Category: Watercolor

New York States of Mind

Upstate State of Mind, 9×12, Watercolor

Gershwin and Copland were at the top of the playlist last night, and I was  in a New York State of mind, thinking about how these two children of immigrants fleeing persecution expanded our musical legacy with contributions that captured the optimism and possibilities of America. 

I kicked off with Rhapsody in Blue to help my head try and find its way back to a vivid sunset we enjoyed a few nights ago as we drove through New York’s Capital Region.  T1 was driving, letting Mom focus on sinking sun behind the snowy, rolling hills, dotted with farms.  I marveled as I always do that we were driving through the same state that holds one of the biggest cities in the world.

I’ve lived in New England for over 20 years–the longest I’ve lived anywhere in my entire life.  My parents lived abroad a couple times when I was a kid and moved within the US. When I left home, I kept traveling and moving.

I love the New England, but despite the long residence, I never felt that it – or any place – was home. I’ve rarely been any place that I didn’t fall in love with for a time, but the ants in my pants never completely leave me alone. I’m always ready to try a new food or hear the music of another language — for a new adventure.

It’s one reason, that the place that most feels like home is New York state. Ten minutes from the house, it’s close enough for a get away to Saratoga or Albany. Between the Capital Region and nearby Adirondacks the state offers enough diverse activity to quench – for a little while – my wanderlust with an occasional day trip.  It turns something as mundane as a snowy sunset over an Appalachian foothill into a reminder of the world of possible adventures — from Manhattan to Niagra Falls — just over the state line.

Possibility is a powerful aphrodisiac.  Almost as heady as the adventure itself.

 

 

 

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An Easy Winter

Cold River 9×12, Watercolor

 I avoided learning to paint snow for as long as I possibly could. In watercolor, white is about what you don’t meet, and the challenge of leaving the right parts blank seemed too daunting last year.

Last year we hardly had any snow, and I was content to paint the dormant fields and forests.

This year we’ve had a bit more snow, but it’s been an easy winter — on and off the paper.

Things I can’t Control

Dust Devils, 9×12, Watercolor

These are dust devils in eastern Washington. They rise up from the dusty Palouse and wheat fields especially after the wheat has just been harvested.
I love them because they are proof that, even though, on the surface, the land has been thoroughly tamed by humans, there are some things we can’t control.

Each time I see them they inspire awe. Also, the recognition of dust bunnies … I mean Devils … as something that can’t be controlled is a great metaphor for the way I keep my house.

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Highway to Eyjafjallajökull

 

The highway to the volcano Hekkla,  once known as the gateway to hell, was closed when we were in Iceland in the fall, as an increase in seismic activity had the geologists concerned that the eruption which had been overdue should be upgraded to status imminent.

We didn’t get to see any eruptions, but we did get a look at Hekkla’s sister, Eyjafjallajökull, which had been slightly hellish just a few years ago. From where we stood, however, the road to hell was gorgeous.

I found myself painting this a few times in my watercolor journal and again when I got home, and the results were always similar. The paintings were never faithful copied of my photographs but, rather interpretations of the vivid beauty and vastness of land that had been ravaged but then recovered.

I kept coming back to that theme of land and people recovering and digging out from the ashes, stronger than before. I go back to it even now, months later, and it helps me to temper my fears.

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Moonlight in Vermont

So my 16 and 10-year-old would be ashamed to admit it, but their pudgy middle-age mom dances when she paints landscapes. The more abstract the pic and wild the beat of the music, the more energetic and embarrassing –for the kids anyway — the dancing. My dancing is so bad that the only time I can really get away with it is in the middle of the night, which is how this painting happened.

WItching hour has become the painting hour for me. When there’s a full moon, it’s bark at the moon time for the dog. That’s how I ended up outside in the yard, keeping the dog on a leash and getting off of mine.

It’s a crystal clear night, and there are a large patches of muddy grass. There’s still a bit of snow, however. I waited for the dog to do her business without waking up the neighborhood, and was forced to take the time to really look at A moonlit winters night for the first time in a long time.

Seeing the variations in color different reflections made me realize how much depth there is to the night, and I started thinking of late night drives through the rolling countryside in Vermont and Washington county in New York State. The dog caught the scent of something, and I let her sniff at the end of the leash for a few minutes why drink in scenery.

And that’s how I ended up dancing in studio under the moonlight at 1 AM this morning. I highly recommend it.

Chasing Frogs

It’s just barely past witching hour, and I’ve been chasing on paper one of those Lake Michigan days when it’s too rough to swim past your knees and too wild to stay cooped up inside away from the beach.

This is my favorite so far, but I’m still not sure if it’s a frog or a prince. But there’s a few hours before the sun come up, so I still have time to kiss a few more toads. And the hunt is a satisfying as the catch.

Between Worlds

 

Land of Imagination, 12 x 16, Watercolor, $75

I’m getting paintings together for an exhibition at the Spiral Press Cafe in Manchester, Vermont, and, I’ll be honest, I was having trouble getting into the mood to paint landscapes.  The glow of Iceland has receded — a symptom of having read too many political posts in the intervening months, and the Vermont landscape isn’t turning me on the same way it normally does at this time of year. 

Wrapped up in finishing and publishing my first illustrated book, I was much more hungry to get to work on the illustrations for the next one. That’s when my favorite Élly — Élly’s the star of my next book, The Truth about Trolls, tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me that she needs at least one place to live in during the course of her story, and would I mind getting inspired so she can have some place magical to look at? 

So I looked at my car window and found some magic yesterday. Then I remembered some magic we’d seen in Iceland and in Michigan.  Now it seems I’m seeing magic everywhere.

Trolls are surprisingly logical.

Prints can be purchased on Etsy here.