Autumn in the White Mountains

I was sure this weekend's trip to the White Mountains with the NH Plein Air Group would not be my chance to see the top of Mount Washington. The weather reports were varied, but rain, snow and clouds were predicted in all of them. My previous trips were on clear days and the top of Mt. Washington remained hidden so snow and rain didn't seem very promising for great view, but I was very much looking forward to the 3 days of painting with great people.  Regardless of the weather, the Fall foliage is always magical.

Thursday afternoon I headed north with a truck full of paint supplies and gear for every possible spark of creative inspiration that could strike. Watercolor and oils, painting panels, canvases, and paper ranging in size from 4" x 6" to 16" x 20' and everything in between, more colors of paints than I could ever possibly use, gear for being able to hike some for a good painting spot and a larger setup for right out of the car work, were all with me, the one missing element was rattling around in my head - what style/method would I use? It seems like a silly question since I had felt as though my style was developing well enough. Then I took two plein air workshops in September.

The first workshop was with Lois Griffel, author of "Painting the Impressionist Landscape". I had bought her book several years ago and so I was very excited when I learned she would be doing a workshop here in New Hampshire. The most important lesson was getting your values right but also the use of "pure color" and "painting the light" were emphasized. Lois also sometimes paints with a palette knife, something I'd been wanting to get back into. It was a wonderful week of painting and experimenting. Besides getting even bolder with my colors I began working exclusively with my palette knives, no more brushes. Good thing too, the last year I kept buying different size knives but I was always afraid of using them. A workshop is always a good place to experiment so thats what I did and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. This painting was done at an inn with gorgeous gardens the last day of the workshop. As you can see my painting took a dramatic shift however. The question still lingers, is that the direction I want to go in?

The second workshop lasted three days, again it was a fabulous professional artist that was the instructor, Stapleton Kearns. He writes a daily blog with great information and also has a wonderful sense of humor. The Griffel workshop ended on a Friday and Stape's started on Saturday. I tried to go into Stape's workshop with a clear head but that was rather impossible. A local artist and farmer allowed us to paint on her family's farm. It is 300 acres of fields, stone walls, silos, cows and a wonderful view of Mount Monadnock. The setting and the weather couldn't have been more beautiful. Like many workshop this one started with a demonstration. While describing his approach he had some common elements to Lois, but also some very different ones when talking about color. His colors were much more subtle and muted. Stape's work was amazing, his humor and broad knowledge, generously shared, but I was on overload almost from the beginning, definitely by Sunday evening. Still I worked at painting as he taught, this painting of Mount Monadnock was done the last day of his workshop.

With a couple of weeks in between the workshops and this weekend's trip to the White Mountains, I had hoped for some more clarity, but it doesn't work that way. It's just a matter of practicing and experimenting. Whatever was lacking in my confidence the view of the Presidential Range in the White Mountains covered in snow with the bright yellows and oranges on the trees in the valleys below was staggering in its beauty - I was inspired to work very hard to capture what was all around me, and I had three days to focus entirely on painting.

So Friday morning bundled up against the chilly weather, we went to paint Mt Washington, because in spite of the cloud cover, the peak was clearly visible.  We reached our destination along the Adroscoggin River with Washington in full view at the bend in the river. I opened up the back of my truck starring at all my gear, decision time was here. I decided I was going to paint with my palette knives. "Be bold in your approach" Robert Henri use to say to his students. That line always appealed to me so at least for this weekend I was going to be an impressionist with a pallet knife.

As we stood painting the clouds thinned and blue began to show through. After a couple of hours we pack up and moved to the next spot, across the street from the Mt Washington Autoroad at the Glen Ellis House. The view was unbelievably clear and vibrant. We had lunch and went back outside to paint. Having gained more confidence I took out my palette knives and went to work with joy and abandon. I continued to take lots of pictures so I could also work in my studio when I got home. There was just too much to paint in a couple of days. The blue skies above the white mountain peaks surrounded by the oranges of fall in the valley below was beyond stunning.

Saturday was another gorgeous day, it was almost warm in the sun.  By noontime the sky was blue and there was more painting to be done. After a morning painting of some falls along the river I headed towards the Mount Washington Hotel to paint the peaks. That was a pretty hard scene to resist and several others soon joined me. In the evening we gathered around the fireplace at the inn we were all staying at and looked at one anothers work. It's so interesting to see the different versions that come out with several people painting the same scene.

Now that I'm home, I have a few things to get caught up on, then I'm back to wrestling with how I want to paint. I do need to go back to my brushes, its just a matter of time. I also want to work at accurate colors, not necessarily impressionist versions. Practice, always practice and always learning. And there's the drawing project I'm about to start....

Spring and the White Mountains

It was beginning to feel like one of those "have-to's" in the jurying process. The words "consistency of style" and "series" kept popping up in forms which I would fill out to have my work reviewed. But painting a series seemed beyond my limited attention span - just a little too disciplined for me. Still I kept it in the back of my mind waiting for something to grab me. So when the idea of painting the peaks of the White Mountains, focusing on the Presidential Range hit me, it fit the bill for me. There were many to choose from and traveling to the White Mountains was far enough away to make it a bit of an adventure.

The first trip this year was over Memorial Day weekend, (Written on the Wind - Blog entry)that's when I came up with the idea for this series. With the thought of doing such a series I wanted to be sure and get the names of the peaks right. Hikers seem to know these things by instinct, but then their perspective is different from mine. I purchased a couple of maps and a book to aid me in naming what I would paint and identifying the pictures I took. The first painting is "The Founding Fathers - Mounts Jefferson, Adams and Madison". This is the view from Mount Washington observatory looking north. In doing the research I learned some interesting tidbits. The smaller peak between Jefferson and Adams is Sam Adams. The other is that ther folks doing the naming made a little mistake which they discovered too late, since the names were already established. Mount Monroe is higher than Madison. That was the error, not having correct information about the height, they would have named the next highest peak Monroe should have been Madison.

It didn't take me long to stray from the original intent of painting the peaks named after presidents. "Nelson Craig" grabbed me when I was looking at my photographs, the drop off, the shadows of the clouds, the orange foliage that was just starting to grow and that bit of snow in the crevices where the warmth of Spring sun could not reach. The catch was finding the name of this peak. Studying the map of the Mt. Washington Auto Road and trying to figure out which pull-off I'd taken the picture from combined with hiking information from the books I'd purchased did the trick, it's just I didn't know a mountain could be called a craig.

Painting a series of the White Mountains would not be complete without "Tuck" - that is "Tuckerman's Ravine". Not only is it impressive to look out, it is legendary for skiers. Again, no ski lift, just the understanding if you can hike up with your ski gear, you should be good enough to ski it. This is the view from above at the top of the trail, after driving up the auto road I went down the trail a bit to get a good view, the carin marks the trail. I realized when we returned that the view of Tuckerman's from below was equally, if not more impressive. That being the case there will be more paintings of this wonderful example of natural sculpture.

The next trip was over July 4th weekend. The colors and foliage had changed considerably. While Mount Washington had a dense cloud covering the peak the rest of the sky was a beautiful blue with sweeps of clouds billowing up from the lesser peaks. That being the case this trip became a qwest for other peaks and more exploring of the area. The air was warm and fresh, no humidity. We took a short hike from Pinkham Notch Center down the trail to Lost Pond. Again the cloud cover hid the top of Tuckerman's but the reflection was beautiful and it seemed to me that painting that cloud cover would be a realistic view. After our hike we started the drive for home. I wanted to go back the way we'd come in case the cloud cover over Mount Washington wanted to recede and give me another chance to see the peak. No such luck, but we did find a pullout that was a field of wildflowers with the elusive peak in the background. I knew that would be a furture destination. The last stop before we left the White Mountains was a parking lot for a trail head just past Cannon Mountain. It was now late afternoon with the sun casting strong shadows across the mountainside of Franconia Ridge, dramatically highlighting Mount Lincoln. Lonesome Lake, wildflowers and a little trail made the perfect foreground. The day was a success and the series moves forward.

Written on the Wind

Our Mt. Washington Adventure

Yes, I'd checked the weather ahead of time, and yes I know Mt. Washington has the worst weather so when it said windy with gusts of 50-70 mph, I was going to be prepared. I'd probably have to paint from inside the car, but the other bit of weather was clear skies. That was what was most important. Timing was also the other factor.

Every season has it's own pallet of colors. Sometimes, when the timing is right and the place has a character all its own, seasons and pallets merge. That's what I wanted from Mount Washington. The colors of Spring are soft and can be missed if you are looking too hard for the greens of Summer. The foliage of the mountains is low lying with a gentle burst of reds and oranges among the green and golden tones as though hinting at what will come in Autumn. The color of Winter, always starts with the white of snow. And what says summers coming better than blue skies and green valleys?


It was all there. From the base of the mountain road the rich greens said winter was truly over. The blue skies and fair weather clouds were beautiful, but this was Mount Washington and it wasn't yet June. It was breezy at the base as well. We started our assent after paying the fee and placing the CD into the car stereo to listen to the history of the auto-road, the warnings about car safety and the nasty ever changing weather. I was still hopeful about being able to paint once we got up to the top. But I'm a glass half-full kinda girl. The local weather reports had likewise reported the 50-70 mph gusts on the top, but also the temperatures in the 30's. It was in the 60's below and breezy. As I said I was prepared, gloves hat, and bringing more layers than I could ever put on at once. I had painted outside in the winter at the same temperatures, so I knew I could handle the temperature.

Along the way we pulled off where we could and I took pictures. Each time the views became more spectacular and the wind got a bit stronger. The trees were twisted and bent. Only the beginning buds of Spring were on the trees while the valley below was bathed in the green foliage that had already taken hold. The peaks of the Presidential Range and beyond went on forever, with the sky, clouds, and mountain tops, all becoming one.

The forth pull out was my favorite. By this time we were getting a very clear idea of what kind of weather was awaiting us on top. Also at this height there were no more trees. Anything that tried to reach skyward was scarred by a constant battle with the wind that left its limbs stunted and leaning leeward. We were in the alpine area with a wide variety of mosses and low growing plants. The colors were beautiful, rich and deep but often overshadowed by massive rocks and stunning vistas. But these were the colors I sought. By themselves, maybe they would be less appealing but place them in the foreground of peaks dotted with patches of snow and you have captured that window when the seasons merge. The rocky foreground was the icing on the cake from a compositional stand point.

By the next pullout it was clear that even painting inside the car was a long shot. The car was rocking under the force of the wind. I was careful not to get too close to the edge of a slope for fear of getting blown over. Getting in and out of the car to take pictures became a two step process. I needed to use two hands to hold the car door open enough to get in and out. Once out of the car Rick would hand me my camera. The same was repeated in reverse to get back in.

The final pullout before the top was a small parking area that was nearly full. Not all these folks were your average tourists however. I noticed a young man standing by his truck in ski gear, boots, pants, polls. Rick reminded me that hikers often use ski polls, yea dear, but not ski boots. As we looked around more closely we were witness to what we'd often heard about but always shuddered to think of the reality. Skiing the ravines. These are rugged folks here. There are no ski lifts, rope toes or ski patrols. The idea is, is you are fit enough to carry your gear to the ravine and walk back up, you're fit to ski it. A rather common sense approach that has worked quite well. There have been fatalities, but they are quite rare. This is truly skiing at your own risk. While it's not for me, and I do think they are out of their minds, I do admire them. The two pictures in this paragraph should help you get the gist of this experience. The first shows the vista, the first large patch of snow heading down the ravine is where the skiers are. The picture is taken from the parking area, so they have to walk to that point. The next picture I took with my telephoto lens. There's a group of skiers in the upper left corner and another one on his way down. While its not something I plan on painting, it definitely added to the adventure of the day.

A short drive to the top from here pretty much confirmed I would not be painting from there. The parking didn't give the best views and merely standing up outside the car was a challenge so I'd take as many pictures as I could and work in my studio. There is so much to paint now, I will be busy for quite some time. Tuckerman's ravine will be one of the first oil paintings. Capturing the light shining on the far end and the shapes of the clouds across the valleys will be the target, to say nothing of the sheer beauty of the place. Stay tuned!

Backwards and Forwards

Two steps forward and three steps back, well maybe. It seems the bad news has just kept coming ever since the ice storm, as though it were an omen of things to come. The effect weather, and mother nature in general has on us can be overwhelming or at least a continuing battle. That has been the case with this winter. Throw in a plummeting economy and we have a complete package. Begging for Spring seems the only certainty, outside of death and taxes and those have already hit.

With the economy taking this downward turn, buying paintings seems to be more of a reach than ever for a lot of people. So, taking a step backward I have returned to web and graphic design. The first step was getting my resume together. Having been away from design on a professional level it seems my software and even my hardware was lacking for current standards. With the updates in place I have done a complete re-design of my web site, adding a section on design. So even though I have gone back to design, I have also moved forward. I am confident I can produce the designs I imagine with the new tools.

Going backwards, what do you charge? Yes, it doesn't end with a switch from painting to freelance design. I still need to figure out what to charge people. It is a little more clear cut however, there is an agreement up front, the number of hours are important and the work begins after the need is presented.

Not to worry, I am anxious to paint as well. I have spent a great deal of time working on my design and technical skills, but time to paint is essential. In fact I even managed to get a few paintings completed before my turn to the technical. One of the paintings though, will not be for sale. The painting of Mike and Carl is mine. Yea, like that little kid "M I N E". It was from a photo I had taken of the two of them during one summer trip to their favorite swimming pond. It seems like it could be any two boys on a country summer day, but its Mike and Carl and its mine. So even though the painting is new, it's of a time and place gone by.

Along this little trip of back and forth, I signed up on Facebook as a marketing tool. There were some surprises when I started looking for "friends". I plugged in my high school and year of graduation and there they were, Sue and Debbie, Maura, Eileen and Judy. Touching base with each of them was a delightful step back. A bunch more folks were there too, some I hadn't spoken with since Freshman year of high school. A few steps back is sometimes a wonderful place. A firm footing that seems hard to get in such an icy winter.

Winter is almost gone, Spring is around the corner, the days are longer and maybe things are going to brighten all around.