The First Crocus

 

The first crocus of spring is a long-awaited sight, signaling the end of winter and the beginnings of early spring. This year it took place on February 24, when the temperature rose into the 60's on a sunny day. The snow and ice on the ground had begun to melt the day before, and the watering sent these lovely buds up. Others soon followed.

I'd planted some mixed crocuses under my cherry tree some years ago, but hadn't seen any these yellow ones for the last few years, so it was a surprise to find several of this feathered yellow variety sprouting, along with one lone white one. I believe the yellow ones are of the species Crocus chrythansus 'Fuscotinctus.'

Several varieties of crocus in front yard.

Crocus tommasinianus , nicknamed "Tommies," is the one species that has multiplied most prolifically in my front yard. I'd read that rodents and other pests tend to stay away from this species, and with so many voracious wild creatures around here, it has lived up to its reputation, proving to be quite resistant. Every year the display gets better.

Crocus tommasinianus

C. tommasinianus growing with red thyme (Thymus coccinea)

Other early spring bulbs are starting to wake up, and soon my garden will once again be filled with flowers... I can't wait to see what the display will be like this year!

Continental Divide

Continental Divide, pastel on sanded panel, 9"h x 12".

On these cold, gray days of winter I long for warmer climes and sunnier days... but thankfully, in my studio and imagination I can revisit other summer days of yore. I was perusing some photos of my visit to Glacier National Park several years ago and found one I really wanted to use for a painting--it was taken some miles east of the continental divide driving on the Going-to-the-Sun Road. This side of the park is much drier than the western side, and has the typical vegetation of the northern prairies. These open meadows displayed an incredible assortment of wild flowers at the time of my visit in high summer: blue lupines, wild roses, daisies and blanket flowers, bee balm, flea bane and asters, as well as grasses and pines.

I worked on a Richeson sanded panel made for pastels, and was very impressed with the amount of pigment this surface can hold. I started with a very fauvist under painting in two values of pink and peach hues, burnt sienna and brown, and it took quite a few layers of colors applied on top to cool down the colors underneath. Only a bit of the under painting shows through.

 

Earlier version of the pastel

 

Above is an earlier version of the painting--I was in the process of modifying the composition to add a third tree to the foreground when I happened to drag my sleeve across the entire lower half of the panel, taking off most of the pigment I'd laid down! Well, after lamenting this little disaster for a while, it seemed like a serendipitous call to re-think the entire piece, and modify the val-hues from this earlier step.

Redoubling my efforts, I decided to cool down the foreground more, applying more of the Baryte green more boldly throughout the grasses in the foreground, and blueing the distant mountains more. Articulating the nearer flowers and grasses and blending the patches of color on the closer mountain range also helped to make a better distinction between the closer and farther distance. 

I'm  planning to try out several other pastel surfaces I have in my studio in the coming weeks as the spring equinox slowly wends its way toward the northern hemisphere again.

Snowy Morning

From my studio window.

 

A lovely view greeted me this morning when I looked out from my studio window. Such beauty is so fleeting in our area, I had to take some photos right away. A few hours later, the temperature had risen enough to denude the branches of their snowy decoration, but it was wonderful while it lasted!

 

My climbing rose.

From the front door.

Here is a short video of the birds in my front yard.

Mountain Mist

Misty Mountains, pastel on Wallis paper, 9.5"h x 17.5"w

 

I haven't been very inspired of late, so I thought a break from watercolors might be helpful. This piece of white Wallis sanded paper had been stored in my studio for a couple of years--I'd used it as a demo on how to use turpenoid as a solvent with pastels to tone the paper, an alternative to an under-painting. The image was a photo I'd taken a few years back at an overlook on Skyline Drive on a spring evening just as the mist was rolling over the mountains.

For starters, the proportions of the paper--almost twice as wide as high--were challenging. Modifying the composition of my photo to fit this proportion meant stretching the foreground over a much larger area than in the photo, and having to extend the line of trees that marks the break towards the backdrop of receding mountain ridges. The colors also had to be adjusted, as my photo was much darker, the foreground in particular. I wanted this piece to give the impression of a place full of mystery with the promise of spring.

I've labored over this piece for several of weeks, putting down pigments, then brushing some off, trying to make the painting "read" as believable. Some days I'd rub off everything I'd put down, unsatisfied with the colors, or the position of the darks, paring the painting back to an amorphous start, trying to find a way to make it work visually.

I don't know if the finished painting actually works, but it is what it is. I may submit it to Art at the Mill's spring show, or perhaps save it for the Blandy Sketch Group show (likely to be virtual only), but it was good practice for me. It's inspired me to start working in pastels more.

By the way, most of the paintings shown on this blog are for sale, in case anyone is interested in buying this painting or another. You can find most of them on my website: https://elenamaza.com or if you don't see what you are interested in, you can Email me to inquire.