"Lilac Spring" (oil on linen; 12" x 12") sold

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There is something special about spring air.  It is not just warm.  It is also fragrant with lilac scent!

By the way, I am working in a series this year.  I already finished the first series of nine paintings without a theme.  I happened to have nine 8" x 10" stretched canvases, hehe!  

My first series of paintings this year

The second series in progress is called "I Love Color".  Each painting is devoted to a particular color.  For instance, "Poipu Beach Sunset" is a mauve painting; "White Garden", a white painting; "Big Sur Blue", a blue painting; and "Red Poppies", obviously a red one!  They are going to be all 12" x 16" paintings.

My second series in progress: "I Love Color"

"Lilac Spring" is the second painting in the third series, "Floral Squares".  This series will be all 12" x 12".    

My third series: "Floral Squares"

The idea behind my 2014 series is to work within a certain size and format, which will suggest its own possibilities and limitations.  I am also painting larger than the so-called "daily paintings", spending more time on each painting.  No more rushing to get a painting done so that I can move on to the next one.  Believe me, it has been exhausting.  I will have more time to reflect, putz around my garden, take a walk in a park, go to museums, and have a hot date with my husband.  I will have life again!

"Summer Garden" (oil on canvas; 10" x 10") sold



"Summer Garden"
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"Hydrangea Bed" (oil, 7" x 7")
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"Hydrangea Garden" (oil, 7" x 5")
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I had so much fun painting "Hydrangea and Picket Fence" the other day that I decided to do a series.  All four paintings were based on the photos I took at Green Spring Gardens Park in Alexandria, VA last Monday.  Some days you are just darn lucky!  Do you see the white picket fence that surrounds the gazebo in my painting below, which I painted in April?  



"Green Spring Gazebo" (oil, 11" x 14")
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I have been impatiently waiting for the hydrangea season, because I know that they have hydrangeas planted all around the gazebo. For whatever reason, hydrangeas and a white picket fence are a match made in heaven. They just look perfect together.  They evoke a nostalgic, cottage-garden look that pulls our heart string.  You may not have a hydrangea bed in your garden; you may not even have any garden at all.  But don't you wish you have hydrangeas blooming by a white picket fence in a friendly neighborhood where neighbors look out for each other?

"Hydrangea and Picket Fence" (oil on linen; 6" x 8") sold



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Reference photo

I love hydrangea.  The Chinese characters for this multi-colored flower mean "water chrysanthemum."  Isn't it interesting?  I guess the name has something to do with its cool palette, which ranges from blue, mauve, violet to yellow green.  Yesterday, I went over to Green Spring Gardens Park in Alexandria, VA to take pictures of hydrangea bushes.  I have a couple of them blooming now in my garden; one is so enormous that it should be classified as a tree!  But neither is near a charming picket fence.

Ideally, I should have painted them on location, as I have done last year, when I painted "White Picket Fence".  But I knew better.  The picket fence surrounds the gazebo at the park, which attracts a lot of small children for play.  A few minutes of solitude in the hydrangea heaven was soon distrupted by the invasion of three kids with their moms.  I myself used to take my daughter there for fresh air and exercise when she was a preschooler.  So it was time to pack up.  I painted "Hydrangea and Picket Fence" in my studio, wishing I could see the colors in the shadow better.  Oh, well.

"White Picket Fence" (oil, 11" x 14")
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"Still Life with Watermelon" (oil on stretched canvas; 18" x 18")

"Still Life with Watermelon"
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Still life setup

"Watermelon, Carrots, and Red Onions" (oil, 11" x 14")
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Do you see similarities between my latest still life and the one right above, which I painted in the winter term?  Exactly same choices of fruit and vegetables!  Even the same burlap on the table.  Obviously, my teacher,  John Murray, really likes the combination of shapes and colors. 

Last Thursday evening, he put a swirl of a watermelon, onions, carrots, small pots, and kitchen towel on a low platform so that we could look down and paint.   Look closely. You will find a full spectrum of colors--red, white, blue, yellow, orange, green, and purple.  Aha!  That is what he was after. I must say that it is one delicious still life!

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

"Walk in Winter Woods"
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"Winter Morning" (oil, 9" x 12")
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"Winter Afternoon" (oil, 12" x 9")
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"Fresh Snow" (oil, 9" x 12")
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"Snowfall" (oil, 8" x 10")
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"Central Park Snowed In" (oil, 10" x 12")
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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.

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

"Three Oranges and White Tureen"
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"Yellow and Violet Still Life" (oil, 11" x 14")
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"Two Red Peppers" (oil, 11" x 14")
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"Red and Green Apples" (oil, 11" x 14")
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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!

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

"Cardinal on Maple"
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"Robin in the Evergreen Bough" (oil, 8" x 10")
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"Blue Jay at Bird Bath" (oil, 8" x 10")
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"Early Spring Robin" (oil, 8" x 10")
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"Cardinal in the Snow" (oil, 8" x 10")
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"Winter Bird" (oil, 8" x 12")
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"Duck Pond" (oil, 8" x 10")
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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 on linen; 10" x 8") sold

"Spring Bouquet"
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"From Spring Garden" (oil, 12" x 12")
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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; "White Japanese Anemone" was the result.

"White Japanese Anemone" (oil, 12" x 10")
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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 on linen; 8" x 12") sold

"Cherry Blossom Season"
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"Spring Song" (oil, 12" x 10")
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"Weeping Cherry Blooming" (oil, 12" x 9")
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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.

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

"Central Park Snowed In"
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"Snow Trees" (oil, 8" x 12")
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"Snow Creek" (oil, 9" x 12")
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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!

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

"Walk along Autumn Canal"
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"Autumn Bliss" (oil, 9" x 12")
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"Autumn Canal" (oil, 12" x 12")

"Autumn Day along the Canal" (oil, 9" x 12")
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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 on linen; 10" x 12") sold

"Silent Night"
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"Snow Valley" (oil; 10" x 15")
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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 on linen; 9" x 12") sold

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