"Wisteria House" (watercolor on paper; 20" x 14") sold

sold

The white manor house at George Washington's River Farm in Alexandria, VA gets draped with purple wisteria flowers every spring.  It is a sight to look forward to, and I rarely miss it.  I once painted wisterias on a red-brick house.  Boy, the painting looked ugly.  Wisterias and a white house are like hydrangeas and a white picket fence.  They enhance each other, making the charm of the flowers and backdrops multiply by many times!

"Spring Garden" (oil on linen; 11" x 14") sold

sold

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.

"Summer Wildflower Meadow" (oil on linen; 12" x 16") sold

sold

Yesterday several friends and I went to River Farm in Alexandria, VA.  We met each other in Sara Linda Poly and Bobbi Pratte's classes at the Art League School, and as we are passionate about plein air painting, we formed a group.  We paint outside once a week; some of us, more often than that.  Summer in northern Virginia is not an ideal place for plein air painting with the temperature hovering around 90 degrees and about as high a humidity level as that.  We were lucky when we went to the National Cathedral two weeks ago; we got lucky again yesterday.  Painting gods--we appealed to all gods for a good weather (ha ha!)--have been kind to us!

I went down to the meadow, attracted by the sight of Queen's Anne's lace--my favorite wildflowers.  I had about two hours available, so I got to work right away.  After blocking in, I painted back to forward: the sky, Maryland, the Potomac River, a band of trees, the middle-ground wildflowers, then finally Queen Anne's lace.   I took care with the trees to get their shapes right.  Wildflowers, in contrast, were treated loosely as shapes.  If you look at the photo carefully, there are a couple of kids runnning toward where I was sitting.  As I was taking the picture, they suddenly appeared up the path and got captured forever!

"Rose Arbor" (oil on linen, 12" x 16") sold

sold

Reference photo

No, I didn't paint the picture outside.  In this heat?  No way!  A friend of mine who painted with me at Green Spring Gardens Park on Tuesday ended up in a hospital emergency room.  Please drink plenty of water and stay cool.

I took the reference photo at River Farm in Alexandria, VA exactly a month ago, and started the painting soon after.  But lots of things happened since; it got put aside.  Once the excitement is gone, it's hard to get back to that place.  Since leaving something unfinished goes against my "I am not a quitter" philosophy, however, I managed to complete "Peach Roses." 

As we are getting into the green-green-everywhere-green season, a landscape painter's task is to learn to mix many shades of greens--warm, cool, intense, grayed, dark, pale, etc.  I pushed back the distant pergola and the rest of  the right side of the painting by using lots of grayed violets.  For that reason, the painting is much easier to read than the photo, which tends to flatten space.  Now I am done with the darned thing, I can paint something else.  Yeah!

"Rainy Day Garden" (oil on linen, 8" x 10") sold

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I woke up feeling tired; the weather forecast was 100% chance of rain.  I was really tempted to stay home and rest.  Being a good student that I am, I reluctantly packed my art gear and went to Sara Linda Poly's plein-air class, which met again at River Farm.  The place hosts many outdoor functions like weddings, so has a big tent, under which we can still paint and stay dry.

I wasn't motivated to paint at all today.  As I intend to go professional with my art, I remind myself when I am in one of these funky moods that you don't go to work because you don't feel like it.  I eventually settled down to paint the above scene.  It rained--it actually poured--in the middle of the painting session.  It was chilly and windy.  At one point, I had to go retrieve paper towels that had blown away. 

Then the sun came out.  By that time, the class, which was sparsely attended to begin with, was mostly gone.  Those few remaining, hardy souls had a beautiful, lush garden to all ourselves.  What fun it was!

"Azalea Garden" (oil on linen, 9" x 12") sold

sold

Back to River Farm in Alexandria, VA.  It was supposed to be in the 80's with scattered thunderstorms today.  As you can see above, it turned out to be a breezy, but gorgeous spring day.  I sat on the ground in the dappled shade and painted what I saw--lovely azaleas against a low red-brick wall.  A rather shallow space.  Hmmm.

Originally, I had painted in a fake blue sky behind the wall.  Sara Linda Poly, my plein-air painting teacher, suggested grayed woods instead.  During the lunch/critique, a friend of mine protested against the brick wall.  After a heated debate (I saying that the wall was there, he saying that it detracted from the beauty of azaleas), Sara mediated with the idea of introducing the blues and greens to the wall and adding a bit of sky to the background.  I went back to the azalea bed and modified the painting as suggested.

The moral of today's painting session, I think, is humility.  I was pleased with my painting and even thought about skipping the critique.  Although I was a bit annoyed at my friend's critique, I listened and tried to look at my work with an open mind.  He did have a point.  There was a lot of reflected light on the wall from the mulched bed and light greens of the plants.  It was practically glowing--something you cannot see in the photo.  The wall was not a red-brick color as I had painted.  Smug self-satisfaction is something we artists should watch out for.

"Garden Statue" (oil on linen; 12 x 12") sold; "Rose Arbor" (oil on linen; 8" x 10")

"Garden Statue"
sold

"Rose Arbor" (oil on linen, 8" x 10")
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River Farm in Alexandria, VA used to be owned by George Washington; it is now the headquarters of the American Horticultural Society.  It is also beloved by plein air painters who are welcomed to add the artistic touch to the already enchanting landscape.  Sara Linda Poly's plein air class met there yesterday on a perfect spring day.  I painted "Spring at River Farm" at my favorite spot, looking at the stone statue of a young faun (or satyr, as the ancient Greeks would have called it) through the red-brick pergolas.

As you can see, I have already painted the same scene from a different perspective. What was funny is that my friends also painted their favorite scenes they had painted before: Charlotte painted the white manor house as she did the last year and Alice painted the azaleas against trees likewise.  We seemed to be obsessing over the same thing all over again!  This is something on which psychologists can shed light. 

"Rose Arbor" (oil on linen, 8" x 10")

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It was in the low 70's a few days ago, and I got excited about an early spring, especially after I spotted snow drops blooming in my garden.  I shouldn't have.  We are back to winter today and I am back to day-dreaming about a mild spring weather in which I can paint outside.

I have been to George Washington's River Farm in Alexandria, VA many times, and every time I was enchanted by this scene with a series of brick pergolas.  The day when I painted the piece last year was my lucky day with perfect light and roses in bloom.  The roses were pink, but I changed them to white.  Why not?  It seemed to work better that way.  By the way, "Rose Arbor" is one of my favorite plein air paintings.

"Autumn Meadow" (oil on linen, 8" x 10") sold

sold

A freezing rain last night--not a good weather to paint outside.  The wildflower meadow field at River Farm along the Potomac River was in full bloom with fall flowers when I painted this piece in Sara Linda Poly's plein air class.  I just hinted at them with yellows and violets.  The bank of land in the background is Maryland.  There is a running joke among my painting friends: the Marylanders paint their home state bigger than the Virginians.  Can you tell I am a Virginian?

"Morning Porch" (oil on linen, 10" x 8") sold

sold

George Washington's River Farm in Alexandria, VA is the headquarters of the American Horticultural Society and a haven for garden enthusiasts.  The old mansion has a lovely porch looking out the Potomac River.  On a hot, hot summer morning last August, the porch was glowing in the sunlight.  Hard to resist, yet difficult to paint, I nevertheless tackled the subject. 

I was not satisfied with the result and had put it away until today.  I realized that I had somehow lost the brilliant light in my struggle with drawing.  No light, no point.  That's the bottom line.  A number of things were done to restore the light and heat.  I am learning a lot by working on old paintings that had been bugging me during this winter.  One thing is never to give upon a painting.  As I grow as a painter, I sometimes seem to figure out what is wrong with a piece on my own.  A good thing.

"Down the Path" (oil on linen, 8" x 10") sold

sold

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas.  We wished for a white Christmas, but it didn't happen in northern Virginia.  Just a little dusting. 

Today I am sharing an old work--one of my first plein air paintings.  It was painted last year at River Farm in Alexandria in early autumn, when the leaves hadn't yet begun to change colors.  I have always be attracted to paths.  If there aren't any, I sometimes invent one as a way of inviting the viewer into the painting.  In this scene, two pathways join and lead you far into the woods.  One wonders what will await you when you get there.

"Early Autumn Wildflower Meadow" (oil on linen; 8" x 10") sold

sold

Have you ever painted with a palette knife?  Sara Linda Poly, my teacher, challenges her students to try new things, and painting with a knife is one of those things she pulls out of her sleeve every now and then, just to torment us.  I gave it a try twice, hated it both times.  On a gorgeous day in September, she urged us again to put aside trusty brushes and wield a palette knife.  Ugh.

Perhaps it was the perfect weather with no humidity, no breeze, no clouds, no bugs, and no pestering persons around.  Something magical happened.  I found a spot down the wildflower meadow, looking up the manor house at River Farm in Alexandria, VA.  After a quick sketching with a brush directly on the canvas, I began to flourish a knife without fear.  When I got to the sky and the house, I briefly switched to brushes for control, but other than that, the above painting--"Early Autumn Wildflower Meadow" (8 x 10")--was created entirely with a knife.

In an earlier post, I mentioned my trouble, even fear of texture--trees, grass, sand, dirt, leaves, flowers, hair, etc.  How do you render these things with paint?  How do you suggest them without painting every single blade, leaf and floret?  I found an answer--use a palette knife!  I could lay down a large, flat area; I could also dab, skip, and scratch with it.  What freedom!  What joy!  Isn't painting supposed to be fun?  There you have it.

"Yellow Calla Lilies" (oil on linen; 5" x 4")

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I had a bit of time on my hands before I had to pack up and go home near the end of a plein-air painting session.  So I sat down in front of yellow lilies at River Farm in Alexandria, VA.  This painting was the result.  Not too many hard edges and just a few suggestive strokes--not my usual modus operandi.  But I love it.