Kim Stenberg's Painting Journal

"Spring Garden" (oil; 11 x 14")

2012-03-03T09:37:00.001-05:00

Reference photo

As I said yesterday, I am done with winter paintings. Winter is over where I live and in my heart. Time to move on to the spring stuff! We plein-air painters are seasonal creatures, sensitive to the changes in temperature, the angle of the sun, and the life cycle of plants. It's hard to paint snow inside when daffodils and hyacinths are blooming outside. Even if we paint in our studios on a rainy day, our mind and heart yearn for the outdoors.

It was a soggy day yesterday; I got drenched top to bottom doing yard work. The Southeast was pummeled by the destructive tornadoes. I, however, painted "Spring Garden" from a photo I took last year on a most beautiful spring day. The subject is a white garden gate at River Farm in Alexandria, VA.

The gate glows in the sun. Irises, daisies, peonies, and some other white flowers are blooming. The power of art is such that it will be always spring in "Spring Garden." Flowers will never die. The sun will never go down. I love art.

"Late Winter Sunset" (oil; 12 x 12")

2012-03-02T13:43:00.001-05:00

Reference photo I

Reference photo II

Reference photo III

Last Friday my husband and I was loading into our car my daughter's school team's science projects for the Science Olympiad regional competition on the following day. I kept getting distracted by the spectacular sunset that was unfolding before my eyes at the parking lot. I hadn't thought of taking along my Leica camera and was sore about missing out on some great sunset pictures. My husband reminded me that I could always use my smart phone.

Although I had a very low expectation of what it could do for me as far as photography went, I took a series of pictures with it and emailed the results to my laptop. After a bit of Photoshopping, lo and behold, I came up with three decent pictures! My daughter's school performed poorly in the regional with no medals whatsoever. Poor kids. As for me, I couldn't believe my luck. From the three pictures above, I could paint a decent winter skyscape. How about that!

"Late Winter Sunset" is the last of my winter paintings for the season. It all started with "Winter Trees," which I painted on September 11th last year, listening to the doleful music on the radio, commemorating the 10th anniversary of the horrific events. The painting did well on eBay, which led to a slew of winter-themed landscapes featuring sunsets and snow. All of them had one thing in common: bare winter trees.

"Winter Trees" (oil, 9 x 12")

Soon trees will be covered with pastel-colored, young leaves. As much as I will miss the elegant, minimalistic, traceries of skeletal winter trees, my heart doesn't belong in winter anymore. It sings spring songs. Good bye, winter.

"Blueberry Pie Party" (oil; 12 x 16")

2012-03-01T10:43:00.001-05:00

Still life set up for "Blueberry Pie Party"

I am getting used to a complicated setup, so I wasn't flabbergasted at the above arrangement by my teacher John Murray in yesterday's class. It was the presence of the red colander with the brass-knobbed lid that bothered me. I knew that it belonged there for color. But who puts a colander, pretty or not, in the middle of a setup, which is obviously celebratory! Ah, perhaps it was used to drain blueberries. In my painting I deliberately omitted its perforations.

There were other issues too. John noticed that I put the still life too high in the picture again. Why do I keep doing that? I introduced a suggestion of the second vertical plane, which kind of helped. Still I had a lot of empty square inches of foreground to deal with. I added one more candle and moved the candles to point toward the subjects. The way the white-handled knife was sitting on the small plate, pointing out of the picture, was troubling too, but it stayed there so that I would have seven, not six, candle-like objects. Always go for the odd number.

Do you know what? The biggest challenge actually had nothing to do with my painting. John had set up another arrangement with yummy-looking donuts. The students who chose to paint them were having such successs that I was turning green with envy. No awkward colander to worry about. No empty foreground to struggle with. Just fun and games.

Now as I look at the finished painting, I see an elegance in its scheme. The painting is all about the three primary colors--red, blue, and yellow. It isn't a fun, loud party we are looking at. It is a quiet celebration of food and a shared life.

"Rosy Glow" (oil; 8 x 8")

2012-02-29T09:39:00.002-05:00

I painted "Rosy Glow" (oil, 8 x 8") from a photo last night. What do you think? I had painted the same flower last summer at a rose garden. It was a very hot day, but I sweated like a pig for a different reason. Who knew painting a single rose would be that hard? Let's face it. It is sometimes easier to paint from a photograph. The flower didn't move by the breeze. The sun didn't rise higher as time went by, changing all the shadow shapes. And no pestering enthusiast wanted to take a picture of me painting!

Do you know what the biggest problem in painting the rose on location was? I saw too many colors! Let's see. Many shades of pink--warm (warmed by the sun) and cool (cooled by the blue sky) to start. Then there was reflected light in the shadows. Oh my god! I had to simplify, simplify, and simplify. Still the plein-air painting didn't work. I threw it out.

In my studio version, I did simplify the colors in the photo, which unfortunately I couldn't find to show you (I must have deleted it in disgust). There are just enough subtle changes in the color temperature to make each petal turn. A rose, or any flower, should look fresh, not bruised with over handling. I hope you agree with my sentiment that I pulled it off this time.

"Brilliant Lotus" (oil; 24 x 18")

2012-02-28T09:43:00.002-05:00

"Brilliant Lotus"

"Lotus and Dragonfly" (oil, 12 x 9")

Reference photo

The lotus is one of my favorite flowers and I never get tired of painting them. Over the years I've painted them in watercolor, acrylic, and oil. The sculptural flower with the Buddhist association looks great in all mediums.

Last year in early June, the plein-air-painting class with Sara Linda Poly went to the waterlily pond at Green Spring Gardens Park. My first attempt at painting the lotus from life was a disaster. The lighting condition, however, was ideal and I came home with several terrific pictures. The following day, still smarting from the failure, I made another stab at the lotus. "Lotus and Dragonfly" was the result of my persistence. Since then, I've painted several more lotus paintings, small and large, and sold them all.

When a favorite client of mine asked me to do a larger version of "Lotus and Dragonfly," I wasn't sure whether it would work. I tried as he "begged" for it. And, boy, am I glad I listened! My initial fear was that the lone lotus flower and yellow green undersides of several lily pads will dominate the painting. As it turned out, there were enough details in the shadow areas to add depth and nuance to the bold composition.

In the small version, there was no room for playing; most subtleties had to be sacrificed for the clarity. Not so for "Brilliant Lotus." You can look at it for a long time and still find hidden "secrets." My client didn't want the dragonfly (there are actually three of them in the picture). So they went, as his wish was my command. I don't think they would have added much to the abstract beauty of the painting anyway. It is fun to paint big, using large brushes. It is also great to have a client with the sophisticated eye who appreciates and is willing to pay for original artwork. Thank you!

"Watermelon, Carrots, and Red Onions" (oil; 11 x 14")

2012-02-24T10:16:00.000-05:00

My teacher, John Murray, decided to shake things up this week. He apparently thought we were becoming lazy! He put the table in the middle of the room and began to pull out one thing after another from a grocery bag until he came up with the above setup. He asked us whether we would like to have a cut honey dew as well. We said no! We were looking down at the whole mess of things against whatever happened to be across the room from where we were standing. Some students couldn't even see the beautiful red onions; others had a lot of the crumpled kitchen towel to deal with.

As you can see in my painting, I cut much of the towel. Clever me! I had other problems, such as the delicate leafage of the carrots and the papery skins of the onions. What stumped me the most, however, was the color temperature. Somehow I painted it too warm as if I was painting in sunset. I had to cool it down and more.

Although the setup was mainly illuminated by the artificial yellow light, there was also the cool natural light filtering through the blinds from the windows. Because of the double light sources, some highlights were warm and others, cool. Fascinating. I don't know for sure what caused the cast shadows of the onions to turn green, but I painted it as I saw. The more I paint, the more I realize that painting is really an exercise in seeing. The weekly still life painting class has been one of the most valuable learning experiences. More to come next week. Yeah!

"Golden Gate Bridge in Fog" (oil; 12 x 9")

2012-02-23T17:00:00.002-05:00

The idea for "Golden Gate Bridge in Fog" occurred while I was helping my daughter build four model bridges for her school science project. She and her team were testing how much weight different types of bridges could bear. Tying up the string for the cute suspension bridge below required a considerable amount of dexterity, which none of the girls didn't possess; so I came to the rescue! Am I bad?

A model suspension bridge (balsa wood and embroidery thread)

One famous suspension bridge came to my mind--Golden Gate Bridge! I had to paint it. The reference photo I used showed the bridge shrouded in fog. So, today's big challenge was this: how do I paint the vaporous nothingness, which covers about one half of the painting? The initial sky color was too cool and monotonous; I warmed it up and introduced more colors. You are probably wondering what colors! Well, look very closely. They are there. Probably the most important thing in painting fog is the treatment of edges. I deployed a lot of lost and broken edges to suggest the mystery of fog.

"Golden Gate Bridge in Fog" posed a bit of a drawing challenge as well. Do you know what I do when I have trouble with drawing? I paint upside down. Most of the bridge and the distant landscape were painted in that way. Funny, I am sure, but it works every time. It forces my mind to see shapes, not things. You can paint anything if you switch your mind to see shapes.

By the way, I love San Francisco. I think it is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. It was this city to which I flew when I came to the USA to study 28 years ago. Since then, I visited it a few more times, and every visit has been memorable. My favorite spot is Lombard Street, the crookedest street ever!

"Walk in Winter Woods" (oil; 9 x 12")

2012-02-22T10:42:00.000-05:00

"Walk in Winter Woods"

"Winter Forest" (oil, 9 x 12")

"Winter Afternoon" (oil, 12 x 9")

"Fresh Snow" (oil, 9 x 12")

"Snowfall" (oil, 8 x 10")

"Central Park Snowed In" (oil, 10 x 12")

I painted lots of snow scenes this winter, which required hard work. It was not because snowscapes were particularly difficult to paint. It had everything to do with the snowless winter in northern Virginia! I don't ski or snowboard, or didn't travel to snowy places to visit relatives this year. Alas, my plein-air painting friends and I waited for snowfalls in vain, with our new snow boots still in their boxes. It is practically spring here. I've spotted crocuses, snowdrops, lenten roses, daffodils, dwarf irises, cherry blossoms, and forsythia, so far. Somebody told me that her tulips are blooming too! We may still get a blizzard in March, but I doubt it.

Yesterday I reached the very bottom of my pile and completely exhausted the reference material for my favorite subject by painting "Walk in Winter Woods." All the things I've learned by painting in a series went into it. It is the grand finale, so to speak, and I am proud of it.

I've included in today's entry some of my favorite snowscapes for your enjoyment. Until next winter, good bye, snow paintings.

"Lighthouse on the Cliff" (oil; 14 x 11")

2012-02-21T10:33:00.001-05:00

"Lighthouse on the Cliff"

The reference photo for "Lighthouse on the Cliff," taken during the second visit

The second visit to Kilauea Lighthouse; Can you see the rainbow?

When I am at my home base, I choose a plein-air painting location from my previous experiences. There are several favorite places, to which I keep going back for better or worse. No big surprises. I know exactly what scenery will greet me when I get there. However, I have never been to Kauai, so I didn't know what to expect. There has been hardly any snow in this exceptionally warm winter. Kauai was about 20, not 50, degrees warmer than northern Virginia, so the thrill in landing suddenly at a tropical island was somewhat diminished, temperature-wise. Still, the island was breathtakingly beautiful in any angle, altitude, and weather.

The first time when I saw Kilauea Lighthouse on North Shore, I wished I could paint the awe-inspiring sight then and there. But it was raining heavily (do you know that Kauai is one of the wettest places in the world?), which forced us to wait in the car for half an hour until the rain let up a little for picture taking. Later that day, we stopped by at the lighthouse for the second time. The rain had stopped and a rainbow was draped over in the sky! The lighthouse itself glowed as if it was spotlit magically. It was getting late, however. I vowed to return to paint it another day.

Red-footed boobies

On the third and final visit to the lighthouse and Kilauea Point National Wildlife Refuge on a windy, but sunny day, we saw red-footed boobies, Laysan Albatross and other birds, which nested at the Refuge cliffs. My heart swelled with an unusual, I-am-lord-of-the-world, kind of emotion, as I was standing high at the lookout, looking down at the soaring birds!

"Kilauea Lighthouse, Kauai" (opaque watercolor, 15 x 11")

Sketching the lighthouse

I found a relatively sheltered spot at the lookout and painted "Kilauea Lighthouse, Kauai" in opaque watercolor, clutching the paper in fear of losing it to the Pacific Ocean. The lighthouse was painted in last over the blues of the ocean. You can do that in opaque watercolor! Of course, I wasn't "done" with this place. "Lighthouse on the Cliff" was painted in the controlled environment of my studio, away from the ocean breeze, crashing waves, and swooshing birds. One can't have everything, can she?

After Vermeer's "Girl with a Pearl Earring" (colored pencil; 8 x 6")

2012-02-20T12:54:00.010-05:00

After Vermeer's" Girl with a Pearl Earring"

Vermeer by Pierre Cabanne; Prismacolor pencils; and my Canson Mi-teintes sketchbook

After Vermeer's "The Milkmaid" (detail)

After Vermeer's "Girl with a Red Hat"

After Vermeer's "Girl with a Flute"

I can't sleep on the airplanes. Unable to settle into a comfortable position, I keep shifting my body. My neck, shoulders, and lower back become all knotted up and achy. I get myself caffeined up to compensate the increasing fatigue. Both flights for my recent trip to Kauai were long and tedious. I usually bring a book or two to read. For this trip, I had something better to while away the time as a captive in a tight space on a noisy plane.

In Lisa Semerad's portrait class last summer, I learned a time-honored technique of using black drawing tools with a white chalk on a toned ground for figure drawing. Many great masters, such as Da Vinci, Rubens, Watteau, and Degas, had used it in their studies for paintings. I learn at their feet with reverence, and had spent many hours copying their drawings in the past.

My teacher for the trip was the Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer, whose exquisite, domestic interior scenes of the 17th-century-middle-class Delft have captivated art lovers for centuries. I love his exceptional sense of light and quietude. A small book by Pierre Cabanne with lots of reproductions of his paintings was the first item I packed for my art survival kit. I made a small sketchbook with Canson Mi-teintes paper and also equipped myself with several Prismacolor pencils (white, three shades of grays, black and burnt ochre). These colored pencils are waxy, dust-free, and don't smear.

Although one can never have loads of fun during an air travel, I still managed to spend several enjoyable hours until I couldn't see anymore with my watery eyes.

"Mums, Carnations, and Cherries" (oil; 14 x 11")

2012-02-19T17:38:00.014-05:00

"Mums, Carnations, and Cherries"

The still life setup for the painting

I was just getting used to painting fruits and vegetables in John Murray's still life class. When I saw the above setup last Wednesday, my jaw dropped. Oy! How was I supposed to paint spider chrysanthemums (I have drawn them before with a great difficulty), carnations, cherries, a demitasse with saucer (another drawing challenge), and a clear carafe with stems showing through, for a good measure! The composition was awkward too. The mums were pretty much stacked together where I was standing. I had to persuade a classmate to swap the easel spots with me.

As you can see from the photo, I still didn't like the position of the demitasse, but couldn't possibly move it to my liking without getting thrown out by other classmates. So I took an artistic license by moving it slightly to the left in my painting. I did consider painting only the flowers, but rejected the idea. Why?

John is an experienced still life painter, who knows what he is doing. He brought three primary-colored objects (yellow carnations, blue cup and saucer, and red cherries) for this complicated setup. I didn't understand his rationale behind the purple mums, which nonetheless contrasted with the light, yellowish neutral drapery. There had to be a good reason for them. I did get the dark blue kitchen towel on the table; it anchored the whole thing. Look at the beautiful shadows and reflected light on the pale drapery--greens, violets, and even oranges. Wow! I would have never come up with the combination. I had to paint the entire setup, not a portion of it, to do justice to John's vision.

John doing a long demo for the attentive class

Do you know what the biggest challenge was after I settled on the composition? It was the colors of the mums. I saw and painted them too cool; so did some other students. The mums in John's demo painting were much warmer in temperature. I had to steer them toward warm pinks, purples, and muted oranges. I am constantly fascinated by how people perceive colors differently. Perhaps, John's is right. I have the violet tendency!

"Tropical Sunset" (oil; 9 x 12")

2012-02-17T13:41:00.000-05:00

"Tropical Sunset"

The photo reference for "Tropical Sunset"

I am still high from my recent trip to Kauai and was dying to do a painting from one of many pictures of glorious sunsets that I took day after day. Each sunset was different from the day before and equally spectacular! It would have been a daunting endeavor to paint a sunset scene from life, as it only lasted for about ten minutes. I didn't even bother to bring my oil painting gear on this trip.

However, I was well prepared to do some watercolor sketches. As some of you may recall, I took the opaque watercolor workshop with Rick Weaver back in December. This well-earned vacation--celebration of our 20th and 21th wedding anniversaries, and my birthday all rolled into one big treat--was a great opportunity to hone my skills at opaque watercolor.

"Poipu Beach, Kauai" (opaque watercolor, 11 x 15")

The view of Poipu Beach

Combining family vacations with plein-air painting outings is always a complicated business. One feels guilty at taking advantage of her suffering family's patience for her own pleasure. Speed is the key thing. Get in and get out within a hour. Fortunately, my husband and daughter were otherwise occupied one afternoon, so I didn't have to feel rushed. I sat in the patio of our hotel room, away from nosy onlookers, and painted the palm trees. I don't know about you, but I love these tropical trees with graceful fronds.

The time spent observing and sketching the big palm tree in the middle ground came in really handy when I painted "Tropical Sunset," whose vantage point was not far from the above view. When the sky, ocean, and dark foreground were painted to my satisfaction, I took a deep breath and painted in the tree. One shot, no messing around. Wow!

"Crashing Waves" (oil; 8 x 10")

2012-02-15T10:43:00.000-05:00

Reference photo for "Crashing Waves"

My teacher, John Murray, believes that a viewer can tell whether a painting was painted with joy and fun or with anguish and frustration. I absolutely agree with him. Sometimes I work on a painting to death and it shows. Maybe it's the complicated drawing or muddled value scheme. I work at it with a sheer determination, but without joy.

Not "Crashing Waves." I spent many hours staring at waves during my recent trip to Kauai. You can, of course, try to analyze the way waves are formed from the physics point of view, as my husband did. For me, it's the colors of the ocean, waves, their shadows, etc. that are spellbinding. I took many pictures; while going through them on computer screen, the above photo caught my eye. I loved the aquamarine sea, white foams, and dark, moss-covered rock. Look at the wonderful shadows of the rock!

Although I was still tired and didn't quite feel up to painting, the creative juice started pulsing through my artistc veins. I painted fast and furiously with joy. After the multi-colored rock and waves were laid down, I lathered thick white paint to mimic sea foam. What fun!

"Three Oranges and White Tureen" (oil; 11 x 14")

2012-02-03T12:56:00.000-05:00

"Three Oranges and White Tureen"

"Yellow and Violet Still Life" (oil, 11 x 14")

"Two Red Peppers" (oil, 11 x 14")

"Red and Green Apples" (oil, 11 x 14")

I am beginning to see the pattern in the still life setups by my teacher John Murray--the harmony created by complementary colors. In the first class he gave us red and green apples with neutral draperies. In the second week, he challenged us with the intensity of red bell peppers against two different shades of green cloths. The third week's setup was all about the yellow/violet vibrations. This week he not only baffled us with the orange/blue juxtaposition but also with the octagonal planes of the white tureen!

His choice of draperies is deliberate. They may someday come with stripes and all sorts of patterns and textures. The white bowls, which are clearly included for their reflective qualities, are becoming more complex in their shapes; one even flaunts floral patterns. In the midst of the ever-mounting challenges of painting fruits, vegetables, and fabrics, we are also constantly reminded of the crucial importance of composition and paint application.

We struggle valiantly to mix the right reds, blues, greens, oranges, violets, and yellows we see in the setups, and often end up with disgusting colors. The prominent colors in "Three Oranges and White Tureen" are blues and oranges. For whatever reason, my original color notes were oranges and violets. John's comment was that I have the violet tendency! I had to work hard to depurplize the violets and steer them toward blues. We can, of course, ignore what we see and paint the way we like, as one student was doing with the extremely limited palette of only three colors, plus white. Or, we can try to mix colors correctly. Argh. The vexing still lifes!

"First Snowdrops" (oil; 8 x 10")

2012-02-01T09:47:00.001-05:00

"First Snowdrops"

Reference photo

I did it! Instead of sitting on a nice photo forever, I made a painting out of it right away. Aren't you proud of me? As I mentioned in an earlier entry, I took the above picture last Sunday. The first sighting of these delicate white flowers always signals the imminent arrival of spring. However, the joy has been considerably marred by the unseasonably warm weather we've been "blessed" with this winter. Today's forecast in northern Virginia is in the upper 60's!

Some people are basking in the warmth; others hate it, sad at the want of the fluffy snow. I happen to live with two of the latter. I don't mind the spring-like temperature. But I am sore at the missed opportunity to paint snow on location as my plein-air friends had vowed to do so this winter. Oh, well.

"Cardinal on Maple" (oil; 10 x 12")

2012-01-31T10:37:00.004-05:00

"Cardinal on Maple" (oil, 10 x 12")

"Robin in the Evergreen Bough" (oil, 8 x 10")

"Blue Jay at Bird Bath" (oil, 8 x 10")

"Early Spring Robin" (oil, 8 x 10")

"Cardinal in the Snow" (oil, 8 x 10")

"Winter Bird" (oil, 8 x 12")

"Duck Pond" (oil, 8 x 10")

Last fall I decided to do some bird paintings. To date, I have seven under my belt. "Cardinal on Maple" is my latest attempt at bird paintings. As you know, I am an impressionist painter, not a super realistic animal painter. So if you are an avid bird watcher and I got some avian anatomies wrong, please bear with my errors.

I am more of an opportunistic bird watcher, if there is such a thing. The other day I spotted a male cardinal perched on green shrubs outside of my laundry room. I grabbed a camera and began to click away. This bird made a terrific model, turning its head to show profile, then facing forward for the front view, and so on. This went on for a while until it decided to retire from a modeling career. I didn't dare to open the window for better shots (one knows better than that when dealing with a wildlife). After photoshopping the best shot, I came up with the picture below. Passable, yes, but the environment in which the bird was sitting left much to be desired. I did some Internet research and found a picture of a scrawny-looking cardinal on a lush maple tree.

My photo

Reference photo for the maple tree

I got to work and painted "Cardinal on Maple" with joyous rapidity. My gratitude goes to the anonymous photographer and the cardinal who lives in and is fiercely protective of my property.

"Spring Bouquet" (oil; 10 x 8")

2012-01-30T09:48:00.001-05:00

"Spring Bouquet"

"From Spring Garden" (oil, 12 x 12")

I painted "From Spring Garden" last spring after having taken Robert A. Johnson's still life workshop, excited at the realization that I could paint floral still lifes in oil. I picked out three favorite spring flowers from my garden, challenging myself with some with florets--lilac and hyacinth. I did a few more still lifes, always tormented by the conflicted desire--shall I go outside to paint flowers on such a beautiful day or stay put in my studio to learn to set up and paint still lifes? The pleasure of companionship of fellow plein-air painters usually won out. By late fall, the pickings from my garden were slim. Japanese anemones were the best I could do; "From Autumn Garden" was the result.

"From Autumn Garden" (oil, 12 x 10")

I love flowers with multiple tiny florets. Think lilac, cherry, hyacinth, hydrangea, etc. They are hard and intimidating to paint though. It is funny that I used the word "intimidating." How can anybody be intimidated by such small and lovely things? But I do. That is why I had printed out the reference photo for "Spring Bouquet" last spring, but never got around to paint from it. The familiar delay tactics, if you know what I mean.

Spring is just around the corner in northern Virginia, with the temperature in the 50's day after day in late January! I finally got inspired to paint "Spring Bouquet." The setup on the kitchen table in front of a large window was backlit by the natural light from outside. I got rid of the window panes and trees clearly visible in the picture, and painted the daffodil first. After taking a deep breath, I began to paint gesturally the floret of hyacinth one by one. It went surprisingly fast! Many initial rough-edged brushstrokes were left alone to suggest movement. After all, the hyacinths were alive and would have moved follwing light if I had painted them from life. I let the painting dry a little, then refined the flowers and wobbly stems in the vase. How about that! No reason to get stymied by flowers anymore.

I took a picture of snowdrops blooming in my garden yesterday. Do you think I will paint them soon, or sit on the picture for a year?

"Cherry Blossom Season" (oil; 8 x 12")

2012-01-29T10:30:00.001-05:00

"Cherry Blossom Season"

"Spring Song" (oil, 12 x 10")

"Weeping Cherry Blooming" (oil, 12 x 9")

Cherry trees got to be the most seductive trees in the world. Look at "Cherry Blossom Season," my most recent painting of cherry trees in full bloom. Trunks and branches twist in all directions. Not all cherry trees behave this way, of course. Some have straight limbs, like those featured in "Spring Song." The weeping variety in "Weeping Cherry Blooming" looks like cascading pink waterfalls.

In all varieties, the fluffy clusters of pale pink flowers drape the trees top to bottom in early spring. They all look like ballerinas in pink gossamer tutus. Innocent and intoxicating at the same time. Stand under their pink umbrellas. You are transported to a pink heaven. When they are spent, petals drift down like pink snow. If there is a breeze, you get caught in the midst of a pink blizzard. No slow, ugly death for cherry blossoms. From beginning to end, there is nothing uncool about cherry trees in season.

I am utterly seduced by the magic of cherry blossoms. I keep painting them, trying to capture their exuberant, yet delicate, essence. Someday I will succeed to my heart's content.

"Glorious Poppies" (oil; 8 x 12")

2012-01-26T14:29:00.000-05:00

"Glorious Poppies"

"Red Poppies" (oil, 8 x 12")

Last summer I spotted gorgeous red poppies at Green Spring Gardens Park in Alexandria, VA. As I was leaving after a plein-air painting session, I didn't have the time or energy to do another painting. I took a picture, thinking that I would come back soon. I did a few days later, but the flowers were all gone! As the Roman poet Horace said, it's carpe diem or dead flowers. I had to console myself with the photo, which served as the reference for "Glorious Poppies."

Compare the new painting with "Red Poppies." The old painting has a merit--soft, dreamy, etc. But I absolutely prefer "Glorious Poppies"! I don't know what's happening to me. I seem to have become bolder, more confident, not afraid of strong contrasts, and so on. The new one has more depth and interesting "details" too. When one thinks of red poppies, one does not dream of a romantic, pastel image, unless he is Claude Monet. Aren't these papery, blood red flowers all about hot-headed passion? "Glorious Poppies" fits the bill much better than my earlier attempt, I dare say.

"Mountain Waterfalls" (oil; 12 x 10")

2012-01-24T20:35:00.000-05:00

"Mountain Waterfalls"

"Great Falls Roaring" (oil, 14 x 11")

Waterfalls are magnificent to look at and difficult to paint. I have seen quite a few waterfalls, both in this country and mine (South Korea). The biggest was the Niagara Falls, although my favorites are those in Oregon. I shouldn't have tried to paint them on location until I had gained more experience in oil painting. Who knew that rocks, trees, and everything else seemingly kept moving when I first set out to paint Great Falls last summer? The noise, heat, and crowd got to me!

I went back and "Great Falls Roaring" was the second attempt at this popular tourist attraction, close to the nation's capital. The painting used to be a little bigger (16 x 12"), but I decided that I didn't really need that much foreground rocks and cropped it to the current size. It's not the best painting of Great Falls ever painted; it was, however, a great leap forward for me. So I am keeping it in my private collection.

It appears that the hardest part of painting waterfalls is keeping the balance between the hard and soft edges for the water. It has to have hard edges here and there to maintain form. On the other hand, if the water is hard-edged everywhere, the waterfall looks like icicles. Since waterfalls usually occur in a rocky environment, one also has to paint rocks convincingly as hard, three-dimensional, bulky objects. Surprisingly, neither tasks--painting water and rocks--are easy.

Does it sound like another mini-series coming up? Yes! How does one learn to paint something well unless one keeps at it many times? So I painted "Mountain Waterfalls" today. I don't know the name of this fall in Shenandoah National Park in Virginia. But isn't it pretty? The upper falls looks like lady fingers! I thought that it would be a little easier to paint waterfalls from a photo. It wasn't. After lots of wiping out, I got this far. What do you think of the result?

"Two Red Peppers" (oil; 11 x 14")

2012-01-20T20:54:00.000-05:00

The still life setup for "Two Red Peppers"

We don't often give ourselves and others enough time. Enough time for sleeping; for eating (by doing other things like reading at the same time); for others to finish talking; or for painting. We beat ourselves up, rush about, and get all stressed out as a result. For instance, my still life class with John Murray on Wednesdays is always hectic. Out of three hours, more than an hour is dedicated for the teacher's putting together three setups in a crowded studio, a quick demo, and a group critique.

Instead of being disgusted with my painting as was by the end of the class, I decided to continue working on it at home with a photo of the setup. I don't know whether it is cheating or not, but there was no reason whatsoever to get stressed out by the pressure of the limited time. Painting is neither a race, nor a performance art. It is a kind of meditation. One is supposed to be truly present, mindful of the task at hand. Unfortunately, I tend to paint fast and dash off one painting after another, quite a few of which turn out to be duds. I am aware of my shortcomings and intend to work on them.

Anyhow, I am glad of my decision to take the above picture. The drawing wasn't bad. It was my initial treatment of the green and dark blue violet draperies that was problematic. I had ignored all the folds and creases and had also made a straight "horizon" line where the fabrics met. Dead boring! The color of the green cloth was too warm; the brushstrokes were too grassy-looking. I fixed the problems, as you can see. I also worked some more on the peppers and bowl as well. I am rather pleased with the final painting.

The more I look at it, however, the more I see green and dark blue landscapes in the background. The peppers and bowl look like huge objects lying on green fields, like Gulliver in the island country of Lilliput. Perhaps I should stop meditating while painting by staring at my painting too long!

"Fresh Snow" (oil; 9 x 12")

2012-01-19T17:04:00.000-05:00

"Fresh Snow"

"Winter Morning" (oil, 9 x 12")

As you know, I have painted quite a few snowscapes since last fall. I am pretty much out of the snow reference material in this exceptionally mild, snowless winter. Out of desperation, I dug out a photo I had used for "Winter Morning," and came up with a new painting, titled "Fresh Snow." Cheeky!

I remember how pleased I was with the first version. Now I look at it, I am not impressed at all. Look at the reflections of the trees. Don't you think they look anemic? And what about the treatment of the distant woods? Half-hearted, I say. I admit that there is that ineffable softness in the old painting. Nonetheless, I vote for the new one. What do you think?

"Poppy Field" (oil; 16 x 12")

2012-01-18T09:32:00.000-05:00

"Poppy Field" after revision

"Poppy Field" before revision

"Evening Island" (oil, 14 x 11")

I have a tendency of quitting a painting too soon. It's not because I am lazy. It's because of the fear factor--if I continue working on this pretty darn good painting, I am going to ruin it! Last week, in his first class of the winter term, John Murray told the students to be brave: "No one is going to die here. We are not performing a brain surgery. So go ahead, use big brushes and lots of paint, and knock yourself out." Or something like that.

We got a good laugh at his encouraging comments, but they got me thinking. I have a few paintings that are supposedly finished and framed. Whenever I look at them, however, I am bothered. Yesterday I decided to do something about this nagging sensation and unframed a couple of the guilty paintings. There was nothing to lose, you see? Just as when a painting is a knock-out, it is a knock-out; when a painting doesn't work, it doesn't work. No judges will like them; nobody will buy them either.

"Poppy Field" was too wispy. It looked good only when I turned on a lamp next to it. So I turned up the chroma (color intensity) of the poppies and greens in the foreground. For "Evening Island," I increased the value scale. The sky along the horizon was lightened and the grassy foreground was deepened. I also added texture with a rough bristle brush, dipping it into pure paints and mixing colors directly on the painting.

I am happy to report that no one died in the process and I just rescued two paintings from the ignominy of mediocrity. Not a bad reward for courage!

"Late Roses" (oil; 10 x 8")

2012-01-12T12:40:00.000-05:00

I have been avoiding the reference photo for "Late Roses" since I took it last November. I was into painting fall colors and snow scenes. But there was another reason for my dillydallying. It seemed like a lot of drawing to get the flowers right. After the figure painting workshop last week, however, I suddenly felt like painting them.

And I was right about my gut feeling. Everything is relative. Compared with the drawing and color mixing involved in a figure painting, it was nothing. Of course, one has to get the gesture and color temperature of each flower just so. But there is a lot more room for error in flower painting, to my relief.

I consider "Late Roses" a still life, although it wasn't set up on a table top, but in a natural setting. An arrangement of a limited number of objects and a close look at them. Isn't that a still life? I suppose one could also call it an intimate landscape.

"Red and Green Apples" (oil, 11 x 14")

Speaking of still lifes, I started taking a still life class with John Murray at the Art League School. The first class met yesterday, during which I painted "Red and Green Apples." Doesn't it look quite different from my usual stuff? I loved the way John did the quick demo with a big brush, dipping into the huge piles of paints on his palette. Bold colors and brushstrokes! A great departure from what I experienced last week during the workshop with Stephen Early. Check out his website to see his paintings, then you will know what I am wowing about.

John said, however, the same thing about the way I handled the shadows, as Stephen did, despite their different styles. I see too many colors and end up fragmenting a dark value shape. Interesting, isn't it? Styles may vary, but the fundamentals in painting remain true. I hope to learn much from my new teacher. How exciting!

"Snowman and Barn" (oil; 9 x 12")

2012-01-11T09:41:00.007-05:00

As I was painting "Snowman and Barn" on Monday, it started snowing! There had been no forecast for snow, but it kept falling. The first snow of this winter made all of us giddy with joy like the kids on the Christmas morning. Alas, by yesterday, with the balmy spring-like temperature, there was no more white stuff to be seen.

Another reason for my happiness was that I was painting a landscape, not a figure! Boy, I was glad to be back to what I normally do--paint loose and suggestively. No more uptight measuring and hours of staring a nude person to figure out the subtle color changes in the skin tone. The moral of my experience last week is this: get out of your comfort zone once in a while; do something wild and get back to your life. You will be wiser for the adventure.

The painting was based on a black and white photo. The advantage of a challenge like this is that one gets to make up colors. Ha! it wasn't that hard to come up with lovely violets for distant woods; brownish wood colors for the barn; and the red scarf for the snowman. I made the big tree on the right not clearly defined, although it was in the middle ground and a lot closer to the viewer than the barn, because I made the latter the secondary interest. Of course, the snowman is the star. I boldly put it in the middle of the picture. Why not? Relax and have fun.

"Lise" (oil; 20 x 16")

2012-01-09T09:38:00.001-05:00

"Lise" (the finished painting)

Stephen's demo grisaiiles

"Sarah" (grisaille)

"Wayne" (grisaille 1 with lights blocked in)

The second grisaille with lights blocked in

One-hour grisaille with lights blocked in

Stephen's paintings under two different lighting conditions

"Wayne" (the first color study)

The second color study

Stephen with his long-pose demo painting

"Lise" (at the end of the first day)

"Lise" (at the end of the second day)

Last week I took a five-day figure painting workshop with Stephen Early at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA. What an amazing and exhausting experience it was! Stephen teaches at Studio Incamminati in Philadelphia, PA and has trained with Nelson Shanks, who is one of the foremost portrait painters today. It was with much nervousness that I signed up for this workshop. As you know, I am not a figure painter, but a landscape artist. If I paint in a figure in a landscape, it is usually small and only gesturally. But I have set a goal to become a better painter, and a good painter is supposed to be able to paint anything. Right?

What I learned after five days of intense looking and trying to paint a figure is this: I am glad that I am not a figure painter! Painting figures is too hard. I noticed a different attitude among the workshop students from my watercolor and oil landscape friends. There were twelve of us (like twelve disciples of Christ; Stephen has a beard to do the part, too!). One was a beginner; I, of course, was a stray person in the wrong place.

My friends generally participate in lots of shows and endeavor to sell their artwork. Several of the workshop students I talked to were shocked when I asked them where they show and sell their paintings. They were like monks who were in training to go deeper and deeper in their spiritual quest, and no more. Their modest demeanor, I believe, has much to do with the fact that it takes a prodigious amount of work to reach the level in figure painting to be able to exhibit and sell with confidence and public esteem.

Think about it. Drawing a figure convincingly itself is difficult enough. Even a complete stranger to art can tell if something is wrong with the posture or proportion of a figure. Add to that difficulty the dangerous issue of color. You are pretty much walking in a mine field. Let's say that I am painting a flower garden on a sunny day in late spring. The sky is some sort of blue; there is a variety of greens (a horror for landscape painters!); and, of course, the color explosions in the flowers. In other words, there are many colors one has to deal with, but you can see them clearly unless you are color blind.

But with a nude figure, there isn't going to be a splash of strong colors. They are there, but they are so subtle that one has to be trained to look really hard. At first, I couldn't see greens in mid-tones. Purples in the shadows? What purple? As I continued to look as I was forced by the teacher, who would make an excellent drill sergeant, I began to see more colors, not just obvious reflected colors in the shadows. Wow! My eyes hurt, along with my feet, at the end of the day (the workshop ran from 9:30 am to 4:30 pm with a 45-minute lunch break, unlike most workshops that last from 10:00 am to 4:00 pm with a one-hour break). It was, however, definitely worth the trouble.

The workshop went like this. On the first day, we did many gesture drawings with burnt sienna and ultramarine blue--one minute, two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes, and twenty minutes--for hours until our arms ached. Toward the end of the day, we were allowed to add lights (with cadmium scarlet, cadmium green pale, and titanium white) to the grisailles. We did several of those. Stephen's demos were short.

On the second day, we started right where we left off--the same exercises, without any demo by the teacher. Why waste time with a demo? In the afternoon, Stephen told us to forget all about careful drawing and do color studies, which turned out to be very similar to what I did in Rick Weaver's opaque watercolor workshop in December. The purpose of these one-hour exercises was to learn to mix colors. In the workshop, we had a warm, artificial lighting. If we had had the natural, cool northern light, things would have been quite different, as you can see in the above photo of Stephen's two paintings done under different lighting conditions. The teacher threw in some wild colors in draperies to make it "easy" for us to see. Yes, we could see those colors; but mixing them right was not so easy!

For the last three days of the workshop, we worked on a long pose, with longer demos by Stephen in the mornings. On the first day of the long pose, we did a careful drawing in grisaille, then blocked in the lights. On the second day, we worked on the darks (I also painted in the background and floor). I asked him whether this was how he worked. His reply was no. He doesn't operate that rigidly; but he thought that this methodical approach would simplify the matter for the workshop students.

On the final day of the long pose and workshop, we went back to the lights to modify and adjust them. Most students had gotten their midtones and darks too light, so there was much recalibrating of the values going on in the class. Stephen went around, working on each student's work directly, which was a huge help, I must say. He could have told us to do this and do that. But the question is always "how"? He would make color "notes" for us to see what he was talking about. Stephen Early is a wonderful teacher--passionate, knowledgeable, gentle, funny, modest, sincere, etc. I can go on. I highly recommend him to anybody who is interested in learning to see and paint a figure. As for me, I am happy to go back to painting landscapes!

"Central Park Snowed In" (oil; 10 x 12")

2012-01-08T10:53:00.001-05:00

"Central Park Snowed In"

"Snow Trees" (oil, 8 x 12")

"Snow Creek" (oil, 9 x 12")

As you can see, I have a mini series going on here--snowscape with trees and creek/pond. If I paint the same scene over and over again, I will die of boredom and atrophy. But as I continue to explore the same theme with variations, I gain a deeper understanding of the theme. In "Snow Creek," I learned how the smaller area of the sun-lit snow seems to glow next to the much larger one of the snow in shadow.

In "Snow Trees," I grouped the sun-lit and shadowed areas and assigned them the two separate sections in the picture plane. I played around by intensifying the blues of the creek, to contrast them with the warm colors of the trees. But my main concern and fun was to figure out how to paint wet snow clinging to trees.

In the first painting of the new year, painted on the New Year's Day--"Central Park Snowed In--" I am back to the meandering stream and snow-coated trees. I am also contrasting a small sun-lit area with the rest of the snow-covered pond at Central Park, which is in shadow. I have become more ambitious, introducing the background, which is very different from the rest of the painting and works as the foil for it: the blurred skyline of Manhattan. I was also trying to vary the tones in the foreground to indicate different states of moisture from snow to ice (darker) to water (darkest).

Painting these small "daily" paintings has been a great tool for self-education and growth for an amateur-turned professional artist, which is who I am. Last year I retired from teaching history at a college, something I had been doing over twenty years, and began with much trepidation the adventure of a self-employed , starving artist. One doesn't get younger. It was now or never to do something I truly wanted. Wish me luck!

"Winter Bird" (oil; 8 x 12")

2012-01-02T09:47:00.000-05:00

Red berries are heavily laden with snow. One can feel that it is a cold gray day. No matter. The small black bird is intently and happily feeding. I don't know why this painting induces a happy feeling in me.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

"Sunrise" (oil; 12 x 8")

2012-01-01T13:24:00.000-05:00

The beginning of a new day. The beginning of a new year.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

"Winter Sunset at Sea" (oil; 8 x 12")

2011-12-31T11:20:00.000-05:00

Thank you for taking time to read my blog in 2011. I will be back with more (and, hopefully, better) paintings and stories next year!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

"Snow Trees" (oil; 8 x 12")

2011-12-29T13:09:00.001-05:00

I had a photograph which was so underexposed that it almost looked black and white. But it had an intriguing design I wanted to explore--a line of snow-coated trees along a dark band of a creek flowing through snow fields. I photoshoped it to lighten the darks. It looked better; but it still had hardly any colors, which wasn't a disaster. I could "make up" colors easily, you see. Browns for the trees, dark blues for the creek, and various whites for the snow. The painting isn't really about color. It's about design.

The photo's picture plane was originally divided into two by the biggest tree, which I moved a little to the left. Other trees were also moved a bit this way and that way, so that the painting has three groupings of trees: the papa group in the middle, the mama group on the right, and the lone tree (baby!) on the left. The snow field across the creek is sunlit; the snow bank in the foreground is in the shadow. So are all the trees. I had a lot of fun painting wet snow clinging to the trees--trunks, branches, twigs, and all. Oh, I wish it would snow!

"His Best Friend" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-12-27T14:02:00.000-05:00

The reference photo for "His Best Friend" was black and white. In the picture, the man was walking two dogs. I got rid of one dog with an awkward posture, and kept just one. The title obviously comes from the phrase that a dog is a man's best friend. The rest was up to my imagination.

I decided that it is to be an autumnal scene in late afternoon light. The distant trees on the far right was painted in dull violets, whereas the sun-struck area of the tall trees in the center is bright yellow organge. The man and his dog are rather far away in the middle ground from the viewer, so they are painted small and gesturally. Even so, the eye goes straight to them, doesn't it?

"Snow on Holly" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-12-24T11:31:00.000-05:00

How hectic it has been for the past few weeks! Now it's time to relax and wait for Santa.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

"Kids at Sunset Beach" (oil; 11 x 14")

2011-12-22T09:59:00.000-05:00

"Kids at Sunset Beach"

"Moon Rise" (oil, 8 x 10")

"Central Park Reflections" (oil, 12 x 9")

I am fascinated by water's ability for reflecting things above and around it. Especially when there is no strong breeze, water acts as a lovely mirror. At sunrise and sunset, when the sky takes on those ineffable hues of pale yellows, oranges, pinks, mauves, subtle blues and violets, water becomes the enchanting bridesmaid who accompanies the beautiful bride--the sky. Throw in some magnificent clouds to the mix, we are in heaven on earth!

"Springtime at Central Park" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-12-18T10:44:00.000-05:00

I love New York, NY. I don't want to live there, but would drop everything to visit the city anytime. So much energy and cultural diversity! The above picture was taken a few years ago on a family mini-vacation. It was a mild, overcast spring day. We had walked for I don't know how many blocks from our hotel at Times Square, stopping at many landmarks. Our destination was the Metropolitan Museum of Art for an afternoon of Ancient Egyptian history and culture. (I would have spent the time looking at paintings, but my daughter would have none of that and wanted to visit the world-famous Egyptian collection. Sigh.)

Central Park was crowded as it was a weekend day. I don't know how New Yorkers would manage without this green haven. Thank goodness, we had Frederick Law Olmsted, who had the vision to design this beautiful park! Do you recognize the famous bridge, which had been featured in countless movies?

I wanted to paint the scene for a long time. But something held me back. Do you know that made me hesitate? It was the tyranny of the color green. It's green in the foreground, middle ground, and background. I might as well pour a bucket of diluted green on the canvas and call it quits!

I thought long and hard about the problem and decided to take an artistic license. I made the foreground greens warm (with the various mixtures of cobalt blue, cadminum yellow medium, and some reds), while keeping the middle ground greens pale and cool (with cerulean blue, cadmium yellow light, some reds, and lots of titanium white). The background greens just above and below the bridge are muted violets. I edited out the tiny figures to enhance the serene mood I was going after. What do you think of the result of my efforts?

"Walk along Autumn Canal" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-12-15T09:23:00.001-05:00

"Walk along Autumn Canal"

"Autumn Bliss" (oil, 9 x 12")

"Autumn Canal" (oil, 12 x 12")

"Autumn Day along the Canal" (oil, 9 x 12")

Canal is not really one of my series, although it surely looks that way. The reason has to do with the beauty of Wide Water on the C & O Canal along the Potomac. Some places are like a painter's heaven, a gold mine, a jackpot. You can go there over and over and still find things to paint. The C & O Canal is one of them. I had a good fortune to discover the place, thanks to the Art League Plein Air Painters, who went there several times this fall. It's always a good idea to paint with friends for safety and conviviality. I joined them twice. Each time, the weather obliged. I still have more pictures to work from. Yippee!

"Autumn Bliss" was the third painting from my "mini" series. Can you tell whether it was done on location or in studio? Surprisingly, "Autumn Canal," with all those details, was painted en plein air, whereas "Autumn Bliss," with a bolder design, was painted at home. You can tell, however, that both have the similar feel in terms of the time of the season.

"Walk along Autumn Canal" (I am running out of titles!) is the latest canal painting. The vantage point is just a short distance from the one in "Autumn Bliss." It feels more painterly than "Autumn Bliss." Perhaps I have finally gotten in touch with the painterly arist's zen.

"Silent Night" (oil; 10 x 12")

2011-12-12T11:12:00.000-05:00

"Silent Night"

"Snow Valley" (oil; 10 x 15")

Snowscape is another favorite subject of mine. So much so that, I am in danger of running out of my reference material for snow paintings, as I live in an area that doesn't get much snow. Of the two latest snowscapes, I like "Silent Night" better. Snow is inherently a cold matter. Unless much care is taken, a snow painting will be too cold to look at. I thought that the warm-toned clouds in "Snow Valley" will balance out the cool colors in the rest of the painting. But, over all, it feels too icy for comfort.

So I am going back to painting snow scenes in early morning or late afternoon light. Sunset is even better. Snow reflects everything around it and, of course, the ambient light. The brilliant colors in the sunset sky seem to bring out the best in snow. If only it would snow!

"Sunset Clouds" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-12-11T14:51:00.001-05:00

"Sunset Clouds"

"Lighthouse at Sunset" (oil; 9 x 12")

It is a great idea to work in a series. To get to the bottom of things, so to speak. Sunset sky is one of my such on-going series. I am perhaps inspired by my mentor, Sara Linda Poly. She is my first oil painting teacher, whose luminous skyscapes never fail to take my breath away. As a veteran plein air painter, she paints on location these "golden moments," which don't last very long. Half an hour, tops, if you are lucky.

Sara draws the landscape parts--trees and so on--on a toned ground first and waits for the sunset to work its glorious, spectacular magic. It is, of course, hard to paint looking at the sun in rapidly fading light, and I don't know how she does it so well. As a newbie to plein air painting, I prefer to paint these sunset scenes in my studio. "Sunset Clouds" and "Lighthouse at Sunset" are my two latest attempts at sunset sky. I am pleased with them, for now.

"At Founders Park" (watercolor with white gouache; 9 x 9")

2011-12-08T09:08:00.000-05:00

"At Founders Park" on a page in my sketchbook

Rick's demo of a "poster" figure study

My attempts at "poster" figure studies

Sunday's schedule was even more rigorous. For three hours, we had a model for our "poster" figure studies. Rick Weaver's main concern was most students' obsession with line drawing. We try to draw as precisely as we are capable of, then "color in." He would rather have us think in terms of color shapes. Color has four properties: hue (red, blue, yellow, etc.), chroma (color intensity), value (light and dark), and temperature (warm and cool). And the same color will appear differently, like a chameleon, depending on what surrounds it. To paint in color is to play with fire.

Rick's answer was to do a series of "poster" figure studies. The more, the better. If you look at Rick's demo carefully, you will find eight color shapes: light and dark shapes for the head, hair, shirt, and background fabric. We were told to "match" the overall color for each shape, being mindful of hue, chroma, value, and temperature. Within each shape, there is a myriad of nuanced colors. Forget those and come up with one color that describes the shape. One should be able to tell the picture across the room as a woman with brown hair wearing a green shirt against an orange backdrop with a strong yellow light. We did three of these quick studies. The model came prepared with changes of clothes.

Rick doing a demo at Founders Park in Alexandria, VA

Rick's unfinished landscape demo

The view of winter bushes I chose to paint

After a quick lunch break, we went outside for a landscape exercise. This is what I was hoping for, but didn't expect to happen. How often do you get a perfect weather for outdoor painting in early December? The fortune, however, favored us. The warm late afternoon sun cast long cool shadows. After watching Rick do a quick demo, we were given 45 minutes to do a plein-air landscape sketch. Yes, really. I painted the above scene, sitting on a small sketchbook, as the grass was wet and I didn't come prepared with a stool. It took three minutes to set up the gear. It would have taken 30 minutes to settle down to paint in oil!

We returned to the classroom for the final parting words from Rick and goodbyes. He said: do "poster" studies like a musician practices scales. I took the workshop to learn to use watercolors like oils. I learned that, and much more. Thank you, Rick.

"Blue and Green Still Life" (watercolor with white gouache; 13 x 11")

2011-12-07T10:01:00.001-05:00

My attempt at the same still life setup

Still Life setup with Rick Weaver

Rick starts blocking in

Rick's compact travel watercolor palette

Rick's demo painting--loose and free!

Last weekend I took a fabulous workshop--"Opaque Watercolors"--with Rick Weaver at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA. I was excited to see him in person, as he had the reputation of being brutally honest to students in what he says about their artwork. I have heard of students ending up in the bathroom to cry after his critique! Another reason for the anxiety was that, because of a low enrollment, there was an imminent danger of the workshop getting cancelled. Dang! I really wanted to learn how to use watercolors opaquely like oils for painting during vacations.

I am a dedicated plein-air painter and have dragged my painting gear around in my enthusiasm to all sorts of places, including national parks in the Southwest. But there is the bulk issue of the art gear necessary for outdoor painting in oil. An even bigger problem is traveling with oil paints and mediums. One has to take numerous precautions not to get your stuff thrown out of your luggage. These days, a traveling oil painter is treated worse than a terrorist with a bomb on the airplane!

I was tired of it all. I needed an intervention. I had to find out whether Rick's promise would deliver: the promise of maximizing the watercolor paints' potentials with one additional paint--a white gouache--to make them behave opaquely, but retaining transparency when appropriate. Fortunately, six additional students signed up for the workshop at the last moment. Thank goodness! And Rick did more than deliver. His reputation turned out to be false as well. He was a fun, gentle, encouraging, and phenomenal teacher!

On Saturday, we tackled still life to get the hang of the new medium. Even a veteran watercolorist such as myself found that adding a white gouache to watercolor paints transformed them into a totally different animal. Traditional transparent watercolors dry a little lighter; but opaque watercolor paints dry darker, just like acrylic paints. Strange. I also had to figure out the right water/paint ratio to make the paints flow. Tricky.

Still life value study (watercolor with white gouache; 9 x 9")

In other words, it was hard! For a particularly struggling student, Rick did another quick demo of a value study with just one color of burnt umber. As we had only half an hour left by that time, several of us decided to do the same instead of starting a new still life as Rick made us switch to another setup. A slave driver! I didn't have the right color, so, instead, used Daniel Smith's "Moonglow". The above value study is pretty much a trasparent watercolor, with one exception. I restored lights with a white gouache here and there.

You see, that is precisely the point. In traditional watercolors, lights once lost are lost forever, just like Fitzwilliam Darcy's opinion once lost is lost forever in Pride and Prejudice. In traditional watercolors, a white paint is death, anathema. One must preserve white and lights with life. But, honestly, who gives a darn! With a white added to your watercolor paints, you can go either way--darker or lighter. There is freedom. Hallelujah!

"Cardinal in the Snow" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-12-02T09:47:00.000-05:00

After Levels adjusted

Original image

Speaking of Photoshop, I learned something very valuable during the workshop with Bobbi Pratte on Monday. I have lots of paintings with a white background. For instance, in "Cardinal in the Snow," much of the painting is the snow-covered ground. Sure, it is about the red cardinal looking for food on a winter day, but if the bird had been standing on a dark ground, the painting's impact would have been completely lost.

So it is imperative to show in the photographic image what I had captured with paints. Unfortunately, whenever I take pictures of paintings with a white background, they come out looking drab. Whites just are not white enough. They might reflect too much of the blue sky, turning bluish; or they turn out dull, dirty-looking. Sigh.

Hoping that Bobbi must know what to do, I asked her. She did indeed know how to correct the problem with Photoshop. Go to "Enhance," "Adjust Lighting," then "Levels." In the dialog box, you will see the Input Levels in the top half. There are three buttons. The far right button controls the highest values. Drag it to the left until you find the satisfactory light value. That's it!

I could have done some more cool stuff even before I started painting "Cardinal in the Snow," too. I had to use two different photos while painting: one for the pine tree in the background, the other for the bird's pose. If I had taken the workshop before, I would have combined the two pictures with Photoshop and worked with just one printout. If I had wished so, I could have flipped the bird's direction, so that it would look the other way. You get the idea. I have just entered the wonderous world of Photoshop!

"Scandinavian House" (oil; 14 x 18")

2011-12-01T09:38:00.000-05:00

Composition drawing for "Scandinavian House"

I was busy during the Thanksgiving holiday, not visiting with family, but working. It was my sweet husband who cooked on Thanksgiving! Why? I had to finish two commission paintings that need to be shipped by early December. One of them--"Waterlily Dreams"--I already shared with my readers. "Scandinavian House" was the second painting I worked on during the holiday.

This portrait of a house was commissioned by my dear sister-in-law for her husband. She is probably the only client who didn't negotiate the price; she told me she didn't want a discount. Bless her heart! She and husband had raised their four sons in this house. After their children left, they decided to stay instead of moving somewhere else. They recently made some additions, and that is why my sister-in-law decided it would be a fun "addition" to their new additions.

I worked with a couple of pictures she took in the afternoon. She worried about the "artistic" quality of the pictures, but I told her that I liked them just fine. The late afternoon sun casts long tree shadows on the driveway, lawn, and house itself. You can tell that the property is surrounded by the tall, slender pine trees. They are very important in the composition as much as the house itself. I felt that the two tall trees in front of the house were like the father and mother of the family. I made sure that they didn't bisect the painting perfectly.

I first did a value drawing on a piece of paper in the same size as the painting itself to work out the composition. This is something I rarely do as I usually compose in my head and jump right into the painting process. But, for this important project, I didn't want to waste time and spoil the fresh brushwork by messing around with the elaborate architectural drawing on the canvas itself.

After my client approved the composition, the rest was a breeze, as I had already decided on the palette: blues for the sky, warm yellow oranges for the house, greeens for the pine trees, and blue violets for the shadows in the driveway. She wanted the driveway a little less prominent while I was working on the painting, so I obliged by making the lawn a little bigger. I felt such affection for the family that I think it shows in the final painting. Doesn't "Scandinavian House" look like a happy house?

"Central Park Reflections" (oil; 12 x 9")

2011-11-30T11:39:00.000-05:00

Original reference photo

Hue/Saturation adjusted photo

Last Monday I took an interesting workshop with Bobbi Pratte at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA. It was about how to use Photoshop to improve paintings. I use Photoshop to crop, rotate, lighten/darken the photographic images. The basic stuff. I am not a techie; I dread the whole esoteric, mysterious universe of technology. So it was with some reservation that I signed up for the workshop, mainly because a good friend of mine talked me into it and some other good friends were taking it. Why not?

I must say that I did see some interesting "tricks" one could do with Photoshop Elements. My head spinned at the end of the three-hour workshop. Bobbi covered such an impressive amount of information in one afternoon that, in the evening, when I picked up my long-abandoned copy of Photoshop Elements 8 for Dummies, I could almost understand what the 600-page-long book was explaining--selections, tools, layers, opacity, etc., etc.

OK, let's talk about "Central Park Reflections." The original reference photo was taken on an overcast spring day a couple of years ago during a mini family vacation to New York City. I loved the way the Manhattan skyline was reflected in the pond water at Central Park. But I decided to change the time of the day to dusk to make the painting "romantic."

On the morning of the workshop, I tried to paint with the original printout, which was green all over with a colorless sky. It was hard. During the workshop, it occurred to me that I should adjust hue/saturation of the photo, so that it would be easier to visualize the mood I was going after. I did just that this morning and reworked the painting with the adjusted printout. It was much easier as I hoped.

I had known how to adjust Hue/Saturation all along, but have never manipulated a reference photo to suit my particular project, only relying on my power of visual imagination. I honestly don't know which way is better for an artist. But I suspect that I will be using Photoshop more often to make my life easier.

"Waterlily Dreams" (oil; 24 x 18")

2011-11-25T09:00:00.000-05:00

"Waterlily Dreams" (oil, 24 x 18")

"Where Dragonflies Play" (oil, 12 x 9")

At the request of a client, I did a much larger version of the same painting. When a painting is blown up, I often feel that something gets lost in the translation. The charm and suggestiveness of a small painting become sacrificed in favor of details. I was determined that it should not happen with this commision work. I came up with the title first and stuck to it, keeping it "dreamy" and "soft-edged." What do you think of the new painting?

"Winter Afternoon" (oil; 12 x 9")

2011-11-23T10:10:00.000-05:00

I've said this before, and I will say it again and again. You don't have to go far for beautiful sceneries. Beauty--Nature and man-made--exists everywhere. It's all around us. We just have to keep our eyes open. Take a walk in your neighborhood after snow. Do it when the sun comes out. An early morning or late afternoon light will transform your neighbor's driveway into a winter wonderland.

Just leave your phone or iPod home. Talking on the phone or listening to a loud music doesn't mix well with the quiet appreciation of sight, sound, and smell that one is supposed to be engaged in while taking a stroll. We've taken the idea of multi-tasking to the ludicrous level. We don't feel any more sense of accomplishment with all that multi-tasking of doing several things at the same time. Instead, we are simply stressed out. Let's take a time out.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

"Orchid Love" (oil; 12 x 8")

2011-11-18T11:13:00.000-05:00

"Orchid Love"

Do you like orchids? I do. Some people have the enviable green thumb with these exotic tropical flowers and have them flower year after year. No, me. All I can hope for is to enjoy them for a few weeks, then buy another plant in the following year. Or, take pictures at a florist shop like I did back in September. Of course, working from a photo is a big challenge. I can hardly see what's going on in the dark shadowed areas. But I liked the design of several long terracotta pots arranged at different levels and the idea of not having to pay for several pots to paint from life. Cheap I am.

"Orchid Smiles" (watercolor, 14 x 10")

"Orchid Smiles" was painted in 2004, when I used to work in watercolor. Which do you like better?

"Sarah" (graphite and chalk; 16 x 12")

2011-11-17T14:28:00.001-05:00

Today was the last session of Lisa Semerad's figure drawing (short pose) class at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA. To top off our nine-week forays into the fascinating world of figure drawing, we were assigned to a two-hour-long pose with just a bit of instruction about different kinds of paper and drawing tools.

I chose a warm, mid-toned Canson Mi-teintes paper, since it seemed to match her skin tone fairly closely. Getting the pose down wasn't hard. The challenge for me was to get hatching right. Last week, Lisa showed the different types of hatching--simple, contour, planar, and cross--and told us to practice at home. Have I done that? Of course, not.

And working with white chalk as well as graphite made things really exciting (i.e., confusing). The paper provides the mid tone; graphite pencils, darks; and white chalk, the highlights. If you mix graphite and white chalk, you get a disgusting blue gray! They don't come into contact, excpet where there is an abrupt change of planes from dark to light.

Two hours was a long time for us, a luxury--enough time to get the drawing right, add values, work the environment which the model occupied into the composition, and fiddle. The model's right knee got a whole lot of white highlights, for instance. It comes forward too much. Oh, well.

"Southwestern Wildflower Meadow" (oil; 11 x 14")

2011-11-15T13:26:00.006-05:00

"Southwestern Wildflower Meadow"

"Mule Deer in the Meadow" (oil, 9 x 12")

Bobbi Pratte's landscape class is winding down, with just a few more classes to go. She suggested that we should all do some field exercises, that is, paint fields. I chose a southwestern theme. "Mule Deer in the Meadow" was the first one I did, based on a picture I took on the way to Cedar Breaks National Monument in Utah during my family vacation in the Southwest last year. I didn't know why the deer's ears were so big until a friend of mine told me that they were not ordinary deer, but mule deer.

I like the second "field" painting better. It started raining by the time we got to Cedar Breaks National Monument. At the altitude of over 10,000 feet, it was chilly although it was late July. At one stop, we saw a breathtaking view of a wildflower meadow sloping down to the valley of spruces and firs. The red flowers in the foreground are Indian paintbrushes. There were also Queen Anne's laces and many other species in the meadow.

In my opinion, the biggest challenge in painting a field is to create the sense of depth. What's in the background should stay there and don't come forward, no matter how interesting and beautiful they are. On the other hand, it was really hard to keep balance between enough details and fuss in the foreground. For instance, how do I not trap the viewer's eye in the foreground with brilliant red flowers in "Southwestern Wildflower Meadow"?

Making sense of the terrain is also a must, I think. In "Southwestern Wildflower Meadow," it is clear that the meadow goes downhill, whereas everything is more or less flat in "Mule Deer." I can imagine myself painting fields and meadows over and over again in the future to get to the bottom of it.

"Autumn Brook" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-11-13T09:15:00.002-05:00

It was a picture-perfect autumn day when several members of the Art League Plein Air Painters went to Green Spring Gardens Park in Alexandria, VA. It had been a busy, exciting week, and I was tired. I walked around, taking numerous pictures of last roses, trees with their fall colors, etc. But I couldn't settle on any particular view to paint. So I continued walking down the trail in the woods until I came across the above scene. This was it! Except that I had left my painting gear back on the main lawn. The thought of having to go back to fetch the stuff, drag it down by the brook, set up the gear, and actually paint the scene tired me out even more.

Among my artist friends I am known for my workaholic (or shall I say, artaholic) habit of painting fast and furiously every day. Not that day. I decided to give myself a break. Gasp! I sat by my teacher and friend, Bobbi Pratte, and watched her paint an overgrown garden. We kept company, got to know each other better, and had a great time. It's sometimes good to kick back and relax.

I painted "Autumn Brook" from the photo yesterday. The background trees with their fall colors are brilliantly backlit. Tree shadows caress the foreground and middle ground forest floors. And there it is--a tiny waterfall in the center of the painting. It was a glorious day to take a walk in the woods.

"After Storm Glow" (oil; 6 x 8")

2011-11-11T09:17:00.000-05:00

Standing next to "After Storm Glow" at the reception

"Foxy Foxglove" (Japanese beads)

Last Tuesday turned out to be a super auspicious day for me. Not only did I vote for the first time since I became a US citizen in the spring, I also got two honorable mentions in the concurrent shows at The Art League in Alexandria, VA!

It was a picture perfect, gorgeous autumn day. I am usually edgy, anxious on receiving days at The Art League's monthly shows, as they are very competitive and hard to get into. Not that day. I was calm and cheerful. I felt invincible. After entering several pieces in the shows, I went over to River Farm to enjoy the weather and take some pictures. Then I visited with a dear friend fighting breast cancer. When I called the gallery later to see whether I had any luck this month (I haven't gotten into the shows since June!), I wasn't nervous at all. I was ecstatic after I learned that one painting made the Small Works Show and two jewelry pieces the What Art to Wear Show.

On the following day, the gallery called me twice to say that I received two honorable mentions! The funny thing is that I don't make jewelries to sell; it's just one of my many creative hobbies. The reason why I entered two necklaces is that I was desperate. I feel like I have been barking at the wrong tree. Perphaps I should become a jewelry artist, then I will have more luck!

"Winter Creek" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-11-07T09:54:00.000-05:00

"Winter Creek"

"Winter Morning" (oil, 9 x 12")

Both paintings above are based on the pictures I took many winters ago down the street along Holmes Run in Alexandria, VA. We don't usually get much snow in northern Virginia. So whenever there is a bit of snowfall, it is a snow day and everybody is happy. I am from a country (South Korea) that gets lots of snow every year. I've got to see snow in winter; otherwise, I feel deprived.

And I love to paint snowscapes. Although it gives local residents much pleasure, Holmes Run is a small creek, not a particularly scenic one at that. But look at my paintings! It's the snow that transformed an ordinary creek into a winter wonderland. No omnipresent, oppressive greens as leaves had fallen. White snow, which has hints of the sun's warmth, makes big bold shapes or sparkling, lacy tendrils. The creek with wonderfully fuzzy reflections of bare trees on the oppostie bank is a bonus, which provides a nice dark shape in the middle ground. I hope we get some nice snow this winter, not just dustings.

"Duck Pond" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-11-06T10:39:00.001-05:00

At the outset of every painting, I always feel two emotions: excitement and fear. I feel excited about the subject AND fearful about whether I will be able to pull it off. If there is no challenge, boredom will set in and only slapdash work will come out of the painting session. Yes, I live on the edge.

When I went to paint at Wide Water along the C & O Canal a week ago, I took a walk to walk off numbness in the toes. It was a bit chilly, yes; but, oh boy, it was gorgeous. There were several mallard ducks and lots of Canada geese in the water, fishing and sunbathing. I took many pictures. Yesterday, I decided to make something of the above picture, with a bit of both feelings I just mentioned.

I cropped the photo to focus on the ducks and warmed up the palette. Wobbly reflections of trees and their brilliant leaves fill up the entire painting, but without the two birds, it won't make any sense. It would have been nicer if one of the ducks had been a female, but I didn't want to invent their colors. Just to be on the safe side.

"Helen" (NuPastel; 18 x 24")

2011-11-03T14:45:00.000-04:00

A Thursday, another figure drawing. Today's theme in Lisa Semerad's class was foreshortening. Look at how short the forearm of the model's right arm appears, compared to the upper arm. Or the right calf and right thigh, neither of which are quite visible. Nevertheless, the thigh appears much longer than the calf. It's all caused by the phenomenon that the true lengths of things in perspective are not what they appear. We just have to take the leap of faith and draw what we see, not what we know.

Actually I had it really easy with this graceful pose from where I was standing. That's why Lisa tried to move me to another spot where everything was foreshortened! I refused although I was flattered by her high estimation of my drawing ability. By the way, the above pose was one hour long. Two more classes left before the end of the term. Am I ready for the figure/portrait painting workshop with Steven Early at the Art League School in early January? Aargh....

"Cherry Blossom Season" (oil; 15 x 10")

2011-11-01T13:00:00.001-04:00

In case you are wondering, no, I didn't paint "Cherry Blossom Season" on location. There were a lot more people milling around than you can see in the painting of the Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington, DC. It was chilly and breezy, too, when I took the reference picture back in early April. The reason for this sudden burst of spring fever is Bobbi Pratte. Yes, she made me do it.

No, she's actually a nice, fun person and terrific teacher. But she was super picky about which pictures we should use for our exercise of putting figure in a landscape. Many photos were shooed out unceremoniously for people being too tiny, too big, or too much in the foreground; for parts of their limbs being hidden; for flat lighting, etc. She would make a good judge of an art show--extremely decisive!

What amazes me is that no matter how small the figures are, as soon as you paint them in, they suddenly become the focal point! In "Cherry Blossom Festival", there are several things vying for attention: the famous monument, which is currently closed due to the severe damages caused by the September earthquake, cherry flowers, the tall, dark tree dominating the sky in the left top corner, and of course, the young couple in the foreground. Bobbi and I decided to emphasize the figures and lovely flowers. What do you think of the result?

"Autumn Canal" (oil; 12 x 12")

2011-10-28T17:20:00.000-04:00

("Autumn Canal" blocked in)

("Autumn Canal" almost finished)

Today a group of friends, now called the Art League Plein Air Painters, went to Widewater along the C & O Canal, just north of Washington, DC. It was a chilly day, but the light could not have been better. In one more week, most leaves would be gone. Fall colors were absolutely breathtaking. I walked around along the canal and down to the Potomac River, taking pictures. Wow! I was in a painters' heaven.

Remembering how cold it got last Friday at Madeira School while painting Mather Gorge, I was better prepared today with woolen socks, boots, leather gloves, and a warm hat. Even so, my toes and little fingers became numb after a while. As I am determined to paint some snow scenes this winter, I'd better get a serious winter gear.

After a few hours of painting, we all walked over to the historic Old Angler's Inn for lunch to celebrate the launch of our new group. We are going to design the "official" hat, have a group show at a gallery, and do lots of fun things in the future. When several students of Sara Linda Poly started painting outside of her class last year, we had no idea where it would lead. Another group out of The Art League organized a plein air painting group this summer. What we did was to combine the two groups. As they say, if you build it, they will come. For us, if you start painting together, more people will join us. We are thrilled.

"Morning Island" (oil; 10 x 8")

2011-10-27T14:08:00.000-04:00

Are you familiar with Wolf Kahn? A while back I talked about him in one of my entries, called "Fall Patterns". He seems to have so much fun with his work. He dashes off a painting filled with brilliant colors after another. Do I sound envious? Yes, I am envious of him. I love pure, intense colors. That's one reason I enjoy painting florals. As a realist painter, however, I don't have the guts to do what he does when I paint landscapes. Have you ever seen in Nature Barbie pinks, turquoises, and other "pretty" colors Kahn uses in his work?

"Morning Island" is based on a portion of a photo I took many summers ago on Assateague Island in the mid-Atlantic, famous for its wild ponies. The lone egret is so far away that it is no more that a speck on the picture. The colors are not as "pretty" either, as I took it on a hot summer afternoon--lots of greens and unidentifiable darks. But I had some interesting shapes to play with. Colors on the painting were my invention. Why not? Let the hair down and have some fun. Be Wolf Kahn for a day.

"Magenta Tulips" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-10-26T09:13:00.000-04:00

These glorious tulips, daffodils, and grape hyacinths are my husband's babies. He plants bags of spring bulbs every fall without fail, as he knows that some will be eaten by squirrels, and that seasoned gardeners treat tulips as annuals. Magenta tulips, however, came back as strong as the previous year, to our surprise and delight. As you can see, the flowers seem to harmonize with each other. Do you know why? It is because he had bought a packet called "Blueberries" from a mail order catalogue. There were a few varieties of tulips I have never seen.

Unfortunately, we were not the only creatures who found these tulips irrisitible. The day after I took the above picture, along with woos and wows, deer came by and ate them! They just eat the petals, not the whole plants. Picky eaters. Imagine yourself being greeted by the gruesome sight of headless tulips the first thing in the morning. I like deer; they look so graceful. BUT NOT IN MY GARDEN, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

"Autumn Woods" (oil; 12 x 9")

2011-10-25T17:22:00.000-04:00

As you may remember, I went to paint on the grounds of Madeira School in McLean, VA last Friday. Before leaving the school, a friend of mine and I decided to take a walk to Black Pond within the grounds, most of the 376 acres of land is wooded. We got hopeless lost and ended up back at the parking lot! The walk itself was lovely, though, as the sun had finally come out, casting dappled light on the path, grass, and trees. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I must say.

I painted "Autumn Woods" in Bobbi Pratte's landscape--breaking-it-down--class yesterday. This term's focus so far has been trees. I've noticed that you just cannot get away from trees if you are interested in landscapes. Whether they are the center of interest or serve only as a backdrop, trees pop up in so many of my landscape paintings. It will take many years of serious contemplation and practice, I think, to become truly at ease when it comes to painting trees. Let the fun begin!

"Autumn at the Gorge" (oil; 12 x 9")

2011-10-22T17:05:00.000-04:00

It was supposed to be a beautiful sunny day. That's why a small group of friends, now called the Art League Plein Air Painting Group, went to paint at Madeira School in northern Virginia. It is a private girls' high school, not open to the public. We were fortunate to have an access to the bluff behind the school chapel looking out Mather Gorge along the Potomac River. The view was spectacular. Painting at about the same altitude as hawks flew was a liberating experience.

But the sun kept playing peekaboo with us, and after a couple of hours, it got quite chilly, forcing us to pack up. As the sun kept moving, hiding, and coming back out, the scenery before our eyes continued to change subtly. The brilliant autumn colors appeared more subtle and gentle to the eyes because of the pearly light. I am not sure whether the painting would have turned out better if it had been a sunny, cheerful day.

Labor of Love

2011-10-20T15:45:00.000-04:00

("Legs"; Nupastel, 18 x 16")

("Arms"; Nupastel, 18 x 24")

I spent the entire day on Tuesday, sealing 85 Baltic birch panels (both sides to protect the artwork and prevent the panels from warping), which you can see nicely stacked on the right. Some time ago, a couple of friends and I had hired a professional woodcutter to cut 5 x 5' panels to our specification. I was eager to get my hands on these babies, as they are considered the best supports for linen (or canvas) for the conservation purpose. Now my task is to mount the linen with archival glue, which will probably take several evenings of hard work. Then, do you know what I do? Have a party to celebrate? No, that will come much later. Although I use a brand of oil-primed linen in the first place, I am not crazy about its smooth texture. To add more interesting texture and ensure the non-absorbency, I apply another layer of lead oil prime. All of this amounts to A LOT OF WORK and TOXIC SMELLS. Without the love of what I do, I would not go through the trouble.

By the time I was done on Tuesday evening, I was exhausted. I had to take it easy yesterday to recover from it. I am still a little tired, but today I had the figure drawing class with Lisa Semerad. The focus of today's lesson was the legs and arms. Yes, we drew the legs first. I didn't know why until I started drawing the arms. They were harder! The model was a tall, slender guy. He was quite cheerful and laughed a lot at our goofy jokes. He seemed like one of those happy people who enjoy their work. My kind of guy.

"From Autumn Garden" (oil; 12 x 10")

2011-10-14T18:12:00.000-04:00

Ever since I bought Al Gury's Alla Prima: A Contemporary Guide to Traditional Direct Painting, I've been dying to copy the composition of the painting on the cover--white flowers in a simple glass jar on a neutral table against a black background. I wish I could show you the painting, but didn't want to risk the copy right infringement. I am not certain what flowers he used, possibly columbines.

I could think of only one flower from my garden that had the similar feel--the white Japanese anemone. This dainty flower blooms in the fall and I have just one plant of the white variety. Pink and purple ones multiplied profusely in my garden over the years, but not the white flower. This year, there were three precious stems on it. On Tuesday, I cut them, arranged them in a preserve jar on a toned linen board (no neutral table at hand), and took several pictures. On Wednesday, I took more pictures as buds opened. I liked the above composition the best, so painted it.

It was a perfect day for painting a floral still life in the studio, as it was raining outside. I tried the same in the spring soon after I took Robert A. Johnson's floral still life workshop. It was hard! I wanted to be out there in the garden, feeling the warmth of the sun, listening to the birds, and simply glad to be alive. The irony of the whole situation is this. In the fall and winter, there are less temptation to go out, but fewer (or no) seasonal garden flowers available for still life painting. Cruel life choices, indeed.

"Katie" (sanguine conte crayon; 18 x 14")

2011-10-13T14:22:00.000-04:00

This fall I have been taking a figure drawing class with Lisa Semerad at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA as part of my figure/portrait self-education program. Although I pompously said "self-education," there is no substitute for good teachers, books, and models, when it comes down to learning to draw and paint figure/portrait. So I should have said "self-guided". My apologies.

Today was the fourth week, with the focus on the head and torso. The model arrived a little late; then about five minutes into posing, she passed out! Lisa, an experienced teacher, took it in strides for this sort of thing happens in figure drawing classes once in a while, as tired models rush from one job to another, sometimes with an empty stomach. The poor model was later struck (gently) by an overhead clamp light, too! It's fortunate that it was not Friday the 13th, only Thursday the 13th. I am grateful for the models who pose for really modest monetary compensations.

The above drawings were all ten-minute poses, no time to develop facial features or hands. The top one was the second of the series and is my favorite.

"Pink Tutu Peonies" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-10-11T13:43:00.001-04:00

While going through an old shoebox full of photographs, I found a picture of pink peonies, which became the inspiration for "Pink Tutu Peonies." These fluffy, flirty, and fragrant peonies are from my garden and they always remind me of pink tutus my daughter wore in her ballet recitals as a little girl.

The previous owners of my house were enthusiastic gardeners and had done a terrific job with landscaping the property. Unfortunately, they didn't always pay attention to how much light different plants require for the optimum growth. So we have lilac bushes, a plum tree, and others languishing in shady corners. There isn't much we could do about them, but with small plants like peonies and azaleas, we could transplant them to sunny spots. The pink peony, mostly dead ten years ago, now thrives and brings us much joy every spring.

But where I live, when spring comes, it comes fast and furious. One day, it's a balmy spring; the next day, it's a sultry summer. The only way to extend the enjoyment of these lovely peonies is to paint from them fast before they fade. Sometimes, I don't have the time and, as a backup for rainy days, I take some pictures. Not the same thing, I know. It is still better than nothing with these seasonal flowers.

"Autumn Day at the Bay" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-10-08T16:32:00.001-04:00

Lately the Washingtonians have been basking in a gorgeous weather day after day, as the Mother Nature is trying to make amends after earthquakes, torrential rains, and flash floods of past several weeks. Which means--I MUST GO OUTSIDE TO PAINT! So a couple of friends and I made an plein-air-painting outing to Occoquan Bay National Wildlife Refuge on Friday.

This haven for migrating birds, nature lovers, and other creatures that reside in grasslands and marshes is located 20 miles south of Washington, DC, at the confluence of the Potomac and Occoquan Rivers, just half a mile off the hustle and bustle of the busy traffic on Jefferson Davis Highway (US Highway 1).

None of us have been there, so didn't realize how much we had to walk lugging our painting gear. Sure, along the way, we took lots of pictures of other scenic spots. But when we saw the above view, our jaws dropped. Lots of Canada geese were resting in the water. We also spotted egrets and herons. There were no clouds in the sky. No bugs, no pestering onlookers, just an occasional gentle breeze to cool down our brows. Tranquility reigned.

"Dancing Gladioli" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-10-05T14:51:00.001-04:00

I like having flowers around, either inside or out. Yesterday, I spotted these gorgeous gladioli selling for 99 cents for a bunch as a manager's special at a Harris Teeter store! Congratulating myself on my good fortune, I bought two bunches. More often than not, I regret to admit, these flowers from grocery stores would sit in the living room for a few days and fade. Not this time. I was so excited by the freshness and bold palette of the crimson and light pink gladioli, I set to work right away.

The black thing you see behind the flowers in the photo is a sheet of black Canson Mi-teintes paper that I propped up to do away with the clutter in the kitchen. Somehow the colors got washed out, although I didn't use flashlight (never use flashlight for photographying for painting!), so the red gladioli look scarlet rather than crimson. I put the vase of the flowers next to my easel for the true colors. Flowers have a bad habit of changing forms rapidly, so these days, I tend to refer to both the real things and the photo, unless they died long ago.

And I was wise as I couldn't finish the painting yesterday. No worries and no frayed nerves for me anymore. Purists would call it cheating; I say too bad. Painting is hard enough, so give yourself a break and do what works the best for you.

"By the River" (oil; 11 x 14")

2011-10-03T10:41:00.000-04:00

Last month was probably the wettest September ever! Day after day, week after week, we were drenched. Good for the lawn, but bad for the morale. It felt like I moved to Seattle, WA. So when the forecast promised a break of one sunny day, a friend of mine and I arranged a small paintout and kept our fingers crossed. Last Friday finally arrived, and boy, we were lucky! Just for several hours in the morning, it was a beautiful, autumn day. Then, by the time we packed up, the clouds rolled in; the rest of the weekend was the usual washout.

We went to a place called Widewater along the historic C & O Canal along the Potomac River. We could have painted the canal itself, but nearby we saw this spectacular view from a small sandy beach. We were on the Maryland side, looking out the Virginian bank of the river. Look at those magnificent rocks! Yes, the river was muddy thanks to all the rain, but we could still see colors of the rocks and trees reflected in the water. Goody! I painted fearlessly, not worrying about getting all the cracks and trees right. Who cares? We were just glad to be out there. My husband loved the painting, so I gave it to him. We were one happy family.

"Flight of Fancy" (oil; 7 x 7")

2011-09-29T20:33:00.000-04:00

Today is the one year anniversary of my blog. What a year it has been! It was truly a leap of faith for me to undertake the responsibility of writing a blog. At the beginning, I was probably the only person who read my blog. These days, who knows? I have a few friends who keep up with it; beyond them, I have no idea. Someday I may develop a big following. For now, I am content with my small, but loyal readership.

Going with the concept of a leap of faith, I am sharing "Flight of Fancy" with my readers today. It is based on a photo I found in a shoebox the other day. I took it nine years ago when my daughter was still in preschool, at a beautiful public park called Brookside Gardens in Wheaton, MD, to which two moms and three preschoolers took a field trip.

They were having a special exhibit of a butterfly show. Hundreds of exotic butterflies fluttering about everywhere was a sight to behold. I somehow captured these two orange butterflies in the frame: one in flight, the other in a brief moment of stillness. I love the juxtaposition of oranges and violets--a color combination I rarely use, but now I will.

Thank you for reading my blog. Happy Anniversary!

"A Dozen Roses" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-09-28T10:15:00.000-04:00

A dozen roses. Who doesn't love them, except some unlucky people like my husband who are allergic to their fragrance? And that was the problem with painting "A Dozen Roses"--a very high expectation. Everybody knows what a rose looks like and will be a harsh critic if it is painted poorly. Something so beautiful is daunting to render right, for the fear of making it stiff, unnatural. I guess it's the same thing with painting a beautiful woman, especially a young beauty. I once had an art teacher who swore that he would never paint her!

So it took longer than usual to finish this painting. At the end of the afternoon (I had started it in the morning), I was exhausted! I took pictures and sat down to photoshop to see if the red balance was pleasing. My husband didn't see the painting on the couch, next to the coffee table on which my laptop sits. He put down his elbow to the right bottom of the painting, thus smudging and removing some of my signature and dark paints! I was too tired and shocked to scream. Mutely I got him a tissue to wipe his elbow and fixed the signature. By the way, there are indeed a dozen roses in the painting; you just have to look for them very carefully.

"Red Poppies" (oil; 8 x 12")

2011-09-26T10:06:00.000-04:00

"Red Poppies" blocked in and left to dry

As I said in the entry on "Purple Irises," I am an alla prima painter, finishing a painting in one session, whether it takes one hour or a whole day. The idea is that as long as the paints remain wet, you can manipulate the edges--hard edges for emphasis and soft ones to recede. There are, of course, exceptions to my usual approach. Sometimes I run out of time and can't finish a painting on the day when I started it.

Or, like with "Red Poppies," I decide to let the first block-in stage dry. The green seed heads are in front of the red petals, and you know one of the color principles: you mix two complimentary colors, then you end up with mud. Greens and reds are such a complimentary pair, occurring in nature often and making it all the prettier. The point of poppies is their brilliant reds--cadminus red, permanent rose, and alizarin crimson, etc. Your heart rate goes up happily, exhilaratingly. So adding green paints on top of fresh, juicy red paitnts would have been simply asking for trouble.

As impatient as I am, I wisely let the flowers dry for two days, which meant that the soft greens and violets of the surrounding meadow also dried out unfortunately. Dry brushing came in handy to paint in delicate stems suggestively and poetically. I am quite pleased with how the painting turned out.

"Yellow and Peach Roses" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-09-23T14:35:00.000-04:00

It amazes me to see what one can do with 80 square inches of linen. Six roses! Isn't the painting luscious, if I may say so? I used to do lots of flower paintings in watercolor. As I moved away from this not-so-forgiving medium, exploring more opaque medium of oil, I embraced landscape with enthusiasm. I love to paint landscapes, especially en plein air, which I didn't really enjoy as a watercolorist. But, you know, something strange has been happening lately.

I stopped teaching (history at a college, if you are not familiar with my story), and am now painting full time, everyday and happily, if you want to know. My audience is eBay. For three months I floundered, trying to figure out what attracts eBay fine art buyers. Gradually I find myself reaching to my old bag of tricks, something I do well, or better than other subjects --flowers. Why haven't I thought of that? I inherited my love of flowers and gardening from my parents. When I lived in a high-rise apartment, I used to have a patio filled with flowers in containers.

It all goes back to the old adage in the art business. Paint something you really love. I am anxious to see how much "Yellow and Peach Roses" will go for on eBay. Wish me luck!

"Purple Irises" (oil; 12 x 9")

2011-09-21T17:17:00.000-04:00

"Purple Irises"

"Purple Glory" (watercolor, 20 x 14")

I have painted these majestic purple irises from my garden many times, but never get tired of them. Sadly they died out. So, in a way, the paintings are a reminder of the ephemeral nature of life. "Purple Glory" had received the Best in Show award in the Potomac Valley Watercolorists Green Spring Show in 2007 and got sold in a solo show at the NIH in Bethesda, MD.

I missed the painting, so decided to do another version, this time in oil. They are quite different, aren't they? The watercolor version is bigger and more "detailed" or "refined" than "Purple Irises." I paint oils in the alla prima way--that is, finish the painting in one session. This method requires a truly full concentration, as each stroke matters. There is an urgency and immediacy that cannot be achieved in the more traditional indirect painting method.

You may prefer the watercolor painting, but as my aesthetics have evolved, it now feels too detached, even "cold." I don't feel the presence of the artist who worked furiously to get the irisness just right, and not overwork it, which, by the way, I had also done when I worked in watercolor. But I think I was reluctant to reveal myself and get in the way of the viewer's appreciation of the subject. What do you think? I would appreciate your comment! Thanks.

"Pink Rose Bush" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-09-17T10:41:00.002-04:00

Since I mentioned the rose in the previous entry, I thought I would share a little painting of roses. As you can see, I haven't changed much from the photo, other than editing out the clutter on the upper right corner. Does this mean that all I do is to copy a picture? No, not really. I take a great care when I take pictures in the first place. As a matter of fact, I do the composing with my camera, and I believe that composition is the half of the game in art.

By the way, copying a photograph sounds like a bad thing, but it itself is a great deal of work. A photo is not a painting, no matter how good it may be; much thinking and brush handling go into a painting to make a piece of canvas look like a piece of art. After I was finished with "Pink Rose Bush", I had so much eye strain, my eyes hurt terribly. I was behind the schedule (I try to do a painting a day and I was one or two paintings behind for the week), so I worked in the evening. Perhaps, I am getting old (gasp!). I used to paint in evenings all the time when my daughter was little because the evening was the only time when I could paint.

There is a Chinese American painter, called Qiang Huang (his blog link is included in my favorite blogs and websites). He is a physicist with a PhD degree, and literally moonlights as an artist by painting at night. He is quite successful as his paintings are in high demand; he conducts workshops and sells his daily still life paintings on eBay. Frankly, I don't know how he manages it at all with a demanding full-time job and keeping up with his nightly art career! Does he have more passion than I do? I doubt that. He must have more stamina. I should load up on ginseng or something.

"Sunny Sunflowers" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-09-17T10:01:00.002-04:00

There is something about the sunflower that make it irresistible. It is possibly the most favored flower, after the rose, of course. If I remember correctly, Vincent van Gogh's painting of sunflowers used to be the most expensive painting in the world until its record was broken. As some of my readers may know, I regularly auction my artwork on eBay, and whenever I list a sunflower painting, there is a positive buzz from the first day! Perhaps it's because I usually throw in a couple of bees, too (ha, ha).

By the way, if you want to check out my current eBay listings, just search for K STENBERG ART ORIGINAL OIL PAINTING ----. Thanks.

"Where Buffaloes Roam" (oil; 8 x 12")

2011-09-15T09:50:00.000-04:00

Have you ever seen a buffalo really close up? I did. Last month my family were driving through Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota at sunset, enjoying the views. We spotted a buffalo herd (there are over three hundred bison in the southern unit, where we were). What a treat! As you can see above, the lighting was ideal--with the setting sun streaking its golden rays through the trees and caressing sage-strewn grass field. We went wild and started clicking cameras.

Suddenly something dark and huge went by within inches of the side of the car. Oh, my god! It was a stray bison. You see that's why we stayed inside the car; if we hadn't, I might have been trampled. Never go near these huge untamed wildlife!

"Winter Trees" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-09-13T13:16:00.000-04:00

Out of the whim, I kind of made up "Winter Trees" to fit my mood on September 11th. As I listened to the somber classical music on the radio all day long, I imagined a snowy field bathed in the yellow orange and mauve light of the dusk. How about adding a row of bare winter trees, just silhouettes against the delicate colors of the sky? Throw in the moon rising along the horizon. The end of the day, the end of the season. A moody, wintry painting.

"Blue Butterfly" (oil; 7 x 7")

2011-09-11T17:08:00.001-04:00

I've recently painted dragonflies and bumble bees. Humm, I must be doing an insect series. Then, I might as well paint some butterflies, too. The above butterfly, as you can see, had a tattered wing, which I didn't paint in. I didn't like the setting either. So I looked around and found the same white flowers that formed a nice composition. I got a pair of scissors out and literally cut the butterfly from the left photo and taped it on the right one. Call me a cave woman, I don't care. I am not that adapt at Photoshop, but still managing to live a normal life.

The rest was a breeze. I changed the format to the square and painted the backgound in various darks. The only tricky part was that the butterfly was so close in value to the background that it didn't pop out originally. So I had to adjust the values carefully. How do you like "Blue Butterfly"? By the way, can you guess where I took the reference photos? Yes, it was the same park--Green Spring Gardens Park.

"Bumble Bee in a Blue Garden"

2011-09-09T11:09:00.000-04:00

This painting was a challenge to pull off. It was hard to contrast the bumble bee enough against the busy background and, at the same time, keep it blended into the same busy background! I like the complementary vibrations of blue violets and yellows throughout the painting and want the viewer to translate viscerally the visual confusion into the buzzing sound of the bee. Does it make any sense?

"Room for Another Rose" (oil; 10 x 8")

2011-09-07T10:18:00.000-04:00

As I wrote in the last entry, I was strolling in Green Spring Gardens Park the other day. In the rose garden, I saw the above scene against the dark background, which made my heart skip a beat. My camera did the blurry background thing, which thrilled me even more. I didn't have to do much about the design, other than getting rid of the reddish leaves at the bottom. Too much clutter, I thought. I may have painted the leaves too light, but as it was a bright overcast day, the glossy rose leaves reflected much sky color.

"Pumpkin Patch" (oil; 10 x 8")

2011-09-03T16:25:00.000-04:00

The summer is almost over. Time to clean up the debris of dead summer plants from the garden and plant mums and pansies. These miniature pumpkins are not from my garden. Living in a Washington, DC suburban neighborhood with small lots and tall trees, we don't have a luxury of a proper vegetable garden in our yard. Where we have sunny spots, we squeeze in as many things as we can, always arguing over which to plant: I favor flowers and herbs; my husband, fruit bushes.

Yesterday I went to Green Spring Gardens Park in Alexandria, VA to see what's flowering these days. Some late roses and this and that--not much going on. At a whim, I took a walk toward the direction of the children's garden and was rewarded with this charming pumpkin patch nearby. It was an overcast day with lots of bright light, so was actually an ideal condition for photography. I came home all excited and painted "Pumpkin Patch" right away! I can't wait for mounds of pumpkins for sale everywhere so that I can carve some jack-o'-lanterns.

"Tulips and Pansies" (acrylic; 12 x 10")

2011-09-02T10:33:00.000-04:00

"Tulips and Pansies" used to be a much larger painting (20 x 16"); it also used to be called something else ("Lovers in Spring Garden"). The scene is from the market plaza in Old Town, Alexandria in Virginia. In the background one could see cars, buildings, lampposts and passersby. There was also a couple of lovers in a passionate embrace! It was too much and I found the painting an embarrassment. It was about to be donated.

Then I looked at it with an objective eye and spotted a nice spring flower bed in the left bottom. Humm.... Why not crop the painting judiciously, paint over the offending, busy area in the background, and change the bottom right corner into dirt. Thus was born "Tulips and Pansies". I am not saying it's a great painting. It's full of hard edges, for one thing. But that's how I used to paint several years ago, as I found blending in the fast-drying medium of acrylic very hard. You know artists grow and evolve and their early works have their own merit.

Do I sound defensive? I am not actually. Have you seen Vincent Van Gogh's earlier drawings, or even his mature paintings? I am positive that he was still developing when his life was tragically cut short by his foolhardy, if altruistic, suicide. (He committed suicide to help out his long-suffering brother, Theo, as he suspected that his paintings might start selling with the notoriety of his early death. He botched his suicide attempt and died of slow, painful death. Poor guy!) Obviously, I am not comparing myself with Van Gogh, one of my heroes. It's just that I am glad that I gave my old painting another chance.

"Sunset in the Prairie" (oil; 11 x 15")

2011-08-31T16:02:00.002-04:00

Late in the day a couple of weeks ago during my family vacation, we drove around the South Unit of Theodore Roosevelt National Park, taking pictures of sunset in the prairie. I wonder if you are aware that this is the only national park that is named after a person?

Roosevelt spent a few years when young, running a cattle ranch in the area. He later said that without his experience in the badlands of North Dakota, he would have never become a president. In other words, it made him. As you may know, he was responsible for creating the national park system; as it happens, he is also my daughter's favorite president! We are not surprised at all that Gutzon Borglum chose him as one of the four greatest presidents for his Mount Rushmore project.

I have been to Theodore Roosevelt National Park several times, for it is one of my favorite national parks. It never gets crowded since it is kind of out of way. So much better for those few who appreciate its beauty! I am disappointed with the way the photo of my painting looks on the computer screen. The painting glows and vibrates, if I may say so, with mauves, oranges, yellows and soft violet greens.

"Dragonfly on Lotus" (oil; 8 x 10")

2011-08-28T11:40:00.000-04:00

Two weeks of family vacation and a few days of recuperating from a bad cold put me out of action, but I am back! I hope you who live along the East coast are doing all right despite Irene.

Since I haven't painted for a while, I decided to go easy and do something simple--a painting of a single lotus flower and dragonfly. If "Dragonfly on Lotus" looks familiar, it's because I have done another painting of the same subject ("Lotus and Dragonfly"). I apologize for repeating myself, but on my defense, by the time I was finished with it, I was all sweaty and had to lie down for my exertions. I promise to do better next time!

"Lone Lotus" (oil; 12 x 9")

2011-08-09T11:21:00.000-04:00

Back to the water lily pond at Green Spring Gardens Park in Alexandria, VA. I have a collector who loves my water lily/lotus paintings and asked me to paint several for his family. It's always nice to be wanted, so I said yes! His original request was to paint additional versions (i.e. copies) of "By the Lily Pond". I did it once, and decided twice was enough. How can I copy myself on and on, really! I had a friend who sold a painting at a gallery but ended up doing two more copies of the painting because it was so popular. I regret that I teased her at that time, because I was now doing exactly the same thing.

Instead, I decided to do a series of new paintings of these majestic flowers; I never get tired of them. I have faith that either my collector or some other persons will like them enough to buy my creations. Art is my job, but I want to enjoy the art-making process as long as I live. It shouldn't become a drudgery, something I have to do pay the bills and send my child to college, and so on.

By the way, I am going to take a break from blogging for a short while. I have been working non-stop since last July when I launched my website. Time to have some fun with my family. See you in a couple of weeks!

"Sunflowers and Happy Bee" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-08-08T10:14:00.000-04:00

On to way to Lancaster, PA to pick up our daughter at camp, my husband and I stopped by at the rest area in York. Instead of going in to use the facilities, I dawdled, captivated by these sunflowers. I was the only person taking pictures of these cheerful flowers; other people were obviously more sensible than I! Sensible or not, I was as happy as the bee on the flower on the right. Whenever I find the reference material for future painting projects, I feel like I hit the jackpot. How small things in life please me!

On the technical note, compare the photo above with my painting. The photo's colors are predominantly cool yellows and greens; my painting is dominated by warm yellows and violets. I did that on purpose, pushing the yellows toward the sun and contrasting the yellows with the complementary violets so that the painting would pulsate. Besides, I love using pure colors out of the tubes: cadmium lemon, yellow light, and yellow medium. They are toxic--never to be touched or, god forbid, digested--but no other synthetic paints can replace them. They simply glow.

"Golden Girl" (oil; 18 x 18")

2011-08-04T11:05:00.000-04:00

Some paintings I do to sell; others for entering juried shows. And there are paintings just for myself. "Golden Girl" belongs to the last category. The girl who is holding something in her right hand is my daughter when she was ten. She had just found a piece of sea glass and was showing it off. We were at Glass Beach in northern California. Yes, Glass Beach--I didn't make it up. Apparently, there used to be a bottling factory nearby and lots of broken glass made into the beach, hence the name. The time of the day was obviously the sunset.

I had this girl when I was almost 40. She was my dream child come true--healthy, happy, affectionate, and bright. She just became a teenager this summer, and well.... She has changed quite a bit since I took the picture above. Although I wouldn't change anything about her for the world, I still miss her when she could sit on my lap, be a flower girl, and pose for the camera gladly. I miss those days.

So I painted "Golden Girl" to remember my daughter at the age of ten, just as I painted her when she was a preschooler. She was about three when she posed for a photo in a rose garden in Portland, Oregon. Of all the beauties I saw that day, she was the prettiest in my eye.

("Pretty in Pink"; watercolor, 17 x 12")

I will probably do more portraits of my daughter, perhaps as a young lady, definitely as a bride, and hopefully as a new mother with her baby. I am thankful for my family and my ability to immortalize their likeness in paintings.

"Where Seagulls Play" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-08-03T11:59:00.000-04:00

I had a lot of trouble painting "Where Seagulls Play." It took three sessions to finish this small painting, which is unusual for me. A friend of mine called me a "fast and loose woman"; after she said it, she apologized for the unintended double meaning. My husband thinks that my speed has something to do with my impatient nature. Perhaps.

I first had difficulty painting the rocks. My teacher, Bobbi Pratte, told me to scrape them off and start all over. Paint the dark mass first and pick out smaller, light shapes, she said. I did that yesterday (the day two) at home, then called it quits, pretty much disgusted with the whole thing. This morning, I looked at it with a fresh eye, and realized what was wrong with the painting. There was no light, no sparkle. It was as if I was losing my self-confidence and was hesitant to put down light tones and highlights.

So I attacked the painting to bring back the sun. Don't be a scary cat. After some struggle, I nailed the water--its colors, wave patterns, and sparkles. The palette knife came in handy for the sparkles. Finally I painted in four seagulls; I just couldn't resist them. Besides, they inspired me to come up with the cool title.

The reason for all the frustrations painting "Where Seagulls Play", I think, was the fatigue. I was tired when I started painting it in the class on Monday. It was hot in the room; I was tired, hungry, and feeling lightheaded. I was tired again yesterday, but pushed myself to finish it. The result was down right uninspiring. Today, I woke up refreshed and was ready to tackle it. The moral is: when tired, go get some rest. Life is short, but not that short.

"Sea Caves of California" (oil; 9 x 12")

2011-08-01T12:22:00.000-04:00

Some vacations are more memorable than others. The trip to California three years ago was one such happy memory maker. There was a family wedding, which was held at a beautiful vineyard in Napa! Visits with family were special enough, since we don't get to see them often as we live so away. But one additional week spent just with my own family in the glorious light of California keeps generating a painting after another. I must go back to California!

As I am focusing on water in Bobbi Pratte's landscape class this summer, I decided to paint from the above photo taken somewhere in northern California. (You know how it is--after a while, you don't remember exactly where you took the pictures.) The picture doesn't show much color in the sea caves because they are in the shadow; but I can see many different color changes in the water itself. In the distance, it is cobalt blue. As the waves approach the sandy beach, it changes from cerulean blue to a blue tinged with ocher. The wet sand looks lavender.

I like the design too. Three concentric waves all point to the sea caves, which I painted with warm, dark paints. Sometimes I don't have to do anything other than just paint as Nature took care of the design for me!

Portrait Drawing Class with Lisa Semerad II

2011-07-30T16:44:00.001-04:00

("Rupert Murdoch"; pencil and white chalk on scrap booking paper)

(Drawing of a mouth; Nupastel on paper)

(Lisa doing a demo of noses)

(My turn at noses; pencil on paper)

(Eyes; pencil and white chalk on Canson Mi-teintes paper)

The portrait drawing class with Lisa Semerad at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA is over. It went so fast that everything is all blurry. One day we were learning to draw mouths, then in the next class, noses; on Thursday, Lisa taught us what to do with teeth, eyes, and ears, and turned us out of the classroom! I think this is definitely the case of "a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing." She told the class to avoid art books that promise "tricks" of doing this and that easily. There are no tricks in art, just good old practice. Yes, ma'am!

I loved the technique of graphite pencil and white chalk drawing on toned paper that she showed us in the last class so much that, while I was watching TV last night, I did a drawing of Rupert Murdoch, who is embroiled in scandals in Britain for his News Corporation's nefarious phone-tapping, police-bribing deals. His haughty, disdainful expression is something else, don't you think? The choice of gray art paper with random Alphabet letters was serendipitous.

"Golden Light" (oil; 12 x 16")

2011-07-27T12:43:00.000-04:00

I took the photo above three years ago at Glass Beach in northern California and have been wanting to paint from it for some time. I liked the sunset sky and its golden colors reflected in the ocean water. But I was put off by the dark lumps of the rocks. That is what a camera does when it takes a brilliant backlit view.

When I showed the picture to Bobbi Pratte in her class on Monday, she advised me that I paint the water first, then add the rocks as dark shapes, and finally sculpt them with lighter colors to make them three-dimensional and rimlit. Brilliant! She also told me not to get fussy with the waves and ripples. There is no way that I can copy these hundreds of ripples; just make them believable and DON'T go back after I put down brushstrokes that go in the same directions as ripples.

I did exactly as she suggested. The painting went fast. As it was almost done, I finished it later at night at home to take advantage of wet paints. I simply love the golden light that seems to glow from within. Thanks, Bobbi!