Summer pastel series

 

Every time I travel to Cape Cod for a summer vacation I feel revived -- there truly is something about "Cape Light," as many artists and photographers refer to it.  Colors seem more vivid, the light almost crystalline in its clarity.  Unless, of course, if it's raining or foggy!  

This year we were right on the beach so to watch the colors of the various beach grasses and marshes was perfect -- early morning, midday, sunset and dusk.  This is a pastel-and-watercolor sketch, a mix of mediums that I find fun to work with.  I use Strathmore Bristol paper, which is usually used for graphic design and manga artwork.  But I like the way it holds the watercolor and allows me to overlay the layers of pastel. 

I'll be working on more of these sketches, working now from memory, and will soon be uploading this painting to my space on Fine Art America soon if you're interested in a print, a notecard and more!

Happy Summer!

"I hope to make pictures like I walk -- under a spell, an instinct of motion,

a kind of knowing that is essentially indirect and sideways."

(Ellen Meloy, Anthropology of Turquoise)

Return from the Cape

What is it about a vacation at the Cape that re-charges the creative juices once again? Is it the sunlight, the hot lazy afternoons? Perhaps it's the salt air and swimming in the ocean that cleanses the mind? 

Cape Beach

These are just a few shots from the Cape, which I love to fiddle with, digitally altering them to make them appear 'vintage-y' --  like some old photos you'd find stashed away in albums that your grandparents (or great-grandparents) had at one time --

Wynchmere Harbor, Harwich, MA

the ones where no one can recall who took the picture or when --  

View of Provincetown Harbor

That's something that bothers me about digital cameras -- it's so very ephemeral.  At least in the 'old' days, people had their photos printed, as it was the only way.  Now, how often do we actually print out the shots we've taken with our digital cameras and phones?  

Sure, we load them up onto our computers and then onto our blogs, tumblr, pinterest, instagram -- but then what?  What if the platforms and technologies change?  Does anyone backup their pics? 

Garden Lion, Provincetown

Ah, well . . . don't mind me.  I'm just griping, as I know that I'm as guilty as the next person.  I have good intentions, but they often go by the wayside with the excuse, "I'll wait for a rainy day . . . "  And then I move onto something else: work, taking care of the gardens, etc.  

This last image -- Garden Lion -- is a favorite.  I found him poking up from behind a mass of shrubs and flowers in a garden in Provincetown.  So very exotic, don't you think?  

Seasons of Light

Does the season dictate what we paint?  Or is it the play of light and shadow?  Or both?   These are small sketches I did over the past year -- some were painted in the winter/early spring in my travels up through Massachusetts, Vermont and New Hampshire --  

Late Sun on Snowfields (mixed media; 8"x10")

Distant Mountains (mixed media; 8" x10")

While these were painted earlier this summer at the Cape --

Sand Dunes and Marshes (watercolor; 5" x7")

Cape Light (watercolor; 5" x 7")

Tracking the Sun (watercolor; 5" x 7")

Why landscapes and at other times abstracts?  I'm beginning to think that it may have much to do with the light.  In the winter and autumn, the light plays across the land, catching out colors and contours.  While in the summer, one often can't even see the land because your sight is overwhelmed with the intense light and the heat waves shimmering off the surfaces of water, sand and marshes.

Now I'm watching the late afternoon skies more often, noting the lowness of the sun, the cast of shadows stretching just a bit more across the gardens and lawns.  Temperatures have dropped at dusk and there's the need for a sweater or light jacket.

We have moved from the pastels of spring to the intense yellows and reds of late summer.  In a few weeks, the persimmons and ambers of autumn will take their place, along with the smell of woodsmoke and hot cocoa.  

But for now I'll take what I see, shift my toes in the cool grass and sip at a glass of chilled white wine while I splatter paints across the blank white page . . . 

In nature, light creates the color. In the picture,

color creates the light. 

Hans Hofmann 

Summer Sketches

So, back from the week at the Cape, recharged and ready to create -- except that July has hit with 95+ degree weather and humidity that weighs you down like a load of wet sand -- ugh! Just two small 8" x 8" watercolor sketches; I did do others but even smaller (2.5 x 4). 

I think that these two somehow capture a sense of atmosphere, of simple shapes and times of day.  Perhaps, maybe not.  Watercolor does seem to capture one's impressions quickly and, at this size, it's difficult to even try to get any definitive details, especially when using a fairly large brush.

Not terribly interested in detail or photographic reality; more an essence of place and time of day.

Although on this one my husband exclaimed, "Oh, look! An atomic blast!" Ha, ha, very funny . . . well, I suppose it does look a bit like that. 

But with this long holiday weekend, I did work on some new oil paintings, again trying to capture a sense of light, of shapes and patterns rather than traditional land/seascapes. Also, tried to work from memory rather than photos taken on cellphones, etc.  Under the extreme brightness of Cape light, details tend to disappear, things shimmer and fade, then come into greater clarity before disappearing altogether.  Think about when you lie on the beach on your stomach and look down the sand at the people and the water and the light -- more like a chimera than anything!

As soon as they are dry, I'll try to take some pics; however, I may spring for a professional to do that as they are too big to scan. My time is a bit crunched these days and patience is wearing thin to be fiddling around with cameras and tripods.

Painting from Photos and Memory

"The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all. . . . I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it.

 Eugène Ionesco 

 

CT River, Late Autumn

Still working on the river and coastline oils -- at this time of year I'm depending upon the many photos I've taken over the years along the Connecticut, Massachusetts and Maine coastlines; also depending upon my memories of driving the CT River for over 15 years. 

However, the more I work on these coastline / river paintings, I seem to be concentrating on the skies and the breaking light rather than the actual waters. So much does depend upon the light, though. A ho-hum gray day can become quite dramatic when the cloud cover breaks and a shaft of sunlight splits the skies. 

Departing Clouds

Or perhaps it's a battalion of clouds scudding across the horizon after a storm, giving an ominous look to everything.

Well, we're not too far from Daylight Savings Time and Spring -- hooray!  After last week's blizzard, I have had enough of winter, although I admit that winter does afford one the time to work, paint, collage, quilt, knit inside.  Once spring arrives, the gardens will need tending, raking out, transplanting, etc.  And so the painting tends to take a back seat during those weeks.

But my plan is to get outside more and paint -- I re-joined the CT Plein Air Painters [I had let that lapse last year with the new job] and am hoping that will give me the incentive to get out there and paint from the real thing, not simply photos and memory.

Beach Cottages in Fog, the Cape

That's the plan -- but then the deck and the gardens tend to keep me close to home once the hard work has been done.  Ah, well --  I suppose I can always paint my garden!   Like Monet, I will sit amidst the roses and clematis with my battered straw sun hat and revel in the scents and colors of summer. 

Sounds like a plan to me . . . :-)

A Sense of Place

There are some places that live with us. Perhaps we grew up in these special spaces; perhaps we live in them currently. They become a part of our psyche, like a silent tapestry that abides within . . .

For me, it is the oceans, rivers and lakes of the Northeast. I grew up on eastern Long Island and could walk to the beach from my house. My husband and I, when we were dating, spent most of our free time at the beach. Every summer we head for Cape Cod and our children, now grown, follow in the familiar path to the Cape.

Every autumn we head north to Maine and walk the coastline, drinking in the wide open spaces, the quicksilver skies. On my daily commute I pass along the CT River and witness amazing turns of light and of seasons.

These sketches and paintings are my attempts to capture those moments . . .

Encroaching Storm [watercolor and gouache]

Spindrift, West Dennis [watercolor and gouache]

Thunder Skies [watercolor and gouache]

“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.” 

Joan Didion

Just returned from that vacation I wrote about a few weeks ago -- glorious time! So good to break away from the daily grind, to read, walk the beach, laze on the deck and stare at the trees and sky and clouds . . .

It is so damn difficult to empty the mind of nitty-gritty details, of the stuff that makes up everyday life, to expand and mentally drift, to open and empty all at the same time. Perhaps staying in a cottage that does not belong to one, no need to clean and tidy, no need to weed and mow -- that may be one of the keys. However, there is also something special about the Cape -- the light, the air, the smell of pine and ocean -- so conducive to wanting to pick up the paints and just play . . .

Small watercolor sketches from some days at the beach; others to follow. Some I need to finish, others are simply pencil sketches. Have you ever noticed how people at the beach, caught in a moment of respite, unaware of being watched, are just great for subject matter?

Storm rolling in

watercolor, 5" x 7"

 

 Long View

watercolor, 5" x 7"

I've never kept a sketching journal -- yes, plenty of sketches on loose scraps but never a journal.  Thought I would try to do this; even bought myself one of those tiny little watercolor travel things with the tiny pots and a collapsible brush (Winsor & Newton).  Quite fun, really!  

And this is just simply a lovely pic of a gorgeous hollyhock I came across while walking through the village of Chatham --

What a knock-out, uh?  Stopped me dead in my tracks as I've never seen a holly that particular shade of soft pink.

The other part of our time at the Cape I loved was finding all these lovely old cape houses nestled in tiny gardens and such --

 

This shot I altered once I got home, trying to capture a "vintage" look and feel.  The cottage itself was a soft, weathered beige and the spray on the door was a muted rose -- just wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!  

So, tomorrow is back to work.  But that's all right -- I've had my time to unwind and gather up the ragged edges, mentally and creatively.  I suppose that's what a summer vacation is all about, isn't it?  A small yet precious island of serenity that gives one's spirit a chance to replenish . . . 

“What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, 

the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, 

and with as yet no sign to remind one 

that its fresh young beauty will ever fade.” 

Gertrude Jekyll

 

A quick trip to Cape Cod in the autumn does wonders for one's spirit! Glorious weather, walks on the beaches, good food, good wine, good reading and to spend time with a true friend -- what more can one ask? Just thought I'd share some of the photographs from our time away -- enjoy!