National Show in December. Thank you Plein Air Magazine, as well as the R H Hanna Gallery who hosted the show, and all the other volunteers who helped make the show a success.Comment on or Share this Article
I think, as an artist, it is my responsibility to keep evolving, pushing myself to find something new to focus upon in my painting. Walton Lake is just a beautiful place. Hidden in the Ochoco Mountains, surrounded by open meadows and thick pine forests, it's a location that is only accessible for a few months of the year. What I remembered the most vividly was the clear skies and the warm crispness of the early fall air as we walked around the lake, and while there were many views to choose from, this painting leads you up toward the serenity of the Walton Lake ridge trail.Comment on or Share this Article