Fun with Cuban Zombies

Cuban Zombies (Clockwise from upper left): Zombie Raul, Zombie Che SOLD, Zombie Fidel, Zombie Dalia, Zombie Mariela. Five 3" x 2" oil paintings for sale at The Soundry, $75 each, or $250 for all five.

I signed up to create five tiny 3" x 2" oil paintings for the "Baby Canvases II" show at The Soundry because the idea seemed like a lot of fun (I'd done a similar project for Art House last year, the Canvas Project. and everyone loved my Zombie--it was selected for an exhibit at the Atlanta Airport).

That is how I came across The Soundry. It's a really cool new concept in independent artist spaces--a combination coffee shop/internet cafe/performance/artist studios/co-op gallery space that promises to start a new trend and put Vienna, VA on the DC art map.

Cuba has been in the news recently because of the death of one of the political prisoners on a hunger strike and the subsequent escalation of repression against their relatives, the Ladies in White, so it seemed timely to make a little fun of the old dictator and his entourage. If there's one thing evil can't stand it's being laughed at.

I turned each of these characters into movie-style zombies: a senile Fidel Castro maniacally poking his finger in the air--his brother Raul mimicking him; a woozy Che Guevara pointing his gun at you. The female contingent was represented by Fidel's current wife Dalia, an elderly fashion maven trying to look still beautiful, and Raul's daughter Mariela, who has been assigned the role of advocate for tolerance towards homosexuals (in a traditionally homophobic machista Revolution!) holding something that might be a bloody microphone, or is it a penis?

If you live in the DC area, go out to the Soundry, enjoy the show, and scoop these great original miniature paintings at a bargain price. The opening is next Saturday night June 26 from 7 to 10 PM. If the five little pieces don't sell there, they will auctioned off here on this blog at the end of the show in July. If they do sell but you'd like to have some Cuban zombies of your very own, I will be happy to produce a similar version of any or all of the zombies for you--just Email your request and contact information.

Chapmans Paint Out

The Potomac from Chapman's Forest, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

Last Sunday there was a MAPAPA-organized paint out at Chapman's Forest. Naturally, I wanted to be part of it, so I arranged to spend the weekend with my friend Patrise in Acokeek. I wanted to paint in Piscataway Park on Saturday afternoon, but it was so hot, I put it off until late afternoon, when the shadows started lengthening. I knew just the view I wanted: the small inlet at the mouth of the creek with a strip of trees framing the distant banks on the other side of the Potomac. The short walk to the bridge across the creek, dragging my equipment in that heat exhausted me, but the light was inspiring.

A small group of fishermen appeared up just as I was setting up. The clouds in front of me were a light peach color in the late afternoon as I was laying down the sky in my painting, while behind me, deep gray clouds were moving in. I had the hazy banks blocked in and started on the water. One fisherman leaving passed me, but the rest stayed put. I was beginning to hear the low rumble of distant thunder in the clouds... perhaps the storm would pass us by? I held off packing, but soon, the other fishermen started to pack up and I had to admit the deluge was about to overtake us. I knocked down my gear as fast as I could, barely cleaning my brushes in my rush to leave. I picked up my stuff and took off running; it started to pour as I ran down the path. The trees there are so thick they protected me from the downpour until I reached my car, where I got drenched getting my gear back in the trunk.

I changed into some dry clothes back at the house. In the evening we made a lovely dinner with some baby back ribs I'd brought; several of Patrise's neighborhood friends joined us for a potluck dinner.

Next morning we got a late start--it was already too hot for Patrise to join the paint-out (as a Michigan native she's not well-adapted to our muggy summers) so she led me there, to take her dogs for a walk. I dressed in my coolest linen & cotton painting duds, but by the time we arrived at eleven AM, the heat was already oppressive. It took me two trips to bring all my things to the house (I included a chair so I could sit comfortably while painting). There was only one logical place to set up in that heat: the back porch of Mont Aventine, where the view is fabulous.

The organizer, Barbara, and three other ladies were there. Their paintings were already quite far along, so they must have been there for a couple of hours. I started mine, trying the composition devices I'd found useful for this particular view, but had not covered all of my panel yet when Barbara asked us to break for lunch and a critique. She and the others had finished their paintings, (in fact one lady working in pastels had done two) and she and one lady left after that. I struggled with my colors all afternoon, trying to convey the atmosphere of the hazy, humid day, and chatted with some of the volunteers. I finished around four and packed up. On the second trip walking back to my car I saw my teacher, Lee Boynton, coming down the drive with his kit. He had told me he was interested in painting here, but wouldn't be able to get there until late in the day. As it was, he seemed to be arriving just in time for another afternoon downpour--the skies were darkening. He was painting furiously when I left.

On the way back to Accokeek, I drove through a bit of light rain--the tail end of a shower that seemed to be centered over Fort Washington--it cleared up quickly. I showed Patrise my day's work, packed up and said my goodbyes to start back home for our usual Sunday dinner with David. I drove home in the most beautiful light, wishing I could have stayed to paint at Chapman's until then. I can't wait for our Friday morning class to see how Lee's painting turned out.

Funky Barns

Funky Barns, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14."

Last Friday our plein air class met at a farm belonging to one of the students. There we found these wonderful old barns with sagging roofs and tumble-down pillars, old barrels and feed carts. The complex form of this group of buildings was the perfect challenge for the class at this point. It forced us to draw accurately in perspective and think of how to articulate the forms with color.

The weather couldn't have been better--a lovely June morning, not too hot nor humid. The space for us was a bit tight as the view was contained between other out buildings, but I managed to snag a corner where I was fairly certain the shade would last until around noon. We expect to return next week for the last class of the session.

Strange Flowers and Nocturnal Sightings

Photo by Herb Borkland

Yesterday afternoon, walking back to the house from the mailbox, I happened to see this strange organism in one of my flowerbeds. What on earth? It appeared to be the fruiting body of some fungus growing on the bark mulch, so I googled "orange-red fungus" and came up with the stinkhorn family. I'd never seen nor heard of these before, but evidently they are common in many parts of the globe and they are weird-looking, some might even say disgusting.

The most likely species I would say are either Clathrus columnatus or Mutinus caninus. According to the website, the brown slime that covers the tip of the fungus (and smells like rotting meat) attracts flies and insects which eat the slime and thus spread the plant's spores. This specimen was already disintegrating, so it's hard to tell what the original configuration might have been. The pine bark mulch must have carried the spores that grew with the recent rains. I'll have to keep an eye out for more, in hopes of a positive identification.

* * *

A few nights ago, Herb and I were outside sniffing the night air (we like to do this before retiring for the night during the warm weather) and happened to see a red fox high-tailing it up the street on the opposite side. The fox was carrying something in his mouth--a small rodent, a rat perhaps? He heard us talking softly and hesitated a bit as he was crossing under the street light. Herb remarked that the poor creature looked nearly starved, yet here he was taking his prey somewhere... I figured he was taking it back to his brood; fox kits born earlier in the spring would be weaned by now but not old enough to hunt on their own. The fox continued at a pace close to a run and disappeared up the street--our encounter lasted perhaps all of ten seconds.

The Rain Garden at Londontown

Rain Garden at Londontown, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

Yesterday promised to be another scorcher, so I was happy our class met at Londontown again. The shady Rain Garden was a lovely cool spot to paint in.

This time we spent a bit more time developing our drawings, actually shading in the values in charcoal on the canvas before going on to the actual painting. This new start was immensely helpful to all of us. When we began to paint, Lee's specific hint to me was to try to use my brushwork more to describe the shapes, rather than relying on just flat strokes. He demonstrated for me, skimming the surface of the paint to suggest leaves and foliage. I like the effect this gives the painting.

I believe I managed to balance the val-hues to good effect: the patches of sunlight on the grass create a nice path to invite the eye into the distance, with a bit of mystery in the shadowy foreground.

Memorial Day Painting

Brookside Pond on Memorial Day, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.

I'd planned to paint at Brookside Gardens with my friend Susan on Memorial Day. The gardens were beautiful in their late spring finery: the pink roses by the gazebo, a few late azaleas including a bright orange native azalea, probably bakerii species. The gazebo up the hill from where this was painted seemed the perfect location to try the same scene as last weekend, now under very different light.

Susan wasn't there when I drove in, so I just set up my palette and gear, and dashed off a 5" x 7" black and white study, with a horizontal format this time. After about hour, I walked back to the car to get my cell phone and find out what had happened to Susan. She was on the phone the moment I picked it up, wandering about the garden but not finding me, so I directed her toward my gazebo until she spotted me.

I explained to Susan what I had been working on while helping her set up her brand-new French easel, and that I thought a similar value study would be good practice for a budding artist (it's good practice even for experienced painters). I presented her with an identical blank panel and got her started with oil paints. Then I went on to work on my full color painting, telling her about Kevin McPherson's term "val-hue" and the orderly steps one should take from a sketch to a finished painting.

It was around 12:30 by the time I had my color painting blocked in and Susan was done with her B and W study--a good time to break for lunch. We chatted away pleasantly while munching. Of course, by this time the sun was coming around to the side of the gazebo where we were, making the temperature rise dramatically--typical for summer in our area. The humidity was palpable, giving a bluish haze to the distant trees.

It became so hot standing in the sun that I had to move my easel into the gazebo so I could stay in the shade. The light had also changed just enough that I decided to modify some of my colors and shadows to reflect the afternoon light. Meanwhile, Susan opted to practice on another black and white value painting, doing a larger version of her study.

We finished our paintings as the shadows were getting longer--it was almost five--tired, but pleased to have shared a wonderful day of painting on our holiday.

In Londontowne

Londontowne Garden, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14."

I had been wanting to return to Londontowne to paint in their fabulous gardens overlooking the South River. Today I got my wish--our painting class met there to avoid the commencement weekend traffic in Annapolis.

The day was overcast and after last night's downpour, cooler than recent days-- a welcome change. Our teacher Lee had brought a copy of Kevin MacPherson's book, "Fill Your Paintings with Light & Color" to show us MacPherson's approach to blocking in a painting, which is very similar to Lee's. BTW, I met Kevin MacPherson and his wife in Santa Fe when I was there a number of years ago (he lives near Taos) and he's not only a very nice person, but an excellent teacher and writer. I treasure two of his books--this one and "Landscape Painting Inside and Out: Capture the Vitality of Outdoor Painting in Your Studio With Oils" (both these books are available from Amazon.com).

Lee prefers to start with the lights rather than darks in his painting, to keep the colors more pure, but also recommends we work on areas that are adjacent until the white of the panel is completely covered. Today we also talked about how to select a site conducive to a good composition and what elements are desirable. We walked around the garden until we'd found a propitious site, so we got started a bit late.

While we worked, the clouds thinned out and a patch of diffuse sunlight illuminated the grassy edge of a flowerbed, providing a nice focal point for our paintings. Most of us stayed late to develop the paintings as much as possible. I'm not sure my colors are convincing or very harmonious here; I don't believe further refinement would improve this one. As it was, I didn't get home until three in the afternoon.

We'll have another chance to paint here again next week. I'll have to remember to bring my camera and a lunch so I can stay later if I want to.

Before the Rain

Before the Rain, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

I felt totally drained after a rough week at work (a fifteen-and-a-half-hour day on Monday), and a bit gloomy about my art prospects. Our usual Friday class had been canceled so I'd driven up to Havre de Grace to pick up my artwork at the Riverview Gallery--it had been three years since I joined the gallery and in that time made not a single sale. It seemed as good a time as any to pull out and save myself a long drive several times a year. For lack of anything better to do, in the afternoon I applied half-heartedly to the Ellicott City Paint It juried plein air weekend in August. Why must the Howard County Arts Council schedule a plein air event during the muggiest time of the year?

On Saturday morning I puttered in the garden, setting out my summer veggies and a few marigolds. The marauding deer had eaten all the tops of the sugar snap peas, setting back my harvest to perhaps just a handful of peas this year (sigh!). The forecast called for rain in the afternoon, so I thought of Brookside Gardens, where I could paint under the shelter of one of their gazebos.

I found my favorite gazebo had been "improved" with the addition of a concrete-and-resin chess table and two seats right in the middle--leaving no room for me to set up my easel (why can't these people leave well enough alone? They've been "improving" the garden ever since they got a bad review from some snooty British gardening magazine decades ago, much to the garden's detriment).

I set up my Guerilla paint box on the low stone wall surrounding the gazebo and managed to sit stradding the wall to paint this view of another gazebo tucked on a small island in one of the ponds. The subdued light and the lush foliage offered a great opportunity for a study in greens, something I've been wanting to tackle. It began to rain just before I finished, but my spirits had risen greatly in just a few hours of artistic exercise.

Boats on Spa Creek

Boats on Spa Creek, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

This Friday our class met at a different location. Lee wanted us to deal with a more complicated subject this week and boats, whose geometry is always challenging to draw, seemed the best way to kick up the difficulty one notch. He led us to Spa Creek, to an inlet where this beautifully kept-up old tug boat was moored. Of course, there were lots of other boats everywhere (we're in Annapolis after all) so judicious editing was called for.

The class spent the first hour just doing a pencil drawing and Lee corrected our drawings, explaining the subtleties of getting a realistic look to the boat's hull lying on the water. The day had started out overcast and cool, but the sun began to break through the clouds as we started to paint, and it soon got very hot and muggy. I regretted wearing a long-sleeved black T-shirt.

I kept my color key to the cloudy, overcast atmosphere, since that had already been established at the beginning. But I spent so much time on the landscape around my boats that there was not enough time left to work on the tug boat. I would have liked more time to get the color of the hull and the reflections on the water truer, as well as other details of the boat, but by that time my brain was totally fried by the heat and I was ready to call it quits--it was an hour past the end of the class. We're going back to the same spot next week, so there will be a chance to try this again.

More of College Creek

College Creek #3, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

Our class was back at College Creek this week tackling the same subject again. Sometimes it's useful to go back to paint the same site over and over--Monet and other great painters did this to great effect--but it can be a bit challenging for the student.

I wanted to vary my composition as well as color from the previous week's, so this time I opened up the frame a bit to include some vegetation in the foreground and repositioned the turn in the creek more towards the center. I think I managed to get a more pleasing composition this way, and the colors are more varied than in last week's painting. I"m using more and more paint these days--I'll have to make a run to the art store soon to replenish my supplies.

The Azalea Garden at Brighton Dam

Last Saturday after getting my hair cut, I headed over to the Azalea Garden at Brighton Dam, hoping the gate would be open and it was--great luck! Last year the gardens celebrated their 50th anniversary; I tried to get in to paint on two occasions and both times the gate was closed. The azaleas, mostly Glendale varieties, were planted at this site owned by WSSC on the banks of the Tridelphia reservoir, source of our drinking water. Although they seem to have suffered some damage in the last few years what with several droughts and our recent harsh winter, they are still an impressive sight, and the water as a backdrop gives the garden more character.

The day was delightful, if a bit hot for this time of the year, and I enjoyed walking around and taking photos before deciding on this view. I attracted quite a bit of attention and many people photographed me while I painted (most were polite enough to ask permission), but only one gentleman, Bill Morris, offered and actually sent me his photo, which you see here. Thank you, Bill for your wonderful photo!

 Azalea Garden at Brighton Dam, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 16."

My painting turned out disappointing--the composition is the only thing to recommend it. I didn't hit the val-hues the way I should have, and my colors are too story-book to be believable. This was one time I should have done a small black and white preliminary study before going to color--it wasn't easy to gauge those val-hues. The white azaleas in the shade are deceptive but they should have been darker in relation to the water, and the foliage and tree trunks in the foreground should have been darker too. When you compare my painting to the photograph above, the actual values become much more obvious. Oh well, I'll have to try this one again--I am tempted to repaint the entire thing, but I don't know if I will have time to go back again this season. May is such a busy month--with nature at its loveliest, every site beckons to be painted.

College Creek Revisited

College Creek Revisited, oils on panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

The spring session of our plein air class started the last week in April, but since I was in Chestertown for the Paint the Town, I missed the first class. Last Friday our class met at College Creek in Annapolis, just like we did the year before--the weather was glorious.

There are quite a few new students, so we started with a small black and white value study and went on to work with color for the second part of the class. Lee has been urging me to get bolder with paint, to lather it on like icing on a cake. After some hesitation, I threw caution to the wind, and went ahead.

First I blocked in the three main val-hues: sky, trees and water, then I began to work the color variations in the trees, using my brushes as expressively as I could manage. It turned out to be such fun, I think it shows--the result is really exciting!

Plein Air Weekend: The New Extreme Sport?

 High Street Morning, oils on panel, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

 This past weekend I took part in Paint the Town in Chestertown. Chestertown is, to my mind, the prettiest of Maryland's historic towns on the eastern shore. Among its claims to fame are being the site of the only other Tea Party in colonial times, and as the location of Washington College, chartered in 1782 after the good General consented to have the college bear his name.

Paint the Town was the brainchild of Mary Pritchard, an accomplished pastel artist and teacher who lives there, supported by the Chestertown Arts League members. A group of artists would paint in plein air all around the town on Friday and Saturday, hold a wet painting sale on Saturday evening and on Sunday morning, a Quick Draw competition with cash prizes. They had arranged for us out of town artists to be housed by local hosts--my hostess for the event would be local artist Marj Morani, who was also taking part in the paint-out.

I got a late start on Friday due to a doctor's appointment so by the time I reached the Bay Bridge there was a twenty minute backup. I didn't arrive in Chestertown until noon, stopped by the Arts League to pick up my registration packet and decided to get a feel for the place by walking around for a few blocks. It had been many years since I'd been there and I didn't remember much. I saw Fountain Park and headed down High Street towards the river, admiring the charming colonial structures along the way.

On the first block I saw one artist finishing her painting and stopped to chat briefly. In the next block, I paused to take in an enormous tree and read a plaque next to it that stated it was a champion big tree, the largest basswood tree recorded in the state: a whopping sixteen feet plus in circumference and well over ninety feet high (it has since been topped by another tree in Charles County). As I was admiring it and the house next door, Mary Pritchard came out--this was her home. She told me that the house across the street had a gorgeous garden and the owners had opened the garden for the artists to paint there for just one day. It seemed too good an opportunity to waste, so I walked over to check it out.

 Painter in the Garden, oils on panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

The garden was lovely, and quite a few artists had nearly finished pieces. As I walked by a lady she called out, "Elena?" Marj, my hostess for the weekend introduced herself. What a stroke of luck! She was finishing up a pastel; we made plans to meet later so I could find her house.

I rushed back to grab my gear and drive to the garden, stopping along the way at the Imperial Hotel to pick up a sandwich (the chicken salad was delicious). The pleasant afternoon passed quickly while working on my painting. It was really hard to edit the painting as there were so many beautiful plantings to choose from.  I was drawn to the dogwood and the lilac, but the urn, which was the focal point of this section of the garden, was empty and needed a little embellishment, which I supplied. Unfortunately my shadows don't read well in certain places, and the greens are too monotonous--it lacks the punch I wanted. 

The artists had been invited to Mary's house for happy hour at 5:30, and we had fun meeting each other and seeing the glass-working studio her husband had set up in the basement.

The following morning we were up early. Marj had a meeting at the Arts League and I was left to enjoy my customary round of taiji in her wonderful back porch and garden before setting out to paint. I painted the view with the dappled light filtering through the trees looking down High Street towards the river from underneath the champion tree next to Mary's house. This one turned out the best of the three, but it has some defects.

 Mary's Wisteria, oils on panel, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

A quick lunch break at Play it Again Sam (owned by Mary's son-in-law) and I was back at Mary's house. I'd been wanting to paint a wisteria in bloom--the delicate lilac of the pendulous flowers is such an unusual color in nature--and here was a gorgeous old vine rambling over the back porch. I am surprised the painting turned out this well, considering it was getting cloudier and the shadows disappeared halfway into it. At least it didn't rain as had been predicted.

We were supposed to have our paintings framed and ready to hang at Emmanuel Episcopal Church's Parish Hall at 4:45 that afternoon for the reception and sale. Dutifully, we assembled at the tables set up for us for framing & labeling. I was still working on mounting my first piece when my framing gun jammed--I tried to loosen it but it was hopelessly stuck. The only way to unjam it would be taking it apart, and there was no time for that.

Fortunately, Mary had another framer's gun she made available to all. I barely got my three pieces hung as the reception was starting, feeling once again that this was like running a marathon. And Chestertown was nothing like as tight a schedule as the one for last year's Solomon's Island Paint the Town. Is it always like this, I wonder?

I was pleasantly surprised by the number of people who came to our show and bought work; the Chestertown citizens really supported the effort. After the reception, we were treated to a buffet dinner donated by the Arts League members. It was great to get to know the other artists, and I was so impressed by the enthusiasm and esprit among the Chestertown Arts League members--terrific folks!

Sunday morning dawned gray--it had been drizzling overnight, but it wasn't raining now. The Quick Draw Competition would go on rain or shine. Marj and I got ready to go to the Arts League to check in and have our panels stamped. The weather was looking very iffy, so we decided to stick close to cover. I set up on the porch of the Arts League for a view of the house next door, a decision I later regretted, as my perspective in the painting was way off.

Marj sat out by the trash bins behind the building, and managed to do the most beautiful little painting. That is the hallmark of a true artist--to create something beautiful out of something as ordinary, some would say ugly, as a trash can! Someday, I may yet learn how to do that.

The Arts League volunteers drove around town ringing a bell for the 9: 30 starting time (we were scattered all over), and again two hours later to signal that time was up. We then had to take our paintings over to Wilmer Park and set them up on our easels for the judging and perhaps more sales. The Taste of Chestertown festival was taking place at the same time, so the park was packed. I bought some tickets for the Taste of the Town so I could graze while the judging was going on. Newcastle, DE artist Dennis Young won both the First Place and People's Choice awards with a lovely pastel of Chestertown's historic ship, the Schooner Sultana. His painting was hard to resist, though a bit too sunny-looking for this day.

It started to drizzle again as I was heading out of town, back home to the western shore, totally exhausted. In all, it was an exciting weekend among genial folks. I hope this may be just the first of many annual Chestertown Paint the Town plein air festivals.

Bluebell Time Again

Bluebells on a Hill, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." 

  

The Potomac from Mt. Aventine, oils on panel, 12" x 9." Contact artist for prices.

That bluebell time of the year is here again and the weather was glorious. I went down to visit my friends in Accokeek for the weekend so I could paint the bluebells at Chapman's Forest.  Patrise wasn't sure there would be many blooms--the previous weekend the flowers had seemed skimpy, so on Saturday afternoon I set out to explore.

Thanks to the recent rain, the bluebells were lush, but with so many deadfalls, some of them huge old trees, the trail was hard to follow. On the way back I somehow lost the trail, but managed to find my way to the main road. By then there was no time to go back with my painting gear. It would be dark before I was finished and I didn't relish the thought of being lost in the forest at night. Instead, I walked up to Mt. Aventine, a colonial-era mansion on the property, to paint the view from the back or the house.

When I got there, a couple was enjoying a picnic on a table by the house. I greeted them, saying I hoped I wouldn't disturb them and started to set up on the back porch of the house. I found that the bottom screw-plate of my Guerilla Paint Box had come off somewhere and I couldn't secure it to the tripod. Not dissuaded, I sat on the back steps and set the box on the floor to paint.

I've painted this spectacular view a few times before, and it's difficult to compose because the wide panorama is so symmetrical. To take the curse off, I decided to try a vertical format and focus on just one small part of the view. The colors were very hard to render: all that lovely variety of greens of the new foliage, particularly the yellow-green of the ancient oaks, against the silvery hues of the Potomac just defeat me. I know I didn't get them all here, but I think the composition works.

Back at my car I was relieved to find the screw plate to my paint box in the trunk. How could it have become loosened from just the vibrations of driving? And yet it did.

Sunday morning Linda, Patrise and their dogs joined me. The ladies suggested we cut directly through the woods to save ourselves the distance down the driveway to the trailhead. I was loaded down with painting gear, so the suggestion was welcome and we struck our way across the forest. Once at the site I set up my easel on the hill, trying to avoid stepping on the bluebells. Patrise & Linda were sitting on a log sketching a short way from me when the dogs caught some scent and went wild. I was so focused on my painting I didn't notice what they were after until Patrise asked if I'd seen the fox--I hadn't.

After about an hour my friends left with the dogs and I stayed to struggle with my painting. I was enjoying the songs of birds in the stillness when I heard something stir over by a huge fallen log (on the left). I looked up and there was a small red fox--perhaps a yearling--cautiously poking from under the trunk just a few feet away. I think he was more surprised than I--he turned around and took off the moment he saw me. I wondered if this was the poor creature the dogs had chased after... Later as I was getting ready to pack up, a herd of about 10 panicked deer came crashing through the forest at a gallop and disappeared down the gully. More dogs, presumably--deer have little fear of humans around here.

My painting of the bluebells turned out underwhelming--it doesn't quite have the right colors to give the impression of this spot on such a lovely spring day. I'll have to try it again next year. Sometimes it seems the more beautiful a place, the harder it is to paint.

Cherry Blossom Perfection

Painting the Cherry Blossoms at the Arboretum

Cherry Blossom Perfection, oils on canvas board, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

Yesterday I met up with Lee Boynton and three other students for a one-day workshop at the National Arboretum. We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day: sunny and warm, with the cherry blossoms at their peak of perfection, as were the magnolias and a myriad other flowers.

In the morning we painted this fabulous old cherry tree near the visitor center. As the hours wore on, more and more visitors came until there was quite a crowd under the enormous tree. A photographer with very professional-looking gear stopped and wanted to take my picture; I consented and asked him to take another with my own camera that you see here.

For our afternoon painting, we drove over to the Asian Garden. This part of the Arboretum sits on a steep hill overlooking the Anacostia River. We ate our lunch sitting on the grass near a tree-sized Camellia covered with white flowers. After lunch we set up in what is called the Central Valley to paint. I was tempted to wander about to examine the exotic plants, among them a beautiful variety of Siberian skunk-cabbage with white flower spikes new to me, instead of painting, but being conscientious, I buckled down to dash off another painting before the end of the day.

Valley at the Asian Garden, oils on canvas, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

I lingered a bit later than the rest of the students to finish this and paid the price, getting caught in the worst rush hour driving I've seen in a while. It had taken me just a half and hour to drive there in the morning; at 4:00 PM it took a full hour to crawl on 295 from the New York Avenue exit up to the I-95 exit off the Beltway, and another forty minutes slogging on I-95 to get home. I frequently wish all the other cars would magically vanish so I could have the road all to myself...

Another Anniversary

Tomorrow will be exactly 49 years since my arrival from Cuba. Today being Palm Sunday made me nostalgic for our beautiful Royal Palms, so distinctive a part of the Cuban landscape. My mother wrote sonnets about them, as have many other Cuban poets over the centuries. Their straight tall trunks seem made for symbolism, and the mere sight of one, even in Hialeah, evokes our beloved island to us.

I found this photo of a hotel in Cabanas that my father, Aquiles Maza, designed and built for a transplanted Canadian in the late 1950's and selected it for today's posting because it nestles in a grove of royal palms. At the time, its architecture was considered quite innovative: the curved concrete shell roof with glass all along the perimeter, its suites of rooms arranged in small cabanas scattered along the hillside. It was part of that vibrant period of Modernist style that was the hallmark of the 1950's in Cuba, when our island was a prosperous first-world republic, an island of song.

Cabanas is the middle one of three large bays on the north coast of the western province of Pinar del Rio; the port of Mariel, famous for the massive exodus of 1980, lies to its east closest to Havana, and Bahia Honda to the west. The land drops off steeply toward the sea from a plateau and the palms grow almost right up to the water.

The bay of Cabanas has a narrow mouth but is large enough to have small cays scattered within. This was the site of what was to be our last family vacation in Cuba, and I vividly remember how exciting it was for us girls to tour the bay on a motorboat one afternoon. There were a few people living in the small cays and we were amused to see they had pigs and goats--they must have brought the animals on boats, but we wondered how on earth do you get a pig or a goat to board a boat?

My folks didn't want us to swim in the bay or water-ski, as sharks were reputed to be abundant, so we swam in the hotel's pool, sited on a wide terrace below the dining room with the big glass windows. We children spent most of our day in and around the pool, taking cover to read or sketch on the balconies during the sun-burning hours. I was already a committed artist, and remember making a number of drawings of the bay in my favorite Prismacolor pencils, one of which I'm sure my aunt Nina preserved (she sent me this postcard of the hotel on my birthday to cheer me up during my first months alone in Albuquerque in 1961). Time passed as slowly as it does on childhood vacations that end too soon...

After the hotel was "intervened" (confiscated) by the Castro government, the owners returned to Canada. I wonder what happened to it, whether it still stands and forms part of some government tourist facility or if it is now in ruins? Sometimes it's better not to know, to hold it perfectly preserved in the mind's eye.

Flowers for the Ladies in White

This week as we celebrate the return of spring in the northern hemisphere marks the seventh anniversary of Cuba's Black Spring. On March 18, 19 and 20 of 2003, seventy-five (75) Cuban dissidents, many of them journalists and human rights activists, were arrested and condemned in summary trials to serve a collective total of over 1,400 years of jail time.

Shortly after, a group of wives and female relatives of the condemned prisoners began to meet and regularly attend Sunday mass at the church of St. Rita of Cassia in Miramar (I know it well, this was our parish church when we lived there). St. Rita, like St. Jude, is known as the patron saint of impossible causes. The women dressed all in white and after mass they would walk along Quinta Avenida (5th Avenue) for some blocks carrying a flower in their hands, in silent protest for the unjust incarceration of their loved ones and a prayer for their liberation.

They have since become famous around the world as "The Ladies in White" and you couldn't find a more courageous group of women anywhere on earth. Their valiant stance earned them the European Parliament's Sakharov Human Rights Prize in 2005. For those who don't know about the panoply of methods of repression and psychological torture employed by the Castro government, these women have stood firm in the face of incredible pressure and threats, as well as actual violence perpetrated on them from time to time.

Seven years later fifty-three prisoners remain in jail in sub-human conditions; eleven have been released for health reasons on "extra-penal license" (meaning they can be returned to jail anytime the government wishes), one completed his sentence and another died shortly after his release.

This week, to commemorate the seventh anniversary of the Cuban Black Spring, the Ladies in White have been marching in the streets of central Havana after attending masses at a number of churches. Government-hired mobs of 300 to 400 persons have followed and surrounded them, heckling and shouting insults at them in an attempt to intimidate these peaceful women from carrying out their purpose.

On Wednesday their march was interrupted by the mob of government mercenaries and State Security thugs in plain clothes who forcibly dragged and boarded them into two buses the government had waiting nearby. Photographs and videos of the incident have circulated widely, and the evidence showed the Cuban government's claim that no force was employed is entirely false. The woman in the photo below applying a stranglehold on a lady in white was identified as a trained State Security agent who travels at the government's bidding.

Photos by Reuters from an article in Spain's newspaper El Pais.

Despite the fact that several of the ladies were injured in the melee (Laura Pollan, their leader, suffered a broken finger), the Ladies in White continued their planned activities on Thursday and Friday. The resulting publicity and the international community's outrage at the violence against these innocent women tempered the government's reaction in subsequent marches and these have taken place with just the usual heckling and verbal harassment. I hope eventually they will obtain the release of their loved ones.

For their courage and unwavering faith I offer The Ladies in White my admiration and solidarity, symbolized by these spring flowers--may they and the Cuban people triumph in the pursuit of Liberty.

A Host of Golden Daffodils

A Host of Golden Daffodils, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

Last week for the first time it was light enough on the way home to see that the steep banks bordering lower Rock Creek Parkway were full of yellow daffodils in bloom. It brought to mind that poem by Wordsworth all of my generation read in high school, "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud,"

(first stanza):

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.


--William Wordsworth, 1804

(I feel sorry for subsequent generations of students who missed learning the wonderful literary works of the English Romantic poets... so-called "Modern Education" has thus impoverished their lives.)

Today was our finest spring day to date. I remembered there is a small hillside at Brookside Gardens that has daffodils planted among birches and thought it would be delightful to paint there.

The gardens were full of young mothers with their offspring, retirees and neighbors out to enjoy the lovely afternoon. I walked around and took some photos before setting up to paint, in case there was something more appealing, but my first instinct was right, this was the prettiest sight to paint.

The scent of daffodils and the witch-hazels perfumed the warm air as I worked. It felt so good to be outside it was hard to concentrate on the basics of painting. I almost lapsed into common beginner mistakes such as starting to focus on individual flowers too early rather than laying down masses of color first. I managed to pull out of it and balance the colors before getting into the details for a nice finish just as the sun was going down behind the hill.

Primroses for Spring

Red Primrose, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14."

It was raining this morning as I drove off to class, one of those light drizzles that heralds spring, so long awaited after such a harsh, snowy winter. This was our last class of the winter session; in fact it was a make-up for the class we missed due to the snow. What a pleasant surprise to find flowers in our still-life set-ups along with the usual props!

It was also Lee's daughter Margie's birthday, and her mother had given her a beautiful vase full of yellow daffodils as a present. The bouquet was one of our set-ups and Margie had joined our class so she could paint it. By the time I arrived, all the easels around the daffodils were taken up, so I worked with the other arrangement along with Lee and one other student.

The colors seemed impossible to harmonize--how does one deal with such shocking color juxtapositions or shades of green so close in value? It was a real challenge, and I don't feel I rose to it very successfully. I like the zing of the purple background against the red flowers, but the primrose leaves appear too artificial in color--they're almost the same shade as the ceramic bowl when they should have been closer to the color of the plastic pot. Still, I hope the painting captures a bit of the spirit of spring now happily approaching.

The Blue Bowl

The Blue Bowl, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14."

I finally had a chance to paint "the blue bowl" as everyone in class refers to this bowl. It has a particularly challenging blue ceramic glaze with patches where the terracotta underneath shows through. Today it was complicated by a towel with pink stripes draped around the bowl in addition to the bottle. Using oranges rather than apples was a master stroke; it sets up some wonderful color harmonies with the towel and backdrop.

I benefitted by having watched Lee and other students paint this bowl in other sessions; I was able to be freer with my color, bolder. The drapery of the towel upped the challenge one more notch. I don't feel my towel was entirely successful--the folds don't read in certain places, but perhaps that is not so important. Overall, the impression of light and the color seems right.

Artists of the past who painted drapery so beautifully, such as Zurbaran, have risen even more in my estimation after this experience with painting folds in cloth.

Lighting and Color

Green Bowl with Bottle in Natural Light, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14."

During last week's class we painted with natural light only (on an overcast day). Compare it to the painting posted on Feb. 6--this is the same green bowl, red apples and tablecloth (with a different backdrop, which also influences color). The difference in colors from one to the other is quite marked. The natural light is much cooler; the local color is more obvious under natural light, and the shadows are warmer with softer edges.

This useful excercise showing how different objects look under different light is helpful for painting on a "cloudy day" as opposed to a "sunny day." We had done this in last year's class and it proved so enlightening (if you'll pardon the pun), we repeated it. You can see last year's exercises here and here.

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

Yesterday we were back to painting with studio lighting. This blue bowl is one of my constant challenges--it's robbin's-egg blue seems to defy color rendition, as does the olive-green backdrop. I didn't have time to work any of the reflections from the apples into it, or other subtleties. I think the color modeling of the white pitcher is the most successful part of the painting.

Afternoon of a Fox

Herb told me he'd taken some photos while I was out painting yesterday. I figured he'd seen something unusual in our back yard, but I wasn't ready for this--a red fox taking an afternoon nap! He (or she) must have been really enjoying the warmth of the sun on the tiny patch of bare ground under our cedars.


Today at about the same time, another red fox came by and lay for a while in the same patch of ground. If you look closely you'll see that this fox has a small notch on the left ear (yesterday's fox didn't) so it's clearly a different individual. I figure they must be mates, since they seem to share the same turf, but which is the male and which the female?

A few years ago on a summer morning we were privileged to see a lovely family group: one red fox was followed by an adult female with her two kits.

Winter Plein Air

Covered Bridge at Loy's Station, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14."

Yesterday I went out with my teacher, Lee Boynton, and another student, for a winter plein air workshop. It's so rare to have this much snow on the ground for this long in Maryland, it was a great opportunity to paint winter scenes on location. Temperatures were in the low forties (milder than they've been for weeks), but even so, one must dress for the exposure. Padded with thermal undies and layers of Polartec, this time I wore special insulating inner soles and took my gardening gloves to slide under the old paint-stained gloves, and these kept my hands and feet warmer.

In the morning we painted the covered bridge at Loy's station park. This is one of three surviving historic covered bridges in Frederick county--the largest and most traveled. I got there a bit late under an overcast sky. Lee and Maggie were already set up on top of some packed snow and they tamped down a space for me.

The light was very subdued and I had a hard time toning down the red of the bridge to match the light. Lee helped me considerably to achieve the resulting painting. In retrospect, I would have done better to make the bridge smaller and allow more space around it, particularly the road leading up to it. As it is, the bridge dominates the painting too much.

It was one-thirty by the time we stopped for lunch in nearby Thurmont. The Cozy Restaurant was packed--in order to avoid a long wait, we opted for the steam-table buffet to allow time for another painting before dark.

I had told Lee about another of the covered bridges on Roddy Road. We headed there after lunch, but the parking lot at the tiny park had not been cleared. We walked all around the bridge and in deep banks of snow looking for a nice view with some water, but the compositions were awkward and much too similar to the morning's painting, so Lee led us to another site a bit farther south, Utica Park, where there were some old buildings with the Catoctin Mountains in the background.

House on Utica Park, oils on panel, 12" x 16."

By this time the sun was bright and casting beautiful shadows on the snow. The park was deserted so we were able to set our easels on the paved road instead of the snow. Maggie slipped on a muddy patch while setting up, and attempting to help her recover her gear, Lee also slid. They were both truly hearty to stick around to paint with wet & muddy trousers. They both did wonderful paintings while I struggled with this one. The composition here is better overall, but a bit pedestrian. I hate to make excuses for myself, but my tiring weekly commute and long work hours seem to be taking a toll on inspiration.

The park ranger drove by to tell us the gate would be closed at sundown, so we packed up and left just as the sun was setting. I was so tired I could barely drive myself home, and sniffles were setting in. When I got home, Herb had a very nice suprise for me--take a look at the photos in the next posting.

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"