Autumn Haze

Columbus Day weekend, that lovely 3rd day off at the height of the autumn season -- a wonderful time of year! Today a haze of gold -- I can't think of a better way to describe it -- has softened the sunlight and the gardens and pathways are dappled with the leaves that are falling each moment.

Going through some sketches from the past months, I found these -- simple watercolors, no great detail or angst went into them. But I tend to like them, as their "sketchiness" seems to match the season. 

Small Pond, New Hampshire

As I travel back and forth to work or on a weekend jaunt, I pass so many ponds and small lakes, not to mention the beautiful Connecticut River. In the late afternoon on my way home, I drive the back roads to avoid commuter traffic, passing farms and old barns, even a vineyard or two. 

I love the way the sunlight hits the side of a farmhouse, striking the old, worn sideboards in a dazzling white against the autumn maples and dark green pines. 

Berkshire Barn

And then the sun begins to dip below the treeline. I know in a few weeks I won't even be able to see the sun on my way home, as it will be twilight by that time. 

So, for now, I relish that lovely dusk sky, flooded with rose and peach and lavender, when the light is riding the rim between day and night and all seems hushed.

Dipping Sun, East Weatogue

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

Hans Hofmann

*   *   *

in just one breath
last leaf falls
skies open wide

[haiku by artist]

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.

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

 

Paintings for August

last weeks of summer

sea change in the air

humid weight lifts and

gardens spark with a clear, bright light

wading through ocean waters

dizzy with currents

that ripple and tug
pulling you further
and further
beyond the shores

drifts of sea thrift and thistle

fairy wands that tap the sunlight
calling you to the dance

shadows at twilight

lace treetops and the

last rays spill 

through tired leaves . . .

Fiddling with Bad Paintings . . .

This is not a very satisfying watercolor sketch -- looks almost half-hearted, doesn't it? There are parts and bits I do like (the rocks) but all together it just does not work.

So the question is: do we trash these "almost" paintings? Do we save them to remind us of our failures?

What if -- one of the greatest tools we creative types have -- steps to the forefront, maybe not immediately but certainly at some point. I painted this little piece several months ago and just stumbled upon it on my computer this afternoon as I was attempting to clean up files, etc. I looked at it and "what if...?" appeared, lurking on the sidelines of my semi-active brain.

So, I pulled a copy into a software program for photos and digitally played with it -- here's what I came up with:



Now, this I like!

It's dramatic, an intriguing study for a night seascape painting perhaps? And some of the little "blips" that came through on the scan appear to be stars and constellations. Also, I think this would work better in other media, such as acrylic, oil or perhaps pastels.

I will keep this playful piece in my computer in the "must paint" file. It will spark my creative imagination to try some night scenes, give me a springboard from which to work.

We learn more from failure than from success -- good to remember!