Easton Paint-Out Plus

Bullitt House, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 9."

Last Saturday was MAPAPA's first paint-out of the season, held in Easton, a charming historic town on Maryland's eastern shore that hosts an annual Plein Air Art Festival. Easton has gained a reputation as one of the best art towns in the country; it's home to many nationally-known artists, the Academy Art Museum, and the Easton Studio and School, our sponsor. It was to be a "paint-out plus"--local artist Tim Bell  would present a lecture at the end of the day and offer an individual critique of the participants' work. The Easton Studio School would serve a Mexican dinner for the artists afterwards.

It was one of those typical east coast spring days--if you don't like the weather, just wait a few minutes... An intermittent drizzle had been falling all during the drive and it was overcast when I arrived. I parked and checked in at the Easton Studio School. I was walking toward the historic district to select my painting site and looking at the map when my foot caught on a curb and I lost my balance--I fell forward but managed to break the fall landing on my knees first, stopping just as my nose touched the pavement--whew! Luckily, I didn't break anything, not even skin. A lady driving by saw me fall and paused, until I signaled her I was all right.

I ran into my friend Roberta Staat and we walked around looking for sites where we could set up under cover. She selected Mason's porch, a lovely restaurant on Harrison Street, and I agreed that seemed like a good spot. We were walking back to our cars to get our gear, when I spotted this view of the back of one of Easton's historic homes, Bullitt House. It was a complex subject architecturally, but the garden framed the view so well, it really called out to me. There was a large cedar by the sidewalk where I could get some shelter from the rain if necessary, so I came back here. It drizzled lightly from time to time as I painted, but I stayed dry under the shelter of the cedar.

By noon I had finished my painting but was chilled to the bone; I thought it wise to warm up at the school while I ate my lunch. I walked back to the car to get my brown bag. By the time I got back to the school, the sun was dazzling out of a ragged blue sky. I gobbled my sandwich and then ran off to pick up my painting at the Adkins Arboretum, a short distance away. I hadn't mentioned here that my painting, Maryland Veldt, won the second place Leon Andrus Award  at the Adkins Arboretum competition "Discovering the Native Landscapes of Maryland's Eastern Shore" this year.

The run to the Arboretum took an hour. By the time I got back to Easton and started out to paint I had less than two and a half hours left, and it was pouring! Being a die-hard, I went out in spite of that but got so soaked within a couple of blocks that I had to take shelter under a porch. I actually set up right there and tried to paint another street scene, but it was so complex there was no point in trying--it would take too long to paint.

The rain had slacked; I walked over the Mason's to set up on their porch. There was a lovely cherry tree in bloom by an outdoor patio, but somehow the view didn't compose well--I forced myself to start anyway. I struggled with it for more than an hour, obviously not getting anywhere, before I gave up--it would have been better to not push myself at this point. I'd have to scrape off the paint when I got home to save the panel for something better. It was almost time for the lecture anyway, so I went back to the school.

Tim Bell's take on the artist's need to distill from nature was quite interesting. He read several memorable quotes from Carlson's book on landscape painting and Edgar Payne's Composition of Outdoor Painting. I was particularly fascinated by his visual comparison of Edgar Payne's paintings and field sketches of the Sierra Nevada with actual photographs of the sites--I had not realized just how much Payne had not only composed the paintings, but how much "atmosphere" he had added to lend that sense of distance and grandeur to the mountains. I took away much from all these experiences, and the delicious dinner was a wonderful way to end the day. Thank you MAPAPA and the Easton Studio School for a great Paint-out Plus!

The Trillium Trail - Two Views

The Trillium Trail, digital photo (color) on archival paper, 16" x 12."

The Trillium Tail, digital photo (black & white) on archival paper, 16" x 12."

I'm offering these two versions of large size digital prints of one of my photos taken on the Trillium Trail at the Thompson Wildlife Management Area in Virginia one spring a few years ago. This site contains the largest known stand of Trillium grandiflora growing in the wild--the flowers range from purest white through shades of link pink to deep cerise, indicating they may have naturally hybridized with other species of Trillium over many years.There are literally millions of them in bloom! Many other wildflowers bloom here in the spring: yellow ladyslipper, Orchis spectabile, several varieties of violets, Lousewort, Squaw root, etc. making the woods seem like one giant flower garden.

Both photos are beautifully printed on heavy archival paper, and are selling for $150 each as is. Please contact me if you are interested in purchasing one.

Three Sisters Spring Pastel

Paddling to Three Sisters Spring, pastel on Wallis paper, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.

This past weekend I attended MAPAPA's Annual meeting. This year it was held at St. Paul's School in suburban Baltimore. The opportunity to meet with other members was, as always, a treat, and the artists' demonstrations very inspiring. I was particularly fascinated by the work of Maryland pastel artist Lisa Mitchell; her demo made me want to try out some of her techniques as soon as possible.  I worked this small pastel from my photos of the Three Sisters Spring taken during our January vacation.

I blocked in the composition by brushing turpenoid over the pastel for the under-painting, and built up the finished surface with my Sennelier set of soft pastels. Lisa had recommended using a variety of touches to blend colors and sculpt out details. It was fun to try it out. My palette is somewhat limited at this point, as I only have a Rembrandt landscape set (fairly hard pastels) and the soft Sennelier half-sticks to choose from. I would like to acquire a wider range of hues and some suitable trays to carry the pastels out in the field for plein air painting. If any of you know of sales of Unison or Terry Ludwig soft pastels and foam-lined trays, please let me know.

Spring Fever

Yesterday Herb and I got up early to begin spring cleaning in our yard. We had rented a chain saw to cut down some big branches that had broken off during the winter. Mercifully, this year's snowstorms were not as severe and there were fewer branches down than the previous winter, when we spent three weekends cleaning up the yard. We were done in a couple of hours.

In the afternoon the sun came out and the temperature rose--I noticed one crocus flower bud had poked up in my front yard, but all the others seemed to be at least a week away from any bloom. I figured that Brookside Gardens, being closer in town and warmer, is seasonally ahead, so I drove there to scout out painting locations for the coming weeks.

An expanse of mauve crocus flowers greeted me at the entrance by the Visitor's Center. Further up the path, intoxicating scents of Witch Hazel and narcissus wafted from my favorite patch of birches (see last year's posting A Host of Golden Daffodils). It wasn't quite warm enough for painting yet, but there were enough flowers to gladden the heart on this sunny afternoon.

Kayaking Down the Weeki Wachee

Herb with our kayaks at the starting point.

I'd been hoping to be able to post the finished video I had taken of our kayak trip down the Weeki Wachee River this week, but unfortunately I am still editing it, so I thought I'd post some photos of the highlights. It was chilly the morning we drove down to Weeki Wachee, sunny and clear. In fact, the thermometer never made it over 57 degrees that day.

We put out around ten-thirty and agreed to be picked up at two in the afternoon at Rogers Park, the designated pick-up area for the rentals at the state park, seven and a half miles downstream. The starting point is just below the swimming area near Weeki Wachee's headspring, and the water stays crystal-clear for several miles downstream. The flat-bottom tour boat was coming around the bend just as we entered and honked at us to get out of their way.

Drifting downriver.

I got out my camera and started filming while drifting downriver--the six-knot current propels one right along. After a minute or so we reached the first bend, and it was necessary to stop filming so I could maneuver around a small islet in the middle. As I rounded the islet, the flat-bottom boat was heading back, coming straight towards me and blasting its horn like mad for me to get out of the way, which I managed to do in just a nick of time.

Birdsong permeated the thickets along the river, with the occasional sound of a motor from the road beyond or a plane overhead. I kept filming and drifting, and ended up getting tangled in the branches hanging over the river, or running into the banks when I failed to paddle around a turn--the river is all sharp "S" bends in the upper part.

Herb paddling on the Weeki Wachee.

 The river seemed lower than when we'd been there two years before; we found out later there had been a drought last year. There also seemed to be more fallen trees. At one point my kayak got stuck on the branches of a sunken log and I had to dip my arm in the water to push it loose. The water was a pleasant 72 degrees, but as soon as I pulled my arm out, the cold air made my wet sleeve feel really frigid.

Alligator sunning on the bank.

We saw a good-sized 'gator sunning on the banks, and turtles basking on logs as we made our way down the river. At some point we paddled past the house we had rented two years before and recognized the neighborhood--some of the decks by the river had deteriorated quite a bit since then, and others had been replaced.

Herb way ahead.

A blue heron poses in front of a fake parrot.

Downstream from Dawn Lane the color of the water begins to change subtly as it becomes more brackish--we were now entering the lower tidal zone. A blue heron and a belted kingfisher played tag with us, staying just ahead. There were more houses along the banks on this stretch.

Captain Fred had told us about a place on this part of the river called Hospital Hole--it's a fissure that is 160 feet deep, and divers who attempt it without allowing for decompression time end up in the hospital with the bends. He said once he'd made a bet with a local lad who had no idea just how deep this hole was and thought he could free-dive down to the bottom! Manatees like to congregate around the hole.

Looking for Hospital Hole.

We were looking for Hospital Hole, keeping in mind to bear left to stay on the river (a number of canals go off in this area), when we came across a group of fishermen casting from a large boat. They pulled in their lines to allow us to pass by, and we asked them the whereabouts of the hole. This is it, they said, you're directly over it--one could see the color of the water was different here, a deep sea blue-green. There were schools of large fish swimming around, and then I spotted a manatee cow and her calf coming up for air. I grabbed my camera and noticed there were drops of water on the lens--oh-oh!

Herb and I circled around the hole a few times while I filmed. There seemed to be a pod of about a dozen manatees, with at least three babies. Some of my footage came out blurry from the condensation on the lens, but I managed to get two of the mothers with their calves. One pair came so close to my kayak I could have reached down and touched them, and then the baby turned to look up at me--so cool!

Hospital Hole was very close to the end of the run, and soon we were at Rogers Park pulling up our kayaks on the ramp--we didn't have to wait long to be picked up.

Elena kayaking into Rogers Park.

More Crystal River Sketches

Windy Day in Crystal River, watercolor, 10" x 14." Contact artist for price.

Here are few more sketches I did in Crystal River during our vacation. The one above is a watercolor looking out from the front of our house done on a very windy morning. The one below, a small oil of the sunset looking out on Kings Bay on an overcast evening. Our location in Crystal River offered so many wonderful views it was hard to decide what to paint next!

Cloudy evening on Kings Bay, oils on canvas panel, 8" x 10."
Contact artist for price.

Crystal River Archeological Park

Crystal River Archeological Park, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

I was surprised to learn that Crystal River had an archeological site dating from 14,000 years ago. The Crystal River Archeological Park gives the visitor a fascinating glimpse into these prehistoric settlements. Six burial and ceremonial mounds are found on the 14-acre site at the mouth of the Crystal River, which was occupied until the times of the Spanish conquest.

Armadillo at the Crystal River Archeological Park

On our way into the park we saw another car stopped by the side of the road. Curious, we pulled up to see why these folk were there--and saw an armadillo cross the road--the creature lingered long enough to allow me to take this shot.

The small 1960's-style museum housed an interesting collection of artifacts and exhibits giving a history of the  cultures who successively occupied the site, as well as the early 20-century archeologists who studied it. Motion-controlled stations with recordings around the site provided a nice self-guided tour.

Herb and I walked by the burial mounds and climbed up the large Ceremonial mound (the highest on the site) which had at one time an earthen ramp that had been removed and replaced by stairs. We saw a stone stele with a face carved on it, a rarity among these early cultures.

The large Ceremonial Mound

The Stele

There were many birds and wildlife all around. The place was pervaded by a quiet elegiac atmosphere, to which the Spanish moss waving on the huge trees probably contributed. I resolved to come back another day to paint on site.

Herb at the archeological park

I came back toward the end of our stay and painted the oil above on a very windy and chilly day--sheltered from the wind behind the trunk of a large live oak, it was much warmer here in January than in Maryland.

Slogging on the Chazz

The Chassahowitzka River

I wanted to explore the wilderness around Crystal River. Talking to the volunteers at the Wilderness Refuge one day, a lady suggested we canoe or kayak down the nearby Chassahowitzka River (the "Chazz" for short) to a side creek where there is a place the locals call "The Crack" at the headwaters of the creek.

It was early afternoon when we rented a canoe at the Chassahowitzka Campground at end of the Miss Maggie Road (they included a small hand-drawn map of the area for our benefit). They told us they had no kayaks available on slow weekdays. That proved to be lucky for us, as it allowed us to explore the creeks at low water.

First, we paddled 100 yards upstream to the springs that feed the river. It was hard to tell exactly where Chassahowitzka Spring was--a first magnitude spring. Presumably it was the first deep pool with a strong current we traversed. Further upstream to the left there was a set of "unnamed springs" that the canoe rental guy referred to as Seven Sisters--a series of vents of varying sizes. The water here was crystalline, one to two feet deep, and the pools startlingly blue-green.

One of the Seven Sisters vents.

We turned around at the uppermost vent and started back downstream. Groups of pelicans flew by, some landing on the water near us, others on trees. Further down the river a flock of vultures perched on a dead tree; blue herons and cormorants fished the banks. A fisherman was working his net in the middle of the river. This was the real old Florida!

 As we made our way toward Baird Creek, we encountered a couple on kayaks who entered the creek ahead of us. They had trouble getting by the shallow mouth marked by a small island, but soon they outdistanced us as we labored through the shallows. We met them again not long after--they'd had to turn around when the course became too narrow for their paddles. The canoe allowed more room for maneuvering, so we were able to paddle upstream almost all the way to The Crack.

We paddled through places with currents strong enough to make us work really hard, through a wide, deep blue-green pool (later I learned this was called Blue Springs), and channels so narrow our canoe got wedged between the banks. We kept paddling through beautiful, thick Florida jungle, seeing wading birds. Where was this mysterious Crack? We met a small group of canoers heading downstream and asked them. Their leader said we were very close, but would likely have to walk for the last few hundred yards.

 

Eventually we ran aground--it was time to ditch the canoe. Herb sank knee-deep into black mud as he was trying to pull up the canoe, but managed to not lose his shoes. We persisted and sloshed ankle-deep in the warm, clear water the rest of the way, until we finally came across The Crack.

The Crack was a few feet across by some thirty feet long, and who knows how deep? The bottom couldn't be seen--it cut across a very shallow swimming hole decorated by a fallen palm trunk that had been carved with initials for apparently a number of years. We couldn't linger very long as it was past four then and we had to return the canoe by five. About this time a few insects began to appear--I can just imagine what they must be like in the summer months.

We high-tailed it out of there and back to our canoe. Later Herb said he hadn't had this much fun in a long time--there might be something in swamps after all. I think Swamp Girl (his nickname for me) has made a new convert!

Herb at the Blue Crack

You can see more photos of our Chazz Adventure on Flickr.