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| Summer Storm, pastel on Wallis paper, 6 "x 9." |
I love watching the sky when a storm is approaching. For some reason, this usually happens as I'm driving, and our roads present great opportunities for panoramic views. Unfortunately, I rarely have my camera with me, and perhaps that is just as well--it might be too dangerous to get distracted trying to capture the fascinating play of light and sudden changes in the weather while driving. This is where memory comes in handy--I try to memorize every striking color combination and subtle, seemingly impossible contrast, texture and shape.
One recent evening driving home on Route 108, the summer storm was particularly dramatic: sheets of rain were dropping from one side of the low-lying clouds, with very cool bluish-gray clouds against the lovely soft orange where the sun was setting. I tried to etch the colors and shapes in my mind so I could reproduce them when I got home, but I didn't get a chance to work on it until late that night, on a small scrap of Wallis paper.
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| Sun in Lawn, pastel on Wallis paper, 9" x 6." |
Next Saturday I did a study of the early morning light filtering through the trees in my back yard. At this time of the year a long sunbeam appears across the lawn next to the cedar tree that was split two winters ago. The radiating shapes of the light seem to be charged with meaning, like the visual embodiment of a badly-needed ray of hope.
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| Evening Light in the Trees, pastel on Wallis paper, 9" x 6." |
This last one I dashed off looking out my studio window as the sun was setting--the shades of the leaves against the golden light beyond were so lovely and so impossible to catch! I really enjoy these small studies where I can go hog-wild with color and freedom that I would not dare elsewhere. In a larger painting there is more at stake: investment in time and materials, so one feels more constrained to think about the rules, to turn in a "good performance." Sometimes this doesn't work to our advantage.
