Twenty-eight Degrees (Frozen Pond), oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.Being off this week, I drove down to southern Maryland to spend a few days with my artist friends in Accokeek. They had a bit more snow down there than we had here in Columbia the previous weekend, and some of it still lingered in their shady preserve.
On my first afternoon there we went for a walk at Piscataway Park. It was bright and sunny, but the 25-30 mile-an-hour winds made the chill so extreme at the exposed river shore, that I was dissuaded from attempting anything outdoors. We set up a still life and painted in the studio instead. The weather was about the same the next day, so again we worked inside while another friend posed for us.
Although cloudy, by yesterday morning the wind had died down. My car's thermometer registered twenty-eight degrees, but I was determined to paint plein air--this would be a good test of my hardiness. I loaded up my palette and gear, bundled up and drove down to the beaver pond to paint at the place Patrise had indicated. I pulled the ear flaps of my Tilley hat down and trundled over a snow bank to this spot. I had a bit of trouble tying my apron with gloved hands, but managed without exposing any bare skin to the elements.
Two-thirds of the way into the painting, my hands had become so numb from the cold I had to take a break. Getting in the car, I took my gloves off and warmed my hands with my breath, lots of massage and clapping, then put the gloves back on to continue painting until I had the entire panel covered and the val-hues balanced.
By that time both my hands and feet were completely numb, so I deemed it prudent to pack up and go back to the house--frostbite is not something I want to deal with. It was a bit after noon and the temperature had risen to a balmy thirty-two. It took an hour and lots of hot tea and soup for my hands and feet to thaw out completely. Relying on memory (I'd forgotten my camera), I put the accents and finishing touches on the painting later, indoors.
Am I the only one that finds it amusing that a Cuban like me, better adapted to the tropics, would be motivated to paint in freezing weather while my two friends, raised in Michigan, stayed indoors? But alas, today I am paying for my madness with a case of the sniffles.
