Iterations: Attempting to Perfect a Work

Pussy willows

“One ought never to forget that by actually perfecting one piece, one learns more than beginning or half finishing ten.  Let it rest, let it rest and keep going back to it and working at it over and over again until there is not a note too much or too little, not a bar you could improve upon.  Whether it is beautiful is and entirely different matter, but perfect it must be.”
— Johannes Brahms

I’ve been trying to paint pussy willows, and after several iterations, I still haven’t managed to capture them perfectly.  Not all of my attempts are pleasing.  With watercolors, I find that working it over generally muddies things, and it is better to slow down and make a new beginning.  I’m still not satisfied with my results, so I need to try again (and again).

 

The Primrose Path

Primroses are making a late-winter appearance in grocery stores around here.  They are a welcome splash of saturated color and hold the promise of Spring and gardening.

Watercolor sketch of yellow primroses

Ink sketch of primroses (primula)

Watercolor vignettes from Tasha Tudor’s Garden

 

Gratitude Bestows Reverence

Succulents, Center for Urban Horticulture gardens

“Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.”
— John Milton

I am grateful for family and friends, art and nature, books and writers, and for each day.  Happy Thanksgiving!

Fading Hydrangeas

Hydrangeas are maybe my favorite flower.  I love their colors, a changing palette — they age so beautifully.  And I love their round shape.  Even this late in the season, I see hydrangeas as fresh as the one above, which I photographed at the ocean in Bandon, Oregon.  But more common are those that are past their peak, fading, fading.

Painting hydrangeas

Watercolor sketch of hydrangeas

 

 

You Can Go Home Again: Returning to the Family Farm after My Father’s Death

The old red barn on the farm where I grew up

As long as it stands, the old red barn will be the anchor on our Minnesota family farm.  My recent visit was the first time I had returned since my father died more than two years ago.  Now the land has been split into two parts, owned by my youngest and oldest brothers.  The old square farmhouse with peeling white paint has been torn down and in its place is a beautiful new home with lots of windows looking out on the land, spiffy modern appliances, and even air conditioning.

I am not a sentimental person, so I had no qualms about seeing the new house, and I looked forward with eager anticipation to the changes and improvements that my brother and his wife made to my old childhood stomping grounds. I was not disappointed.  At first I was just a tiny bit disoriented because the new house — while sited in the same spot as our old one — has a larger footprint and extends farther to the west.  It took me a minute to figure out where the old smokehouse had stood, to identify the stump of what had been the tree with the tire swing,  and to recognize the trees still standing next to the garage.  (The old garage has also been replaced by a new, larger one.)  Other trees have grown even taller than my memory of them.  But once I was reoriented, everything felt familiar and comfortable and welcoming.  I realized that, for me, the farm was not the physical buildings, but rather the land, the landscape and its seasonal changes, family ties and memories, and the rhythm of daily farm life.  Those things endure and I love them just as much now.  My visit was a homecoming.

Old barn and new garage

“The eye for beauty is the eye for love.”
— Paul Gruchow, Journal of a Prairie Year

Once again I was struck by the beauty of my childhood home ground.

Fields and woods

“The landscape seemed increasingly to be a succession of lines — the line of hills, the line of trees, the line of reeds, the line of cattails, the line of water  . . .”
— Paul Gruchow, Journal of a Prairie Year

One view to the east

 

One view to the south, with woods and wildflower patch

“Our language does not distinguish green from green.  It is one of the ways in which we have declared ourselves to be apart from nature.  In nature, there is nothing so impoverished of distinction as simply the color green.  There are greens as there are grains of sand, an infinitude of shades and gradations of shades, of intensities and brilliancies.  Even one green is not the same green.  There is the green of dawn, of high noon, of dusk.  There is the green of young life, of maturity, of old age.  There is the green of new rain and of long drought.  There is the green of vigor, the green of sickness, the green of death.  One could devote one’s life to a study of the distinctions in the color green and not yet have learned all there is to know.  There is a language in it, a poetry, a music.  We have not stopped long enough to hear it.”
— Paul Gruchow, Journal of a Prairie Year

Farm fresh eggs

My brother and his wife are bringing new life to the farm with animals — chickens, dogs, barn cats, pigs, and they rent the pasture to another farmer for grazing cows.  While the scale is more of a hobby farm, the animal husbandry and stewardship of the land is as hands on as the farming of years past.  Butchering six chickens brought back old memories.  I learned that a farm skill like butchering chickens is like riding a bike — you never forget how to do it!  Farm-to-table meals are not the rare thing they are in the city!

My brother raises Buff Orpington chickens for meat, and the few hens lay eggs

 

Watercolor sketch of chickens

 

Butchering chickens using a chicken plucker to remove the larger feathers.

 

Chicken on the spit

 

Cow in the rented pasture. The red ear tags help to repel flies.

 

Pigs raised for pork

My sister-in-law titled this watercolor sketch “Bacon 2017”

In my Dad’s final years, as he grew frailer, he resisted change.  Many things were falling into decrepitude, but changes were deferred for as long as possible so that my father could be in familiar surroundings.  Now that he is gone, it is rejuvenating to see my brother’s and his wife’s efforts to remake the farm into a dream home for their own lives.  It seems only right to me that they move the farm into modern times.  Time to create new memories in this deeply rooted place!

Watercolor sketch of one of the old oak trees on the farm

 

Watercolor sketch of zinnias in the front garden bed

 

 

 

The North Shore of Lake Superior: Wildflowers along the Gitchi Gami Trail

The Gitchi Gami State Trail runs through Gooseberry Falls State Park.  When completed, this will be an 89-mile paved recreational trail along the North Shore between Two Harbors and Grand Marais, Minnesota.  We enjoyed the many wildflowers that grew along the trail.

Walking along the Gitchi Gami trail

Missouri goldenrod

Black-eyed Susan

Tansy; this grew everywhere along the roads Up North

Fireweed

Flat-topped asters

Joe pye weed

 

Watercolor sketches in my Minnesota travel journal

 

 

Hydrangeas: Mood Rings for the Soil

Hydrangeas in pinks and blues

One of my readers commented on my July 8th post that hydrangeas change color based on the pH or acidity levels of the soil.  Hydrangeas planted in strongly acidic soil (pH below 6) tend to be blue.  Those planted in alkaline soil (pH 7 and above) are pink.  And those planted in neutral soil (pH 6 to 7) display purple hues.

That made me think of mood rings!

I still don’t understand how one bush can bloom in an array of colors, from pink to purple to blue.

And, I read that white hydrangeas are not barometers of soil acidity.

Regardless of color, those hues are wonderfully represented in watercolors.

Painting hydrangeas

Hydrangeas in small vase

Hydrangeas

Painting as an Act of Wilful Inefficiency

Hydrangea

Hydrangea

Watercolor painting of hydrangea

“Ever since the invention of photography, making a painting at all is an act of wilful inefficiency.”
— Amy Whitaker,  Art Thinking

I like my photographs of hydrangeas.  I like this watercolor painting as much or more.  Thank goodness life is big enough to embrace multiple ways of seeing, doing, and being.  Efficiency isn’t the most important thing.

 

The Homely Art of Still Life

Watercolor painting of hydrangeas

Another watercolor study

“Still life is a minor art, and one with a residue of didacticism that will never bleach out; a homely art.  From the artist’s point of view, it has always served as a contemplative form useful for working out ideas, color schemes, opinions.  It has the same relation to larger, more ambitious paintings as the sonnet to the long poem. . . . Still life has been a kind of recreation, a jeu d’sprit, for painters.”
— Guy Davenport, Objects on a Table: Harmonious Disarray

I can see Davenport’s point of view about still life painting.  I see my efforts to translate what I see into a painting on paper as beginner’s marks, trying to understand what works and what doesn’t.  I don’t feel ready for more ambitious compositions, and that’s why I chose to paint just a single or a few objects.  I still love messing about, trying to improve.  Occasionally I surprise myself with something that I actually like.  Maybe if these happy surprises occurred more frequently, I would be ready to challenge myself to larger subjects.  I’m not there yet!  So I’ll stick with “homely art” for a while.

 

 

 

Hydrangea Orgy

Hydrangeas in blues

I don’t remember seeing hydrangeas when I was growing up in Minnesota, but here in the Pacific Northwest they flourish.  I just love the range of colors they display, from purple to blue to pink and white.  I took all of these photos yesterday when strolling through the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle.

Hydrangea bush on a Ballard street

I was in Ballard for a visit to the Nordic Heritage Museum to see an exhibit of photographs by Nathalia Edenmont, who works in Sweden.  I was intrigued by her use of botanicals as garments, resulting in some unique fashion portraits.  I laughed when I saw some hydrangeas in her photographs.

Deep in Thought, 2012 by Nathalia Edenmont, Force of Nature exhibit. Dress made with dried hydrangeas.

Consciousness, 2012 by Nathalia Edenmont, Force of Nature exhibit. Pink hydrangeas on shoulder strap.

Edenmont’s photos are weirdly wonderful — the poses are a tad dark or serious but the outfits are whimsical and colorful.  Here are a few more:

Baby’s Breath, 2010 by Nathalia Edenmont

Saga, 2011 by Nathalia Edenmont

Cousin Red, 2014 by Nathalia Edenmont

Tasty, 2015 by Nathalia Edenmont

After enjoying my hydrangea morning, I think I’ll try my hand at painting hydrangeas for my next subject.

Watercolor sketch of hydrangea