Reception at Ranazul

Elena with Terri and Rob Day at Ranazul

An opportunity suddenly came my way last December to show my work at a local upscale restaurant: Ranazul Bistro in nearby Fulton. Ranazul has a beautiful room, the Galeria, for displaying art.

They asked me if I could show my art for the month of January. Luckily, I had a good amount of framed work  from the Brookside show on hand, as well as other paintings from last year's plein air activities, so the show was hung on Jan. 8, and the following Sunday, Ranazul hosted a reception with tapas and champagne for my guests.

I was not expecting much of a turn-out considering the month--at this time of the year most folks are jaded from the Christmas holidays and ready to hibernate. I was surprised that a few friends we hadn't seen in a while turned up--Terri and Rob Day brought a lovely bouquet of flowers for me (Thank you, my dears!), and a number of other friends and family members too, eager to buy their favorite pieces. Herb came along and officiated as photographer. It was a very successful afternoon in all respects.

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Orchid study in graphite

Twigs N Leaves (revised), watercolor

Here are some more botanicals. The Dimensional Study 204 class started last Saturday, and I've been practicing my sketching with an orchid that is about to bloom. I also added a few new elements to my Twigs N Leaves piece for the Painting 103 Class before submitting it for evaluation--I think the composition works better now.

Twigs N Leaves

Twigs N Leaves, watercolor, 10" x 8."

Here's my latest assignment for the Botanical Illustration certificate program. We were charged with composing a "scatter" design with leaves using tertiary colors (ocher, russet and olive green). These colors are the natural colors of the fallen leaves I usually collect on my walks, so it seemed logical to use some of them in my piece.

These particular leaves, with the exception of the glossy Camellia leaf at the top, were gathered on a walk in Rock Creek Park that Herb and I took on a warm November day. The foliage colors were lovely, especially the beeches with their golden brown glow, the maples in reds and yellows coming in a close second. Herb collected the nut--a pignut--which was just cracking open and opened further after a few days indoors. Drawing the nut from a frontal view to reveal the sections of the outer shell with the nut inside was a real challenge, and I had to try several times to get it right.

The Euonymus alatus (lower right, small reddish leaves) is an invasive non-native species, but its tiny red berry with the winged pod adds an interesting detail. There is an American species which is a far more desirable plant and native to our area, Euonymus americanus, also known as Strawberry Bush or Bursting Heart for its unusual seed pods.

Here's a photo taken during our walk.

End of the Year Musings

Our family at Christmas--we managed to fit twenty-four of us at our house. My sisters Bea (in red dress right behind me) and Silvia (also in red behind one of her granddaughters) with their husbands and children. A few kids who don't live in the area are missing.

It's that time of the year again, where did it all go? When comparing 2010's count of 62 postings on this blog, this year's 51 (and many of those without paintings) seemed a paltry showing, so I thought to add one more and make it 52. One posting per week average sounds much better, especially if you take into account how tough times are. Survival seems to have taken up a lot more energy and time, consequently it's been harder to focus on art and the pure joy of painting... but we stumble on at whatever pace possible.

Dragon Display at Brookside Gardens' "Garden of Lights."

Here's hoping that 2012, another Chinese Year of the Dragon--a Water Dragon no less!--will shape up into being a whole lot better.

Happy New Year!

A Solstice Walk at Chapman's

Circling a champion Tulip Poplar at Chapman's Forest--there is a third person behind the tree, but the circumference was so large, he couldn't join hands with the young lady on the left.

Last Sunday before Christmas the Maryland Native Plant Society (MNPS) did its annual Winter Solstice Walk at Chapman's Forest. I stayed at my friend Patrise's house for the weekend so I could be close-by, and Linda and I joined the group. Only about  six or seven of us had registered on-line, so I was shocked to see that more than 50 of us showed up!

Turns out that this is a very popular event and many of the local folk who worked for a long time to obtain the historic landmark preservation status for Chapman's have been doing this solstice walk for years. One lady told me this year was the best weather they've had so far, so that may account for the number of folk there. The day started out overcast, with temperatures in the upper forties, but after about an hour, a wan winter sun broke out and it began to warm up.

Our leader, Rod Simmons, talked knowledgeably about the different  types of forest and plant communities as he led us through the upper forests of shell marl, and told about the many species of oaks found in this tract, their distinguishing characteristics, etc. The leaves are the best indicators as to the species, though general shape, the terrain and the acorns also hold clues. I had no idea there were so many different types of oaks: southern red oak, chinquapin, post, pagoda, and chestnut oak, in addition to the better-known white oak, scarlet oak, pin, and black oak. Some of these are unusual in our area, and found mostly in old-growth forest such as Chapman's.

After a couple of hours of hiking around, we took break for lunch. Rod had announced we would toast the solstice toast during our break, and I thought he was joking, that it would be a symbolic toast with the water we had each brought along--wrong! A couple of the men in the group had brought bottles of Glenlivet single-malt scotch and some wine for the occasion, along with tiny one-shot plastic cups that they passed around for the toast.

After our repast, we continued on down a steep ravine. Sadly, a champion-sized Tulip Poplar that had stood there for centuries had been brought down by this past September's storms and thirteen inches of rain. There were still plenty of other champion-size trees to see.

Rod seemed to be able to navigate by these trees, which were probably like old friends to him. He allowed that he and several other men in the group had been hiking this tract since the early nineties. We stopped by a huge pagoda oak before turning towards the Potomac River, where a high bluff offered spectacular views of Mason's Neck in Virginia on the opposite shore.

We continued along the river, down another steep ravine to an area with a couple of old abandoned houses. We were told these cabins were an old duck-hunting camp that President Hoover used to frequent in his day. There was an Osage orange tree growing near the shore, and the largest sassafras tree I'd ever seen--the bark exhibits unusual ridges when the trees get to a certain age. If one flakes off chunks of the bark, one can smell the spicy scent of sassafras.

Eventually we worked our way up another hillside where I recognized the old brick chimney near the place where Virginia bluebells bloom in the spring, and realized were were now very close to Mont Aventine and our starting point. The sun was low on the horizon--we had been hiking for over six hours and who knows how many miles over some fascinating terrain. A few folks had dropped by the wayside due to other commitments, but I was surprised by how many of the group finished the course, including several elderly among us. I was bone-tired, so I can imagine how they felt, yet it was such an enjoyable experience!

I hope to explore more of Chapman's next the spring, and definitely repeat the solstice walk next year. For more photos of the Winter Solstice Walk at Chapmans, click on the link to my Flickr album.

Blue Holly, Red Holly

Blue Holly

Red Holly

The approach of winter signals the end of the outdoor painting season (at least for those of us who don't like to freeze our patooties). Other years I've made the effort to get out to paint despite the weather,  but after a particularly hard year, I'm not feeling motivated to endure the additional  hardships of cold-weather plein air this year. I'm hard-pressed to find something new for the blog, and populating it with work from my botanical illustration classes seemed fitting, especially because holly is so symbolic of this season.

These are works from yesterday's class. We were tasked with painting a value study of a sprig with fruit or flowers (previously sketched in pencil) using only one pigment, either Permanent Rose or Windsor Blue.  The idea was to use the darkest value for the leaves, the middle range for the berries with the stem being the lightest value. We were to practice various lifting techniques as well as flat and graduated washes.

I tried one sketch with each pigment, and found the Permanent Rose to be much harder to work with. The color was so bright that after a time my eyes were totally strained, and it was harder to get a really deep value even using several layers of washes.

This is a particular variety of holly planted at McCrillis Gardens that I like--the leaves have a variety of unusual shapes, some more rounded, others with three points, and pendulous branches.

Botanicals with Color

Botanical studies with color pencil

The past couple of weeks have been particularly hard--the daily road warrior commutes from my new job in Virginia have been horrendous, averaging close to three hours each evening. One evening set a new record--a four hour struggle on that quaint slow stream of traffic locally known as The Beltway. It's left me little energy for painting on the weekends, except for my Botanical Illustration classes, which I am enjoying tremendously.

A couple of weekends ago Herb and I went for a walk on Rock Creek Park (see photos on Flickr Fall Walk on Rock Creek Park) and collected some interesting botanical material: an assortment of leaves, twigs and nuts. The assignment for the Painting 103 class in the Certificate Program, which I finally decided to enroll in, is to create a "scatter composition" using leaves and flowers or fruit and paint it in watercolor using flat and graduated washes. The above is a page of studies for the elements I plan to combine.

We were given some lovely Lumochrome coloring pencils at the first Painting 103 class last Saturday, and I colored parts of the leaves in my study so I could record the colors before they changed. I'm still working on the final composition--I'll try to post my finished assignment this weekend or the next. This  drawing was scanned rather than photographed--I think this may be a better way to reproduce these small delicate drawings.

Burnt Gold in the Woods

Burnt Gold in the Woods, oil on canvas panel, 11" x 14."

 I have been waiting a year for just the right autumn day to return to paint the beech woods on Rock Creek Park where I had taken those marvelous photos the previous year that inspired two studio pieces (Beech Wood at Sunset and Golden Beeches).

The Beech Woods on Rock Creek Park

Yesterday was The Day--I packed my paints and set out towards DC in the afternoon to capture the majesty of the place at this time of the year. I had the pull-off all to myself as I walked across the bridge to find the best view for my painting. The ideal spot was right in the middle of the bridge, but of course that was too dangerous, so I set up on the far bank where a trail crossed the road.

The afternoon sun illuminated the distance, and the foliage seemed more burnt gold than last year, although there was still a smidgeon of greens on some leaves.  After quickly sketching in my composition in vine charcoal, I set to work--there was not a moment to lose--the light would be gone in a couple of hours. I laid in the trunks of the foreground trees first and then the orangy leaf cover on the ground, covering the white of the panel as fast a possible in fiery strokes. Then some very light yellow for the sun on the distant slopes, and deeper yellow-orange for the tree tops, leaving some white for the sky.

At that moment the painting looked so garish--but every painting goes through this ugly stage after you've blocked in the masses, and I've learned not to despair. I would break up the mass with the distant trunks later, after establishing the contours of the sloping hills with a bit of lilac for the shadows. The light was fading fast, the sun barely skimming the treetops as I started painting in the distant trunks.

At that moment, an owl interrupted the silence of the forest, "Who-cooks-for-you, who-cooks-for-you-too?" This is the call of the barred owl, one of the birds we saw at the Soldiers Delight refuge a few weeks ago. A concert of owl calls from several different directions followed. I looked up to see if I could spot anything in flight, but there was no movement anywhere. There must have been two or three other barred owls answering the first one's call. This went on for a bit, then the owls became silent.

I left small details such as the sprinkling of leaves on the branches in the foreground for last, figuring they could be put in later in the studio if there wasn't time on site, which turned out to be the case. It was becoming dark as I put away the painting and packed my kit. The owls called a few more times while I was walking back to my car.

Here is the painting. I may put in some finishing touches with the aid of my photos after it dries, and then again, perhaps not. It manages as is to capture some of the magical quality that drew me there.

End of the Season

Tridelphia in Fall, oils on linen panel, 11" x 14"

Friday morning was cloudy, but the sky started to clear in the afternoon. I grabbed my paints from the freezer, got my kit and drove out to Tridelphia Reservoir, to a spot where the Howard County Plein Air group had painted last summer. The summer session had been in the morning (see my summer painting here for comparison); I wanted to study the changes brought on by the season and a different illumination.

For some odd reason, perhaps the inordinate amount of rain we had in September, this year our usually spectacular maples and tulip poplars have been rather subdued in color. But to make up for it, the oaks, which normally turn dull shades of brown, have taken on some of the loveliest colors--golden caramel, yellow-ocher with hints of olive, rusty reds and orange.

The breeze was chilly, and I layered up with an extra jacket so I could be comfortable. There were a couple of fishermen out on the water, but other than that, I had the place pretty much to myself. As the afternoon wore on and the sun started going down, those last rays of light seemed to set the foliage on fire. I hate seeing the days become shorter as the winter solstice approaches, but at moments like this, the brief autumnal sunshine, to paraphrase Emily Dickinson, burns with such a lovely light...