My Brother's Plant

I believe the commonly used name is "Hen and Chicks", a rosette shaped succulent that reproduces miniatures of itself, looking like many off-spring.  Though not native to North America, this is a hardy little plant. 

We've had more days of sub-freezing temps this winter than I remember in a long time.  As the weather has warmed, I set the pot of hen-and-chicks out in the garden so it could receive some of the rain we were expecting.  On Thursday, a falling tree missed it by inches. I was stunned. With branches curling up all around it, it sat upright and unscathed. I brought it back to the shelter of the patio.

Early in the afternoon today, I took my journal outside and wrote:
"Gorgeous day. The sky is gray, full of moving clouds made invisible by the rain. Thunder keeps rumbling from the west and the light changes frequently, the sun breaking through a high layer.   I couldn't be more content. I'm on the patio listening to rain falling down the gutter, pattering in the trees, titmice singing, a bluebird in the distance.... I'm comfortable in a double layer of long sleeves, no coat, no shivering. Three windows are open in the house and I have successfully made a home for my cedar chest treasure. It is a great relief to have it no longer the center piece in the living room [while I decided where to put it], to have an open floor again....Mother always called it the cedar chest.  She gave it to my brother. My brother has now given it to me."

When I walked outside again later, I had the urge to sketch this plant.  For one thing the outside air was so inviting.  But I was also marveling at the plant's hardiness, thinking about my brother, feeling a wave of sadness wash over me, and noticing once again, the simple texture scratched into the clay, the loveliness of the piles of rosettes in their container.  Suddenly, I realized why I had been feeling so sad.  March has all but arrived.  On March 3rd, it will be a year since my brother died.

The unconscious is an amazing creature.  So many times it takes us where we need to go, whether we are paying attention or not.  I had not considered the date that is approaching, nor that my grief might have a reason for intensifying.  Nor had I considered why I was so drawn to this plant today.  It lived on my brother's porch and invited me to bring it home.  I am so happy I did.

After making a rough sketch, I wet the paper and added paint.  Getting the paint juicy enough was a challenge since my small kit had not been used in a while.  I didn't bring a spray bottle outside with me.  It's a little slower to shake water from a paint brush into the pans, but it works just the same.

I used the sketch as a guide and continued to apply color, wet in wet.  That is, adding color into color.  What you see below is what I accomplished while still outside.  

It is still unfinished, though I like the loose quality of it as it is.  I would like to study some of my photo images of the rosettes, and sketch one in more detail.  Then we'll see what happens next.  

To see all three post in the series click:  Brother's Plant

Wiki on Hen and Chicks

To see more patio sketching visit Seeing a Lantana.

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?