Three Sisters Spring

Three Sisters Spring, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

A few days after our swim with the manatees, the 24th Annual Florida Manatee Festival was taking place. On Saturday, the Crystal River National Wildlife Refuge whose headquarters were located a few houses down the street from ours, held an open house at Three Sisters Spring. The land surrounding the spring is part of the wildlife refuge and not accessible to the public, but they were open for a morning as part of the Manatee Festival's activities.

After seeing the springs from underwater, I was really anxious to paint them from above, and this would be my only opportunity. Herb and I got up early that morning so we could be among the first groups to be shuttled by van from a local shopping center to the spring. I brought my Guerilla Painter Box, gear bag and one 9" x 12" panel along with my camera. The refuge volunteers were very kind to allow me to leave my gear at their booth so we could walk around for a bit before I settled in to paint.

Early Morning at Three Sisters Spring.

It was quite chilly--there had been an overnight frost--and mist wafted over the water at the springs, giving a wonderfully mysterious atmosphere. Even at this early hour, snorkelers were already there, and lots of sleeping manatees could be seen in the crystal-clear water.

The Three Sisters Spring area consists of some fifty acres of land around the springs that were saved from development. The purchase took place just last year, and the state of Florida has plans to develop the area as a park with boardwalks and viewing platforms for visitors. The volunteers led us on a guided walk around the spring even though the banks were a bit muddy. We were allowed to explore the rest of the grounds on our own. Herb and I walked over to look at Magnolia Spring, farther downstream on the waterway. Magnolia Spring is in a neighborhood that was developed many years ago and has lovely homes around it--the actual spring was impossible to discern from where we were. Many birds could be seen and heard all about: robins, finches, sparrows, blackbirds, and other birds I couldn't identify.

It was time for me to get started painting. I chose a spot on the side farthest away from the booths and crowds and Herb left me there. Unfortunately, this was the windward side. The Spanish moss swung sideways with each gust of wind. The color of the moss in the dappled shade and the water were very difficult, and as you can see, I didn't manage to get either one right, but I had a great time trying anyway.

By eleven-thirty I was so chilled I packed up and went back to the other side of the springs and took more photos while waiting to get on the shuttle that would take me back.

The springs were now like Grand Central Station--lots of kayakers and snorkelers on the water, crowds on land--poor manatees! They didn't seem to mind much, though. They don't appear to have any fear of humans and in fact, some were quite curious and playful with the snorkelers.

Late morning at Three Sisters Spring

Kayaks entering Three Sisters Spring

If you are ever in the Crystal River area, Three Sisters Spring is not to be missed! More photos here on Flickr.

Swimming with Manatees

Herb and I were taking an exploratory walk around Kings Bay Drive one afternoon when we were greeted by a charming lady with a foreign accent. Pavla turned out to be an artist from Czechoslovakia--her American husband, Captain Fred Reed, is a local dive master, and their business, Art N Diving, offers personalized tours to see the manatees in Crystal River.

We agreed to go out with them late enough in the afternoon so the hordes of swimmers and paddlers at Three Sisters Spring, where the manatees hang out, would have thinned out. A high tide would improve our chances. The day was bright and sunny, but somewhat chilly.

Before starting out, we were made to watch a short video about manatee etiquette: one is not allowed to harass the manatees in any way. Harassment is defined as attempting to feed them or give them water (how one would give water to a manatee I can't imagine--aren't they already in water?), touching or approaching them, unless they approach you, and particularly separating any mother from her calf. No humans are allowed in the areas designated as refuges for the manatees. There are heavy fines and even jail time for anyone caught breaking these rules.

We were outfitted with full wet suits, masks and fins before boarding their boat and at their suggestion, I had brought a disposable underwater camera. The Captain cruised out of the canal behind their house onto to the main canal and then to Kings Bay. Out in the open water, the breeze was even colder--I was glad we'd brought our jackets.

Captain Fred Reed and Pavla

Herb on King's Bay

 The Captain took us around to our lagoon where we could see our rental house from the water, and then behind some islets past the King Spring, which is about 90 feet deep. A number of folks in the area told us the entire bay used to be crystal-clear years ago, but storm surges from hurricanes have made the water murky. There were buoys all around the bay indicating the refuge areas for manatees--no boats of any kind or swimmers are allowed there.

Our house

Crystal River has the largest population of manatees of the warm, spring-fed rivers on Florida's west coast. The manatee population is estimated at some four to five thousand individuals. The manatees swim up Crystal River in early November when the gulf waters start to get cold and stay until late March when the gulf begins to warm up again. The constant 72-degree water of the springs helps them to stay alive during the winter and prosper. We were told last year's record cold weather caused some one thousand manatees to die from cold stress.

After touring Kings Bay we went back towards the main channel and the entry passage to the Three Sisters Spring, which is marked with two posts. There were several manatees visible from the surface swimming lazily in the refuge areas by the banks of the stream as Herb and I entered the water. I got so excited I forgot the camera and the Captain called me back to hand it to me.

The water was pleasantly warm, and with the exception of a couple of kayakers, we had the springs pretty much to ourselves. The entry passage was narrow and we passed several manatees going in. I noted a large manatee tagged with a tracking device attached to his tail--the straps were padded so they would not hurt it and the tracker floated on the surface on a short line. I wondered what the manatee made of that.

Manatee with fish

Herb swims over sleeping manatees

Elena swimming with manatees

There were some thirty to forty manatees gathered at the spring, sound asleep. We were told they come up for air every twenty minutes or so when they sleep, though they must breathe more frequently when they are active. It was so funny to watch them come to the surface to take a breath, and then see them nosedive straight down again. Several baby manatees next to their mothers looked so sweet.  Herb and I swam around taking photos until our film was all used up. By that time our bodies were beginning to feel chilled, and it was time to swim back to the boat. Swimming with manatees is a celestial experience!

You can see more photos of our swim with the manatees in Flickr.

Fishing the Lagoon on Kings Bay

Fishing the Lagoon, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.

The next morning was cloudy; mist wafted over the warmer water of the lagoon. I opened the curtains and saw a couple fishing on the lagoon. They were on a boat which was unusual to me--the boat seemed to glide with the prow pointing high out of the water and the man stood there working a rudder from the front with one hand while casting with the other. It looked most unstable yet the boat did not tip or shake. The motor idled with no wake.

Both the man and the woman were bundled up this chilly morning. They appeared to be expert casters, their bait skipping on the surface of the water as they reeled in. I wondered what kind of fish they were after. I brought out my pencils and a sketchpad and did some quick sketches as they plied our lagoon. They circled around a couple of times with no luck, and then moved on.

In the afternoon they came by again--by now they had shed their heavy jackets--and repeated the morning's ritual. After they had left, I went out on our dock with my painting gear and set it up to paint this scene, putting in the figures and boat from my sketches and memory.

Vacation in Crystal River

Crystal River Lagoon, watercolor, 10" x 5."

I never had a chance to post a single thing during our vacation--there was no internet connection at our rental house, and a few days later our laptop screen failed, so I am just catching up now with these postings from our vacation in Crystal River in Florida.

Herb and I drove off on the morning of Friday January the 14th and made good time on the road, but we didn't make it to Amelia Island where we had hoped to spend the night with friends. We had dinner in Savannah at a nice restaurant--the Sapphire Grill, and then found a hotel on the outskirts of the city off I-95. The next morning was pleasant--the frost that formed on the car overnight began to melt at about the time we got back on the road. The temperature rose to the 50's as we continued south.

We skipped lunch but stopped just outside Gainesville at a colorful fruit stand and bought some yummy-looking pomelos and Honeybell oranges to take to our rental house. We arrived in Crystal River in the late afternoon and managed to open the lock box as instructed, unloaded the car and went back out to find some groceries before settling in.

The house was not quite what I had expected--the view of the lagoon was wonderful but there were many houses around it, that illusion of wilderness I had hoped for was lacking. There was no back yard to speak of, only a somewhat deteriorated dock about 8' wide which faced north and got no sun at this time of the year. I had hoped to have a sunny spot where I could sit outside to paint, but since it was quite chilly at the time, that didn't seem very likely--maybe in a few days if it warmed up.

Spanish Moss, watercolor, 10" x 6."

The next morning I settled for painting from inside looking out the windows (it was really cold and windy). The first one is a small watercolor sketch of the view across the lagoon focusing on tiny section that looks wild. In the afternoon I tried another one, this time of the Spanish moss on the live oaks in front of the house. As the sun was going down I started to be tormented by no-see-ums or some other biting insect and realized I had forgotten to bring insect repellent, so I had to rush through this one to finish it. Anyway, here they are, for what they're worth.

Recycling Your Art

Recycling old paintings

When inspiration flags during the post-holiday blahs, a good chore to undertake is recycling old paintings. I gathered up all those old paintings that weren't too successful to begin with, and sanded them with rough sandpaper to smooth down any built-up paint. I then gave 'em two coats of acrylic gesso and presto! New panels for new paintings.

I'm really looking forward to our vacation in Florida. We'll start the drive down next Friday morning, spend one night on the road, to arrive in Crystal River the next afternoon. I am hoping the weather will be nice and allow for plenty of outdoor painting for those two weeks. One feels so cooped up in the winter in northern latitudes, even in mild areas like our Mid-Atlantic, tempered by the Chesapeake Bay and its rivers. A short mid-winter respite in warm weather can help one revive.

New Look for a New Year

On a New Year's Eve walk with my friends.

I've never liked those end-of-the-year/new-year's lists; in fact, I find them unutterably depressing! To most of us over a certain age, the turning of the year ends up being just another day we struggle to make memorable just because it IS a New Year, and after all, we need some milestones to mark the passage of time.

We start off each January full of hope and resolutions which gradually lose momentum until they are tossed aside with a twinge of guilt--the flesh is weak, we rationalize, or the time wasn't right--somehow nature conspired against the change. If we're lucky, on rare years, we manage to keep one or two of those resolutions that end up changing our lives irrevocably, and look back at those with wonder and gratitude.

The past year has been an eventful one, though not always in the ways one had envisioned--rightly so--what would life be without some surprises? Sometimes one small change starts a chain reaction that sets a number of things in motion, like a loose stone setting off an avalanche. A car accident in September forced me to replace my twelve-year old car with a newer one, which in turn encouraged me to replace my ancient cell phone; the breaking down of an old TV prodded us into upgrading to a new flat-screen and Blu-Ray. A new job offer much closer to home was a daunting but welcome change in the last three weeks of the year. I'll miss having my Fridays off, as well as the week between Christmas and New Year's, but it's still a good trade-off for the 75-mile-a-day commute.

To ring out the old year, yesterday I went down to southern Maryland to visit my friends in Accokeek. I'd hoped that perhaps it might be possible to paint outdoors, since the temperature has been rising to the mid-forties in the past few days. I really wanted a new painting to post. But the wan winter sun was not warm enough for comfort, so instead we settled for taking a walk along the Potomac River by Colonial Farm.

The ice was still fairly solid over the beaver pond along the road, and there were big chunks at the river's edge. The grasses in the swamp below the boardwalk were studded with lovely pools of snow and ice. Watching the ice floes in the middle of the river floating upstream lent the scene a surreal air--it took a few seconds to realize the effect was caused by the incoming tide. Mount Vernon was clearly visible on the opposite bank. Walking back toward the farm, it was feeding time for the animals. Colonial Farm raises what they call heirloom breeds, and I managed to take a couple of shots of their enormous Red Devon bull and one of the Ossabaw pigs before my camera battery ran down.

I learn a lot from my friends (and try to share what I know). Back at the house we talked about our art projects, blogs, photos and plans while enjoying some wine by the fire, and I realized I had never made use of Flickr to share photos with friends or readers of my blog. So today, to follow my resolution to try to become more tech-savvy and better integrate all the tech toys at our disposal, I have uploaded my photos from our walk onto Flickr in this set: New Year's Eve Walk. While I was at it, I gave the Maza Studio blog a new look for the new year. Hope you like them both. Your comments would be appreciated--please feel free.

Happy New Year!

Softer Winter Dawn

Soft Winter Dawn, pastel on Wallis paper, 12" x 9."

I wanted to paint another version of the winter dawn such as I've been observing during the past week. Most have been more muted, with the softer colors of a cloudier, more veiled atmosphere (with the snow almost gone). I thought pastels would allow me a different way to achieve the effect. I didn't realize I needed a wider a range of colors to make those subtle transitions from violet-blue to pink and peach in the sky. It's nearly impossible to mix pastels and keep the colors pure--you have to get as close to the exact val-hue as possible when you are dealing with pure pigment. A rough approximation, my painting seems a bit limited in range, but it strikes the right mood of mystery.

Winter Dawn

Winter Dawn, oils on panel, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.

This past week I started a new job much closer to home. As a result, I have been able to sleep later in the mornings and see the sunrise as I am getting up, instead of starting my morning commute in the dark. At our latitude, the sun doesn't rise until well after seven this close to the Winter Solstice--a date I look forward to as the turning point of the year.

On Thursday we had a light snowfall, perhaps an inch and a half. The next morning, the sunrise was gorgeous, and I took some photos to help me remember the amazing colors in the sky. I finally had a chance to paint it today, putting in a bit more snow than there actually was on the ground. I keep wondering what kind of winter this will be: will it be as harsh and snowy as the last one?

Staggered

Staggered, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 16." Contact artist for price.

The weather has turned quite cold and I haven't been motivated to endure the freezing temperatures outdoors, so I am continuing to experiment with painting from photos.

One afternoon a couple of weeks ago I went out to the McKeldin area of Patapsco State Park. With the season's shorter days upon us, there wasn't enough time to complete a painting before dark, but I had just enough time to further explore some of the trails where I have been painting, looking for new locations for next year. I took my camera with me in case I came across some interesting sights.

I made a circle from the Rapids Trail to the Switchback Trail down to the North Branch and walking back up the hill, came across this six point stag browsing the vegetation. I was able to take several shots before he heard the shutter and turned around to look straight at me. After a few seconds of staring, he took off with a flick of his tail, running down the hill. I followed, but by the time I got back to the river, he was crossing the stream too far away for a good shot. The sun was setting, illuminating the tops of the trees on one bank with that orange light so characteristic of the season and the reflections on the water were brilliant. The whole scene was reminiscent of Winslow Homer's unforgettable paintings.

When I got home and printed my photos, I thought combining two shots to put the stag at the edge of the stream might work. Here is the result of my experiment. It is convincing?

Golden Beeches

Golden Beeches, pastel on Wallis paper, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

This is a vertical format painting of the golden beeches on Rock Creek Park, based on the same series of photos from the week before. There are subtle differences from the previous week's painting in the way I handled the colors. I wanted to cool down the foreground leaves a bit so I experimented with layering some lavender on top of the yellow-green.

Both paintings have something of that lovely effect of a magical moment in nature that is so fleeting. By now most of the leaves have come down; the few that are left on the trees have dried to a crisp straw color.

Beech Wood at Sunset

Beech Wood at Sunset, pastel on Wallis paper, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.
SOLD

Last Saturday as I was driving home from my plein air session on Rock Creek Park, a sight compelled me to stop at one of the pull-offs. I was on a steep slope deep in a wood of ancient beeches, with the sun sinking behind the hill. The leaves at the horizon were glowing with golden hues and the light reflected on the fallen leaves. The gray trunks of the beeches were blueish, a lovely effect. I had to capture this before it vanished.

A photographer had stopped there with his wife and young son in tow. We agreed this was a rare moment, and took as many pictures as possible. When I got home and downloaded my photos, I knew I had to paint this! Pastels, which I haven't worked with for some time, seemed like the most suitable medium for the piece. I happened to have a couple of pieces of Wallis paper prepared for such an occasion. Here it is--I'm working on a another image in vertical format which I'll probably finish this weekend.

Time Out of Time

Bridge Over Rock Creek, oils on canvas panel, 14" x 11." Contact artist for price.

In the city, with the temperature warmer than in suburbs, the trees usually turn later than where I live. Now that we've set our clocks back an hour, it's light enough in the early morning when I traverse Rock Creek Park on my way to work that I can see the colors of the foliage, and it seemed that last weekend would be the peak of color there.

Saturday was a rare day in a string of beautiful, sunny days we've enjoyed this fall. There was frost on the grass when I went out to get the morning paper, but it would soon be gone. I packed my gear and a sandwich, and set out late morning on my usual route to Rock Creek. On weekends and holidays, the main road through the park, Beach Drive, is closed to car traffic down to Blagden Road, about halfway downtown, so I had to take another road that parallels the creek high up on a steep hill.

A six-point stag scurried out of the way as my car started climbing up the hill. The beeches were golden and one could see bits of the creek way below peeking through the gaps in the foliage. I stopped to take photos along the way, and managed to find an empty place in the parking area across Blagden Road. The cyclists, joggers and nature-lovers were out in droves. I walked around looking for the best vantage point to paint the bridge on Beach Drive, and decided to have my lunch before starting to paint, to give the sun overhead some time to establish the direction of the afternoon shadows.

I put my easel in the middle of a thicket of vines, set back far enough from the bridge that the vines hanging from the trees framed the view nicely and painted all afternoon. Lost in my effort to get the right colors and shapes, I stopped only when the light had changed so much that the vines were now completely in shadow. I packed up my gear and walked back to my car. Surprisingly, it was only 3:30 PM--it seemed like so much more time had elapsed! How wonderful to feel for one brief afternoon as if one had stepped completely out of time. We would all be better people if once in a while we got some time out of time.

Glowing Embers

Autumn Pastoral, oils on canvas panel, 11" 14." Contact artist for price.

During the shorter days of November, an exquisite seasonal melancholy sets in that I relish. With the greens of summer gone, the orange-golds and crimson of October leaves burn to deeper shades, like glowing embers on the trees. The effect is particularly striking in the late afternoon when the sun's rays slant low, casting a reddish tint wherever the light lingers.

There is something wonderfully solemn about it, perhaps elegiac, in this light--I'm not the only artist who has felt it. I've been reading Van Gogh's letters to his brother Theo, and in a recently memorable one, he writes: "don't let me leave before there is something of the autumnal evening in it, something mysterious, something important."

I started this painting late on Friday afternoon by Clarks' farm down the road. A flock of sheep was grazing on the hills across busy Route 108 while the shadows crept along. The traffic roared past with deafening noise while I raced to get the pastoral scene down on my panel before the light completely disappeared. The sun heated the bleached grasses as sunset approached. I managed to get my last strokes in as the sun's rays were leaving the tops of the trees. Packing my gear, it was amazing to see how quickly the colors and the sky had changed while I painted.

The View From Riverhill

The View from Riverhill, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14."

Last weekend was gorgeous--perhaps the peak of color for this fall. Friday was quite windy, but I had too many errands to run so I couldn't get out to paint. By Saturday afternoon entire stands of trees had been denuded, but there was still lots of color left. I just needed to go out and find it.

I drove out Brown's Bridge Road towards the banks of the Middle Branch of the Patuxtent River, but there was nothing much there. Going back to my neighborhood along Route 108, I drove by our local garden center, Riverhill, a favorite of mine. The seasonal arrangements at their entrance are usually eye-catching and this one of mums and bales of hay with cornstalks was no exception. I pulled into their parking lot.

Across the road, fields of green beans grew over rolling hills that sloped down to distant pastures. I've been wanting to paint this view for some time because it looks so rural one would hardly believe it's actually in the middle of Howard County's plushest suburbs, but the fact that there is no place to stand out of the way of the traffic usually discourages me--cars drive by at an alarming speed on this stretch.

I set up my easel in a safe corner of the parking lot at Riverhill and started blocking in my painting. I hadn't expected it, but I attracted a lot of attention from shoppers coming and going. Several people who were painters stopped to chat, and a couple of families with children who liked art. I think my fields may be too green for the season, but I managed to get a good sense of the shapes of the trees and the rolling terrain in the afternoon light.

Jug Bay Paint Out

Jug Bay Wetlands, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

Last Saturday the weather was beautiful for the MAPAPA Paint Out Plus at Jug Bay Wetlands Sanctuary on the Patuxtent River.Thanks to MAPAPA President Gary Pendleton, our group had obtained access to River Farm, an area of the sanctuary not normally open to cars. Two master painters, Lee Boynton and Sam Robinson, would demonstrate and talk about their approach, offering helpful tips. Since I have not been in the plein air class this fall, I was really happy to have an opportunity to see Lee and some of the artists who have become my friends through his classes.

Lee Boynton's painting demo, early stage

By the time I got there Lee had started his demo and was holding forth about his favorite subjects: color and composition. He had chosen an old red barn with an inviting curve of road leading to it for his subject. His panel was almost covered with paint, but there were still some bare spots where I noticed  a deep Mars Violet tone showing. This was new for me--Lee usually recommends we start with white panels the better to judge color--so I asked him about it, and he shared that at one time he used to tone his panels, but several of his students would tone theirs in such garish colors, he decided it was better to recommend everyone start with plain white panels. Over the summer he had gone back to toning his panels and was enjoying the results. To tone or not to tone? That IS the question.

After watching Lee paint for a while, we all started our own paintings. I set up by a picnic table overlooking the river so I wouldn't have to bend down to the ground to set up my palette. I had a molar extracted two days earlier and was still hurting (my face was quite swollen); I didn't want to move around too much. A young lady I'd met at another paint out shared the table with me. Lee came around to offer advice. He asked me what the focal point of my painting was to be. Frankly, I hadn't figured it out. He suggested I try to place something where the lines of movement in the composition were leading. I decided to place a boat on the river, but I am not sure just how successful it is. I like the colors and the rest of the composition, but I think the boat may be too small for the desired effect.

While I was eating my sandwich, Sam arrived and set up his kit. I went over to watch--he was working with water media, but it was not transparent--it was gouache (I had thought he was a watercolor purist). He was working on a toned panel too--a mid-tone neutral brown--which served him well. He explained that gouache allowed him to work with a technique similar to oils, except that it dried so quickly he could build up layers of color for a loose, impressionist look. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to take photos of his work--fascinating!

Jug Bay Beach, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12."

In the afternoon I moved down from the hill where I'd been to a small beach on the river. Here the width of the river was more apparent, and the golden reflections of the trees on the water glowed. Despite the loveliness of the afternoon, I'm afraid this painting did not turn out very exciting--I was definitely not feeling my best and the painting shows it. Still, I was glad to get the practice and spend a wonderful day outdoors in this special place. I'd like to paint here again before the season ends.

Golden October Afternoon

Golden October Afternoon, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

Last Saturday was a beautiful fall day, sunny and warmer than the day before. In the morning I had to run errands, among them picking up my paintings from the Ellicott City Paint It show (none of them sold). By afternoon the wind had died down and the temperature was delightful, so I went out to paint at my current favorite spot by the Patapsco River.

It's been so warm many trees are just starting to change color; this year the leaves are not as colorful as in other years due to our summer drought. Still, I wanted to paint the fall colors and the late afternoon light had set these trees at my favorite spot a-glow. I had just about two hours to do my painting--I didn't want to get caught here after dark should the park gates be closed at night.

Sometimes pressure can be a good thing: it forces one to focus and make decisions quickly. I managed to lay in blocks of foliage in yellow-orange tones in the background with warm shadows fairly fast. I knew the light would vanish soon, weaving the golden orange glow in the water into darker shades. I kept to the warm earth tones for the shadows throughout (Mars violet is a versatile pigment), and worked the greener foliage in the foreground with the branch details and the rocks last. I am pleased and feel the painting captures the wonderful light of that afternoon.

By the time I finished and packed up my gear, the sun had gone from all but the tops of the trees, and the air was getting chilly. The day hikers and picnickers had left, and a few campers were settling in for the night.

The Cylburn Arboretum

Gazebo at Cylburn Arboretum, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.

On Friday, the Howard County Plein Air group met at Cylburn Arboretum in Baltimore. I'd heard about the Cylburn for a number of years, but I'd never gotten around to visiting it. I was surprised to find how close and easy to find it was. The historic Cylburn Mansion was built right after the Civil War and has an incredible luxury of architectural details and interior furnishings such as wood carvings, plasterwork, mosaics and tapestries. The property is surrounded by over 200 acres of gardens and some very unusual trees.

The Cylburn Mansion

Fascinating as the house was, it would have been a two or three session painting to do it justice. Instead, I opted for a view of a gazebo in one of the gardens that was a bit sheltered from the wind (it was a bit chilly and quite windy). The sun lit the leaves of one tree from behind, turning them to gold. The contrast with the purple-mauve flowers in front was lovely. The plant was not labeled so I have no idea what it was. I looked up in my botanical books and sites to see if I could identify it, but my search was in vain.

The Old Seneca Artisans Festival

Pumpkins at Rocklands Farm, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

Last Saturday I participated in the Old Seneca Artisans Festival at Rocklands Farm in Poolesville, MD. I'd been invited by the organizers, three young college grads who work on the farm and whose brainchild was the festival. Rocklands Farm is a historic property with a unique house built around the early 1800's I'd guess, and a collection of interesting outbuildings in a beautiful setting.

 We artists had a choice of hanging space in the barn or setting up outdoors. Since I didn't want to take a chance on the weather, I paid the fee for the barn. The weather was great--very warm and sunny, so my precautions were not necessary, but the barn turned out to be a really neat space: our hosts had rigged spotlights to light the interior, but the light filtering in from the window slats was what gave it a special feel. I sold one painting and have a nibble on a couple more.

I'd brought my easel & panels to paint during the festival, but forgot to bring the bag with my brushes, solvents, etc. so I was very glad to find another artist, Evan Goldman, who had also brought his gear. Evan kindly loaned me a few brushes and let me dip into his bucket of solvent and oil medium so I could paint. We couldn't resist painting the fabulous display of colorful pumpkins on a truck right by the old silo. It was so much fun, I hope they'll do the festival again next year.

Evan Goldman painting the pumpkins.

Purple Asters

Purple Asters at Brookside, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12." SOLD.

This past Friday the Howard County Plein Air group painted at my favorite site, Brookside Gardens. I was the first to arrive and used the time to walk around and see what was blooming. I had hoped for a spectacular display of fall mums, but those plantings were barely budding. A small army of volunteers was working on putting up lights for the Christmas display, pruning and planting spring bulbs, and repairing the handicapped ramps. It reminded me of my visit to Giverny where troops of gardeners maneuver on Mondays, the day the gardens are closed to the public.

A clump of purple asters in one of the formal gardens reminded me of my mother's garden in the fall. She loved the icy lilac-blue of these asters against the rusts and yellows of the foliage, and I share her predilection. Looking at this particular scene, the shade of the shadows on the stone paving was so close in hue to the flowers, it was remarkable. The other plantings added interesting touches of unexpected color to the scene.

I tried to keep the painting as loose as possible, and think I managed it in the background, where there is just a hint of trees and wall. Now if I could dare to stay as loose in the nearer parts of the painting, I may yet achieve what I'm after. Each attempt brings me closer.

Howard County Conservancy Fall Festival

Goldenrod on the Hill, oils on canvas panel 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

Late Afternoon Hills, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

Yesterday the Howard County Conservancy was holding its Fall Festival. I had not known about this local organization, whose headquarters are in a 300-year old farm donated to our county by the last generation of its owners. The non-profit group's mission is to help preserve agricultural farmlands and unique historic sites in the county. The conservancy has built a community center on the site, the Gudelsky Center, which has an art gallery now exhibiting "Vanishing Howard County: A Collaborative Art Exhibit Pursuing the Themes of Conservation and Preservation in Howard County" (Whew, that's a long title for an art exhibit!).

The Howard County Plein Air Group had scheduled a paint-out during the festival and we couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day: the crisp early morning temperatures warmed to a delightful afternoon.
I met my two new pastel artist friends, Deborah and Maria. The morning dew was heavy on the grasses; the fields of goldenrod and dry grasses amid mown fields formed wonderful patterns. A few more painters joined us as the morning wore on, and lots of visitors stopped by to look as we worked on our paintings.

The Conservancy is quite close to my house, about fifteen minutes, so I decided to go home for lunch and return for another painting in the afternoon, though by that time all the other artists were gone. The the late afternoon light glowed on the dry grasses of these fields turning them red and gold. It's such a difficult color to capture! I set up amid the tall grass to avoid being in the path of the hay-ride wagon, and worked until about five-thirty. By then the hay rides were over and it was so quiet I could hear the cries of birds.

I kept thinking of Henry Hensche's dictum that every change in form is a change in color, wishing I had been able to make more of a distinction between the near and far grasses on the hills in the morning painting. The afternoon painting is more successful at giving a sense of the shape of the folds of the hills. Now that I know about the Howard County Conservancy, I will be going back there to paint soon--there are lots of trails to explore there.

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The Field at Tanglewood, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

Above is one of the paintings from the Olney Plein Air that I hadn't photographed earlier (my painting of The Backyard Naturalist sold and I didn't get a photo of it). Interesting to note how the vibrant greens of summer vegetation have changed to the earthier yellow-greens of early autumn in a scant three weeks. The trees are starting to change, though fall color won't be at its peak for another few weeks.

Clark's Elioak Farm

Clark's Elioak Farm, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 16." Contact artist for price.

Yesterday the weather once again was magnificent. The Howard County Plein Air Group whose acquaintance I made at the Ellicott City Paint It had scheduled a paint-out at Clark's Elioak Farm, a quarter-mile away from my house, so it was the perfect opportunity for me to join them.

I got there at nine AM just as the owners were opening the gates to their popular petting farm, and asked permission to drive up their private road a bit further so I could get to this lovely view and set up my easel under one of the venerable old oaks along Route 108. This area is named after what must have been an ancient oak known as 'Eliot's Oak' and a cross street is called Elioak Road.

Shortly after, Deborah Maklowski, a pastel artist who is the organizer of the group, came by and set up a bit farther down the hill. It seemed we were the only artists there today. The morning passed pleasantly. I was struggling with the shadow in the foreground when I decided to take a break to see how Deborah's work was going. She was just finishing her pastel, and it had turned out lovely. She packed her gear and then came over to look at my work and offer encouragement.

I worked a bit longer, but feeling I was not improving the painting at that point, I packed up and was back at home shortly after noon. After lunch I worked on the shadow a bit more on and off during the afternoon, changing the shape a bit and softening the edges, until it became less distracting and more unified with the rest of the painting. I like the variety of colors in the rolling fields and the way the road moves towards the farm buildings in the distance.

Inner Struggle For Harmony

September Morning on the Patapsco River, oils on canvas panel, 14" x 11."
SOLD

Lately I've been feeling I'm in a rut with my painting. Lee's classes have taken me rapidly to the point where I understand how to organize what I see into a workable composition: how to use color and value to express light and shadow, as well as separate the perceptible space into background, middle ground and foreground. Yet from an intellectual understanding to actually being able to achieve the effects on the canvas there is still some distance to go. Not to mention that ineluctable quality of excitement so necessary to catch the viewer's eye and capture the heart.

With these frustrations roiling my psyche, the pressure of competing at Paint Annapolis this weekend was more than I could deal with, so yesterday I made up my mind to skip it this year, both the MAPAPA member's show and the Dueling Brushes Competition. There's no need to put that kind of pressure on oneself when one is stressed so close to the breaking point. Besides, it's unseasonably hot--too hot to be trudging on shadeless streets looking for fresh & original views of our capital city, struggling to find parking, working on a tight schedule, etc.

Instead, this morning I went back to the McKeldin Area to paint. I had intended to re-visit the same composition I'd struggled with a few weeks ago, but walking along the path I saw this bend in the river. The light on the trees and reflections on the water were so lovely on this still morning with the burbling of the stream as the only sound, I was entranced. I set up my easel right on the path and started to block out the painting.

I exaggerated the blueness of the distance for a mistier effect than in reality, and that in turn accented the yellow of the sunlight on the foreground trees. I took my time balancing the colors and bringing out some details on the rocks, the reflections and ripples on the water. The trees dropped leaves on my palette from time to time while the occasional hiker walked around me. It was so relaxing--this was exactly what I needed, and I think the painting shows it.

Olney Plein Air

Elena painting at The Backyard Naturalist on Georgia Avenue

Last Saturday Sept. 11 was the Olney Plein Air Festival. This year we had only one day to paint: we checked in and had our materials stamped in the morning. At five our work was to be handed in unframed, to be displayed for sale at the Olney Farmers and Artists Market the following day.

The weather was wonderful and it was a joy to be outdoors on such a day. I forgot to bring my camera along so I am not able to show you the two pieces I painted. I had hoped to take photos the next day but the following day was very rainy and the organizers rescheduled the art display and sale for Sunday Sept. the 26th.

In the morning I did a small painting at one of my favorite local stores, The Backyard Naturalist on Georgia Avenue. You can see some of the colorful whirlygigs and banners in front of the store in the photo that organizer Bobbie Staat took of me while I was painting. The traffic on Georgia Avenue became quite heavy by mid-morning and the noise was deafening. I wished I'd brought along earplugs, but then I couldn't have chatted with a man and his young son walking by who had never seen a painter at work before.

For the afternoon I chose a quieter spot at Tanglewood, a private historic estate a few miles from Olney. The new owners had invited our group to paint on the property--the house is in the process of being restored and is quite interesting, but I found the surrounding fields and woods far more appealing in the late afternoon light. You'll have to wait until Sept. the 26th to see my paintings. The Olney Farmers and Artists Market takes place every Sunday from 9 AM to 1 PM from early May to early November. Come on by to see some lovely paintings and buy the freshest produce at great prices!

Watercolor vs Oils

The Patapsco River at McKeldin Area, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12"

Last weekend I went out to paint with a friend at the Mc Keldin Area of Patapsco State Park. It was a gorgeous morning, sunny and clear, with just a hint of fall in the air. We were at a trail just below the rapids where there is a wide pool before the river turns its course to flow through the forest.

I chose this view because the light coming through the leaves of this small sycamore maple was so lovely: the light breeze set the leaves to dancing and the water beyond glinted in the sunlight. I was working in oils and Mary Jo in watecolor; we worked on our paintings for about three hours, until the sun was high overhead. By this time huge clouds had gathered and the wind was picking up speed. Mary Jo didn't seem too happy with her painting--she doesn't use watercolors often--and I could see there were some problems with her work. Her strokes were much too much the same throughout the surface, with not enough color variation to give a sense of the space, of foreground and background.

After I got home and looked at my painting again, it seemed to me that mine had lost a good deal of that initial sense of light, of the warm light and shadows in the foreground against the cool background. This can easily happen as the light changes rapidly, and my work had clearly suffered from this confusion.

The next day I decided to paint the same scene, this time using watercolors, which I haven't worked much for the past year. I had some reference photos I had taken when I was finishing my oil painting.

The Patapsco River at McKeldin Area, watercolor, 10" x 14"

I think the watercolor is much more successful than my oil (it's cooler in color overall, since the photo was taken as the sky was becoming overcast). The background in the watercolor remains more nebulous and cooler, while the foreground leaves, despite a soft focus, are in the proper relationship. The real difference, however, is the value of the tree-trunk, which should have been much darker and cooler in the oil to make it pop to the front. The distance should have been lighter and bluer in the oils to make it recede.

In the watercolor the softer darks on the left are more suggestive, it could be a footbridge or merely trunks, but they balance the darks of the tree trunk on the right, so the composition reads better. This illustrates perfectly a case where, as Mies Van de Rohe said, "Less is more." I must learn to restrain my impulse to put everything in minute detail into my paintings, in order to subordinate all other elements of the composition to the focal point. Somehow, I find this easier to do in watercolor than in oils. Could that be because I've learned to plan my watercolors more methodically or does the medium lend itself more to simplification? Hmmm...

Ellicott City Paint It

Old Ellicott City Fire Station, oils on canvas panel, 9 " 12."

Painting the Firehouse from Main Street. Photo by Vesselinka Warren

Last weekend (Aug 28-29) was the "Paint It" plein air in Ellicott City. There were about thirty artists juried for the event and it was my first juried plein air competition. We had two days to produce our paintings, then bring the framed paintings to the Howard County Center for the Arts (Hocoarts.org) for the exhibition.

On Saturday morning I headed over with the idea of starting with the old railroad station, now operated as a museum. I had not realized that the museum did not open until 11 AM. I had my rolling cart to drag my ever-increasing art supplies, so I decided to use the time painting a street scene in front of near-by St. Paul's Church.

The day was sunny, and getting hotter. By the time I finished my first painting at noon, standing in the sun was unbearable, and my painting was nothing I cared to show. Chalk that one up to a warm-up. An old friend and fellow artist, Mary Jo Tydlacka, walked by and saw me--she was painting another view of this scene from the porch of the house next to the church, and she had been smart enough to set up in the shade.

Ellicott City Station, oils on canvas panel, 11" x14."

After gathering my stuff, I rolled my cart over to the B&O Railroad Museum to ask permission to set up on the platform. The lady behind the counter said that would be fine as long as I paid the entry fee of $5 and didn't block anyone. Done! I asked if I could leave my stuff there to go pick up a sandwich across the street, ate quickly and was back at the station before one o'clock. Another attendant opened a gate to the ramp leading up to the platform so I could get my cart up.

The afternoon passed quickly while I painted. Quite a number of folks, many with children in tow, came over to see what I was doing and asked questions. I explained about the Ellicott City Paint It and urged them to come see the exhibit later on. One little girl in particular was fascinated and stopped to watch me for a long time.

I finished around four, utterly dehydrated and done in by the heat. Where were those volunteers from the tourism office who were supposed to bring us water bottles from time to time? I left the station and got everything back to my car, and drove to the parking lot near the Howard County Tourism Office to get some water. I debated whether to try for one more painting or call it a day--eight hours on my feet in that heat was just about enough.

After drinking a bottle of iced water I felt better and walked about looking for another painting. There were two pastel artists right across the street from the Tourism Office doing some very nice pieces. At the corner was an antique shop that had several chairs set out on the sidewalk, and I sat on one to rest my aching feet and take in the view. The Old Ellicott City Fire Station (again now a museum) perched on a hill above Main Street would make a nice painting.

A man came out of the store and started to bring things in. It was almost five so I asked him if he was closing soon. At five, he said. Perfect! I could bring my own chair from the car and sit here. The crowds thinned out a bit after the stores closed. I was deep into painting when a lady walking by asked me if I would mind having my photo taken. Of course not, I said. Her charming accent betrayed her foreign origin and I asked where she was from--Bulgaria--we chatted a bit and she offered to send me a copy of the photo so I could use it here.

By the time I finished my painting the sun was long down and it was getting dark--it was eight o'clock and I was completely exhausted. I had barely the energy to drive home, eat some dinner and hit the sack. I was asleep in an instant.

Patapsco River Bridge, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14"

The next morning I left the house earlier, hoping to use the cool of the day to paint by the river. It was a little hazier than the previous day, but the early light was beautiful on the water and the rocks. Deborah and Maria, the two pastel artists I'd talked with before were there, and shortly after I started, another artist came by. Janice had begun her painting the day before but had not finished it, so I moved over a bit to allow her some room. Her painting was gorgeous and it received a well-deserved award. She also made a few helpful comments about mine that I really appreciated. Overall, I think this was the most successful of my four.

Quitting around noon, this time I was ready to head home and frame my wet paintings (always a tricky proposition) to hand them in that evening for the exhibition. On Monday evening there was a reception and awards ceremony--there were a lot of wonderful paintings there and all are for sale. Go see the show at the Howard County Center for the Arts; it will be up until October 15.