As the title implies, this painting was not planned. It was started as a distraction from another one (actually, two) that I'm currently struggling with. A little experiment that was quite satisfying.
After a long hiatus, I'm finally able to start clearing some time for painting again. Other obligations pulled me away as I was starting this one, so its trajectory was interrupted and, although I worked it to some sense of completion, I can't help wondering how different it would have turned out had I been able to work it from start to finish in one or two back-to-back sessions. This is a corner of a modern adobe home I often drove by on my way to and from Arroyo Seco, a charming little village in New Mexico between Taos and Taos Ski Valley. I loved the pale green color of the walls of this home set against the citron yellow of the chamisa blossoms, with the latilla ladder leaning against a wall, and the peak of Taos Mountain just "peaking" over the home. This is a quintessential Southwest scene, at least to my eyes.
I now have 20 paintings gracing the walls of the tasting room at Denman Ranch, most of them for sale. I've also done a number of digital paintings of the property, which I hope to show as a collection at some point. Here is one I did from my iPhone a few months ago. Life now returns to "normal," where I can FINALLY get back to painting. Hallelujah!
Here's another New Mexico painting dug out of storage, one that I'd forgotten about. I painted this with a palette knife en plein air in my backyard one brilliant day. I love the irregularity and organic look of latilla fences of the Southwest, and the view from my backyard of those golden cottonwood trees was just amazing.
I've been rifling through my paintings in storage as I am mounting an exhibit in the tasting room here at Denman Ranch, and I came across this abstract painting I did in New Mexico in 2018. Looking upon this with fresh eyes, I quite like it. Glad I kept it.
Here's another digital painting from New Mexico, a quick sketch of Taos Mountain from Fred Baca Park, a little neighbourhood park in Taos that I frequently took my dog to.
A straightforward portrait of an African spoonbill wading in shallow waters. I have painted a roseate spoonbill previously, and I just find these birds to be so exotic, with their long legs and bills.
It's back to New Mexico with this one, or rather, Colorado. San Luis is reputedly the oldest town in Colorado, just over the border with New Mexico. I've painted this structure before but from a different angle. I found it very intriguing from a painting perspective, and so of course, I had to paint it again!
This painting of a bouquet of white roses from my garden was an attempt at partial abstraction. I didn't want to fully define each flower, opting for a loose impression instead. Color harmony and creating a sense of depth were the overriding concerns here, and I'm happy with the result.
This is a painting of a barn owl I had fully intended to experiment with, but life intervened and, by the time I could turn my attention to it several days later, the paint had partially dried. This is why I consider myself an alla prima painter. I like to work a painting to completion while it's still fresh. Still, the result, at least to my eyes, is not without merit. I think he's a cute little guy (girl?).
I've been contemplating lately painting a tiger but haven't yet settled on how I want to treat the subject. In the meantime, I had the urge to do an abstract painting using only Indian yellow, burnt sienna and ivory black, plus white. The result looks a bit tigery to me.
This was a scene that I passed by daily in Taos, NM. Every time I drove past it, I had to stare at that magnificent mountainous landscape. The photo I worked from was taken in July, so this is a summer scene. The mountain has many moods within each season, however, and I am not done with it, not by a long shot.
I started this painting in New Mexico and finished it here in California. This is one of those iconic Southwestern sights, and a reminder of our temporary status here on earth, that we, too, are just passing through. I find the bones themselves to be luminous and wanted to accentuate that quality. I also love the curvilinear shapes of those horns!
Here's another bird painting, one of my favourite subjects. Experimenting, teasing abstracted elements, finding a balance between realism and abstraction: these are the things I'm working on in this piece. Also, taking some care with the focus.
This piece was started en plein air and finished in the studio. I get more satisfaction when painting on a hard, smooth surface such as this one, giving the paint itself a more prominent role in the picture. The sheer variety of trees at Sonoma State University makes for a challenging and exciting painting experience. I try.
Here's a plein air digital sketch I did last fall, facing that famous Cerro Pedernal from Ghost Ranch, just west of Abiquiu in New Mexico. My perspective was not far from the cottage that Georgia O'Keeffe rented with a direct view of Pedernal, so this would have been her view as well.
I'm going to be posting some digital paintings from my year in New Mexico on this blog until I've finished creating a separate blog to house them. This is a digital painting I did of a sculpture by the same name on the compound where I was living just north of Taos.
This painting of the hills of West Sonoma County near Petaluma was done from a photo I took in the early evening on my drive home from work recently. I love the pink and orange hues in it, as I was trying to conveying the warm glow emanating from those velvety hills. I never get tired of this view.
This plein air piece was painted the other day along Ridgecrest Road in Marin County. It is a spectacular road that wends its way along a ridge of undulating hills, with incredible views in all directions. This is quintessential California to me. It was a warm, sunny, windless day, perfect for painting at this spot, made even more perfect by the companionship of my dear friend and fellow artist Joyce Creswell, who painted alongside me. There is truly something special about the practice of outdoor painting with friends. The act of being fully present in the moment while painting with friends infuses the moment with deep meaning. A memorable day.
Lordy, it took some labor to birth this baby! She made it clear to me early on: don't mess with my face. So, I messed with just about every other part. And I may not be done messing with her, poor thing. Oh well, at least she's got a comfy chair to sit in.
Here's a little afternoon plein air sketch I did the other day of one of the rose bushes here at Denman Ranch. I love the eastern view, with the light violet hills as a backdrop to the knoll on which this ranch sits. The baby grape vines are just starting to show in the mid ground.
This is a scene I've been wanting to paint for quite a while. It lies just south of Bodega Bay, on a bluff overlooking the bay, and is home to lots of birdlife, especially egrets and herons. The marsh itself is a riot of color and has a walkway that circles it. I take my dog here often to walk the loop and contemplate nature. I painted this scene alla prima (in one session) from a photo I had taken and decided to leave it in its sketchiness. My favorite pieces are often the ones I've done alla prima, those that convey a visible sense of spontaneity. A singer doesn't sing half a song one day, then finish it the next; a poet doesn't recite half a poem one day, then finish it the next. A painting like this is of a moment as well, so why not paint it in one go?
This is what I'd call an intuitive painting. It started as an abstract done with a 3-inch brush, which is big for a 12" x 12" surface. Using only ivory black, alizarin crimson and white, somehow it turned into this rose. I'll admit, I've been looking at lots of flowers lately, but because I used no reference for this, it feels closer to a form of personal expression.
Another experimental excursion introducing abstraction to representation, in baby steps. I am just not very interested in photorealism as a painter. I like to capture the essence of a thing, in this case tiny pansies, but once it's there, my attention turns to how far I can go in the direction of abstraction, without losing the essential "pansyness" that I find so alluring. What if I did this to it? What if I did that? This painting was full of those moments, although truth be told, I could take that impulse much further than I did here. But the time has come to step away from this one, call it done, and move on to the next challenge.
This is another attempt at a narrative painting, something I was introduced to in Taos. The cow, the Indian girl and the bird all symbolize sacred things to me. The colors white, red and black also signify birth, life and death in the life cycle.
A closeup painting of a canna flower unfolding. There is a profusion of canna plants here at Denman Ranch, and these flowers are fascinating to me in their folds and all the various shades of yellows, oranges, and reds against their big, flat leaves in warm greens.
This little palette knife sketch was done from my deck, which faces the western hills of Sonoma, as the sun was going down and lit up the hills in pink and orange tones. The colors were changing lickety-split, so this scene reflects my impression of it at the onset of dusk.
Got side-tracked with another flower portrait, a white anemone growing in a garden. I'm having fun with this, so there may be more to come. Now, where was I?
This was intended as a study for a larger painting of a tiny petunia. Whether I get around to it remains to be seen, as I have quite a backlog of paintings in mind to do. I just loved the golden glow coming out of the centre of this tiny flower and had to try to capture it.
This painting has gone through some changes, all in the service of experimentation. I used pretty much all the tools at my disposal, including brushes, palette knives, carving blocks, brayers, paper towels, and my gloved fingers. I learned a lot from this one. Next one, though, will be on panel -- much easier to get the desired effects!
This palette knife painting is a somewhat idealized interpretation of the view from my cottage on the Denman property. I painted it from a photo and not from life because, while my camera was off with the colors of the background hills, I quite liked its skewed version, and yet the values were not far off the real thing.
Painted from a photo taken when the mustard was at its height in April, this scene looks east toward the hills of Sonoma from Lynch Creek Trail in east Petaluma. It's a scene that I never seem to tire of, always changing yet very peaceful.
After what feels like a long hiatus from painting as I relocated back to California from New Mexico in March, I'm picking up where I left off in my painting explorations before I moved out of state a little over a year ago. At that time, I had just begun a process with a new set of tools and a new approach to painting that somehow got sidelined in New Mexico, where I digressed starting with a class I had taken at UNM, which may be the subject of a future post. For now, I am happy to be in an experimental mode weaving abstract shapes in and around my subjects.
Not sure what prompted me to paint this, except that I've been wanting to tackle it for quite some time. It was painted with both brush and palette knife, and I am especially pleased with how her bodice turned out. I wanted to keep it somewhat abstract in design, and yet the pattern does have, for me, a certain logic that I find oddly pleasing. I also like the black "halo" around her head formed by the chair back; it seems to give her a regal quality which I'm happy with. I was hoping to give her some gravitas. This is the third in a series of "Bird Girl" paintings that I'm amassing (actually, the fourth -- the second one I've never posted). Birds are a symbol of freedom to me, and I like to associate females with freedom. It is my wish that one day all females of the human species will unclip their wings, fling open their cages, and fly free.
This little abstract palette knife painting is from a few months back; I just never got around to posting it. There are more than a few others in my inventory that have met that fate. This painting was inspired by the colors of New Mexico in October, like the rich red of chili peppers you see hanging everywhere in clusters, along with the warm yellow of drying chamisa amongst the cool green sage out on the mesa. And then there's the snow. It snowed here in Arroyo Seco on Halloween night, and my backyard has been carpeted in snow ever since. It snowed again last night. Everything's white.
Here's another one for the time-out room. As my reference, I used a black and white publicity still of Tippi Hedren with a trained raven from Hitchcock's "The Birds," and had intended to mess with it after the initial block-in, but life demands pulled me away from the painting and my process for so long that I lost my momentum on it. Oh well. Life happens.
This is an as yet unfinished painting that's been put in the time-out room for now. My second attempt at a constructed painting, the idea for it was one of hope. A downcast little girl brushing past a depiction of a life of ease sees a flower breaking through the pavement in its lust for life. That was the message I was trying to convey, anyway. This type of painting is entirely new to me.
It's back to the birds with this painting of a roseate spoonbill wading in shallow waters. I've been wanting to paint this bird for quite a while, a member of the ibis family commonly found along coastal regions of North and South America. I just love that long spatulate bill! And of course, the gorgeous colors of her (his?) feathers.
This is a quick palette knife sketch I did from a photo I took of a pond in Valle Escondido in late September. The well-known plein air painter Kevin Macpherson painted this scene, which is on view from his living room window, hundreds of times. It became the inspiration for his book, "Reflections on a Pond." There is a lot to learn from a scene like this for painting purposes. It is an ever-changing subject, full of challenges. I find it particularly challenging to paint water with a palette knife. Much easier with a brush, but my overriding focus for this study was in getting the value of the distant mountain range right.
This (mostly) palette knife painting is of a crumbling facade of an old storefront in San Luis, Colorado. I loved the profusion of salvia, or Russian sage, obscuring all but one window of the storefront, and the cool shape of the facade made me want to paint this perspective.
I'd been wanting to paint this crumbling adobe home in Taos for a while, but there is no pullout along the road I could use to capture it live. Couldn't resist the urge any longer, so I took a drive-by photo and painted from that. I kinda like it.
Had another plein air adventure yesterday with the Taos group of painters in the picturesque village of Truchas, about an hour's drive south of Taos. Truchas is an artists' enclave set on a ridge with breathtaking views in every direction. It was the setting for parts of the Robert Redford film "The Milagro Beanfield War." I love Truchas!
I started this painting with the idea in mind of messing it up a little at some point, but, as sometimes happens, I grew attached to this little magpie and so decided in the end not to mess with her. I quite like how her tail feathers blend in with the wood post. Magpies are beautiful birds, especially when in flight.
This is an attempt to meld architectural elements with abstraction, a painting of one corner of the historic, much photographed and painted church in Ranchos de Taos known as San Francisco de Asis Mission Church. The simple, clean lines appealed to me, and allowed for the inclusion of my favorite subject this past year: the bird! In this one, I've placed the national bird of New Mexico -- the magpie -- on the ledge to the right, and two pigeons (or doves, as the case may be) to the left. This church has a certain atmosphere conducive to spiritual healing, as I experienced firsthand a few months ago when I was lucky enough to have the place all to myself for some deep reflection . . . well, me and Lola, that is. St. Francis would have loved her!
This is a palette knife plein air sketch I did the other day in my first outing with a Taos-based plein air group of painters. They know all the cool places to paint! Aspen Lake is a little hidden gem in the Taos Canyon area between Taos and Angel Fire, a popular local ski resort.