The Girls Just Wanna Paint theme for February was "shadow". This is my take on the theme, and image of the New England Aquarium's Myrtle, grande dame of the big tank. She cast a beautiful shadow on the rocks and plants below.
You can see my process photos below. I mixed a ground of neutralized Prussian Blue, Ultramarine an some Cad Red Light, covered the board, evened out with a paper towel. Then I used a clean brush and clean solvent to wipe away all the light areas. So, I did my initial drawing by wiping away the ground. If I make an error in drawing, I could just brush over with the ground color and make the needed correction in drawing. Before any painting beyond the ground was done, the painting was in place as you can see here in the first process photo. Most of my work then went into the dark areas, where I adjusted
the temperature and hue. The benefit of this approach is that the values in the darks are already matched. Each passage of color I put down was designed to match the values already in place. I did not touch any of the light areas until the very end.
Thanks for looking. Feel free to ask me any questions about this block-in method.
You can see a recent video post on my Instagram which shows the beginning stages of this process in a still life.
A always, thank you for looking. I appreciate your thoughts.
By the way, I named this painting after one of my favorite books as a child "Down and Away Below" by Edwin Rols. Great story about a child, and his ability to dig deep, find bravery, and save his community.
There has been intermittent sun during our first five days on Monhegan Island, fog, rain, sun, clouds, wind... beautiful New England weather. And, we can hear the surf from the south end of the island, crashing into Christmas Cove due to the weather. My new knee won't carry me that far yet, but I am determined to visit my favorite spot before we finish our two weeks. This morning I could see the waves crashing against the southern tip of Manana, Monhegan's tiny island neighbor that provides the sheltered harbor here. I walked down to the rocks, found a place to perch, and spent some of my favorite type of time here on Monhegan, surrounded by the sounds, smells, occasional spray and the view of wave upon wave crashing and tumbling over one another. The first is a watercolor of the southernmost end of Manana and the rock called "Washerwoman". For the second, I turned to my right from the same seat, and drew the village in the distance beyond the rocks and scrubby vegetation on the shore. Interestingly, the vegetation seemed to come in three distinct layers as it receded. First, some small, low plants that looked like they may have had berries on them at one time, then Queen Anne's Lace with some beach grasses, then some yellow-topped weeds, among a different beach grass. I added color only in the vegetation, and like the effect.
This is my two hundred ninetieth consecutive day drawing and posting. Thanks for following along.
There is a special, quiet time by Monhegan's harbor as the sun sinks below Manana. Birds start settling down, people drift back to their houses, and the dark begins to descend quickly. It's a lovely time of day, and as I climb back up to the house we rent, the last glimpse of light disappears and the sky glows. Ahhhh.
This is my fiftieth daily drawing. Thank you for looking.
Summer is here! Had a chance to spend a little time at the beach yesterday with a good pal. Beautiful morning, great breeze, sparkling air and water. A feast for all the senses! Finding time to slow down. Wonderful. Here's a little study I did a couple of years ago at a nearby beach. I'm packing my rig for some beach studies coming up. Stay tuned.
The southern tip of Monhegan Island is defined by beautiful, powerful, rugged rocks. When staying on the island, I listen in the morning for the sound of waves from that direction, although I'm sure there is a much more accurate way of predicting interesting surf along the southern end of the island. Perhaps wind direction... I don't know. It's a small island, so I listen, and can hear the waves through the 1/2 mile of forest between me and the rocks. Sitting on those rocks is absolute joy, all senses activated by the movement of surrounding air and water. I wish I had a recording of the sounds accompanying the visuals. I can hear them when I look at the painting, deep booms when waves crash into narrow crannies, splashing sounds of surf and spray on the rocks, and the silky withdrawal of the water back into the sea.
Thanks for looking (and listening)
Today I made my way down to "Treasure Beach" or "Sea Glass Beach". There are a couple of paths that lead there, and isn't far, but what a lovely spot! And, a new vantage point for watching the shadows extend along Manana. I climbed up on a flat rock and did some drawing while listening to the birds squacking on Nigh Duck nearby. I'm going to find my way there again tomorrow a little later in the day to paint.
Finished today with a long read/nap/read on the deck with the intermittent thought that the air was perfect... the kind of air that kisses your skin, makes you think about a light sweater, which you never act on because it was a fleeting thought replaced by the next thought which is the feeling of being so blessed to be alive. That kind of day....
Thanks for looking.
Here's the "Cut River" completed. I used my block in (see left) which showed the light and shadow pattern as a guide. The small yellow house, darkest to the left, became the lightest in the finished painting. I'm going to show to my art students as a jumping off point about how important value is.
Thanks for looking.
"The
Cut River was dug in the early 1600s and again in the first decade of
the 1800s after the mouth of the river closed up. It provided an inland
waterway from Green Harbor to Duxbury Bay and on to Plymouth Harbor and
was safer than being on the open sea during storms. " from history of Green Harbor.
There are lovely old homes on pilings along this tidal river that runs parallel to the ocean. Several years ago I painted the oil study above with the backlit houses facing me, away from the ocean. I positioned myself and easel behind a couple of businesses in a sandy parking area and began painting. I looked down half hour later and noticed the water creeping up so I moved back, then back again 15 minutes later, then again, and packed up within about 35 minutes of first noticing the tide encroaching. A gentleman in a local business said we were experiencing the highest non-storm tides seen there, occurring twice a year. Fascinating, but not so conducive to a long painting session.
Yesterday, I headed down that direction with my sketchbook, and settled in for a quick sketch and wash in. I have to say, I first looked at a rock on the river's edge to see which way the tide was moving.. again incoming, though not quite so fast. I laid in a pale wash to indicate where the light and shadow line is, and will complete the sketch here at home. Interestingly, there is a whole new, and grandiose, home behind the closest homes. Did I leave it out a couple of years ago, using artistic license? I think not; more likely it was a tear down and rebuild. Changing skyline.
Will be fun to lay in the darks. I love the bones of these homes.
Thanks for looking.
My family has a long history in the Pemaquid region of Maine. We have never owned property there, nor has anyone lived there for any length of time, but my grandparents, parents, I and my family have visited there extensively. It began when my grandparents, from New Rochelle, NY would "toss my Mom in the car" when she was in high school and a couple of summers during college, and drive up to Maine. Mom never knew where they were staying, her head was buried in books in the back seat, but she remembered it well. Fast forward forty years. Mom's children were grown, and she rented a cottage in Maine for a couple of weeks, sight unseen, from a local friend here south of Boston. When Mom arrived, she quickly figured out that the summer house her parents had rented so long before was just a few houses farther along the peninsula. Serendipity?! Artist friends and I have rented a house in the same area, called Back Cove a number of times... I feel drawn to this place, and feel my family's generations traversing the same paths. More in later posts...
As always, thank you for looking.
Today's sketch is another from my Monhegan files. This couple were sitting on the dock one afternoon. I loved their pose, she leaning on his leg as she looked out over the harbor; he providing her some support while he unlaced his shoe, removed his sock and stretched his toes in the sun. They look so comfortable, so familiar, so different in their outlooks and yet as one. I'll add some color tomorrow, and see where it goes.
Thanks for looking!
Next in my series of watercolor sketches for the new year. We are lucky to be able to spend two weeks on Monhegan Island each summer. Oddly, we rent a house for a week, head back home for 3 weeks, then back to Monhegan to a different house for another week. Just played out that way over the years. We enjoy the variety.
So, the path we take down to the village during our first week has this lovely long view.. if you see it, and stop in just the right spot, neither 2 feet left nor right will do.
As January begins gray, I'm enjoying revisiting the sunny days of summer.
Thanks for looking.
Half way up Horn Hill on Monhegan is a plateau which overlooks the village and Manana. I like the juxtaposition of this house adjacent to to the plateau/knoll and the houses beyond. In the window is a lovely spindle chair, with its shadow on the wall, quietly sitting above the bustle in the village below.
I used photoshop to look at the sketch as a monochrome to see how the values read.. I think the entire village and trees should be dropped down 1/2 a value shift, allowing the highest contrast to be solely in the window. The diagonal of the roof cuts the sketch in half, and it's reading a bit like two paintings. I'll do another sketch with a few changes as another study for an oil painting... and will post for comparison.
Below is a detail from the window in the foreground.
Thanks for looking. I'll keep you "posted" on my progress.
Later in the afternoon, shadows begin stretch down the east side of Manana, growing and overtaking the light until only a few spots of light remain, and are then extinguished. Now that I think of it, sort of a preview to the sunset's rhythm a couple of hours later. I like being reminded how quickly we are rotating on this Earth.
Here is a recent page from my sketchbook. I began applying watercolor in those remaining patches of light. Interesting how dark they look in the top image, when seen against the white page, compared to how light they read below when surrounded by dark.
We visited the island this summer over the 4th of July week, and again, the last week of July. There is a huge difference in the light and shadow pattern along Manana in just those three weeks.
This year, I brought home a clear thought about taking the time in my "regular life" to observe the magnificence of our world as I do when on Monhegan.
As always, thanks for looking. Your comments make my day.
Here are a few more sketches from my book this week. We've had some interesting weather, crystal clear days, some big fog pressing against the screens trying to find its way in, more fog that hangs in the harbor only while the sky above and beyond is blue. As always, it's a joy to be here. The tall sketch is the long view from the house we call ours for the week. We can see out beyond Manana to the mainland 12 miles away (many days, but not this one). Then I have the view over our friends Arline and Moe's house. We had dinner with them last night. What a hoot! They are fascinating, and have that way of making their guests feel fascinating, too. And, they are huge Fred Astaire fans, a passion we share.
Then I have a short view of Bill Cameron's memorial spot over looking the harbor from Horn Hill, and a couple of hikers awaiting the ferry back to Booth Bay Harbor. I love people watching on the island, and with a sketchbook in hand, you can ostensibly don your invisibility cloak (thank you, Harry Potter, and Happy Birthday today), and just watch and record. What a blast!
In honor of Arline and Moe, here's a link to Fred Astaire's "Drum Crazy" from the movie Easter Parade. If you have never seen it, it's 4 minutes of sheer joy. If you have seen it, it's 4 minutes of sheer joy relived.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTiEJqZMW7E
Thanks for looking, and as always, I love your comments.
Today was an interesting day (as they all are) here on Monhegan. A friend stopped by for a breakfast visit. We compared notes about daughters heading off to college. She commissioned me to do a painting for her friend as a wedding gift. On my way out to the harbor, I chatted with a couple of people and was invited into their homes for a look see. I love looking at the homes here on the island! Each is unique, offers its own views and angles of the beloved island. Today was a bonus day as I was privileged to see two interesting, rustic homes.
There is some pretty good chop going on in the harbor perhaps due to Hurricane Arthur marching up the coast. I love sitting by the waves, and absorbing their heady rhythm. I made my way down to the harbor to do some drawing, and was pleasantly surprised by my husband showing up to hang out, followed shortly thereafter by our daughter and her friend. The four of us hung out while I pulled out my sketchbook.
I'll probably lay some watercolor into these drawings, but here's today's efforts. Oh, look at the second picture up top. Squashed bugs are the hallmark of artists painting on location!
Thanks for looking. As always, I love your comments.
Back to my sketchbook during this long, gray, snowy winter. I have a lot of source material from Monhegan Island, and am working on a series of images from the dock. Everyday, there are young (and older) people on the dock passing the time in ways that hearken back to another era. They fish, they read, they swim, and toss things, and just hang out.
When I was a child, my parents owned a house on Cape Cod. We spent a month there every summer and commuted every weekend during the school year as well, at least for the first few years before sports took over our free time. On the weekends, I spent hours sitting on the dock at the public beach nearby. I would watch, listen, and absorb the rhythm of the waves below me. These children on the dock remind me of those times. I'm going to build on the series, and use these as studies for some oil paintings.
In the spirit of the Olympics, check out this very short video I shot on the Monhegan dock a couple of summers ago. You'll see what I'm talking about:
Thanks for looking, as always, I love your comments.
This month's Girls Just Wanna Paint challenge was "ritual". Usually, when I hear the challenge, a thought jumps into my head... not this time. I mulled over daily rituals, the difference between "ritual" and "routine". Then I thought about annual rituals, seasonal, occasional. We read "Night Before Christmas" every Christmas Eve and each open one gift, a ritual my family has carried over from my home as a child. Yes, we use the Arthur Rackham illustrated version of the poem. His illustrations are beautifully eerie and convey the magic of that night.
Back to ritual... My conclusion is that there is something spiritual, or centering, grounding, about ritual vs routine. One dictionary definition is "a ceremonial act or a series of such acts". I love to rise earlier than my family on weekends, sit with coffee and my book on the porch - that's a ritual. I feed the kittens, and provide fresh water each day - more of a routine. The idea of spirituality and centering brought to mind my annual summer sojourn to the rocky coast of Monhegan, where I sit on the rocks, surrounded by sea, salt, and the sun, painting what I hear, taste, smell, and see and even touch. It is a ceremony, a ritual, in which I joyfully participate.
Here are the other GJWP challenge entries. Check out these interesting and varied takes on "ritual".
As always, thanks for looking. Love to read your comments.
This morning, my daughter and I were sitting with scone and coffee
at the local dock. She and I chatted and looked at the water, with
ferry comings and goings, seagulls, even a couple of lovely young French
children with toy swords battling their way up and down the dock a la
Erroll Flynn, calling to one another, "Viens ici!" and other phrases I
couldn't discern with my decades-old French training.
Then, we both looked closely at this sailboat in the harbor. I'm hoping you can see it in these photos.
The lines extending from the top of the mast to the bow are aligned exactly with the shift in rocks behind the boat. From our distance of across the harbor, it read like an illusion, or, for the fantasy reader, like a portal, or horcrux. The diagonal of the rope is also the demarcation of darker rock and lighter rock. This is a perfect example of unintended geometry that you must observe and manage in your own paintings. Don't allow an arbitrary arrangement of geometry in your subject create a disconcerting note or passage in your painting.
Step away from your painting frequently, looking from a fresh perspective. You'll catch false notes, and fix them. I would have designed with a shortened section of the paler rocks, allowing the line, or implied line to travel up through the darker rocks. Or, you may decide the angle of the rocks which replicates the geometry of the boat's lines, may make a terrific painting. My friend Nancy Sargent Howell, uses a technique she calls "prisming" in her paintings. She sees them, and extrapolates. See how she uses the subject's geometry in "Laundry and Lines" below.
So, what's the takeaway here? Go for it. Make your decisions actively, not passively, with your eyes open, with intentionality! You are the master of your two-dimensional replication of the 3-dimensional world. Winnie the Pooh says, "Be ware, be very, very ware." I suggest a slight modification to Pooh's advice, "Be Aware. Be very Aware."
Thanks for looking; feel free to share.
Our most recent Girls Just Wanna Paint challenge was based on this line from the e.e. cummings poem "Maggie and Milly and Molly and May" -
"For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea."
I have spent much of my life (so far) living near the sea, love the scents, the breeze, the sounds. As a child, we had a summer house on a Cape Cod bay. The first few years we owned it, before high school sports, and jobs, and schedules won out with their relentless demands and interruptions, we went to the house every weekend. There would be a loud and frenetic packing of the station wagon each Friday afternoon and we'd head off on the hour+ drive down and over the bridge, with a quick stop at the A&P on the rotary just before the Canal. We'd spend the weekend, playing cards, doing jigsaw puzzles, walking the beach, fishing, even playing an expanded game of hide and seek which took us, and invited friends, through yards, over shed roofs, under porches of the empty-for-the-winter cottages in the neighborhood. We would enjoy a roast beef and potato dinner on Sunday night and pile back into the car, sleepy-eyed at 6AM Monday for a rapid drive back north, us tumbling out of the car into the school yard (in our plaid uniforms) as the bell was ringing to begin the day.
Now that I have my own family, I realize what coordination was involved to get a family of seven packed, and organized for these wonderful weekends.... resulting in two full days on the Cape! I spent hours sitting on the end of the dock, feeling it float with the waves, listening to the creaks and groans of boats tugging at moorings, buoys, watching gulls drop shellfish on the wharf, listening to the lapping waves and enveloping myself if the sensory joy of the sea. This month's challenge brought back those memories. My painting conjures up that sea-air-in-the-face feeling that I crave when I'm away from the sea too long.
Thanks for looking; feel free to share.
I am back on Monhegan Island, Maine this week, excited about the opportunities to paint, especially to paint my favorite subject here, Manana. So far, Manana hasn't shown itself through fog, except for a few minutes last night.... I'm looking at fog's colors, yellow, pink, orange, and recalling many trips to London where the weather soundbite was often, "It's brightening!".. it's brightening here, off and on. I'm enjoying the variety of views... boats appear and disappear, the ferry's rumble arrives way before the ferry shows itself just yards before the dock, seagull silhouettes along foggy roof lines... what an interesting week it will be. Here are a few of my past paintings of Manana. Posting new ones soon!
You can see my process photos below. I mixed a ground of neutralized Prussian Blue, Ultramarine an some Cad Red Light, covered the board, evened out with a paper towel. Then I used a clean brush and clean solvent to wipe away all the light areas. So, I did my initial drawing by wiping away the ground. If I make an error in drawing, I could just brush over with the ground color and make the needed correction in drawing. Before any painting beyond the ground was done, the painting was in place as you can see here in the first process photo. Most of my work then went into the dark areas, where I adjusted 
the temperature and hue. The benefit of this approach is that the values in the darks are already matched. Each passage of color I put down was designed to match the values already in place. I did not touch any of the light areas until the very end. 
