Yellow Lady Slipper

Yellow Lady Slipper, watercolor, 14" x 10." $150 unframed.

A few springs ago my friend Linda and I explored the Thompson Wildlife Management Area in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. We were hoping to hike through the stands of 'Millions of Trilliums' that are unique to this particular location. As we trampled through woodlands transformed by the magic of spring, we were delighted to find several small stands of Yellow Lady Slipper (Cypriedum calceolus) and another unusual orchid, Showy Orchis (Orchis spectabilis) growing near the paths.

We returned the following spring to paint the Yellow Lady's Slipper from life, but my field sketch did not capture the graceful lines of the plant: its banded leaves, the spiral curling of the two upper petals. I put away my sketch for future reference.

This weekend I dug it out along with my photos and painted this watercolor as a companion piece to the Ghost Flowers. Accurate drawing of its complex shapes is essential to bring the plant to life.

The Will to Create Returns

Ghost Flower, watercolor, 14" x 11." $150 unframed.

The will to create returned this weekend after weeks of illness. It was fun to finally paint these Ghost Flower plants (also known as Indian Pipe--Monotropa uniflora is the botanical name). Herb and I first found this unusual plant during a walk in the Rachel Carson Forest preserve near our old home in Sandy Spring a number of years ago. In those days I didn't have a digital camera so the best photos I could take were not close-up enough to reveal all the details of this fascinating plant that has no chlorophyl, but feeds on mycorhizal fungi growing on the roots of other forest trees.

That first time I actually picked one specimen to sketch back at the house and discovered that the plants turn black shortly after being picked, so the specimen became useless. The plant is only about 5-6 inches high, so it's not easy to spot. Over the years we've looked for them in early summer when they bloom, but had never found them growing as profusely as the first time we discovered them.

This year after a very wet late spring, we went out to look for them again and there were hundreds of them emerging from the forest floor! I had a marvelous time taking photos. This particular clump was so fresh and lush it just begged to be painted. I'm now hot on the trail to find other related species to photograph & paint.

The Obligatory Maine Lighthouse

Hendricks Head Lighthouse, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12"

On the last day of the workshop I was still very sick but decided to go out for one more painting. Lee had selected a location on the east side of Southport where there was a wonderful view of this lighthouse. A map identifies it as Hendricks Head on the Sheepscot River. The light had two baffles that you can see at right angles to the lantern.

How could one be in Maine without painting a lighthouse? We artists set up along a tiny beach with these great exposed rocks and tidal pools. I set up my easel so I could sit down by the edge of the road, as close to my car as possible since I had little energy to go far. Others ventured farther out on the rocks to get a better view.

By noon fleecy clouds were gathering in the sky and the incoming tide was starting to cover the rocks. At one point while Lee was giving me suggestions another student yelled, "Look out, your easel is floating away!" Sure enough, the water was starting to cover the rocks where he had his set up.

We had a quick lunch break and continued painting while the sky took on a more threatening look. By one-thirty we packed up and managed to get our gear in the cars as the first raindrops fell. The rainstorm eventually passed and the sky cleared but it was a little late for another painting. We left early the next morning for the long drive back home. I hope I'll have another opportunity to paint in Maine when I am my usually healthy self.

Boothbay Harbor Workshop

Barret's Park, Boothbay Harbor, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12"

On the first day of Lee's workshop in Boothbay Harbor we went to this beautiful park by the water. We started with a black and white value study in the morning. It was quite foggy in the distance, but clear and sunny with a nice breeze.

In the afternoon, we worked the same painting in color. It was fascinating to see how much more extreme the tides are in Maine than here on the Chesapeake Bay. There was a much as an eight to nine foot difference between high and ebb tide. This painting was begun shortly after high tide, and by four thirty about one-third more of the rock and beach were exposed. The rocks become sun-bleached only where the water doesn't reach them, while the parts that are submerged stay dark in color and grow orangish seaweed. My rocks came out too dark and reddish in this painting; they were lighter in reality.

I was feeling awful but being a die-hard, I just took aspirin and tried to ignore my throbbing head while I kept on painting. By the end of the day I was totally drained. I had brought out my paintings to show our innkeeper Mary, and forgot that I placed the B&W study on top of my car while I put away this one. I was so out of it, I forgot I had the painting on top of the car and drove off to the grocery store to find some fruit for dinner (all I could manage to eat). Another student found my B&W painting in the street and brought it back, all pock-marked from falling face down on the gravel.

Feverish in Monhegan

Landing on Monhegan Island, Maine

View of White Head from Burnt Head, watercolor, 10" x 14." Contact artist for price.

I felt chilly on the boat ride from Boothbay Harbor and was glad I'd brought my three-season LL Bean jacket. The fog was just lifting as we landed on Monhegan Island for what promised to be a beautiful, clear day. But even with the day warming, I still felt chilled to the bone, and very tired. After we checked into Monhegan House, our hotel for the night, I lay down for a bit. I must have dozed off; when my roomie Linda came by, an hour had elapsed. She said the room was stifling, yet I still felt cold and dazed, so it was likely I had a fever. What a time to get sick!

Determined to not lose the opportunity I'd so carefully planned, I went out with Linda to get some lunch and afterwards, forced myself to put on my backpack and hike up the hill to Burnt Head, the nearest of the famous headlands where artists have painted on Monhegan for over a century. I had zero energy, and had to stop to rest several times as the trail ascended.

The trail wound past a number of lovely cottages as it rose, and then some meadows dotted with wild flowers until it opened onto a rocky plateau with magnificent views of the headlands and the ocean far below. This is the highest point on the island and in coastal Maine. It's no wonder artists have painted it so often--it's spectacular!

I could see a couple of other artists way down on the rocky shore with their rigs, but I had no energy to even think about going down. I set up my stool and sat down to paint right there, concentrating only on getting as much as possible done. After about two hours, I had this sketch completed and my back ached horribly, so I lay down on a sun-warmed rock trying to absorb its warmth while Linda sketched. We headed back as the sun was getting lower on the horizon and I went right back to bed. Linda brought me some soup up to the room for dinner later and I slept feverishly the rest of the evening and night.

I felt not much better the next morning and it was quite foggy, so after breakfast I just walked around the village and took some photographs. I saw a couple of artists painting by the swimming beach: sombre, uninspired artworks. It seemed to me they were not getting the idea of the fog--pictorially speaking, fog makes objects lighter the farther away they are from you, not darker--that much I've learned. After a while I left them to their paintings and went back to sit on the porch of Monhegan House to watch the world go by until it was time to board the boat back to Boothbay Harbor.

The Easton Quick Draw

Elena at the Easton Quick Draw street sale.

Girl in a Garden, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12." Contact Artist for price.

I made plans to paint at the Easton Quick Draw on Saturday morning. I was lucky to find a lady who'd been in one of the same workshops and Lee's still life class last winter had a house in Cambridge, the next town below Easton on Maryland's eastern shore. Brande was so kind to host me for the night, and getting to know her was a real treat.

I had expected a modest country farm house, but her house turned out to be a beautiful historic waterfront estate. She and her husband had bought the run-down property about ten years ago and had lovingly restored it, turning it into a charming place. The house was built in the 1830's; the original farmstead dated from the 1700's. It had fireplaces in most of the rooms, was beautifully decorated with a mixture of antique and contemporary furnishings, all the modern conveniences and gorgeous views of the water.

I started out too late in the morning, reluctant to leave such a beautiful place and apprehensive about the competition, thus didn't arrive in Easton till after ten. I'd scouted out some locations the day before and was pretty sure my best bets were the Historic Society's Garden or a small park a block away (no buildings). The public parking was right next to the shady historic garden and it would be cool on what promised to be a hot day.

About ten other artists were there already, so it was hard to find an empty spot, but I found a corner next to a screeching AC unit. Best yet, another artist had posed a young girl on a bench in the middle of the garden within my field of view-- I had a model for free! Working furiously, I managed to finish a credible painting by twelve and ran back to my car to get the frame & wire, then lugged it all to the next block where the street sale and judging were held. By noon it was blisteringly hot and we had to endure this for the next two hours. After I walked around looking at all the other paintings I sat on the street curb to rest my tired feet.

A lady who had seen me while I painted was interested in buying my painting but she didn't want to pay the price (I thought it reasonable considering the 25% commission to Plein Air Easton); she wanted a bargain. I told her if I hadn't sold the painting toward the end of the event I'd reduce it a little. She returned a bit before two and I knocked off $50. She looked pleadingly at her husband, but he walked on, so I packed up my stuff and took it back to my car. I was surprised to see that many and better paintings by the juried artists didn't sell either.

Afterward I stopped at a small sandwich shop to pick up a cheap lunch and took it back to eat in the garden. At this hour the garden was deliciously quiet, a gentle breeze blowing through the crepe myrtles. I was the only person there and the food and relaxation revived me after the morning's pressure.

After lunch I walked over to the Easton Academy to see the juried artists' work and the award-winners. Many of the artists were different from last year and it seemed to me that some of these artists' work was not as strong. I wonder how this level of artists circulates around these plein air events, trying their luck one year here, another year there. I imagine the jurors don't pick the same artists year in and out, though the jurors are usually different too.

It was a bit after three when I finished there and remembered that master artist Kenn Backhaus was doing a portrait demo at the Troika Gallery from 3:00-5:30 PM. The demo was on the sidewalk in front of the gallery. Kenn had already toned his background and sketched out the model's face in pencil. He was just starting to put in the first darks: the eyes and areas around them, then the forehead shaded by the model's beret. It was miraculous how the features began to emerge right from the start. I propped myself against a conveniently located lampost--so worn out I literally needed the support. My feet were killing me but there were no seats available--I should have thought to bring my portable stool. Around five Kenn gave the model his second break and a couple who had been sitting in camping chairs got up--I asked if I might occupy one while they were gone and they kindly consented. As soon as I sat down I started to doze off, struggling to stay alert to watch as Kenn continued to transform his painting, stroke by stroke, into a lively likeness.

After the demo I walked to the South Street Gallery to see Camille Przewodek's show and hear her gallery talk on color. I liked her a lot. Over the years I've heard a good deal about Henry Hensche and read his book, but her take on him revealed yet another aspect of this great artist and teacher. I think I'll be ready for her workshop next year, God willing.

Thank heaven the traffic on the way home was light--I was so exhausted I could barely function. As I headed west on 32 I drove through a huge thunderstorm and got home only to find that there was no power at our house. Herb & I had to go out for dinner since we couldn't cook anything; I bathed by candlelight and turned in very early.

Londontowne in Spring

Londontowne in Spring, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

It's high summer here in Maryland; we've been lucky to have cooler and less humid weather than usual so far. Still, I wasn't motivated to go outside to paint last weekend. My new 84-mile daily commute to my employer's Arlington office started the Monday before and by Thursday evening I was totally exhausted.

I'd been wanting to paint Londontowne Gardens so I dug out some of my photos taken this past spring when the gardens were at their most splendid. Voila! I love the the variety of greens of the foliage against the pinks and purples of the azaleas and bleeding hearts on this cloudy day.

Blue Heron Among the Waterlilies

Blue Heron Among Waterlilies, oils on canvas panel, 14" x 11." Contact artist for price.

My husband Herb kept urging me to paint something new and suggested I try birds. I told him it was impossible to paint birds in plein air. Birds rarely sit still for very long or let one get close enough to see any of the necessary details. That's why John J. Audubon had to kill his birds to paint them in such realistic detail. Thank heaven it's not necessary to kill the poor creatures anymore--we have cameras with zoom lenses to get our shots.

I took this photo at Centennial Park one morning last year and painted the beautiful blue heron from it in the studio yesterday. I love the graceful curves of the bird's pose, the setting among the waterlilies and the reflections on the water.