Yes... But is it Plein Air?

Recently I fell victim to the argument that a plein air painting has to be painted entirely outdoors. I knew better than to believe this nonsense. And anyway, who cares? And is it any who who matters? But for whatever reason, I bowed to the pressure. This is the story of that painting.

I most enjoy working a bit large, so I took my 24x48 canvas out to the dunes, my favorite place to paint. I started at the end of July. The marsh and dune grasses were still green. I chose the two hours before sundown when the shadows create interesting patterns on the dunes. I was off to a good start.

Life intervened in August and I had to leave for a month. When I returned in September, I had to wait for good weather- we were in the afternoon thunderstorm pattern of late summer on the Gulf. When the weather cleared, I returned everyday that had similar light to my start. By now, the grasses were turning brown and gold. Fall is my favorite time of year to paint the dunes so I didn't mind adding the colors. I also had to start arriving earlier with the days growing shorter.

So, after 5 or 6 two hour sessions, the painting now stands 95% complete. So far, it's been completed entirely on the spot. I don't need to return to complete the remaining 5%. When I finish it, can it still accurately be called plein air?

At this point, I really don't care. I did learn some interesting things though.

    1- As usual, there's no substitute for painting from life. I was able to amend some earlier studio works with the lessons learned from this painting.

    2- It really wasn't necessary to haul such a large canvas out there. If my objective had been to gather information, I could have done 5 or 6 small quick studies and combined them in the studio. But then I wouldn't have had the pleasure of the salt breeze on my skin and the sounds of coastal birds and surf.

    3- I still prefer the results of a large canvas painted in multiple sessions mostly on the spot. to the less informed works painted quickly in one go.

   4- And yes, something large can be painted entirely outdoors if one feels the need to.

For more thoughts on the debate about the definition of plein air, read Eric Rhoads publisher's letter in the November 2014 issue of Plein Air Magazine. His is exactly my opinion too when it comes to defining what a plein air painting is.

How has this debate impacted your work?

Pearls and Paintings

Friday night was Gallery Night in Pensacola. Up and down stylish Palafox Place, businesses invited artists to exhibit for the night in their establishments. By four, the street was closed to cars and soon became one long pedestrian mall filled with art and music and business.

A  few years ago, rules were relaxed allowing people to stroll the street drinks in hand. I hadn't participated lately fearing that Gallery Night had become more of a beer party night. But this year, I was invited to show at a beautiful jewelry shop, and I accepted. I'm glad I did. My host was gracious and accommodating and the clientele were interested and engaging. As it turned out, the business owner is also a writer. So I had a great night, a productive night and was gifted with a good read, The Deadly Reef, that I've been enjoying all day. 

Late in the day today I headed out once again to work on my large canvas. I'm one step closer to finish.

Late Day Fort Pickens  © T Grillo Laird

The Plein Air Cure

September in the Dunes © Theresa Grillo Laird - oil 9x12 

September on Pensacola beach is still plenty hot enough to go swimming. It's also a great time for painting in the dunes. The colors of both land and sky deepen and the beach plants begin to bloom. But, it is still very hot and humid.
When I first visited this area 15 years ago, I was completely defeated by the climate. It was only late June, but I was so overcome by the Gulf Coast heat and humidity, that I literally couldn't function. I spent the largest part of my vacation week sacked out on the couch totally enervated. I don't know whether I can credit the pleasure of plein air painting for making me so heat tolerant, but now I actually enjoy being out in it. The sun on my skin, and even the feeling of having just emerged from a steam room, adds to all the sensory impressions that make their way into a painting. But for anyone wanting to venture out with paint and easel in a Pensacola summer, I offer these tips.

   1. Bring water. Bring plenty of water. An Audubon field worker who grew up in these parts, gave me a very good tip. He freezes his bottles of water. They turn into icy drinks that are so much more refreshing than the tepid water that you get in no time with unfrozen bottles. 

   2. Don't even think of going out without covering yourself liberally with sun block. I inherited the Germanic skin of my mother's family rather than the olive tones of my Italian half. Right now I have a tan that would make the Coppertone baby envious, and I never use an SPF under 50. 

   3. Premix the colors that you are likely to need. I carry two palettes for my French Easel- one with my paint mixtures and one to keep everything from falling out of the paint box. With most of your colors ready to go, you can jump right into painting without spending unnecessary time in the heat.

   4. Take a break after 2 or 2 1/2 hours, and go back to your air conditioned car for a few minutes. It gives your eyes a break too from looking at your painting for too long.

   5. Pay attention to your body. As much as you might want to push on through, stop and take care of yourself immediately if you start to fell light headed or confused.  See # 1 and 4.

With a little bit of preparation and self care, you can paint your way through the most brutal summer. And if all else fails, use the summer months to do early day or night scenes.

Painting Autumn

Autumn Shadows © Theresa Grillo Laird 18x24 oil on canvas
click here for info 

I've heard talk lately about how sad it is to see the end of summer. September usually signals the end of warm weather and the relaxing days spent at the beach. A feeling creeps in of responsibility, serious work and shorter days to get it all done. Maybe it's just the place where I live, but fall is beautiful on Pensacola Beach. From September through November, the days are warm and the sun is angled low creating long violet shadows. The dune grasses turn to shades of red and brown setting off yellow blooms that only appear in fall. The gentle green and pink tones of summer vanish and the beach becomes it's most colorful. It's my favorite time of year to paint my coastal paradise.

Beach Flowers © Theresa Grillo Laird
11x14 oil on canvas. Click here for info

The Strongest Relationships

                                                                                                               August 31

             
My three week visit to family has come to a close this weekend with a very enjoyable gathering over dinner. If there is anything I learned from my dad, on this one year anniversary since he passed away, it's the meaning of family. Before painting, before ambition, before working and marketing and striving to make an art life work, there's family. and all the experiences of family wind their way into the creative work.

The Gilchrist Family Breakfast- William Gilchrist

Sitting around the table laughing and enjoying each other's stories, made me think of how often artists have portrayed gatherings of their family and friends.From intimate gas lit scenes of 3 or 4 around the supper table to boisterous celebrations among fellow artists, artists have painted their emotions about the people closest to them.

Hip Hip Hooray- Severin Kroyer

Dinner Conversation- Pruett Carter

dejeuner sur l'herbe- Monet

On A Turf Bench- Ilya Repin

I start my two day drive home with a smile at the thought of the events of the past three weeks and the sure knowledge that no matter what else, I'll always have family, the place I've come from and from where I take creative flight.

Why Collect Art?

an early 20th century painting by Yvon Dieulafe

These last two weeks have been filled with travel and family visits. I haven't had a paint brush in my hands since mid August but I have been looking at interesting collections of antiques and paintings belonging to various family members. I've been watching one collection in particular grow steadily over the years. It's an interesting collection of paintings and hand pulled prints spanning a period from the mid 19th century to the present. The styles represented range from Hudson River school realism to impressionism to folk art. The collection interests me precisely because it is so diverse. As an artist, it's easy to sometimes become too focused on styles that are closer to how I paint.
Here's a small sampling of the collection with my apologies for the glare and reflections in the photography.

a gorgeous pastel by Paul R Koeler of Gerome Park in the Bronx. It reminds me of my father's description of one of his childhood homes in the still un-developed Bronx. His house sat alone on a hill faced by a boulder strewn field of fox dens.

The collector told me he chooses pieces based on their quality even if the artist might not be well known, rather than collecting pieces based solely on an artist's reputation. As he explained, even the most recognized artists have pieces that aren't very good, while there's some very good art by lesser known names. His comments made me think of the often repeated advice to artists to only put your best pieces out there.

A typically textured and colorful piece by John Costigan

I envision this collection bringing future viewers as much enjoyment as some of the 20th century personal collections do today. I know the collector fully enjoys the art that he lives with daily. As he said, it makes him smile when he opens his eyes each morning.

a folk art piece by Jack Savitsky who painted throughout the 20th century

an eastern landscape from the 1800's by William Henry Hilliard

an etching from the dust bowl era by Joe Jones

a 19th century piece by Walter Shirlaw

a marine piece with beautiful transparent water

Whose art do you collect and why?

Austin, The Last Stop

An oil sketch of cypress trees at Lake Bisteneau
© Theresa Grillo Laird

I'd never been on a month long painting road trip, so I left Florida with high expectations. Traveling from place to place while stopping to paint was even more fun than I anticipated. Despite some less than ideal weather, I painted in landscapes that I was seeing for the first time, seeing fresh with painter's eyes.
After staying at Lake Bisteneau in Louisiana and three different locations in Arkansas, my husband Pete and I turned west. The plan was to stop in Austin, and Perdenales State Park before continuing on to New Mexico.

Austin Wildflowers  ©Theresa Grillo Laird
16x20 oil

The trip had been full of surprises and the mid June heat in Texas was one of them. I had only seen Austin in the fall and was not prepared for heat that was somehow less bearable than in a Pensacola summer. Even with an air conditioned travel trailer, it was too hot to sleep at night. Austin became our last stop.
In Autumn, I'd been drawn to the fields of gold grass with dark green trees standing like sentinels over a molten sea. Now in late spring, these same fields were green and filled with every kind of wildflower imaginable. Beautiful!

In Austin my road trip ended but I can't wait for the next one!

Painting on the White River

On the White River

My favorite place to paint while I was in Arkansas, was at the White River tailwaters near Beaver Dam. The river is icy cold because it's flowing from the bottom of a very deep dammed lake. It's a popular trout fishing spot for that reason.The river level changes during the day with the release of water from the dam upstream. Fishermen arrive early, wearing waders despite the 95 degree heat, and pack up when the horn sounds signalling the release of water. Each day when they left, I had the river almost completely to myself. I loved the solitude and fell easily into the rhythm of painting while absorbed in the stillness of the trees and the gentle rippling of the river.

On my first day, I set up on the edge of the river and focused on the opposite bank. The river was low enough to see part of the rocky bottom. I was about a half hour into my work when the warning horn sounded. At first there was little change in the river. But gradually a sound like rapids could be heard and the current became noticeably faster. I had to paint faster too because the rocks along the bank I was painting were getting covered by water. I included the rising water in the painting. 

Water Rising 9x12 oil
©T Grillo Laird

I had such a good painting day that I returned the next day. The sky filled with clouds as I set up. I wondered if the nearly constant rain was what caused the river and surrounding woodland and even the humid air to seem infused with blue and green color.

Choosing from half a dozen possible painting subjects, I turned my easel towards the bluffs rising high above the river. I set up a 16x20 panel and began to work. My palette for both days was a range of greens, blues and browns mixed from 3 primary colors.
Once again the warning horn sounded at about 12 noon and the fishermen packed up for the day. I wasn't concerned about the rising water since I'd seen the extent of it the day before, and I had set up on a rise on the riverbank.

getting started

Soon the horn sounded again. Fifteen minutes later it sounded for a third time.My husband Pete and I looked at each other with the same question.Three horns! Does that mean it's time to build an ark? I kept working.

You can see little ripples in the water as the river started to rise.

Too  soon I heard the rustle of quickening water.I kept an eye on the river to my right as the rustle turned into a steady rush. My husband started moving excess equipment to higher ground. The river had risen less than 2 feet the day before so even if it rose higher than that, I felt I'd put enough room between me and the river's edge.
I was so busy congratulating myself for timing things right as I painted,- the river was now about a foot away- that I didn't even think to look to my left until Pete called out a warning. The water had snaked around to the left and I was now standing on a little island surrounded by an icy moat. I wasn't finished painting but the water was so close that I just started tossing everything up on the bank. I watched my water thermos float away as I hauled my easel towards the bank. I finished packing up from a high spot in the woods and assessed the day's work. Though unfinished, the canvas still gives me enough information to paint a larger studio version.

as finished as I was going to get for the day

 If I return to the area around Eureka Springs, I'll surely paint at this spot again. 

Plein Air Large

The work in progress leaning against my car.

Near a fishing pier at the western tip of Santa Rosa Island and bordering the Gulf of Mexico, is a serene little "lake" of seawater enclosed by the surrounding beach. Before the Hurricane 10 years ago, it was a little shaded oasis surrounded by trees where beach goers could go to escape the heat and sun of the open beach. The trees are gone now but the long sweeping lines of the dunes gives it still a sense of calm and serenity. This is the spot I chose to try a very large plein air painting. 

I chose a 24x48 inch canvas and covered the back with brown paper to keep the sunlight out.The canvas size size was partly an experiment to see if anything good can come out of working so large the field. But it was also what the long lines of the scene seemed to call for. I didn't bother with an umbrella. I knew it would be more of a distraction covering only part of the canvas, than a help. I set up on a clear afternoon, angled my canvas to catch the smallest possible amount of wind, and waited for the late day light. Near sundown, the white sand of the Florida Gulf Coast lights up with all the colors of the late day sky and the dunes take on beautiful vivid blue and violet shadow shapes, but effect doesn't last long.

On my first day out, I was content to get the main shapes, values and approximate colors down. When the sun went down I packed up and waited for another day with similar conditions.

at the end of day one

On day two I set up at the same spot on top of a wall. For the sake of accuracy, the wall I'm on doesn't go around the whole fort but encloses some batteries facing the Gulf of Mexico. 

Here's the view I was painting.

I still need another session in the field with this canvas to gather some more information. At that point I'll decide whether to call it done or give it more time in the studio.

When I next blog about this painting, I'll  talk about the palette of colors I used and I'll share my conclusions about working this large en plein air. 

California Dreaming

Evening Meditation - Oil on Canvas Panel - 11x 20
© T Grillo Laird 2014

As much as I love My Florida Gulf Coast home with it's white sand beaches and emerald water, every part of my artist's soul longs for the California Coast. From the first time I saw the coastal region between San Luis Obispo and Monterey just four years ago, I knew I'd found the place I belong. But I'm not  in my twenties anymore and family obligations have piled on together with the years. I can't in good conscience walk away from everyone and do as I please as I might have done not too long ago. So each time I have the opportunity to travel to the coast, I make the most of it. There many painting spots I've set aside for future trips and some that I've managed to make it to. This little spot is one of those.

My view

When I set out from Templeton in mid afternoon, it was 94 degrees. A 20 minute drive over the mountains and through the pass brings you to the coast. I couldn't believe the temperature change at the coast. It was in the mid fifties!
I love the drive along Highway One from Cayucos to just south of Ragged Point. There are plenty of places to pull over to walk along the coast or enjoy the view from a high point. I like this spot near San Simeon because a short climb down the rock face brings you to a narrow rock strewn beach between the water's edge and the steep rock face.Since most people prefer the view from the parking lot above, you can work in relative privacy tucked up against the rock face. It's a peaceful spot.

I had already climbed back up with my painting and some gear when I thought to stop and take this shot. The light was fast disappearing.

I started Evening Meditation on site a little more than a year ago. At that time I was still unable to complete a painting on site before the light changed. I'm happy to say that I've gained that skill since, so I'm really looking forward to my next trip.

After finishing the improvements on my studio this month, I was able to organize my unfinished pieces. I'll be going through them one by one and finishing the promising ones. I'm not worried about ruining these half finished pieces, which gives me a real sense of freedom to see what I can turn them into.  

Looking for Heights

On the Buffalo River Trail

While camping in the Ozarks last month, I took advantage of a couple of sunny hours to hike through Boxley Canyon in Lost Valley. Is Lost Valley really lost? Well, if we had blinked, we'd have driven right past it, but was worth the stop. Lost Valley is a small area of farms tucked between hillsides off the beaten trail. The land owners, some who have been there for generations, have banded together and agreed to set the whole land mass aside, free from development, so everyone can see what the area looked like when it was first settled. Settlers cabins and remains of homesteads are there for the curious to explore.

Boxley Canyon Trail in Lost Valley is a path that winds around boulders, caves and waterfalls to a high point called Eagle Falls that emerge from a cliff top cave. Huge boulders are strewn about everywhere, piled at odd angles by gravity and the force of rushing water. Stone steps set in place to cross the steep terrain, reminded me of Rivendell of the Tolkien movies. I half expected to see Gandalf or the Lady of the Wood appear from around a bend!

Hungering still to experience more heights that I so miss living in Florida, we headed to the Buffalo River for a second hike that afternoon. I'll admit I had an ulterior motive for dragging my walk-weary husband on yet another climb. I was looking for a good access point to paint the famed bluffs above the Buffalo River.

The trail climbed high above the river. We had barely started the four mile hike when the rain that was such a constant factor throughout the trip, began again. At first, the thick overhead canopy kept most of the rain off of us, but within an hour, even this dense rooftop couldn't keep the water out.
Rain and all, I thought it was magical walk! Though it was dark and close under the trees, an ethereal deep gold light filled the forest. Thunder boomed overhead and fog drifted below us. There was just enough light to see a faint shadow cast by our walking sticks. The soft sound of creeks and waterfalls running between granite pillars, mingled with the sound of rain dripping through the leaves overhead. We walked along in the semi darkness bathed in the golden glow and listened to the absence of any sound of man.

My iPhone wasn't up to the task of capturing the unusual light. On the other side of these rocks is a sheer drop down to the Buffalo River.

As we neared the top of the mountain, the branches overhead could no longer contain the volume of water that was falling from the skies. Reluctantly we turned back down the trail. 

I never did find a view open enough to set up my easel. But I gathered impressions that will long stay in my mind's eye and no doubt find their way one painting or another.

To the Ozarks!

My favorite part of my recent road trip was the 10 days or so that we spent in the Ozarks, camped close to the War Eagle Creek. The campground itself was set low in a hollow below the roadway. There was no phone or internet service within camp, but a short drive up to the roadway brought us into phone range and to one end of the War Eagle Trail.

The part of the trail I was interested in, descended down a steep rocky path along bluffs high above the creek. From a vantage point above the creek, I had a view in both directions of the creek and rolling farmland that bordered it.

Parts of the trail were so close to the edge, that a safety barrier had been built to hang on to while navigating the slippery ledge.

I set my gear up on a wide bluff, happy to be outdoors in such a gorgeous spot. The day was overcast but bright and the colors of the trees along the bank and the reflections in the water were various shades of soft green and grey. Below me, someone glided by quietly in a canoe. Ahead of me was ridge after ridge of mountains disappearing into the distance. Swallows darted in and out of bluff side nests just below me. I felt like I was floating, suspended mid air in the silence I was part of.

About an hour into the painting, the sky began to darken. I kept painting hoping the clouds would pass. Soon the reflections in the water started to blur and the trees lost all contrast. I heard rain drops on the umbrella I had set up to shield my canvas from too much light. Before I could decide whether to go or stay, it started pouring as dense and drenching a rain as any I've seen in Florida. Rivers of rain washed forest debris off the bluffs and filled the drawer of my easel and my open knapsack. Water and oil paint mixed in an unholy union running off my palette. I could have wrung out my roll of paper towels.

I'm not proud to admit that my serene mood wore thin thin as I struggled in water weighted jeans to haul my soggy gear back up the trail. Determined to beat the obstacles, I returned the next day dressed in shorts and outfitted with a poncho and a big plastic tablecloth to cover my set- up in a down pour. I also suspended all my extra gear from my french easel, with bungee cords. It did rain again that day, and almost every day for the next two weeks. The rain eventually drove me out of Arkansas to Texas, but not before I had done a few more paintings and hiked some more beautiful trails.

Bluffs Above War Eagle Creek - 16x20 oil

  

Painting and Camping, a Perfect Road trip!

I'm just back from a month long road trip through 5 State parks in Arkansas and Texas. I faithfully wrote my blog posts along the way only to discover that most parks have no internet service and sometimes no phone service. Internet service was occasionally and  sporadically available from some location away from the campsites, but frankly, I found it refreshing to"un-plug".

On one of the many hiking trails in the Ozarks

 My days were filled late into evening with hiking, sight-seeing and painting. There was barely time each evening to cook a meal in the comfort of my travel trailer before falling into bed exhausted but happy. I even got used to the almost daily rain until a severe storm knocked a lot of  trees down. That was a bit scary and with no end in sight, I high-tailed it off that mountain top.

Now that I'm back in Florida, I'll share in my next few posts some of the highlights of my trip.

For about 10 days, I camped with my husband along War Eagle Creek in the Ozarks. This was base camp for some of the best hiking and painting on the trip. Initially I was very unprepared for the heavy rain, but as the locals told me, be thankful for the rainy season because when it ends, it becomes blistering hot! I can believe it. Despite being in the mountains, it was as hot as my Pensacola home.

Dang! Rained out halfway through!

On one of these rainy days, we drove out of the weather to Bentonville to see the Crystal Bridges Museum of Art. What a little gem of a museum! Their collection of American Art is impressive. The realist 19th century landscape painters of the Hudson River School and Luminist type styles, are especially well represented. They also had an exhibit going on called A Taste For Modernism of pieces from the William S. Paley collection usually housed at the Museum of Modern Art in NYC.

 I wondered why it was called crystal bridges until I saw the amazing architecture. The museum is made up of galleries ,"bridges", spanning a large pond fed by a natural spring on the grounds. The grounds themselves are a work of art with miles of manicured hiking trails over waterways and through dogwoods. Small pavilions echo the architecture. A Frank Lloyd Wright house is in the process of being moved to the grounds. There wasn't enough time to fully explore the grounds as well as the museum. Allow lots of time if you go. Here are a few pieces from the many I enjoyed.

This painting of the artist's studio caught my eye. It reminded me of my first NYC apartment in the West Village.

How's this for believable water and luminous light!

This one was a surprise! It's an art school assignment of Andy Warhol's. The assignment was to draw heads and hands.