Elkmont Cabins En Plein Air

Just across the road from the Elkmont campground in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park you can explore what is often called the "ghost town" of the Smokies, cabin remnants of a vacation community that was built in the early 1900's.

The cabins, even in their deteriorated condition, offer interest, texture and intrigue for sketching.  Juxtaposed against moss covered stones, graceful woodland ferns, wildflowers and falling leaves, this setting was a spectacular place to join friends, Kay and Doris, for a morning of outdoor painting--en plein air.  The possibilities for visual exploring were endless.

It is often hard to remove the pressure to "produce" while making art, but this setting made it easy.  Among the trees, in the midst of an early autumn coolness and surrounded by so much stimulation for the senses, sketching became a way of enjoying more deeply.

The slide show below offers a glimpse of the cabin community along with its peaceful natural setting and the sense of tranquility we experienced while painting there.  I hope it inspires you to venture out and take your paints with you!


Links and resources:
For more posts on this blog about painting in the outdoors, visit en plein air  and
sketching hummingbirds in flight.
Visit Kay Alexander Watercolors and see Kay's beautiful en plein air paintings.

Don't Throw Out the Kindergarten Efforts

Kindergarten steps.  That's how it feels when you're trying something new.  But every time we step out of our comfort zone while sketching and painting, we learn. 

I tried sketching this red day lily I found in the yard using watercolor, without drawing it first.  I had in mind creating something loose and impressionistic.  The problem was the breeze.  A light wind is wonderful to keep insects away and for cooling comfort on a hot day.  But, the down side, it dries the palette rapidly.  

Always, always, I forget something when I sketch outside.  And this time it was the spray bottle.  Dropping water from the brush was too slow.  It was drying faster than I could drop it.  Trickling water from the water cup ended in a flood that had to be poured off--a comedy of errors good for exercising the sense of humor.

Add to that, too much water on the page, not enough water in my brush, and on and on it went.  Then the breeze died down.  Helpful?  Not on your life!  Something mean started biting.  I never looked up to see what it was, so intent by that time, to get this day lily on the page!  

  

When I looked at the sketch I completed while out doors (image above), I felt an "ugh" sensation in my stomach.  Primitive, tight.  I'd lost the lily petal shapes.  But then I remembered some helpful guidance I received over years of working with watercolor instructor, Ann Lindsay. Whenever we showed our work in class, she would coach, "show us something you enjoyed, that you particularly like about your work, and if there's something you don't like and want to see happen differently next time, tell us about that, too."

 

So I scanned my sketch again.  My eyes went to the bud, its shape and color, and it's loose leaves.  Not bad, really, for no drawing in advance.  I already knew my chief dislike, the shape of the petals.  So I pulled out my pencil and outlined the petal shapes and edges.  This came easily with a pencil.  Once I had done that, the whole sketch began to feel different to me. 

When I came inside, I lifted off paint, re-shaping the petals.  And drew in the long, droopy day lily leaves on the left page's blob of color, defining them with negative painting.  As I used my pencil to guide these changes and additions, I once again remembered how much I love to draw.  Ah, I thought.  Next time I'll sketch with my pencil first, and enjoy drawing even more!

This is a wise exercise--asking yourself to be specific about what you like and don't like about your painting or sketch.  It helps keep you from throwing out the whole effort and walking away unnecessarily discouraged. New experiences are worth the effort, even when the results feel like kindergarten.  It's not the finished results that matter the most, but what new information you add to your painting library--information about who you are, what you like, and what makes sketching and painting fun for you.

A postscript note to self:  Reorganize outdoor sketch bag with its own spray bottle and insect repellent!

Seeing a Lantana

Seeing is a big word when it comes to making art.  In fact, seeing is everything.

Seeing your subject, the shapes, the detail, focusing in and capturing what makes it of interest to you in the first place.  And simplifying, focusing out to capture the essence, the larger shapes and values, without becoming distracted by detail.  Both are necessary, a balance that only practice and preference can achieve.

Sketching outdoors is relatively new to me.  I'm more prone to snapping reference photos and painting later through this record and my experience.  But I've seen beautiful work done on the spot.  So I keep giving it a try to see what happens. Because I'm embarking on an exploration and only looking for what new I can discover, I'm finding myself delightfully free of expectations.

I've recently done some practicing on my patio, making a retreat to the cooler in-doors easy when I've had enough of the heat and mosquitoes.  My main goal has been practicing the focus required, learning to filter out distractions and decide just how I want to capture the subject.  Below, you see the end result of my first try to capture my patio pot of Lantanas.

The top photo shows what I completed on the spot.  I sketched without an eraser on this occasion, leaving all the pencil marks, mistakes and otherwise.  Not generally my style.  But I found this okay, even relaxing. The image above is the finished sketch after I added ink and more color.  This is one way to sketch a pot of  Lantanas.  But Lantanas are light, airy.  So this sketch motivated me to try again, see if I could capture more of that lightness in the next sketch.

I created the pencil sketch first, and then began to add color, loose spots of yellow in the area of the blossoms.

Above you see the sketch I finished outside and my working space below.

When I brought the sketch inside, I played with the values, making some areas darker to allow the blossoms to come forward and giving the leaves some variation.  This was nice.  I liked what was happening on the right side of the page.
Above you see the final result, a sketch that expresses something different about what I see in those flowers, a brightness that the first sketch doesn't quite capture.  It's interesting, though, I like both sketches.   But don't they have a very different feel?

Fumbling En Plein Air

That's what my first 2010 outside sketching adventure felt like this past weekend--fumbling.

On the ground, nearly eye level with Virginia Bluebells, Bluets and some kind of unsavory large orange ants, I created a pencil sketch of the bluebells before retreating to a nearby stump to continue sketching.

I learn so much each time I try sketching outdoors--lessons in organization, coordination, focus, to name a few, and let's don't leave out memory or personality insights.

Virginia Bluebells

I forgot my water container.  And nope, there was no paper towel or tissue to soak up excess water from my juiciest of brushes.  But I did bring water in a small bottle and this served as a container.  It wasn't like I was miles away from the forgotten supplies, but I treated this experience just as if I were far away.  There's no better way to impress the memory.

We were having a low 80's day with no leaves yet on our budding trees.  More than an hour into my sketching, the late afternoon sun became uncomfortable and I dropped my paint brush.  Now, dropping a paint brush isn't normally a big deal.  It's not unusual for me to flip the brush out of my hand at least once while sketching.  But when I retrieved it this time, it was coated with clumps of muddy earth.  That was it!  I retreated back to the predictability of my kitchen.

Plein air still feels overwhelming to me at the moment.  But want-to is all that's needed to get through this and that, I have plenty of.  A few challenges seem obvious, like having the right tools on hand, finding a comfortable place to work, making a decision about just what out of all this wonderful nature you will choose for a subject.  Practice, of course, will do its magic on these.

And what you learn on these small adventures about sketching and yourself, far out weighs the awkwardness of the moment.  For example, I noticed I hurry when I feel uneasy but my natural style is to take my time.   I'll be aware and remember to breathe next time.   And the size of my initial bluebell sketch didn't lend itself to the kind of detail I enjoy, especially with the size brush I had on hand.  So I'll pack a smaller brush in my kit and remember that ink and graphite are other possibilities for this detail.  My goal is to enjoy both the effort and the result.

It's a bit like learning an entirely different skill set.  No one can teach this to you any more than another person can teach you your style. It's for you to explore and discover.  What you see, how you express it, and how you decide to put it all together will be all your own.  And in the outdoors with nature, the possibilities for this are endless!