In the beginning, I painted cows and chickens. They were the farm animals I wanted but didn’t have at Sunrise Farm. They decorate my kitchen now.

Then, pet portaits. I was particularly proud of the one I did of Fritz, my friend Rob’s German shepherd.

I painted my children (badly) and I tried a self-portrait. All three children say my daughter’s portrait makes her look like Lord Farquad from Shrek. Tried is the key word when looking at my portrait work, as in “We can see that she tried really hard.” I captured the likeness, but it’s obvious it was painted over again and again. And then, there is that chalky, deathly pale effect titanium white has on skin tone. I know better now.

I spent the better part of two years painting representational landscapes, and learning a lot. Many were of the farm, some were from photographs taken by friends that had that captured my aesthetic, Some were from my travels in France.

And then covid, and a fallow period, and then I somewhat accidentally found a mentor who has helped me to say what I want to say with my art, and has facilitated my growth beyond where I though I could go. There will be more about that in my next post.

My rendition of the copper beech in our front yard

I’m always looking at the world around me. I see things now that I never noticed before. When I look at a tree, it’s not just a tree. I respond to the strength and darkness of its trunk and limbs, as well as the graceful curve of the long branches. Above that, I see dangling leaves and light filtered through in little bursts, softening the leaf edges.

I don’t draw anything I tone my canvas, and once it’s dry I go straight to paint. At first, I lay out color areas, creating the composition as it exists in reality (or close to it). After that, it’s mostly intuitive or internalized learnings that feel intuitive. When things are going well I feel like I am one with my canvas and palette. I don’t think at all. I feel, and I do. As the painting emerges it tells me what it wants, what would make it look a bit surreal and mystical, and yet still render it as a tree.

My perspective on trees is usually to look up through the branches, towards the light. I don’t want to paint a plain, boring tree, or something that could be mistaken for a photograph. I want to capture its personality using color and shape. I want any viewer to be able to look at it and feel the soul of the tree and the hand and eye of the artist.

I fell into painting water reflections as well. My house is next to a one-acre pond that reflects the sunrise among other things. One day I cropped one of my photos to just show the reflection part. The patterns and colors on the water were so fascinating. It was fun to create an abstract piece that was undeniably the movement and reflection of water.

I moved on to paint gardens and flowers in a similar style. All-over pattern became my thing. I like it for its high-impact, and how it engulfs the viewer (and the painter) and holds one captive with so much to see. The eye travels from one bright spot to another, woven through the painting.

I believe as an artist I have to be open to inspiration ( and to cultivate it when I can’t find it),

I think that in five years my art will look very different than it does today.

I want to keep growing and learning and sharing my perspective on what I see.

My early chickens and cows in the kitchen.