It's Just the Idea

Like so very many things, I love the idea of activities more than the actual doing of them.  Plein air painting, for instance.

A year or so ago I took an outdoor painting class. We students anticipated receiving the holy grail of plein air painting; the magic that transforms simple rolling hills into slashes of paint strokes in brilliant hues balanced against the subtleties of color found only while standing in high grass early in the day. Our instructor made it all sound so worthy. So very artistic.

Getting comfy, in a nest of chiggers.

 We met early, 7 am, ready to paint. No sun came creeping over the horizon to light the hills and lift autumn shadows from their moorings. In place of the anticipated fiery ball of orange and pink, heavy grey clouds full of drizzle wrapped themselves around us. And then the wind picked up. And because we all paid for the privilege, and by golly we were plein air artists, we began painting.

On a high hill, the calm before the storm.

The game of “IF” began. If the sun were to break through, said our instructor, it would look like this. And if the sky were blue, it would be this color. And if there were cattle on yonder hill, they would stand like so.

And if there were a coffee pot nearby it would smell and taste like heaven. And if we'd had any sense we'd have retired indoors and painted from sketches or memory. As it is all I accomplished that morning was to lose 2 good brushes when I got tangled in wet grass on  my way to a higher, dryer spot.

And yet the allure of out door painting is strong. Just a few days ago I was so taken by the lovely colors and textures in my garden I gathered my gear and hauled it all into the yard. In the few moments it took me to set up the temperature had risen 15 degrees and a swarm of no-see-ums had claimed my space. Handsome Husband came home for lunch and wondered aloud about my sanity.

Ain’t it grand to paint outdoors? 

I’m not always very smart, but I’m also not stoopid.  If I am to stand on a hill under heavy skies in a stiff wind pretending the sky is blue, then I can certainly stand in my studio pretending the air from a fan is a breeze wafting over me. My spotlights are a fine replacement for the sun's warmth. The average temp in my studio is 75 degrees. I can see my garden from the window.

I like the idea of that.

Prairie Plein Air

Gosh I had a great weekend.




I was lucky enough to spend two days with some terrific people at a plein air painting workshop hosted by Graham Gallery, held at Prairie Loft Center, and led by instructor extraordinaire Amy Maclennan.


















It was a terrific time. The weather cooperated perfectly, and the staff and crew at Prairie Loft took very good care of us, as did the always patient and attentive Angela Graham herself.



Painting en plein air is a special challenge. Not only does the artist deal with all the usual artist type stuff, but must also figure in the moving sun, a variety of bugs and other flying things, the lack of a close kitchen and bathroom, an overwhelm of intense and saturated color, heat, wind, and spectators.

The breeze kept the heat bearable, Amy shared her knowledge of color theory in a clear and concise way, and the Prairie Loft folks were helpful with facilities. As for the sun, well, it is the center of the universe. Workshop participants enjoyed sharing their expertise and I got some new friends out of the deal. Even the folks passing by were fun.


The weekend culminated in an auction of artwork donated by workshop participants as well as area artists, the proceeds of which will go to supporting the growth of Prairie Loft and its programming. My workshop piece was purchased for a very generous price, and I'm really pleased and honored.
Thanks to Angela, Amy and the Prairie Loft folks for an excellent event; thanks to Kathy for her purchase; thanks to Jerry for breakfast; and thanks to Todd for reminding me to have fun.
Gosh, it was a great weekend.
What made your weekend great?

Monet Meets Curly Joe

After reading Christine Kane's blog about expanding vs shrinking I shrugged off all shrinkiness (read stinginess) and purchased a really lovely plein air easel. Painting in the open air, away from the studio, sounds so romantic and, well, just plain fun. Turns out it was more like Claude Monet meets Curly Joe.

Becuase I am fairly new to painting away from the studio, I traveled only as far as my back yard.

It's a good place to start, actually. The sun on my black-eyed Susan's was really gorgeous. (That's my sister's really awesome chain-saw carving you see there in the background.)

There I stand, just like Claude Monet. The warm sun, cool shadows, brilliant yellows, purples, birds and cicadas breathing life into every stroke of my brush.

Things begin to go awry fairly quickly. Monet steps aside and Curly Joe moves in. Somehow I managed to flip my 5 x 7 board upside down, onto my fresh palette. The backside is now decorated in great gooey globs of cadmium orange and scarlet. Not to worry I tell myself, I'm outside. Wipe it off, put the board back and get back to work. I notice a bit of red paint on my brand spankin' new pochade box. The pochade box is supposed to carry the paint in it, not on it. Stop painting, wipe it off, gotta keep that new pochade box shiney and clean.

It's not long before I find I'm holding in my left hand a paper towel full of red paint, 4 brushes and a palette knife. Yes, my paint box came with a brush holder. It's just that my hand is so, well, handy. And yes, I have managed to get red paint on each and every brush. Oddly, the hair part is clean.

About that time a cute weiner dog strays into the yard to check out the Lady in Red. We introduce ourselves, and he leaves a moment later with a red stripe behind one ear.

An hour later, I've got red paint on my hands, brushes, pochade box, up my arm, on my shorts, the back door, my left sock, and on my right cheek. My hair is highlighted in - yup, you guessed it.

But I've also got 70 square inches of really lovely flowers painted, and I'm thrilled.

And now, as I'm typing, I see cad red scarlet on my keyboard. And up my arm again, and on my right knee. What would Monet think?

I'm thrilled. I survived my first real plein air session. I expanded my horizons, all the way to my back yard. Maybe tomorrow I'll expand them all the way to the end of the block.

How far will you expand your horizon? And what color will it be?