First Morning of “Paint Historic Waxahachie”

Ellis County  Courthouse, Waxahachie, Texas

Rising at 7:00, I traveled with a painting buddy to Waxahachie, Texas to begin our first day of “Paint Historic Waxahachie.” I began with the Ellis County Courthouse, enjoying the 71-degree overcast temperatures.  This courthouse has deviled me for years with all its minute detail, but this time I was in the mood to go after it. As soon as I finished, Ibegan another on the northwest corner of the square, but fatigue had already set in, so I dashed it out pretty quickly and hauled my weary body back home.  I opened the Levitt Pavilion Music and Art Festival last night, and have to return to my booth this afternoon.  So, I got in a quick couple of paintings and then turned it around.  This double duty is exhausting, to say the least.

Yes, I misspelled “Antiques”!

The fatigue factor got the best of me.  I misspelled “antiques”.  Nevertheless, I’ll mat the painting and see if anyone wants to buy it anyway.

Thanks for reading.

I paint in order to remember.

I journal because I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself that I am not alone.

 

A Surprise, Last-Minute Plein Air Sunday Invitation

Rear Patio of a home in Ridglea Hills, Fort Worth, Texas

Back Yard of the same home in Fort Worth, Texas

Though I retired to bed very early last night, worn out from the all-day plein air competition in Glen Rose, Texas, I suprised myself by awaking at 7:40 this morning and getting up.  After showering, dressing and enjoying a slow breakfast, I put on coffee, retired to my Man Cave and sat reading The Collected Writings of Robert Motherwell and enjoying his ideas.  Before I had a chance to reach for my journal and record my own musings, my phone rang and I was extended a surprise invitation.  A fellow artist who was scheduled to paint at the Hidden Garden Show hosted by the Fort Worth Historical Society was taken sick and could not appear.  I was asked to show in this artist’s stead.  I almost refused, because I was achy and felt weak from the day before, but I realized that another plein air opportunity was offered on some exclusive property.  So I accepted.

Forty-five minutes later, I was in the Ridglea Hills edition of west Fort Worth, where I painted from noon till 5:00 and sold another watercolor.  The day was hot, climbing to 90 degrees, but 25 mph winds and my standing under shade trees the entire day made the weather tolerable.  As with yesterday, I apologize for offering no profound thoughts, quotes, or poetic spin, but again I am tired to the bone and ready to hit the sack again, early tonight.  A full week of school awaits, and I have a three-day art festival to attend beginning Friday.

I like the second painting much better.  I had always wanted to paint someone’s “landscape” boulder, and enjoyed working on the colors and textures of this monolith.  I added the iron fence at the very end of the painting, hoping it would lend a little more dynamic to the composition.

Thanks for reading.

I paint in order to remember.

I journal because I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself that I am not alone.

An All-Day Plein Air Paint-Out in Glen Rose, Texas

Barnard Mill, 1860

I apologize in advance for not posting an articulate blog.  I’m still weak from my recent illness and I completed an eight-hour paint-out in a day that reached 91 degrees in Glen Rose, Texas.  I did manage to kick out three watercolors in that span.  That’s not very fast by my standards, but I’m a bit rusty, still a bit tired, and really was in no hurry.  This is the old Barnard Mill.  I was blessed to receive Honorable Mention for this piece, which took me just under two hours to complete.  I am very attached to this structure and cannot wait for my next opportunity to return to Glen Rose and do another study of it.  I really believe I will one day do a large full-size watercolor of this magnificent old structure.

Heritage Park

I next drove to Heritage Park and looked over all the historical structures that had been moved there.  But it was high noon, and the light wasn’t that great.  The heat was starting to wear me down as well.  After breaking for a quick lunch I set to work on this stone structure, but couldn’t really get what I wanted on the paper, though I enjoyed scrutinizing every detail of this building.  No matter how I worked, I just didn’t seem to be solving this one as well as I had the mill earlier in the morning.

Barnard Mill Door

After a second refresher break (I must have downed about eight bottles of water today!), I returned to the Barnard Mill with about 90 minutes left until the cut-off time.  I decided to give a shot at one of the doors below the composition that I painted first thing this morning.  I thought it would be somewhat easy, since I’ve painted quite a few abused door in my garage over this past winter.  It wasn’t.  I found myself fighting this one as well.  Again, I chalked it up to heat and fatigue.  When it was done, I was glad to know that I had eked out three paintings in a day.  And then a bonus–this one got purchased!  So I was glad to come home with some money in my pocket in addition to the Honorable Mention ribbon.

Glen Rose is a little over sixy miles from where I live.  The drive down this morning (I rose at 6:00) was very scenic and serene, and by the time I arrived, I was ready to paint.  But by day’s end, I was dried up, had to wait an hour for the judging to run its course, and then the reception and art sale was scheduled for another hour.  So I got home a little after 7:00 this evening, made dinner, and now, with one eye open, am pushing out this blog.

I think I hear my bed calling out to me.  I don’t know when I’ve been more ready to crash for the night.

Thanks always for reading.

I paint in order to remember.

I journal because I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself that I am not alone.

Final Post of the Day (I Hope)

Kicking Back and Looking at the Week’s Output

I perhaps owe an apology to my subscribers for “clogging the blog” today.  I have been annoyed in times past by someone posting dozens of blogs in the same day, and my BlackBerry going off all the time with each new announcement.  I try not to make a practice of this.  Nevertheless, I wanted to post a picture of one of my doors in the man cave covered with what happened over the past eight days, beginning with a Saturday plein air excursion in Ennis, Texas, and culminating in today’s activity, closing out a series of watercolors in the Man Cave.  I feel a measure of satisfaction that I can look at the week’s output and say I have accomplished something in addition to showing up for school everyday to monitor TAKS testing and teach truncated classes in the afternoon.  I can now look back over it all and say it has been a good week.

Thanks for reading.  This should do it for today!

I paint in order to remember.

I journal because I am alone.

I blog to remind myself that I am not alone.

Watercoloring en Plein Air with Friends out on the Prairie

Tandy Hills Park, Fort Worth, Texas

 

2nd attempt to Paint Wild Section of Tandy Hills Park, Fort Worth

For the second consecutive weekend, I had the privilege of gathering with my plein air painting friends.  We met at the Tandy Hills Park in east Fort Worth and participated in Prairie Fest, a Green festival that draws a wonderful crowd of environmentally-friendly people, the best kind.  The live music was spectacular, and a number of us found a wonderful patch of wild prairie land on the east side of the park, away from all the festival booths.

I took two shots at the same spot, a stand of trees with natural grasses and flowers in the foreground.  I enjoyed my experiments in masquing and salting, as well as working with water-soluble graphite pencils and watercolor pencils, in addition to my Winsor & Newton pigments.

The skies remained overcast most of the time, so the quality of light was not the greatest.  But the cool breezes were certainly welcome, and it would not have been much fun for sun-sensitive me to stand out on an open prairie around noon with the sun beating down on me.

I’m glad to be back home this afternoon.  I’m a little tired from the morning excursion, and feel that I may have to wait until this evening to get back to work in the studio.  I have several pieces I would love to finish, but feel some fatigue setting in right now.

Thanks for reading.

I paint in order to remember.

I journal because I am alone.

I blog to remind myself that I am not alone.

A Magnificent Plein-Air Day of Watercoloring

Plein Air Watercolor Sketch #1

Plein Air Watercolor Sketch #2

This morning, my painting buddy Chris and I piled our equipment into my Jeep around 8:30 and motored south to Ennis, Texas, to Love Park.  We found a large gathering of plein air painters from the north Texas area that we are fortunate to join from time to time in these excursions.  The day was sun-washed, about 60 degrees, with pleasant winds.  Bluebonnets infested the area, and most of the oil painters were standing completely enveloped in them as they painted their surroundings.

I chose a spot across the road from them, that had more cedars than bluebonnets, and I made two attempts at watercolor sketching these subjects.  Pines and cedars have always flummoxed me in watercolor (and still do).  I spent the entire morning, and early afternoon, staring at one single cedar, half in shadow, with a scattering of bluebonnets beneath.  I admired the view blissfully, and worked very hard, trying to match up the reddish-green tints that clothe the cedar.  I tried Quinachridone, Permanent Rose, Winsor Red and Cadmium Red.  I mixed in some Transparent Yellow, and occasionally Cadmium Yellow.  Nothing seemed to work in the final analysis.  I also studied hard the separation of shadows and mid-tones in the mass of the cedar, and enjoyed all the nuances I saw in those middle tones, the primarily warm colors, and the cools in the shadows.  I worked on those as well.

The bluebonnets–well, this was my second attempt in about four years with those.  I never can seem to make them “pop” out of their environment of green on my paper the way they do on earth.  I don’t have a clue yet what that secret is.  They looked pretty good against the white paper, but disappeared as I floated light, subtle greens around them to give them a “home.”  I guess I’ll have to work on that problem another day.

It was a very pleasant experience, the plein air sketching today.  I met some fabulous new friends that I look forward to seeing again.  We plan to gather at PrairieFest in Fort Worth on April 27 for another day of plein air bliss.

Thanks for reading.

I paint to remember.

I journal because I am alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone. 

Plein Air Painting in the Botanical Gardens, Good Friday

Watercolor Sketch in the Fort Worth Botanical Garden

What a wonderful morning to greet!  I awoke before 8:00, without an alarm, showered, packed my plein air watercolor supplies, and drove to Cracker Barrel for breakfast.  By 9:30, I was at the Fort Worth Botanical Garden, where at least sixteen other painters would gather today for the pure pleasure of painting in a 60-degree environment, with a gentle breeze, plenty of cloud cover, and sporadic bursts of sunlight.

Tripp’s easel in front of the pines

I’m out of plein air practice (first time in 2013).  So I lingered over this one for ninety minutes.  I did not allow myself to get in a hurry, or to think in terms of completing a painting worthy of framing.  As one of my painter friends said this morning: “Plein air is not for finished paintings; it is Information Gathering, nothing else.”  I kept that in mind.  And like Willem de Kooning, I often spent more time staring and thinking than actually painting during those ninety minutes.  I thought of Andrew Wyeth as I continually reached for the pencil and worked to manipulate the dry brush.  The bark of this pine was so fascinating to my eye.  I really want to turn around and try another one this weekend.

Artists painting in the Fort Worth Botanical Gardens

I cannot overstate the sweetness and camaraderie I felt as I looked up from my easel to the right and saw these three, diligently at work on their compositions.

Plein air artist working behind me

Or turning around and watching her working so quickly and deftly on her oil composition.  It was truly a magical day.

A number of us finished the morning shift with lunch together at the Kimbell Art Museum, enjoying conversation and a rest from the session.  Most of them returned for the afternoon.  I, unfortunately, had some art business commitments to see through, so I loaded the Jeep and headed back to the studio for some matting and framing that had to be done.

It is nightfall now, and my mind still goes back to the magic of this morning.

Thanks for reading.

Retreat to the Wilderness

“Walden” Painting hanging in Arlington Martin High School library

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Rene Descartes crawled into a stove late one winter night, to think things through.  Ralph Waldo Emerson launched his two-year European odyssey following the tragic death of his young wife, hoping to figure out what to do next.  Henry David Thoreau retreated to Walden woods for two years, two months, two days, building a cabin and residing there to listen to nature, to learn directly from her, and figure out how to proceed with his life.  We always refer to these retreats to the wilderness as times to retool, to rethink, to retread and figure out how next to move on.

I just came off a disastrous art festival this past weekend–three days outdoors in the rage of arctic temperatures and gale winds (Texas weather the weekend before was in the 80′s and sunny).  The horrendous weather managed to chase away all patrons, leaving artists and musicians hanging out to freeze in the cold winds.  The event was finally canceled Sunday morning.  We folded our tents, packed our creations, loaded out, and headed for our home shelters.  In breaking down my tent, I sliced open my thumb on the right hand, making it impossible for a couple of days to hold a pen, a paintbrush, or even play a guitar.  Gloom.

Monday following the event saw me looking down the bore of a cannon called Progress Grade reporting.  Deadline was midnight.  So, after a day of teaching (following that disastrous arctic weekend of loading, unloading and injuring), I came home from school and inputted grades on the computer until 12:37 a.m.  Then it was up again at 6:00 a.m. for another weary round of teaching.

All of this to say, I haven’t blogged since Friday because I have been up to my eyebrows in trouble.  I have been unable to paint due to the injury and the crushing deadlines and loss of sleep.

But now, the wilderness has opened up and beckoned.  I have been invited to accompany the art club from my high school on a field trip to the Dallas Museum of Art.  And at the end of the day, an invitation awaits to attend the evening events at the Amon Carter Art Museum in Fort Worth.  That, to me, is a gift from the Divine.  A chance to retreat to the wilderness, to immerse myself in the finest art, and to reflect on where to go next with my own pursuits.  A healing balm.  Long overdue.

My earnest hope is that the next blog post will be soon, and will feature my next endeavor.  I really want to push something else out, something new.  But for tonight, I leave you with a 3 x 4′ acrylic canvas I painted for our Martin High School library, featuring Thoreau and his treasured book Walden.  

Tomorrow, before leaving for the museum odyssey, I am thrilled to sit with my Philosophy class and discuss the text of Walden and to apply this spiritual principle of retreat and renewal, found in the solitary wilderness.

Thanks for reading.

Plein Air Watercolor of a Neighbor’s Trees in the Fall

Plein Air Autumn Landscape

My intention this evening was to paint well into the night, enjoying the dropping temperatures, and the ambiance of my Man Cave studio.  Instead I was blessed with a couple of visits from artist friends that I never get to see enough of.  I could not have planned a better evening.  Great conversation ensued, and I’m now inspired more than I was a few hours ago.  I’m confident that this will carry over into tomorrow after school, so I’ll just let this night go.

But before I retire, here is a sketch I chose to finish up after my company left.  I started this plein air sketch of my neighbor’s trees just as the leaves were turning several weeks back.  This view I enjoyed from my garage.  I never got around to finishing it after removing the masquing a long time ago.  So, tonight, I laid in some more washes to take away from the starkness of the previously masqued areas, and then drew in some more trunks and branches.

Tomorrow offers more opportunity as I close out the semester and return to the studio.

Thanks for reading.

Quick Plein Air Sketch of a Conifer Tree

Damaged Conifer Tree

I took a quick moment while temperatures were mild, to step outside and scout for a single tree to paint.  I chose this conifer tree, because I still haven’t solved the problems of needles vs. leaves when I’m “faking it” en plein air.  I loved the damaged bark in the upper ranges of this tree, recording storms from the past, and etching character across the face of this portrait.  I’m starting to get the hang of tree bark, both in texture and color, and have found a satisfying way of blending graphite with watercolor as I render the textures of the bark.  As to the pine needles, I’ll still have to find a way.  It hasn’t happened yet.

I would have loved to talk to the landowner of this single tree on his property, but have serious questions over whether or not he has even noticed it among the hundreds that cover the acreage.  I recently came across this non-judgmental sentiment recorded by Henry David Thoreau in the nineteenth century when he penned his book A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers:

(he was speaking of the men of Concord who worked their lands):   . . . greater men than Homer, or Chaucer, or Shakespeare, only they never got time to say so; they never took to the way of writing.  Look at their fields, and imagine what they might write, if ever they should put pen to paper.  Or what have they not written on the face of the earth already, clearing, and burning, and scratching, and harrowing, and ploughing, and subsoiling, in and in, and out and out, and over and over, again and again, erasing what they had already written for want of parchment.

Farmers and property owners scratch the surfaces of their land, I only scratch the surfaces of paper (and as a teacher, occasionally the surface of someone’s mind, perhaps).  Throughout my life, I have made little contribution to real estate, but have tried from time to time to reproduce its wonders on paper, as I try again this day.  And in that endeavor, I do find great satisfaction.

Thanks for reading.