Backyard plein air

We just got back home from a week in LA visiting family, and whenever we’re there, we always spend a bunch of time outside in the back yard. My in-laws live up a hill, and their backyard opens up to a valley below, with palm and cypress trees in the middle distance and hazy mountains beyond. They spend a lot of time gardening, and each corner of their yard has treasures to uncover, from a waterfall-irrigated koi pond to a large-scale metal whale sculpture, hand-made by my spouse’s dad.

Small 5”x7” watercolor sketches, trying capture the essence of this beautiful LA backyard

Having two preschool-aged kids means that pretty much nothing is ever relaxing, and never will be again, but I still enjoy sitting outside in that yard, in the reliable LA sunshine, and taking in the view.

This trip, we decided to bring down some watercolor supplies and an easel, which we set up on the deck. As soon as the kids woke up in the morning, they’d roll outside and start painting their masterpieces. At least for the first few days. After which the primary activity transitioned from painting pictures to using the watercolors to whip up potions that would turn people into frogs.

The kids doing morning art. Similar view as the one for my picture with the grill. We eat all our dinners outside when we’re here.

I don’t like using an easel for watercolors because I get too many drips, but I brought down some small clipboards that I would use to move around the yard and sketch a new corner of the garden each day.

My mini clipboard and mini watercolor set, sitting by the koi pond

The rendition

I tried to be strategic about timing and placement, but my 3-year-old found me, and I ended up working on my last painting (the umbrellas) in this position.

Artists together

Palate history

I’ve recently started taking photographs of my palate paper when I finish a painting, as well as the final product. I like looking at them side-by-side: the journey and the destination; it tells the story of the process in a much looser, unrefined context. I also think they can be beautiful in their own right, and I always feel a small hesitation when throwing them away, so I decided to start documenting.

The beginning.

I rarely know the exact color combinations I’ll need when starting a fresh picture, so I typically prep my palate with a small dot of any color I might possibly use, and then top up the ones that become instrumental. Above is a selection of the colors I thought I might use in a painting of Lake Virginia. And below is what the palate looked like at the end:

Below is the palate of greens, blues, yellows, and browns I used for the first layer of a forest hiking trail scene:

And the finished picture with lupines below:

Art on the go

I typically paint from photographs I’ve taken, months or even years after the fact, holed away in some ever-shifting art nook in my home, thousands of miles away from those memories. It’s a nice way to reflect on an experience. But also, I’m just slow. I like to sit and paint for an hour or two at a time, take a break, come back another day, paint over what I’d previously done. And then back and forth, day by day, somehow, finally, arrive at a finished work.

But I occasionally try to draw or paint in real time, sitting somewhere and sketching what I see. These pictures are rarely my favorites because I haven’t had time to focus on the details, but it’s a good exercise in staying nimble. And in the years that I spent traveling around the world on my own, it was a satisfying way to keep myself company.

This is a sketch I did on a warm autumn night when I was living in Athens, taking an evening walk around the Parthenon. I remember sitting on a ledge with my sketchbook and a view, locals and tourists passing me by.

And another time at a café in Seville, snacking on baked cheese and honey, passing the time before going to see a raucous flamenco show.

During that same trip to Spain, I also visited Granada, which I simply loved. Its whitewashed houses in the hills reminded me of Greece, a place that feels like home for a certain part of my heart. I spent an evening overpaying for wine with a beautiful view of the Alhambra, charcoals and a small notebook at my side.

I’m not proud of the sketch I made that night (bad proportions, chalky shading), but I got to stay there drawing as the sun went down and the castle walls glowed pinky orange, and it felt like a magical time.

With young kids and a pandemic, globetrotting has been off the table for a few years, but the memories still light up from frames on the walls and project ideas for the future.

First gallery show

For a while now I’ve toyed with the idea of trying to display some of my art, but wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. I don’t have enough work for a full gallery show (and wouldn’t know how to facilitate that either), but I’ve found that juried shows have a lower barrier to entry. A gallery hosting a juried show will choose a theme, judges, and set a small fee for submissions. Artists can submit their work according to the set theme constraints, and the judges will decide which pieces to hang in the show.

I’d applied to a couple of these before without getting any pieces accepted, but recently got accepted into my first show for Bay Area Printmaking at the Compound Gallery in Oakland. My submission that was accepted for hanging in the gallery was my newest print, and first multi-color/multi-layer attempt. It’s the John Muir trail winding around Wanda Lake, heading up to Muir Pass in the high Sierras.

In addition to a framed piece hanging in the gallery for two months, I was also invited to submit extra prints of any work to be sold in the gift shop for the duration of the show, so I brought replicate JMT prints, as well as some of my dog/couch prints.

Wanda Lake, John Muir Trail (JMT) print

Final copies of my accepted print to hang and sell in the gallery

JMT print, in progress

As I noted, this is my first multi-color print, and I have to do it in two layers, with time to dry in between. First, I print the colors of the path, grass, and lake, and then I later overlay the black and white detailing. I was working on these prints in the dining room because my studio area in the garage had been packed up for home repairs, so I just dried prints flat on the floor, with Totoro keeping watch.

I Am Pillow

Extra copies of “I Am Pillow” and “You Are Pillow” to sell in a variety of colors.

The Compound Gallery

I hadn’t previously know about the Compound Gallery in Oakland, but I was delighted when I arrived to drop off my work. It’s a wonderfully cheerful building with great space inside. They have artist work space and studios in the back, in addition to a small gallery and shop up front.

My print, hanging!

Gift shop

I found some of my dog prints in front of the print shelves in the shop, which was another kind of thrill. I’ve never sold anything from a legitimate brick and mortar location before, and it felt very official.

Opening reception

The Bay Area Prints show had an opening evening reception that I attended, which ended up getting surprisingly crowded. We arrived at the start, and the space was pretty jam packed within the first half hour. It was particularly fun to see strangers admiring my work.

Me, at my first gallery show

Final sales

The whole show was up for two months, and during that time I had no real idea about whether any of my prints were selling. So it was a very pleasant surprise to go to the pick-up on the final day and see that I had sold a total of 8 prints- half of everything I created. 4 copies of the JMT print were purchased, as were 2 sets of “I am pillow”/”You are pillow” (4 prints). I’ve sold a few things through Etsy before, but this is the most inventory I’ve moved at a time, and it’s fun to think of where these pictures might now be hanging around the Bay Area.

Printing a pillow

A few months ago I took a workshop on block printing (hosted by Danielle of The Recoverie) and got hooked. I like how quickly the process can be done, compared to what can feel like laborious hours spent on a painting. The texture of the rubber blocks prevents me from getting too obsessive about the details.

So I’ve gone all in! It’s a block-printing year. Especially with the holidays approaching in a few months. And I’ve just finished my first project: a pillow-case print of my brother’s partner sleeping on the couch with her dog.

It started with some simple sketches from photos:

I doodled this sleepy dog drawing from a photo my brother sent. While I liked it as a sketch, I wasn’t sure how it would translate with paint. I had also come up with the idea to do two complementary prints, and needed to make some adjustments to improve the impression of symmetry.

Which led to…

So many iterations! I finished the final design for “I am pillow” first, but both concepts evolved together.

After finalizing the designs, I did a graphite transfer of the sketches onto the rubber block and began carving the negative space. That’s definitely one of the most fun parts of the process! Relaxing on a couch, carving rubber lines feels meditative.

After carving first drafts of both blocks, I practiced printing them on standard paper. Practicing on paper served a few purposes. It allowed me to test out different color combinations as well as showed spots on the block that needed to be carved down farther.

After multiple rounds of printing on paper, I was ready to progress to fabric! Unfortunately, that also took several rounds (and several Amazon purchases) to get right.

I’d originally wanted to print lighter colors on a navy pillowcase, but it didn’t turn out as bright as I had envisioned. The attempt above was actually double-printed to make it stand out more, and it’s still not clear enough. I’m sure there’s a way to do this better with more experience, but I’m not there yet.

I also experimented with multiple prints, which I strongly considered doing on the final version. But I ultimately decided to go with singular prints on each side, to better highlight the detail in each picture.

And, finally, the finished project:

I AM PILLOW (pillowcase front)

YOU ARE PILLOW (pillowcase back)

Painting a painting, Lyell Canyon

Starting a new painting can be a little nerve-wracking, no matter how many times I've done it before.  I have a photograph I'd like to render, a blank canvas, some paints, and a general idea of the way I'd like it to look.  I assume that if I flail the paints in the direction of the canvas for some number of hours, it will eventually start to look the way I envision, but the process can be an exercise in fits and starts.  Below, I've recorded my progress on my most recent painting, an acrylic of Lyell Canyon in Yosemite, from my hiking trip on the John Muir Trail.  I took a picture after I finished each painting session, most of which last about 1-2 hours (I've averaged to 1.5 hours each).  

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Session 0

Total time so far: 0 hours.

Blank canvas, full of potential.

Session 1

Total time so far: 1.5 hours.

I don't like it, but that's OK.  One of the nice things about starting a new painting is that it really really doesn't matter what it looks like.  Rarely anything I paint on Day 1 gets retained in the final version.  The most important things are just to get the white canvas covered in color, and to start mapping out the composition.  I could have done this part entirely in oranges and pinks and it probably would have been fine.  But still... I'm really not pleased with the way this looks.  

Session 2

Total time so far: 3 hours.

Oh no, this is looking even worse.  I tried to fix some of the things I didn't like about the mountains, and tried to start paying more attention to the colors I wanted to use, but this is terrible.  I'm remembering that I have particular difficulty A.) painting water, and B.) painting green things.  Selecting this particular scene may have been a mistake.  I had to take this off the easel and place it face-down to avoid embarrassment when a friend came over to my place.  

Session 3

Total time so far: 4.5 hours.

Ok, ok, now we're getting somewhere!  I was pretty dispirited after the previous results, so I went into this session with the goal of just fixing the mountains.  That was all.  I thought if I could just do that, I'd get back on track and tackle more difficult things like the water next time.  But I had some new blue paints that I hadn't used much, and I was curious to see what blend would get that bright turquoise color I wanted for the lower left corner.  So I started color mixing as an experiment, then trying to see what would happen when I added some granite slabs disappearing into the water, and an hour later I had a river I actually like.  And then I fixed the mountains also!  

Session 4

Total time so far: 6 hours.

Still liking it!  I'm not 100% sure about the yellow highlights on the trees... that might need some additional finessing.  But the shadows and riverbank on the left-hand side turned out pretty well.  My trees on the right are strangely shrimpy... It's true that they are actually smaller/young trees over there, but it looks weird and will need to be fixed next time.  I also think the granite slabs going into the river on the right side are a little too stark, but that can be addressed.  This painting is going a lot faster than expected all of a sudden!  I might be done in a few sessions.  Getting worried about adding more rocks and rapids to the river next time... seems like a significant opportunity to mess things up.  

Session 5

Total time so far: 7.5 hours.

Things tend to change less dramatically towards the end of a painting, when the larger components are in place and the focus is on massaging the details into place.  It becomes a bit of a "try to spot the 5 differences between these pictures" game.  In this case, changes included:

     1. Beefing up the trees on the right side, even though they remain smaller than those on the left.  (I wish I had done this in my last session... recreating the tree paint colors was a challenge I didn't complete to my satisfaction).

     2. Touching-up the colors on the small meadow in the upper right side.  I'm now pleased with this section and will probably let it rest here.

     3. Adding some rocks and rapids to the river.  This will need some extra attention and a few more touch-ups, but the first draft went better than I'd feared.

     4. Adding some shallow water ripples right below the river rapids.  I have mixed feelings about this bit, but I'm comfortable enough with it for now.   

Sessions 6 & 7

Total time spent: 10.5 hours

It's finished!  Changes made in the final several hours are so minor that this looks almost identical to the previous picture.  But I spent some more time fixing things I didn't like about the granite rocks and shadows in the river.  I also finished painting out the sides of the canvas (shown in pic).  Clocking-in at approximately 10 hours total, this is definitely one of my quickest paintings as well as one of my current favorites.