I've been putting a lot of miles on my car this week, traveling to various sites in the Brandywine Valley in order to paint competitively. Who knew plein air painting could be a sport? It's been glorious. I've finished and framed 7 paintings so far (including this Bearded Billy). After training this summer, my supplies and technique have been primed, including a temporary framing station in the trunk of my car. The most intense moment so far was the Quick Draw yesterday where I created a work then had 12 minutes to frame it before I ran it to the submission station in just under the two hour deadline. Whew! Today is the last day so I need to get myself to the assigned location, Winterthur, which is also the location of the art sale this weekend. 40% of all proceeds go to Children's Beach House, a Delaware non-profit that supports children with special needs. Come check it out if you can! The show will be up until 3pm on Sunday. Off I go!
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Imagine stumbling upon this mansion in the middle of a suburban neighborhood behind an ornate metal gate and surrounded by ivy. I first laid eyes on it when I was about 16 years old. I was probably driving to my friends house down the street. She didn't know anything about it. Several decades later when I moved back to the area as an adult I finally began to learn some details about its story from a few articles that were published in the paper around 2010. It just so happens that its story includes both the Titanic and the National Gallery of Art. This 110-room, Horace Trumbauer design, gilded era mansion named Lynnewood Hall was built for the Widener family in 1897-1900. Peter was part owner of the Titanic. George, Eleanor and Harry were passengers. Eleanor survived. Joseph's massive art collection was given to the National Gallery of Art in 1940. Shortly after, the family moved out. The mansion still stands but much like a sleeping kingdom. I finally stopped, got out of the car, and spent some time with it and my easel this week. It's currently for sale for $16.5 million. Any takers? And if so, can I come over to get a closer look? Today I sat in the blazing late September sun. A white plastic chair and table provided by Elkins Perk Coffee Shop gave me this view of my local SEPTA train station, Elkins Park. Built nearly 120 years ago this historic gem now features a community space run by Elkins Central. In this space, I've personally been to a yoga class, an art show, and an author's book tour event... and I taught an art class there so that a group of girl scouts could earn a badge. I hope to make it to a jazz concert there soon. If you ask me, Elkins Park rocks! I have no idea why it took me so long. Yesterday I explored a little nook that felt like a portal to the 17th century. The funny thing about this place is...I have driven by it nearly every day for most of my life. The Richard Wall House was built in 1683 by a charming Quaker couple from the town of Cheltenham, England. They were among the "First Purchasers" to obtain land from William Penn in what we now know as Cheltenham Township. My outdoor painting quest of Cheltenham Township has taken a dive into its rich 300 year history. Since it's still plein air painting season (meaning it's not too hot and not too cold to paint outside), I went to High School Park and found this lovely spot along the meadow walk built in memory of Joshua Schwartz. It only seems fitting that if I am a resident artist in Cheltenham that I paint Cheltenham. I foresee "Meadow Walk" as the first in a series. I'm putting on the hat of being a tourist in my own town! That "Tourist in my own Town" theme, by the way, is an excellent writing prompt that was given to me by the great Mt. Airy writing teacher, Minter Krotzer. I, in turn, assigned that topic to countless unsuspecting 10th grade students when I taught high school English. We read an essay entitled "A Tourist in my own Town" by an American author for inspiration. I'm a bit embarrassed that I can't remember the author. Can anyone help me out? In Alaska, this lone cottonwood tree sat in a field behind the Glacier Bay Country Inn where I stayed with my family earlier this month. I painted this on the only day we saw sunshine and one of the few glimpses that we had of those distant mountains of the Fairweather Range. I saw my first moose walk across this field later in the week. The inn is situated in Gustavus, Alaska: population 428. To get there we needed to travel by plane since, as opposed to Rome, no roads lead to Gustavus. Not far from my house, there is a river of rocks. I could see two patches of it pretty clearly from this vantage point on Hawk Mountain in Kempton, Pa. The story of this river goes back to the Pleistocene Epoch, the Ice Age that ended about 11,000 years ago when glaciers left the rocks here. There is a trail along the "river" that I have yet to hike. As I research Glacier Bay, Alaska and Yosemite Valley in California, I find this local connection to a similar geological process utterly fascinating. Today I painted outside with my daughter while my husband and son went for a bike ride at Valley Forge National Historical Park. Since I was a child, the view from the ridge where Route 23 cuts through the park has always impressed me. From this little area next to the parking lot of the Washington Memorial Chapel, we could see quite far into the layers of foliage that distinguished themselves chromatically from each other in the midday humidity of August. While the boys rode a loop around the site of the 1777-1778 encampment of Washington's ragtag band of Revolutionary soldiers, my husband stopped and took a picture of our location from the further hill visible behind the third tree from the left. I'm so glad our ancestors decided to preserve this beautiful expanse of land. Our national park system is truly integral to our national identity. I feel pretty comfortable when I do drawing demonstrations for the classes I teach. However, I realize with this painting that I started a few weeks ago as a demonstration for my current outdoor painting class that it's hard to explain what you are doing while you do it! When I paint in watercolor, it's a deeper experience than drawing. The act of explaining does take me out of the zone where I create somewhat spontaneously. In fact, I needed to work on this painting for about 20 minutes without my students watching because I felt that there were some issues that needed to be resolved and I honestly wasn't sure yet how I would address them. I'd say it's mostly finished now, but I've saved several things that I have in mind that I want to show them.. One day my demonstrations will likely be more polished. In the meantime I appreciate the fact that my students accept my vulnerabilities as an authentic part of the process. In the hour that I had to complete this painting, I challenged myself. I only spent about 5 minutes on the preliminary drawing. The focus is painterly, with minimal attention to architecture. This approach allowed me to capture the light of the moment. (And get home in time before my kids got off the school bus.) I still, however, also like working with a more finished drawing. Some subjects suit themselves for it. For example, last Saturday, I spent 5 hours on a painting that was the same exact size and won an Honorable Mention Award at the Chestnut Hill Plein Air Competition. (Yay!) I suppose it all will depend on how much time my life gives me that day... |
Little Bee:
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