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One of the things I came out west hoping to do was get more comfortable with gouache. I had started doing some forest studies in Memphis in pastel because watercolor just doesn’t have enough depth and value richness, but I wasn’t happy with the greens. Also pastels are cumbersome to carry around because I need an easel to keep the piece vertical while I work, and the pastel box itself is quite heavy.
Gouache has almost the portability of watercolor, and the same ease of cleanup. I carry full tubes of paint because I like to use it wet instead of reconstituted, but it’s still much lighter than pastels. I tried two years ago to learn to use it, and again I was dissatisfied with the artificial greens I got. This year I bought a couple more mossy, forest type greens to bring out. I was also trying to work as large as I do in watercolor, and that wasn’t going well. I notice that a lot of gouache painters I admire work quite small, so I brought a number of small bits of thick, brown paper with me (Stonehenge, my go-to printmaking brand).
This was my first effort, and I was pretty delighted. I could probably stand to have more highlights in the trunk, but the painterly-ness of it feels like oils without having to carry nearly as much stuff (and solvents) around with you.
Gouache has almost the portability of watercolor, and the same ease of cleanup. I carry full tubes of paint because I like to use it wet instead of reconstituted, but it’s still much lighter than pastels. I tried two years ago to learn to use it, and again I was dissatisfied with the artificial greens I got. This year I bought a couple more mossy, forest type greens to bring out. I was also trying to work as large as I do in watercolor, and that wasn’t going well. I notice that a lot of gouache painters I admire work quite small, so I brought a number of small bits of thick, brown paper with me (Stonehenge, my go-to printmaking brand).
This was my first effort, and I was pretty delighted. I could probably stand to have more highlights in the trunk, but the painterly-ness of it feels like oils without having to carry nearly as much stuff (and solvents) around with you.
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I went to my very favorite spot out here last week, had a picnic, sat on the small, shaded river beach, and did four watercolors. It’s an amazing place, and I never get quite enough time there, but this time the sky stormed over and rain started falling, so it was time to go. Gorgeous while it lasted, though.
I did the three pieces above in my bigger water book, but I wanted a record of the day in my small regular journal as well. You can see raindrop in the bottom right of this one as I packed up hurriedly when the rain started.
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I’ve been running around out here and not doing the studio work I had thought I might get done. I’m giving myself permission to have a bit of vacation, but I decided it would be a good chance to do a daily walk sketch, as a base level of art, and I would enjoy that as a vacation project. Elizabeth Alley turned me on to a great hashtag on Instagram called #walktosee. It’s largely British artists posting sketches from their regular walks. In Memphis, often I’m just out quickly with a door key, getting my walk in and getting Mr. Darcy home before it gets too hot. I’m also often already thinking about my current painting or print and focused on getting home to start work on them. Here it’s nice to think I’ll linger a little and sketch, and the weather is more temperate and encouraging for sketching.
So here are a first batch of sketches I’ve been doing this week in Concrete, Washington, and its environs. Above is at Rasar State Park, my sketching Mecca out here. It’s got everything — river, beach, stone beach, forest, and a gorgeous meadow with mountain views.
So here are a first batch of sketches I’ve been doing this week in Concrete, Washington, and its environs. Above is at Rasar State Park, my sketching Mecca out here. It’s got everything — river, beach, stone beach, forest, and a gorgeous meadow with mountain views.
Plus a little buddy I found on my walk the other day. I tend to go for a big double spread of watercolor, but I’m hoping to also exercise some restraint, so some smaller spreads, maybe not cover everything with paint every single time. We’ll see how that goes...
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I arrived out west on Tuesday evening, and I’ve done a few sketches, but largely I’ve been taking some time off work. I’ve been sleeping a lot, catching up with friends, and taking care of emotional business instead of career business. That’s always a bit hard for me, so I was happy to read this opinion article (https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/21/opinion/summer-lying-fallow.html) in the New York Times on the importance of rest and renewal to the creative process, as well as life in general. So in that spirit, here are a few scenes from my usual daily walk out here in Concrete, Washington. The trail is an old railroad bed, up above the highway. It’s an easy way to walk out of town, wide and flat and almost unpopulated. I sometimes see another person or two, but not often.
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I’m being able to revisit various special places this spring. I used to go to Mountain View and Calico Rock in the Arkansas Ozarks pretty frequently, but it’s been a good while since I got over there. My potter friend Judi Munn (she and her husband are the resident potters at the Ozark Folk Center) is also in an art guild there, and she invited me to teach a sketching workshop. I loaded up an array of materials, a stack of inspirational books, another stack of my own journals, and I spent the day with a crew of lovely and dedicated artists. We had a great time, and they were so welcoming of me. I love getting to go talk about doing what I love and all the different fun things you can use to sketch. Then Judi and I ended up going to City Rock Bluff outside Calico Rock to sketch. I used to paint here regularly, but it had been several years. It felt so good to step out onto that broad bluff and again and look down on a beautiful world. And it was the perfect, quiet end of the day. Below is Judi sketching the view.
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I absolutely loved staying with Judi Munn and John Perry of Perry Munn Pottery this past week. It's great to have creative friends with interesting homes (their handmade dining room chairs are gorgeous) who can talk art and shows and living a self-directed, creative life.
It was great going out and sketching with Judi after the show. Here are a couple more sketches from that, to right and below. On top I drew Judi sketching at the Ozark Folk Center toward the end of our workshop. I'm trying to get myself out of my reflexive use of watercolor and mix up my sketchbook with different inks a little more.
Judi and I were racing a storm while we sketched, which you can see a bit from the clouds below. I'd been eyeing this tree and got a very quick sketch in my journal before we had to bail. Sometimes, especially with good days and special places, I want something in my small art journal instead of just larger watercolors in a random sketchbook. It's nice to have that record of a well spent day.
It was great going out and sketching with Judi after the show. Here are a couple more sketches from that, to right and below. On top I drew Judi sketching at the Ozark Folk Center toward the end of our workshop. I'm trying to get myself out of my reflexive use of watercolor and mix up my sketchbook with different inks a little more.
Judi and I were racing a storm while we sketched, which you can see a bit from the clouds below. I'd been eyeing this tree and got a very quick sketch in my journal before we had to bail. Sometimes, especially with good days and special places, I want something in my small art journal instead of just larger watercolors in a random sketchbook. It's nice to have that record of a well spent day.
The final reason to love visiting art friends is that (especially when they're generous to a fault), you end up taking a bit of beauty home with you. I totally fell for Judi's bunny (I've got a thing for bunnies anyway), which was in the room I stayed in. She caught his expression perfectly, and I loved the green background. He's now living just beside my bed where I see him every night and every morning, and he makes me smile. I also came home with a gorgeous, wood fired teacup of John's. The photo is too dark to show off its full beauty, but there are flashes of blue inside and out from the ash, and it fits my hand so well. I do love this photo of tea on their deck. They live up a forestry road, and it was the perfect getaway. I'm so grateful for this job where I get to do things I love surrounded by the best people.
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I have work at the Walter Anderson Museum of Art (WAMA). That right there is a beautiful sentence to type. Anderson is one of my main art heroes, and I have dreamed of showing there for years. I've been working on this whole series of water paintings since last fall, and then the call for a show of water paintings at WAMA popped up in my facebook feed. Beautifully, they accepted these two paintings plus my block print of the kayak as well.
I went down to deliver art and stayed three nights to be able to go to the opening as well, and it was a marvelous trip. I loved having several days to go in and out of the museum and drink in the artwork there.
I went down to deliver art and stayed three nights to be able to go to the opening as well, and it was a marvelous trip. I loved having several days to go in and out of the museum and drink in the artwork there.
I've only ever been able to go for one day, sandwiched in with other things, so that was a rare treat. All the folks who work there were warm and welcoming, and I got to have some great conversations as well as looking at art.
They also went above and beyond the day of the opening. It was a day of six hour tornado watches and a huge wave of bad weather coming across the state. It would have been supremely easy for them to simply push the opening back a day. But they knew several of us had come to town and stayed for the party, so they decided to work quite late two nights in a row and had a storm party on Thursday and the official opening on Friday, an evening later than originally planned. I was so grateful for this generosity because it was a huge marker for me to have art in what is essentially sacred art space for me. Those of us who were there got a marvelous tour of the collection with Mattie Coddling, the curator who has recently put up a comprehensive exhibit tracking the progression of Anderson's life and work (which are essentially the same thing).
The unexpected and amazing bonus was that John Anderson, one of Walter's children, generously came out on a terrible night to be present. It would have been even easier for him to simply stay home. Because of the smaller crowd, I ended up having a couple of long and delightful conversations with him. He was kind and remarkably generous with his family stories. I was halfway through his mother's memoir, Approaching the Magic Hour, which is marvelous. John talked to me about art in general, living as an artist, and how his father wanted to invite everyone into the process. It was a standout moment in my life, and I could not be more grateful to everyone involved in making it happen.
They also went above and beyond the day of the opening. It was a day of six hour tornado watches and a huge wave of bad weather coming across the state. It would have been supremely easy for them to simply push the opening back a day. But they knew several of us had come to town and stayed for the party, so they decided to work quite late two nights in a row and had a storm party on Thursday and the official opening on Friday, an evening later than originally planned. I was so grateful for this generosity because it was a huge marker for me to have art in what is essentially sacred art space for me. Those of us who were there got a marvelous tour of the collection with Mattie Coddling, the curator who has recently put up a comprehensive exhibit tracking the progression of Anderson's life and work (which are essentially the same thing).
The unexpected and amazing bonus was that John Anderson, one of Walter's children, generously came out on a terrible night to be present. It would have been even easier for him to simply stay home. Because of the smaller crowd, I ended up having a couple of long and delightful conversations with him. He was kind and remarkably generous with his family stories. I was halfway through his mother's memoir, Approaching the Magic Hour, which is marvelous. John talked to me about art in general, living as an artist, and how his father wanted to invite everyone into the process. It was a standout moment in my life, and I could not be more grateful to everyone involved in making it happen.
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It was art drop off yesterday at the Walter Anderson Museum of Art, and the opening isn’t until tomorrow, so today I roamed around, sketched, sat in the sunshine, and (of course) bought a teapot and a few things at Shearwater Pottery, the family business Anderson grew up in that’s still being run by family members. I’ve only ever just had a day here before, so it was a real luxury to walk around town with my sketchbooks and no schedule. Plus it was a flat out beautiful day — with rain likely tomorrow, so I’ll spend more time in the museum then, I imagine.
It has been several years since I saw pelicans, and I love them. It was fun to sit down by the water and just watch the birds for a bit.
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I saw outside the Walter Anderson Museum of Art last Thursday before my opening and drew the tunnel of live oaks that reach across Washington Avenue. I love the fern covered lives oaks of the Deep South. They have a character no other tree has. So incredibly expressive. I took a few photos of my process as I was doing this one so you could see how I work.
After that I forgot and just dove into the paint. It’s hard for me to think about anything else when I’m painting.
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I was away for the weekend but came home, locked in, and spent the morning printing a color version of this print. It takes more concentration to print color than black and white, since I have two small rollers and have to hand mix the colors on the block each time. They’re all in the same general pattern, but there is necessarily a little variation with each one.
This is a varied edition, which is labeled “ed var 1/40” at the bottom of each print. That means that there are 40 total prints from this block, but they don’t all look alike. I ran out of paper at 13 colored ones (I’d meant to do 15), so the rest will be black and white. It’s not worth setting back up another day for just two more. I usually pick one good look and go with it for the final print, but I liked both versions of this one, and sometimes it’s nice to have some variety to offer people. Just for fun.
This is a varied edition, which is labeled “ed var 1/40” at the bottom of each print. That means that there are 40 total prints from this block, but they don’t all look alike. I ran out of paper at 13 colored ones (I’d meant to do 15), so the rest will be black and white. It’s not worth setting back up another day for just two more. I usually pick one good look and go with it for the final print, but I liked both versions of this one, and sometimes it’s nice to have some variety to offer people. Just for fun.