Megunticook Isle, 12x16

The warmth of the Maine afternoon sun....

.....was just waning when I got my big idea.  It was an idea I had been wanting to try for several years but when I saw a photo of Colin Page doing it, and on this very lake, how could I resist?

My only problem was I didn't have a boat.  Yet here I was staying in a cabin not 60 feet from the shore and there were, after all, some kayaks hanging about....and one was open cockpit.  Admittedly there was not a place to set up my easel in it and it didn't have an anchor....and the wind was blowing hard.

And yet I had to do it.  So I found a hunk of cord and an old propeller to use as an anchor, threw my stuff in the bottom and headed up the lake into a brisk wind.

Finding a sheltered spot I carefully climbed over my gear to the front of the boat and threw in the anchor and played out the line.  Making it back to the seat, again carefully, I jammed my palette between my legs and began painting.  Only one foot was wet by this time.  Not bad.

All was going really well until the paddle fell overboard.  The physics of a kayak are interesting.  Something about for every action an equal and opposite reaction kept coming to mind.  Reaching for the paddle caused the boat to move in the opposite direction.  The paddle was now further away.

Scooching my butt to try and wiggle me over had a similar effect.  

I began using my hands to paddle to it yet each time I got close the action of my hands made it drift away again.   The wind was beginning to catch the blades. 

As a last effort I grabbed my largest and longest brush, stretched out as far as able without getting swamped and tickled the paddle back to me.  My seat was now wet.

So.  Basically that's how I painted this one....but I haven't told you about the cramp in my leg from being bent up around the palette for so long or how the wake from motor boats came over the side.  

I came back smiling anyway....they call this plein air.

Thanks for reading.

Be back soon with a larger piece I've been working on.

Warning Buoys, 15x18

Evening in Montana...

....and I had just over two hours to make a painting.  Since we were driving back early the next morning this was my last chance so I grabbed my gear, drove to the river, hiked in a mile to the dam, did this painting and made it back in time for bed.  It was a scramble but sometimes that's the best way to make them happen....sometimes that's the only way to make them happen. 

I painted this once before in a smaller size.  You can find it HERE.  It's only 10x12 yet I think I spent more time on it.  Bigger canvas.  Bigger brush.   

Plein Air Workshop.  It has been filling fast so if you are wanting to come better enroll now.  There are just a spot or two left.  Think about it.  Bloedel Reserve, weather report says 'SUN', two days with old friends and new and, of course, that great fearless instructor.  How good can it get?  June 29th and 30th. 

Contact the Winslow Art Center for details HERE.

And if you are around on Sunday afternoon I'll be doing a demo at the new Bainbridge Art Museum. 

Backwater Seclusion, 24x30

Cruising down Bainbridge Island's Eagle Harbor you would never see or guess that this little stream fed backwater was there.  You can't see it from the main channel.   I've drawn or painted it several times and finally did this studio piece just to explore the color I was seeing.

 That was a year ago and running across it the other day I realized that I hadn't posted it.  A year isn't very long but already there are parts I would paint differently if done today.  I suppose many areas of my life are experiencing subtle adjustments, changes and growth that I'm not really aware of in the moment.  How reassuring.

I rather like how the bluish water reflections dance to that far shore. 

Lowtide at the Fort, 10x12

Desperation made me do it.  How many days can I go without painting outdoors?  How much gray can one person stand....

So, since there was a break in the weather, I toddled off to Fort Ward to paint the beach and to find whatever color notes were hanging around waiting to be picked up.  Half way into this it once again began raining and becoming colder.... so the painting got looser and faster as I went.  It looks more like a spring early morning than a gray winter....but I got to paint outside.

My sister used to visit here from Minnesota.  After being here one December she vowed never to come back because she froze here more than Minneapolis at a minus 10.  She's been true to her word.  Must be the moisture.  Yes, I'm whining. 

A Days Catch, 10x10

Remember Noelle?  While she had a vet appointment to remove some of her feminine assets I stopped by a friends studio and then Fisherman's Terminal where, between rain squalls, I was able to paint this little study.  The task was to find color notes out of the substantially gray sky, water, background yet keep the feeling of a cold rainy overcast day.  The rain and wind finally chased me out but I think this makes an OK statement.

Noelle came through fine but I suspect she's holding a grudge....

Call and Response

We were having this discussion about painting from photographs and how there seemed to be something lacking, no matter how hard we tried.  Cathe, my good friend and author of a foundational book on landscape painting (HERE), said that it was all about the asking.  I said that it was all about not having something speak to me.  As it turned out, we were talking from different sides of the same coin.

When Cathe goes outdoors to do art she asks for a painting and says the world eventually answers with a gem of an idea.  When I go out I wait for something to catch my eye and I respond to it.  Call and response, but in one case the artist does the calling and in the other the world speaks first.   Which are you?

The other day I wondered just how many paintings out of the thousands I have done were from photos....so I counted.  There weren't many so it was easy to do.  In this blog you are looking at number 11 and 12, Evening Lighthouse, 10x12, and Dry Land Desert, 11x13.  The last blog entry, Deanna's Sunflowers,  was number 13.

I find photo painting a stretch because not only is a lot of information not there but nothing vibrant and living is speaking to me.  As a result I have to work hard to generate that missing stuff from imagination and memory as best I can.

Call and Response.  What  is your experience....and how do you deal with it?  I'd love to know.

Above the Dam, 10x12

The Spring runoff looks so calm before it plunges into whitewater chaos going over the dam.  Just under the glassy surface can be seen subtle movements of the current as it rushes to join the maelstrom.  The roar was constant.

Buckets of rain began coming down half way through this piece and I huddled under some protective branches to finish it.  Walking back to the car my solvent spilled in the backpack giving me a chemical burn.  The discomfort, however, was well worth the result and not all plein air painting is so riddled with difficulty.

I like the orange buoys against the green background.  They complement and compliment each other.  "Hey, you are looking especially spiffy today!"  "Like that color.  Where did you get it?"

I'm starting another painting give-away soon.  This time I will enter anyone who goes to the blog and puts in a comment.  The more comments, the better your chance to win.  Additional info to follow....

Two at Roby King, 10x12 and 20x20

This month Roby-King Gallery is featuring paintings with water themes.  Here are two of the four that I plan to show.

The first is from a magical place that changes every time I see it.  The rocks and water are always flexing their colors and shapes.   It's up the Kootenai near Florence, MT on one of the many painting trips to the area with good friends Cathe Gill and Bob Phinney.   The water doesn't just flow, it dances it's way to the valley below.  Hey, that rhymed.  See.  I told you it was magical.

 
This 20x20 is somewhere around Poulsbo.  If you squint you can see that its about some simple shapes of light and dark intertwining with one another.  Sky and water form the bulk of the light.  Distant shore, docks, boats and logs form the dark.  The trick for me was describing the water in such a way that it wasn't dominant but created enough visual interest to pull the viewer across the surface and into the painting.