A Second Anniversary Gift

With the stress of two record-setting snowfalls in one week, I had forgotten that yesterday, Saint Valentine's Day, marked the second anniversary of the Maza Studio blog.

Mother Nature sent a special gift--a beautiful group of five to six bluebirds, a pair of which I managed to photograph here, perched in my back yard. If it's true that bluebirds are a symbol of happiness, then my cup runs over.

Our ice palace is decorated with giant icicles--here is a huge one by the door to the deck, and some by the garage sparkling in the sun.

As I begin my third year of blogging about painting and nature, I hope to bring all of you, my readers, as much inspiration and happiness as possible.

After the Blizzard

After the Blizzard, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14," $200 unframed.

When the first rays of the sun appeared Thursday morning after the blizzard, they revealed this enchanting sight in my back yard. The sun sparkled on the ice crystals while the trees cast long fingers of blue across the snowy expanse. I took some photos for reference, since I knew the shadows would not last long enough for me to get my palette loaded and ready for painting.

Painting would have to wait until after I had helped Herb dig out the driveway (again!) and put in a bit of time telecommuting. By that time the lovely mounds of snow weighing down the trees would likely be gone. In fact, sometime during the morning, two big branches of one the cedar trees in the back snapped and crashed down, as did most of the juniper's by the front porch. I wish I'd thought to shake the limbs free of snow before they broke, but I had been reluctant to go out in the thigh-deep snow. Now we'll have a lot of trimming to do come spring, and our porch looks so naked!

Our Friday morning painting class was cancelled because the parking lot had not been plowed yet (the schools were closed too), so today I had the opportunity to paint this scene with the help of my photos. I painted from the dining room window where I'd left my easel. It's the same view painted the previous Saturday while it was snowing. The difference in the colors due to the lighting makes for an interesting comparison between the two paintings.

Even Deeper Snow

Looking out the front door

This past weekend's 29-30 inches got topped off by yesterday's, continuing on through tonight. I took this photo just before dusk today(Wednesday), recording 34 inches on our rear deck. One has to keep in mind that the snowpack had melted about six inches since last weekend.



It's neat to look out over the deck from inside. I don't think I've ever seen this much snow at one time in all my years here. They are saying it may be a record not seen since the 1800's. I've been telecommuting for my job so I haven't had a chance to paint; I hope to get a chance to tomorrow, after we dig ourselves out. I wonder if I'll be able to make it to painting class in Annapolis on Friday?

Here's Mr. Cardinal--one spot of bright color in the monotone of the landscape. I feel sorry for our poor birds in this blizzard. I think the cardinals are nesting in the junipers around our porch (they usually nest at this time of the year). The missus is probably brooding in her nest under the snow cover while the mister tries to forage. I'll set out some bread crumbs for them in the porch tomorrow, in hopes of seeing the nestlings in about three weeks.

Really Deep Snow

Really Deep Snow, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12."

Since mid-week, a great blizzard had been forecast for our area, starting Friday morning. I debated whether to go to painting class only to be forced to leave in the middle or to simply stay home. I took a chance--the first flakes started about halfway into our paintings. Fortunately the snow was very light at this point, and the temperature high enough that it wouldn't stick to the pavement until later in the day, giving us plenty of time to finish and drive home.

I didn't get back until nearly three, after a stop at the bank--it seemed the entire world was out shopping, laying in supplies in anticipation of the blizzard. After lunch I noticed the flakes were starting to stick to the grass, but it hardly seemed possible we would get the 20-30 inches predicted. I dismissed the forecast as the usual killer weather hysteria the media so loves to amplify.

By twilight a few inches had accumulated, and stillness descended over everything like a vacuum bell. The wind picked up during the evening... looking out the front door the snow was now blowing sideways, piling up comical caps on the lamposts, mailboxes and bushes. Our backyard table, which Herb and I nicknamed the "Mazometer" because it's easy to visually gauge the amount of snow on it, looked to have about twelve to fourteen inches when I turned in. The snow was blowing down in torrents.

It's a cozy feeling to be snug under the covers of one's bed in a warm house during such a storm. I could hear the wind howling as I dozed off while watching TV. At some point in the wee hours through sleep I fancied I heard a deep rumbling... could it be thunder? I've heard thunder during a snow storm only once before, during the "Storm of the Century" as the late March blizzard of 1993 has become known. During that one we actually saw flashes of lightning along with the thunder, but in our area that storm dumped only about fourteen inches, as I recall.


In the morning we awoke to a winter wonderland of deep snow, still falling. It was so beautiful that I set up my easel in the dining room, to paint the evergreens in the backyard bent way over under their heavy load. It's hard to believe the two cedars (on the left in the painting) are actually rounded in shape. I wonder if they will ever spring back to their normal shapes once the snow falls off or if some of the limbs will break first.

By the time the snow stopped in the afternoon, the level on the deck appeared higher than the top the Mazometer, which is 28-30 inches tall. It seems we really did get the predicted thirty inches; actual measurement will have to wait till tomorrow when we dig out. This is the most snow I can recall getting at one time in my nearly 48 years here in D.C.


With the storm I had almost forgot all about the still life painting from class the day before. Its rich, warm colors contrast nicely with the iciness of today's Really Deep Snow painting.

Green Bowl with Bottle, oils on canvas panel, 14" x 11"

The Glass Challenge

Still Life with Bottle, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14."

I love a challenge, and glass is probably one of the most challenging materials to paint, so I asked our teacher, Lee Boynton, if he could set up a still life with a glass bottle in it. I had not expected such a dark backdrop for our challenge, but that is part of the fun in Lee's class.

Though the bottle reads as glass (it was filled with olive oil), I fear my composition is a bit pedestrian. In retrospect, I could have made it more exciting with different cropping or perhaps a vertical format. Of course, having a good angle also helps, and because I got there a bit late, the better positions in the class were already taken. Sometimes an unexpected perspective is what makes the composition more exciting.

I'm finding that I prefer an angle that presents more shadow than light to play with--it gives more drama to a composition. I didn't nail the colors either. The bowl was actually more of a coral color than this burnt orange, and the apples could have been better modeled. I'll have to try harder next week.

Painting the Truth

Orange Bowl with Green Apples, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 9." Contact the artist for price

Today in class we talked about truth in painting: what we are after as painters is to find and paint the true color of objects. If we could simply put down the true color of all the objects in exactly the right place throughout the painting surface, their shapes will be conveyed to the viewer and the illusion made perfect (and we'd be geniuses!).

Since the objects in nature and our still life studies rarely have easy colors, today was a day to stay away from formulas. I struggled to try to find subtler, truer shades. In the shadows, where reflected light is most obvious, I think I managed to find some truth here and there, but the faded terracotta color of the backdrop still defeated me. I was able to see how much lighter in value it was compared to the shadow side of the pitcher, but still have a ways to go towards finding its true color.

Last weekend I recycled some of my old paintings by sanding the panels and gessoing them over. Looking at the work from last year, I was happy to see how much more color I am able to put into my paintings today than a year ago. One learns the language of color little by little, experimenting every time one paints.

Color Corrections

Terracotta Bowl Still Life, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12," first version

Terracotta Bowl Still Life, second version

The New Year's winter session started this week and I am back in class to sharpen my vision of color and form. Henry Hensche said, "Every change in form is a change in color," and that is one of the most difficult things for a painter to represent accurately.

There was another activity scheduled in the classroom afterward, so our class was a bit shorter than usual yesterday. None of us students were able to develop our paintings much beyond the basic light and shadow stage.

I thought my purple cloth background was way too pink and the third apple in shadow a bit too dark, but I had no time to correct these things in class. After I got home I decided to try to adjust these, relying on memory (a dangerous thing to attempt, I know). I think the purple background is much closer to the true color in the second version; although the apple's value is closer to true, the color became a bit muddy.

In any case, the comparison between the two versions is interesting, particularly if you take into account the fact none of the other objects in the painting were changed. Yet they appear somewhat different because the two versions of the same painting were photographed in very different light--today it's heavily overcast, whereas yesterday was bright and sunny.

A Stag Party

Gotcha! You thought this post was going to be about something else, didn't you? These three stags wandered into my backyard this afternoon when inspiration was singularly lacking.

In all my years observing backyard wildlife I've never seen three stags roaming together before. In fact, it's rare to see even one feeding with a group of does (groups of up to ten does browse through here frequently).

The young stag on the right had one antler broken off close to the base, and the other points were broken off at the tips. Herb told me he had seen a stag with a missing antler lying down in our yard one afternoon this fall during the mating season. The stag remained in that position for almost an hour and was in obvious distress. I believe it might have been this individual recovering from losing a battle. I'm glad to find he managed to survive to fight another year.

After the stags left, a small group of does came from the other direction. The poor creatures are so hungry I've had to fence off my rhododendrons to protect them from their depredations.