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!

The Richness of Watercolor--It's Interaction

11 x 14 watercolor, Monarch on White Crownbeard.

Watercolor is rich in it's versatility, in the many different ways you can approach a subject while attempting to capture the interplay of color and light. I suppose that is true with any medium, but watercolor moves as you paint and that quality gives it a richness and a freshness that is always full of surprises. I think it is this interaction, between the pigment and water, that always stirs in me the desire to explore it more. Each time I paint and see the results, I want to try again, see what other ways I can find to express what I'm seeing and feeling.

I painted this monarch primarily from a sketch in my sketchbook. While painting, I relied chiefly on the sketch rather than reference photos or having the subject in front of me. It is a different experience, a freeing experience. Sketches always feel lighter to me, free from the tension that painting a "real" painting sometimes causes.  It is wonderful practice and a wonderful way to keep your painting fresh.  There is a looseness in sketching that comes from the fact that you know it's practice, there's no pressure.  You're uptight left brain goes to sleep, after all, you can easily start over again.  And there is a practical limit to the amount of detail you can capture or even want in a sketch.  In fact, the lack of detail is the magic of a sketch.

Having said that, I love detail.  It is part of my fascination with nature and is one of the reasons I enjoy studying my subjects with my camera.  The camera brings the subject closer, allowing me to slow down the activity so I can learn more about what's happening.  And what I discover never fails to delight me.  But a painting is more than just a rendition of the subject in its environment.  A painting is also an interaction.  

This interaction is one of the most intriguing and challenging aspects of watercolor. There are the primary interactions that we are all familiar with, between pigment and water, paint and brush, and of course, between the visual reality and what the artist sees and feels. But there is also the important interaction the viewer has while viewing the art. When the viewer sees the final work, we, as artists, hope they will be inspired.

For me, the delight and inspiration of watercolor is stirred by that mysterious quality in its movement.  Using a photograph for reference, as I often do, can sometimes suck me into detail, which can result in a tight rendition rather than an image that is fluid. This is what I noticed as I worked on this painting.  The sketch freed me to just paint, to focus on what I found to be beautiful about the subject, to stay with the light and airy quality of both the butterfly and the flowers, leaving the details more to the imagination.

It is this stimulation of imagination that is the root of inspiration.  As creative beings, we love feeling this.  And when my painting is finished, it is this inspiration that I want others to feel right along with me.

Clingman's Dome at Sunset

I'm not sure whether I'll remember the beautiful sunset more vividly or the bone-chilling wind.  We reached Clingman's Dome just in time to take in this gorgeous, multi-colored sky as the sun slipped down below the horizon.

Earlier, as we wound our way up the mountain watching for Ruffed Grouse, we also watched the thermostat plummet from 54 degrees F to 34 degrees.  Add to that, the winds at Clingman's Dome overlook parking area were strong enough to lift you off your feet.  That made for a very cold wind chill, somewhere in the 20's.

We were a group of six birders, with the goal of finding Ruffed Grouse and Saw-whet owls in the dusk hours.  The Ruffed Grouse made a wonderful showing.  We encountered four altogether, males with striking rust and white markings.  One flew up to a low branch, showing his flared, rufous tail with solid dark terminal band.

The wind, however, guaranteed we would hear no owls.  Its roar through the trees sounded like crashing waves.  But the effort brought us in view of the night sky--spectacular, crystal clear and jam-packed with brilliant stars.  Every bit of it worth all the shivering.

Creating a quick sketch like the one above just wet my appetite and made me want to practice making sunset skies, mountain ridge shapes, and using my rigger brush to capture the lop-sided fir limbs better. We'll see what time allows.  The sketch is right there in my sketchbook waiting to inspire.  

A Glimpse of a Wintering Visitor--Northern Harrier

Northern Harriers are among my favorite raptors.  They caught my attention many years ago when I lived in a rural area of east Tennessee with plenty of open fields dotting the landscape.  Several Northern Harriers wintered-over in the area and provided me with daily opportunities to observe their behavior.    

In the morning I would often see them as they flew out from their roost at early light.  And in the evening, like clock-work, they would return for one last hunt before dusk.  Harriers roost on the ground in grassy fields, so I suspected that the roost being used was either in our field or one adjacent to the property.

The Northern Harrier pictured above was seen at Seven Islands Wildlife Refuge during a March nature "Walk-about" sponsored by Ijams Nature Center and interpreted by Stephen Lyn Bales on March 19th.  Like a wished-for celebrity, this female Northern Harrier made an appearance and glided gracefully over the grasses in search of prey.

Harriers winter over in Tennessee, arriving in the fall and departing sometime in early April for breeding grounds in the northern states and Canada.  A slim hawk that glides and tilts low over the ground as it hunts, it is one of the few hawks that can hover in place while it hons in on its prey.   Their wings are held in a dihedral position, slightly above horizontal, as they glide.  It is this posture and flight pattern, as well as, its white rump patch,  that make this hawk easy to distinguish from other raptor species.

Below, an earlier encounter with a Northern Harrier at Necedah National Wildlife Refuge, WI, in 2009.

Links and References:
my article on Bird Banding at SIWR

Wishing Upon Bluebirds

I awoke to Eastern bluebirds singing before first light this morning. Wonderful sound. You can't hear them without smiling.

I think they have an established nesting territory across the street.  But they come into both the front and back yard to visit berries, drink water, check out my nest box, and chatter and sing!  I love it.

Later I happened to look out the window and saw the nesting phoebes chasing away a male bluebird.  He landed on a limb that is the male phoebe's preferred perch while he guards the female's nest building activity.  I hate that.   I do wish we could all get along so the bluebirds could settle into the nest box that is near by.

Eastern phoebe female, above, holding nesting material as she pauses before rising to the gazebo shelf where she is building her nest for the second year in a row.  

I'm still wishing.

Brother's Plant--Part III

This sketchbook spread started out as a field sketch practice, an attempt to sketch a subject that will be still, unlike the birds I enjoy painting.  It gave me much more.

In addition to the memories that unfolded, it pulled me deeper into this prolific and hardy plant, its beauty, shape, shadows and color.  I still wonder how it manages to withstand the cold winter.  I learned that this has something to do with its ability to store water and a unique metabolic process that happens when the temperature drops.  But in my brief research, I didn't learn enough to explain it to anyone.

I am often drawn to the visual detail of a subject, so much so, that it is sometimes hard for me to shift my focus out, allowing the loose sketch work its magic.  I love this aspect of art, especially in watercolor.  It is a challenge for me to hold on to this awareness as I paint.

When I added detail to the left group of flowers, I wasn't happy with the result.  It pulled my eye away from what I found to be the most captivating part of the sketch, the top and right group of flowers that spilled over the side.  The overall effect was "too busy".

So for this occasion, I pulled out my soft scrub brush and "erased" the added detail.  I liked this area much better flowing loose with just a hint of shadow and shape.

Above you see the area after it's been scrubbed.  And below, the same area with replacement color added.  I couldn't recapture the freshness of what was there before, but I did restore some subtlety.  

The final sketch gives me a lot of information for future reference.  Below you see the original sketch created on the patio on the left, the final sketch on the right.  See what you think.

For more information about using a scrub brush visit:  Sketching a Limpkin.  For more about negative space visit:  Search for a Swainson's Warbler.  The first post on this sketchbook spread is:  My Brother's Plant

Brother's Plant--Part II

My unfinished sketch of the pot of hen-and-chicks is moving forward in interrupted increments, as in, whatever time I can grab before and after office hours.  

I discover as I paint, what kind of mood I'm in.  Sometimes I'm satisfied with a very loose and undefined result, other times I want to see more detail.  Most often I like a combination.  In this case, I was drawn to the rosette shapes of the flowers and the spilling over, the cascading of the rosettes as they multiply.  So I printed a black and white copy of one of my photographs and sketched some rosettes in pencil on the sketch page to get a better feel for their layered petals.

Next, I wanted to reclaim some of the rim of my pot from the too-wet wash that spilled over the edge, as well as, the edge of the lower opening of the pot.  Above you see the small size scrub I used.  For more about this scrub brush and the process of scrubbing see the link at the end of the post.  Below you see the result of lifting out some of the paint with the use of my scrub brush, water, and a tissue for blotting.

I created some loosely defined rosettes in the top of the pot with negative painting, that is, painting the space around the petal rather than the petal itself.  This is fun.  I believe negative painting and softening edges are two of my favorite approaches to painting.

Below, you see the page spread as it looks today--still unfinished, but becoming more of what I want to see on the page.      

For more about using a scrub brush visit:  Sketching a Limpkin.  For more about negative space visit:  Search for a Swainson's Warbler.  The first post on this sketchbook spread is:  My Brother's Plant