They say "practice makes perfect", but when it comes to painting, I've never been one to practice.  I like to think that every canvas is a masterpiece, and then I laugh at my attempts at masterdom and tell myself, "you really need to practice more."  I've kind of been forced into the monotony however, having been invited to participate in a Quick Draw event this Saturday, my first.  One hour to create a "masterpiece" for auction.  My first thought was that I'll never be able to paint something worth selling in one hour...so I started practicing.  And guess what.  Each one gets better than the one before.  Hmm...I think I'm on to something here.  ;)

Sand Creek Falls

Sand Creek, Wyoming

Well I had a nice little plein air study I was going to post (not that anyone is looking) but for some reason the post and the picture wouldn't both show at the same time.  I can't tell if it's the picture file or the text that's giving me a hard time.  For my own sake and reflection though, to remember what I learned from that day, I will try to describe again the points of the painting session...

I set up some potted plants (a tomato, dill, parsley, and a couple petunias for color) and a Quaker chair my dad built years ago in a nice little setting on the deck.  I started late in the day, hiding from the sun under the eave of the back porch with my easel.  The shadows cast by the setting sun on the deck helped enhance the composition, but the shade I painted in I believe was a bit too dark.

I finished the plein air sketch in a little over an hour, wanting to work longer, but stopping before I muddied the painting by trying to add too many details.  The perspective caught me as a bit "off" here and there, but it was good practice in capturing light and shadows. 

Had the best time at the lake trying to hone my 'skills' at plein air painting.  I realized with this attempt that relaxing is key.  The clock needs to be kept in the peripheral vision while the focus remains on the subject, keeping time in the back of the mind and the fingers moving -- but not fretting the traveling sun and growing shadows so much that you miss the colors before you.

The best part about plein air is the studio -- or lack thereof.  No walls or light bulbs, just open space with the sky for a ceiling and a grass carpet underneath, the sun as the light source and the birds as the background music.  I was visited frequently by a big, bold yellow butterfly, a robin gathering sticks and stems for her nest,  and the occasional bug, casual observers that didn't ask questions or offer critiques, just curious as to why I was there.

My husband, Ron, spent the afternoon with me.  I was afraid he would get bored and I would have to rush -- but he was most content to fish from the banks even if nothing was biting, and dipped into the lake in our canoe once in a while, exercising his own skills for the first time this summer.

Yeah, days like this can't be planned.  They are a gift enjoyed when you respond to their spontaneous calling.  And I've learned through these little painting excursions that sometimes I just need to let the dishes set and go out and play.

Aruban Pelican

Done by request, the friend that received Beached Vessels wanted a series for his wall and asked me to paint this scene from the same vacation. They now hang side-by-side above a mantel filled with souvenirs and artifacts from the trip.

Beached Vessels

What started out as a practice session turned into a framed gift to the friend that gave me permission to use his photograph as a reference.  This painting took exactly four hours and one bottle of white merlot to complete.  It was the best way to spend an afternoon alone.