Author: maggiebird

Grass moon

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Grass Moon
Grass Moon

We’re just coming off the April full moon (last night, gleaming through the slats in the blinds, she woke me; though waning gibbous, she still left me breathless) . Her names are hopeful: the Pink Moon; the Full Sprouting-Grass Moon; the Egg Moon; the Full Fish Moon.

Here in the Bay Area I think she’s best called the Grass Moon. It’s a name that celebrates the luxurious growth of plants reveling in moisture at the end of our short damp winter.

This is a painting from Russian Ridge (right now one of my favorite places in the Bay). On the day I painted this, the marine layer (aka fog) covered the mountains, hugging the ridge in the drippy embrace of the not-too-distant ocean. The grass raved viridian, turquoise, and shining wet jade green around this little outcropping of rocks.

In just a few weeks the grass will yellow and turn white-gold in the California sun. Even now the poverty grass is silvering, turning the color of a new moon.

Lupines in the afternoon

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LupinePainting

It was a rare weekday afternoon that I was able to spend painting at Russian Ridge, just before a late spring storm. Last weekend I realized this little patch of lupine was about ready to pop into full bloom, and if I wanted to paint them in their full glory, I’d have to get out there soon. Wildflowers fade fast.

Such is the life of a plein air painter. Time and flowers wait for no man or woman, and I wanted to capture the feeling I got on this trail that a person could step from the edge of the lupine-purple earth into the glowing sky.

Lupine

I love these hazy days with lots of high clouds in the sky. We don’t get enough clouds in the Bay Area. And soon we’ll have the eternal sunshine of the spotless California summer, with no cover from the sun for months and months. But for now, we’ve got clouds a-plenty.

Fog

Of course, we’ll always have the fog rolling over the ridgelines, even on most summer evenings.

Brendan Behan in ArtGraf black carbon

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BrendanBehanYoung

Shawn Hatosy as Brendan Behan

Saturday night I watched Borstal Boy, a romanced version of the early life of Irish patriot, playwright and poet, Brendan Behan. Mr. Behan was a man of letters—he wrote in English and in Irish—who unfortunately died quite young from the drink. He was the public face of the stereotypical Irishman, as well as typifying a whole generation of artists:  brilliant star and stumbling, mumbling drunk. He once described himself as a drunk with a writing problem.

BrendanBehanBrendan Behan as Brendan Behan

The above painting is from a Youtube video here, where Mr. Behan sings the Auld Triangle.

These were painted using my new toy, an ArtGraf black carbon block. It’s a neat little block of water soluble carbon with which you can draw on wet or dry paper, or just rub a wet brush across the block for shades of gray. It’s an easy and clean way to practice brush work while watching television, so long as you don’t kick over your pot of water. The paper is my new favorite, cheap cover stock from the copy store.

José Emídio paints with the tailor shape of ArtGraf in the video below. Beautiful!

Monday life drawing at the last minute

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5 minute gesture drawings with Micron Pigma pens on card stock
5-minute gesture drawings with Pigma pens on card stock

On Monday night I had planned on attending the local life drawing session after work. But when the demands of the day job made me late, I almost bagged it. I didn’t have time to go home to get my charcoal and Biggie pad of paper, and I wanted my dinner (like an army , I travel–and draw–on my stomach).

I had a little pouch full of Pigma pens, and a sketchbook too, but I didn’t want to fill the sketchbook with millions of gesture drawings. I’m fussy about that kind of thing. It takes me a long time to warm up, so that my first 1- and 2- minute gesture drawings are big messes. I like to use cheap paper I can throw away. I’m less precious when I use crummy paper for warm up sketches, and I don’t feel bad about all the mistakes.

I didn’t have cheap newsprint with me Monday night, but I did have a calendar made from cardstock and bound with wire. Cheap. Temporary (I’ll throw it away at the end of the year). So I did my quick sketches on the back of the calendar pages.

Wow! What a pleasure it was to draw those Pigma pens across that cheap card stock. I loved the graceful line and delicate shading that was possible on the semi-smooth surface, and the ink dried quickly, so I didn’t smudge.

And the model, when he saw that I was drawing on my calendar said, “Cool, I always wanted to be on a calendar. What month am I?”

Jesse10minutes

Mr. February

Cedar waxwings in the garden

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CedarWaxwing
Graphite sketch of cedar waxwing in the garden

Last summer the privet tree in the backyard bloomed shamelessly. All winter it’s been covered in dark blue berries, and I’ve been threatening to cut the tree down before the berries fall and create a privet thicket in my garden.

Once again, inertia and lack of time served me well, for the berries must have reached the peak of ripeness on Thursday and Friday.  On those two days (and those two days only), an enormous flock of cedar waxwing flew through the garden and breakfasted on the berries until nearly all the fruit was stripped from the tree. But today, on Sunday? Only the mockingbird sings while two bluejays eye each other salaciously.

I made this sketch at the kitchen window on Thursday, binoculars in hand, while I was waiting for my morning tea water to boil.

Painting outside: Mindego Hill

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RussianRidge500pxMindego Hill #1
Oil on canvas board
© 2013 Margaret Sloan

For the last 3 Saturdays I’ve been at Russian Ridge, painting Mindego Hill. It’s an iconic view from the ridge: Mindego Hill rises over the coast range of mountain ridges rippling all the way to the sea. On a clear evening from the ridge, you can watch the sun set into the Pacific.

A few years ago, this hill was saved for all of us by the Peninsula Open Space Trust (POST) and the Midpeninsula Regional Open Space District (MROSP), organizations that have protected many acres of the Bay Area from the rampant cancer of development that afflicts the Bay. It’s rather miraculous that we have these open spaces where we can all savor the landscape that makes the Bay Area so beautiful. For many of us, getting away from the city streets is a necessity for our health and sanity.

The world is full of coincidence. (If you don’t believe me, check out This American Life’s recent show on coincidence) While I was writing this post, a young man rang to ask me to take a survey about POST and MROSP. I guess they are trying to put together a bond issue to raise some dollars. Would I be willing to pay more taxes to fund the necessary luxury of having open space available to everyone?  I’m not a fan of more taxes, but for this, I’m not sure how I could refuse.

To read about the GoMindego campaign (which was successfull in preserving the hill), as well as some history and facts about the hill, go to this newsletter: http://www.openspacetrust.org/downloads/newsletters/Landscapes-WI07.pdf

Landscape painting from the front porch

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Death Valley at Stovepipe Wells
Death Valley at Stovepipe Wells

The bad thing about staying in Death Valley National Park is that there are limited options of where to stay. You have three: an expensive hotel; a less expensive hotel; and camping.

The good thing about staying in the park is that there are only two hotels and limited camping. There are no neon-lit chain hotels, no glossy fast food signs. There is not even a food truck glowing in the parking lot. That means the views, even from from the less expensive Stovepipe Wells, are unobstructed million-dollar vistas.

So I set up my pochade box on the front porch of the hotel, and painted what what was in front of me: the broad valley and mountains beyond.  A friend stayed with me, and she knitted while I painted.

It was a simple equation:

Being outside + Cookies and tea on the table + companionable silence broken by occasional conversation + paint on my canvas (and in my hair) =  Heaven. (Bonus: bathroom nearby—a plein air painter’s dream.)

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Loss and a call for help for a fellow artist

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With great sadness I read that of one of my favorite bloggers, Gretel Parker at Middle of Nowhere,  has suffered the terrible loss of her long-time partner. I’ve read her blog for years, and have admired her for her strength, talent, and courage. I have gotten to know her lovely needle felting, her charming illustrations, and the bits of her story she shared with the world. My heart is breaking for her loss.

The blogosphere is a strange place. You write about yourself as if you were on  a secret desert island and then float your carefully chosen words like messages in a bottle bobbing on the interweb sea. And you find messages from other castaways who have sent out their own words corked in the smokey glass of a blog post.

In this way we build shipping lanes of friendships and acquaintances from messages floating on the digital tide. And we make connections whether or not we know we are making those connections. Gretel’s blog had a way of doing that.

To help Gretel, who is not only suffering from the grief of losing half her heart, but will also be going through some real financial upheavals, two bloggers, Suzanne Houghton and Tara Change, have started a fund raising effort on her behalf called the Gretel Parker Project. If you have enjoyed her blog, I hope that you will be able to help her out.

And my friends, hug your loved ones. Tell them that you love them and hold them close.

The landscape painter as tourist attraction

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Badwater

View from Badwater parking lot. Quick watercolor sketch on a piece of 3.5 x 5″ Arches 300 lb. hot press

I had planned a full day of non-painting sight-seeing with my non-painter traveling companions, but that was derailed when J. realized that she wasn’t quite recovered from a bad flu and she needed some rest.  Fortunately I had packed my watercolors, just in case I had a few moments while the others were hiking. (Always take some kind of painting supplies with you!) When the group decided to go back to the motel, I was able to split off and spend the afternoon painting.

I pulled off the road at the Devil’s Golf Course and set up my easel on the shady side of the car. Even in January, it’s often quite warm in Death Valley and I was grateful for the wee bit of shade.

DevilsGolfCourse

View from the cutoff to the Devil’s Golf Course. Watercolor sketch on 8 x 10″ Arches 300 lb. hot press.

When painting in public, I often feel like I become part of the scenery. On their way to the Devil’s Golf Course, tourists stopped and from the comfort of their car watched me paint. Some stopped twice: once on their way in and once again as they drove out, checking my progress. One man, a tourist from New York City, asked, “Can I take your photo? It’s a great shot, with you painting and the whole valley around you.”

I must be quite picturesque. I think it’s the hat.

TheHatView of me, painting in the middle of Mosaic Canyon. 
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