"Strawberry Pickers" (oil on stretched canvas; 16" x 20")

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I have been working on this painting of two young women picking strawberries at Schlagel Farms in Charles County, MD on and off for several years.  The thing that bothered me most was the figure's hands on the left.  While I was at it, I also redid the strawberry fields surrounding the women and the trees in the distance.  I am finally satisfied with "Strawberry Pickers" and swear I will NOT touch it again!

After second reworking in 2014

"Life is a Bowl of Peaches" (oil on stretched canvas; 8" x 8" x 3")

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Ripe peaches from a farmers market in a silver bowl.  Ah, life is a bowl of delicious, ripe peaches, or it should be!  This is an old painting that I "fixed" last night in this busy week of my daughter's spring break and the Easter holiday.  I hope I made it more interesting!

"Life is a Bowl of Peaches" (original state)

"Strawberry Pickers" (oil on stretched canvas; 16" x 20" x 1 1/2")

In case you are thinking that I haven't painted much in May, here is what I have been up to.  I have been busy taking care of my family and garden.  I have been also working on old paintings to see if I can improve them.  As an oil painter knows, an oil painting is not finished until the artist cannot take it anymore!

For instance, look at the old "Strawberry Pickers" below.  I was no longer happy with the painting I did in 2011.  Although I liked the gestures of the figures, the rest of the painting lacked oomph.  In the "after" version above, the colors are more saturated and brushstrokes are more confident.  These days I paint as if I mean it.  The painting is filled with the joie de vivre.  I am bursting with energy so much that the painting doesn't stop at the edges and continues into the sides!

The painting is about the celebration of joyous spring, luscious strawberries and, above all, carefree youth.  The updated version conveys the message more clearly, don't you think?

"Strawberry Pickers" in the original state; what's up with all the busy strawberry leaf details in the foreground!

"Strawberry Pickers" viewed from the left side

"Strawberry Pickers" viewed from the right side

"Summer Garden with Hydrangea" (oil on stretched canvas; 12" x 12") sold

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Before

Something about "Summer Garden with Hydrangea" bothered me.  It felt like a faded old picture.  I decided to rescue a painting nobody seemed to care for.  I punched up the darks, got rid of the dominant sap greens, and played up the violet-yellow green complementary color scheme.  My new summer garden painting looks kissed by the sun, don't you think?

"Pink Phlox" (oil on linen; 8" x 10") sold

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Original state, then titled "Rock Garden Phlox"

I am feeling better.  Yeah!  Yesterday I cleaned up my studio, then went through my photo stash looking for inspiring pictures for about two hours.  My stamina wasn't yet quite up to speed unfortunately, so I took a rest and decided to work on an old painting instead of starting from scratch.

"Rock Garden Phlox" is a year-old painting, which I once thought was one of the best florals I have ever done.  Well, that was then.  The tiny florets of the phlox, which I had found blooming at the rock garden at Green Spring Gardens Park in Alexandria, VA, were actually cool pink, not warm pink as in the original state.  I wanted more paint on the painting.  After all, these things are called oil paintings, not oil washes, right?  I also thought that I could strengthen the feeling of light striking a few petals and dead stems here and there.

So I got to work.  An hour and a half later, I came up with "Pink Phlox."  What do you think?

"Iwo Jima Memorial" (oil on linen; 11" x 14")

After
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Before

A photo taken to aid the reworking of the painting

The monument viewed from the east

Have you ever been to the Iwo Jima Memorial in Arlington, VA?  The Marine monument to many American soldiers who died during the terrible battle fought on Iwo Jima in 1945 during World War Two, never fails to touch my heart.  Last summer, a group of friends and I went there to paint this famous monument on location.  It was a noble endeavour, considering how complicated the sculpture was!  Because we set up our easels under trees facing the backlit memorial with the view of the DC skyline as the backdrop, we couldn't see the colors well.

I did my best, and after a few hours of hard work, I came home with the almost finished painting.  "Iwo Jima Memorial" was juried into the highly competitive Art League show in June 2011, which made my heart swell with pride.  Well, that was then.  After a year later, a potential customer discovered the painting on my website through the web search.  She came to my house to see it in person, looked at it, made some polite comments, and left.  The incident made me take a hard look at the painting. 

I wondered why there was so much red in it.  It was obviously due to the original orangy toned ground showing through.  As I said, I couldn't figure out the true colors of the base or sculpture while painting, which must have made me compromise in color decisions.  There was no photo to go with the plein-air painting, so last week, I went back to the site to walk around the monument to truly see the colors. 

As it turned out, the granite base had a lot of red in it.  Aha!  That's what pushed the painting toward the reds.  No matter.  In reworking "Iwo Jima Memorial," I decided to push the base toward blue violet.  I introduced more colors and deeper values to the sliver of the background, made the flag brighter, and above all, translated the shadows on the figures into violets.  The reds that still remained became lively, no longer deadening.  I believe the reworked painting is a big improvement on the original state.  What do think?

"Rainbow Point at Bryce Canyon" (oil on linen; 8" x 10")

After
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Before

The view that inspired the plein-air painting

It was a rainy day two summers ago. We drove the whole length of Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah--18 miles--hoping for a break in the overcast sky. Lots of people at overlook points were discouraging too for my plein-air-painting-a-day project, until we decided to take a walk at Rainbow Point. A brief sunny moment transformed the view along a trail. I quickly set up the easel and went to work.

"Rainbow Point at Bryce Canyon" has been hanging in my foyer for two years.  The walls in my house are covered with my paintings; it's practically a museum with many galleries.  Even the garage has a wall with six paintings, which I call "Gallery Garage."  Obviously, the main level is the prime location, where visitors can admire (my wishful thinking!) my artwork.  The foyer being the entry point, I must have thought "Rainbow Point" was pretty darn good.

Winding down my summer project of spiffing up old paintings, I took down the painting and found it lacking that special quality to deserve a wall space in the foyer.  The human-like rock formation in the bottom right, called "hoodoo", bothered me the most.  I think I know why I painted it so big out of proportion--I was mesmerized by and obsessing about it!  This sort of thing happens a lot to painters.  The tall, spindly tree to the left also seemed to be blocking the viewer's eye to truly take in the incredible vista that is Bryce Canyon. 

I strengthened the area between the now much shorter tree and the now diminished formation as the new focal point.  The colors in the shadows of the hoodoos are richer than before.  The new and improved "Rainbow Point at Bryce Canyon" is going back up to the prized spot in the foyer!

"Cherry Blossoms Cascading" (oil on stretched linen; 30" x 20")

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Before

Reference photo

I painted "Cherry Blossoms Cascading" in Diane Tesler's class last year.  Diane is one of my favorite art teachers who taught me many things from how to stretch canvas to how to paint practically everything.  She would come to the four-and-a-half-hour class before it stated, stayed through the lunch break (she didn't eat lunch herself to find more time for students), and never left until everybody cleared out.  I must say that she was the most dedicated teacher at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA.  Alas, she decided to retire and moved to Indiana this summer.  I will miss her.

Diane (in the center) at reception for her solo show in June

Diane is the kind of artists who see beauty in beat-up trucks and abandoned houses.  She paints soulful, gritty stuff, not fluffy pretty things like cherry blossoms.  I had to wait for another teacher to show me how to paint cherry blossoms.  It was Bobbi Pratte who told me to find darks to bring out lights in cherry blossoms.  "Cherry Blossom Festival at Tidal Basin" was done without her help, but the idea of keeping dark the blossoms in the shadow at the top of the picture was straight from her lesson.  The painting got sold right away at a gallery, so I must have done something right.

"Cherry Blossom Festival at Tidal Basin"
(oil, 14 "x 11")
sold

This week I brought down "Cherry Blossoms Cascading" that had been languishing in my office upstairs to give it a major makeover.  Can you tell what I did?  I strengthened the sky first, then went to work to make cherry blossoms come to life.  Now the painting hangs in the family room so that all who come to my house can see it!

I am grateful to all my art teachers.  They may have different painting styles and teaching methods, but I learn valuable lessons from every single one of them.

"Autumn Walk along the C & O Canal" (oil on linen; 8" x 10") sold

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Before

The scene captured in the painting

In the last  entry, I talked about my harrowing painting experience at Chaco Canyon two years ago.  Here is another such story.  The tranquil scene above is the C & O Canal at Fletcher's Boathouse.  In the fall of 2009, I started taking Sara Linda Poly's  plein-air painting class.  I was absolutely enthralled with the idea of painting outside, but my skill level didn't quite match my enthusiasm as you can see in the original state of "Autumn Walk along the C & O Canal."  But there was another reason for my lackluster performance.

Having covered some popular sites in Alexandria, VA, Sara decided to take us across the Potomac River.  Unless you commute to Washington, DC or Maryland by car, many northern Virginians do not venture out in that direction and some of us get panic-stricken if we have to drive there.  It's like a foreign country to us.  I had never been to the historic Fletcher's Boathouse.  After crossing the river by Chain Bridge, I managed to take a wrong turn and ended up near Georgetown University.  That's when I got a flat tire!  I was rescued by a kind AAA guy, but by that time it was almost noon.  I seriously considered going home.

Not being someone who gives up easily, I changed my mind and eventually found my way to the spot, where Sara's class had been painting for two hours.  Did I say that it was one of those glorious autumn days we often get in the Washington metropolitan area?  There wasn't a breeze to disturb the reflections in the water.  I was glad to join the class.  But I was tired from my adventure; besides, I only had a couple of hours left to whip out a painting.

The painting had been hanging in my garage ever since that eventful day.  Yes, in my garage!  As you know, I have been reworking old paintings for the past few weeks and I am now near the bottom of the pile.  So I took the painting out of the frame, printed out the photo, and went to town.  I am rather pleased with the new and improved painting.

I don't know what the moral of the story is.  You really need a AAA membership?  Bad things do not always happen in threes?  The C & O Canal is a fabulous place to paint?  Never give up, never surrender?

"Chaco Canyon Memories" (oil on linen; 8" x 10")

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Before

The view

Have you ever been to Chaco Canyon?  It is one of my favorite national parks ever.  If you are planning a vacation in the Southwest, it should be at the top of your list of places to visit.  My husband and I had been to Chaco Culture National Historical Park back in 1993 and we wanted to show our daughter this awesome place.

Two years ago, on a typical, hot, summer day in New Mexico, we were back at this amazing monument to a native American civilization.  It was as impressive as I remembered.  While my husband and daughter were checking out some archaeological sites, I set up my easel at Una Vita, apparently over an ant hole. Huge black ants soon crawled all over my feet, my art gear--just everywhere. I got stung.

Ouch, so I moved. Perhaps, I had offended the spirits of the Ancestral Puebloans. The evil ants followed me, swarming all around, biting, hurting. I even got bitten on my neck! At this point, you may be wondering why I didn't spray myself with a bug spray. I did, and it didn't do much good.

Clouds kept moving.  Since I didn't have the wisdom to plan out the value scheme at the outset, I had to chase the clouds, changing values every five minutes in between scratching the itchy spots and crushing as many ants as I could.  Did I mention the heat?  The sun was beating down on me.  Although I was partially shaded by my umbrella, my right side was exposed to the sun and was burning.  A painting session turned into an extreme sport. Ah! Perils of plein-air painting.

"Chaco Canyon Memories" had been hanging in the foyer of my house since then, always evoking the unforgettable memories.  But something bothered me.  Last week I took it down, looked at it for a long time, and finally figured out the problem.  The middle ground in the shadow may have been there at some point while I was painting, as you can tell from the scudding clouds in the sky.  But it didn't make sense to the viewer.  The dark middle ground had also the unintentional side effect of throwing the formation in the background into prominence. 

As soon as I brought back the sunshine to the troublesome spot, the background receded, blending into the land itself.  After more textures were added to the foreground sage brush, I was finally satisfied with the painting.  Now I can fully enjoy the memories of my family vacation to the Southwest.

"Lavender Patch by the Barn" (oil on linen; 9" x 12")

After
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Before

The scene that inspired the painting

"Lavender Patch by the Barn" was one of the paintings done during the workshop with Bobbi Pratte at Willow Pond Farm in Fairfield, PA in June.  I painted the lovely scene in the shade of a big tree. As the painting progressed, the sun moved, enveloping the purple lavenders in the back in shadow and highlighting those in front. Perfect!

The teacher and several of the workshop participants loved the painting very much, so I figured it must be good and I should like it too.  But deep inside, something bothered me.  I will tell you all about my doubts and how I worked things out of system. 

Bobbi was thrilled to see me working so hard while everybody was taking a well-earned break after lunch on the first day of the workshop.  She was particularly happy with my choice of the painting subject.  She would have painted it herself if she had not been so busy taking care of students.  She gave me several good suggestions, one of which was "don't paint the white wall of the barn too high-keyed" because it would come forward.  She told me to paint it grayed blue.  So did I dutifully. 

But that dingy blue wall in the back kept nagging me ever since.  To me, it was a depressing color in a happy, sunny painting.  It just didn't belong there.  The white wall, although in shadow, had a lot of light bounced back from everywhere.  Thus, while keeping the value low enough, I brought light back to the wall.  The painting finally began to sing.  I made a slew of adjustments, but the most important change was the afore-mentioned barn wall.

The whole business made me wonder.  What is the right thing?  Do I always act upon what the teacher says?  Or do I trust my own judgment and do my own thing?  For last two months, I have been taking a break from classes, workshops, and even paint-outs with friends.  In other words, I have been doing "my own thing," figuring things out on my own, and allowing my own voice to sing my own song.  I see big changes in my work and I like my new style.  I will go back to the classroom in the fall, but I don't think I will always follow the teacher's advice.  I will continue to do my own thing.

"Spring Beauty" (oil on linen; 8" x 6") sold; "Yellow Daffodils" (oil on linen; 8" x 6") sold

After
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Before

Reference photo for "Spring Beauty"

"Yellow Daffodils"
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Before

One of the trickiest things in painting, I find, is the treatment of the "background."  What do I with the environment the subject is sitting in?  For instance, if I had painted "Spring Beatuy" exactly as I saw in the reference photo, the result would have been a chaos.  When I painted this small gem last spring, I thought I did the right thing by making the "background" blue green--the complementary color of the peach iris.  For "Yellow Daffodils," I sublimated the busy, green, spring growth around the daffodils into a soft, grayed green backdrop.

Looking at both paintings with an objective eye, I realized that something had to be done about their backgrounds to make the flowers pop.  I changed the overall background colors to purples, then introduced warm colors into the darks, echoing the warmth of the sun and flowers.  Yes, I worked on the flowers themselves and spiky leaves of the irises and daffodils too, but they were minor adjustments. 

The difference between the original and improved states in both paintings is remarkable.  Their message has become clearer--the joy of spring.  The flowers look far more vibrant.  Despite the small format of the paintings, they carry themselves as if they are much bigger.  I learned another lesson in painting: the imporance of the background!

"Washington Monuments on Autumn Day" (oil on linen; 8" x 13") sold

After
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Before

Early this summer, I went to the National Gallery of Arts with a couple of friends.  We were in the French Impressionism section, visiting with each other and admiring the artwork--multi-tasking at its best!  That's when I saw Claude Monet's "The Bridge at Argenteuil."  I stopped talking.  My friends also stopped to see what was happening.  I knew I was being rude, but I couldn't tear myself away from the painting.  They kindly left me alone for a few minutes.  I was in awe, in heaven.

I have a poor reproduction of the painting at home.  It absolutely has nothing of the glowing quality of the original.  I fell in love with Monsieur Monet for the first time in my life.  When he painted the scene by the river near the bridge en plein air, things may or may not have been exactly as what he portrayed in "The Bridge at Argenteuil"--the fluffy clouds floating by, the sail boat with a white triangular sail conveniently breaking up the horizon line, and especially the shimmering reflections in the water.  Will I ever be able to paint like him someday?

Which brings us to "Monuments on Autumn Day."  Gravelly Point along George Washington Parkway is located right next to the National Airport.  A great view of the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial is why several of my friends and I were there two years ago.  What you can't tell from the painting, however, is that my nerves were totally shot during the paint-out thanks to the constant noise from the huge jumbo jets coming down to land at the airport!  My stress level was, therefore, higher than usual, which might account for the general drabness of the painting in its original state.  I am quite sure that Monet never had to deal with the jet noise!

The colors of the polluted Potomac river can only be described as dirty-looking.  Peope fish there, but I sincerely hope they don't eat a large quantity of their catch.  I figured that there is no reason why I should stick with the "real" colors.  When I quit my teaching job to become a full-time artist, I assume I was issued the artistic license!  Invoking Monet, I did my best to make "Monuments on Autumn Day" shimmer.  Do you think I measure up to the master?

"Apple Tree Blooming" Revisited (oil on linen; 12" x 12") sold

After
sold

Before

"Yellow Tulip Planter" (after; oil, 12" x 9")
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Before

It's been several months since I painted "Apple Tree Blooming" and "Yellow Tulip Planter" last spring.  At that time, I thought they were pretty darn good.  Last week I looked at them; they didn't look that great anymore!  My critical attitude toward some of my old paintings, I hope, doesn't mean that I am turning into one of those sour, unhappy people who are never satisfied with their lives.  It's just that I am growing as an artist and can critique my own work impartially and constructively.

Anyhow I worked on both paintings to see what I can come up with, the second time around.  Can you see what I did?  For one thing, I got rid of the half of a tulip on the far left in "Yellow Tulip Planter."  I don't know what I was thinking back in April!  Many an artist has made the same mistake of painting everything in front of her, in this case, in the photo. 

Lately I started a new habit of bringing a work in progress to the bathroom to look at it in the mirror.  It really helps me to take an objective look at it and I discover lots of awkward things this way--a horizon that doesn't quite match up, a vase with a wrong ellipse, etc.  And that is how I realized that the flower had to go.

Over all, I think I strengthened the composition in both paintings.  In "Apple Tree Blooming," there is also a stronger sense of light bouncing around.  Don't the two spring flower paintings make you feel happy?

"Autumn C & O Canal" (oil on linen; 12" x 12") sold

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Before

The scene captured in the painting

Speaking of bringing life back to an old painting, please have a look at what I did to "Autumn C & O Canal".  I painted it at the end of last October along the C & O Canal at a place called Wide Water, just north of Washington, DC.  It was a chilly day, so my fingers and feet got numb within an hour into the painting.  But the light could not have been better.

Then why does the untouched plein-air painting look wish washy?  This is what happened.  When I started the painting, the sun shined on us brightly (there were about ten of us that day), as you can see in the above photo.  The shadows on the embankment were strong, the reflections of the fall foliage in the murky canal water were absolutely breath-taking.

Then the sun started playing peekaboo with us; clouds rolled in; it became completely overcast by the mid-afternoon.  In other words, the painting was a victim of the typical hazard in plein-air painting.  I got confused, couldn't recall exactly the brilliant, bouncing colors that used to be there.

Using the photo as a guide, I brought back the light to "Autumn C & O Canal."  I may have exaggerated colors a bit, but I like the improved state a lot.  What do you say?

"Autumn Central Park" (oil on linen; 8" x 12") sold

sold

Before

Reference photo

The other day, my teenage daughter opened a "wise" fortune cookie that said "a failure is an opportunity in disguise."  She asked me if it was deep enough for me.  Ha!  I don't put much stock in fortune cookies, unlike some people who go out to buy a lottery ticket on account of a particularly lucky fortune after a Chinese meal. 

Nevertheless, the incident got me thinking.  Hm.  I pulled out a "failed" painting to give it another shot.  It was sold on eBay last fall, but alas, the buyer failed to pay up.  So it wasn't my painting but the eBayer that failed.  All the same, I knew right away what to do. 

"Autumn Central Park" was based on a photo I took two years ago when my then college department took a bus-load of students on an educational tour to New York City.  It was mid-November, but we had an unbelievably mild, gorgeous weather!  We walked through Central Park, our destination being the Metropolitan Museum of Arts to see its world-famous Egyptian collection.

I am glad that I still had the painting in my possession so that I got another chance to work on it.  It had a good bone structure, so to speak, but my original execution somehow lacked conviction, especially in the foreground shadows.  The fortune cookie was right, don't you agree?  A failure, indeed, is an opportunity in disguise!