Beech Leaves

Beech Leaves 8 x 10 acrylic (fluid acrylic markers ) on a toned panel

Every once in a while I feel like a kid with my first set of crayons. It usually happens when I discover a new art medium or a new way of expression. Recently, I noticed a friend posting lovely paintings done in acrylic markers. I immediately sensed that this could be a great tool for sketching, doodling, accenting and illustration. This week I picked up a small set and played around with them. Play is a word that gets knocked around. It suggests being childish and perhaps immature. Instead of celebrating the beginner and the child within us there is a pressure to look a certain established way. It sometimes seems that a one way only sign is posted for mid career artists and other professionals who want to explore different pathways.
I think that’s a shame. Exploration is a hallmark of creativity. It’s an intimidating  one too. When I share a work that I feel is experimental, and outside of my wheel house, I feel vulnerable.
Risk taking is a part of creating and so is failure. We tend to embrace the success of others and in this age of selfies and photoshopped lives the difficulties and discoveries that lead to success are stripped away.
Some of my best work has come from opening myself to something new. Introspection, intuition, and a new way of seeing can come from taking risks.
This little painting was fun, challenging and helped me rethink my relationship to line. It felt like writing a poem with paint. The idea for this piece came from  observing the new greens of early summer. I know that this common color hides a riot beneath, waiting for fall.

Harmony in Silver and gold

Harmony in Silver and Gold 16 x 20 acrylic on canvas

Landscape, impressionist, waterfall

Last summer we took a trip to Marquette, Michigan and on our way we took a few side trips to explore the many waterfalls that create exciting views along the Wisconsin and Michigan border. Like many of my studio paintings this one began with loose washes of color and value to suggest the movement of the falling water. It is essentially a painting of the atmosphere of a gray day. My goal was to present the feeling of being surrounded by the mist of the falls. The sound of the falling water made such a strong impression on me that I used the memory of those sounds to develop this painting to the accompaniment of bold classical music.
I often turn to poetry, to inspiring writing, to music, to artwork I admire  and to being in nature to work through my own creative efforts. Sometimes I will create a picture of a word, such as waterfall, by seeking memories of  the smell, sight and sounds of a moment that has captured my attention.
A painting process is filled with many, many decisions.  Most of these are facilitated by striving to present an edited point of view. Our art tools are color, value, composition, edges, dominance, rhythm...something, one of these elements often has to rise to the forefront to create a picture of a word.
Painting courtesy of FineLine Designs Gallery oF Ephraim, Wisconsin.

Chicken Feed

Chicken Feed, 11x14 oil on an archival panel

Landscape, figurative, barn, chickens, rural

For many years I had the great pleasure of teaching week-long art retreats at the Clearing Folk School  in northern Door County. There, the cedar scented bluff and the quaint log cabins held a promise for each and every student and instructor. One day I began a plein air painting demonstration of one of the small cabins. It turned out to be more of a talk than a painting session as I was peppered with question after question. I never finished the painting. It lingered in my studio for a long time and occasionally I’d make an attempt to finish it without much success. So, it and I sat and waited. Other paintings came and went. One day the overwhelming desire to paint the structure as I remembered it disappeared and I could paint the scene as I wanted it to be.
The little cabin became a pioneer homestead. The story-teller in me was finally at play with a sense of rural life and of course chicken’s. I’ve often heard and felt that painting “what you know” is a powerful creative tool. Imagining and embellishing “what you know” is also a means to share a feeling or emotion with a viewer. We had the great experience of living in the country for a time. There, we learned to garden, to raise chickens and sheep and to be a part of a rural community. Bits and pieces of all of that are a part of this painting.

Remember the Rain

Remember the Rain  20 x 24 oil on canvas framed

Impressionist, cityscape, larger paintings

I’m often asked “Where  is this place?”. It happens when studio or gallery visitors view a landscape or cityscape. I can see the question in a wrinkled brow and in an inquisitive eye. To my discredit, I am sometimes loathed to tell them.
More often than not my paintings are intended to convey a sense of place or an atmosphere that is quite personal. For me, the initial spark that inspires a painting creates an evolution that I am not fully in control of. A certain white hot painting zen can take over and suddenly the street, the lakefront, the land begins to reflect other times and other places that belong to a lifetime of experiences.
If I tell a collector that, it’s New York, Chicago or Ephraim, what does it matter other than to cloud the image in their minds eye?
Remember The Rain is about just that. The place is of no consequence. The details can get in the way of  things in a painted idea. Do you remember a rainy day?
Courtesy of FineLine Designs Gallery , Ephraim.

Kewaunee Welcome 2

Kewaunee Welcome  20 x 24 oil on canvas

Landscape, architecture, impressionist, larger paintings

For many, many years I made the trek between a home near Sister Bay and West Bend, Wisconsin. The weekly visits were a part of my life because my mom was in a nursing home and I both missed her and worried about her. Some of those rides were very difficult. My chosen route was to avoid the heavy traffic on the interstate highway as much as possible. I took the scenic, slower journey home. I found that the small lakeshore communities gave me a respite from stress and refreshed my spirits.
On my way north , Two Rivers, Kewaunee and Algoma welcomed me home well before I hit Sturgeon Bay. The laundry hanging in front of this old brick home in Kewaunee seemed to wave at me each time I passed by. It never failed to bring me a smile.
 Yesterday, a collector visited my studio in De Pere and immediately recognized the location and character of this subject. Everyone who has made the lakeshore shortcut has a quirky attachment to “the house with the laundry”.  One might even worry a bit if it wasn’t hanging  there.
I hope I’ve conveyed the sense of place that I feel when I drive past this home. It always makes me wonder. It seems,  that is what we all need, a little mystery, a little humor, a little acceptance and yes, wonder.

Springtime in the Green-house

Springtime  in the Green-house 8 x  8 acrylic on a cradled panel

Figurative, flowers, floral, impressionist

This is my first painting back at the easel after my recent hand surgery. It was a bit of a bumpy start, my husband had to twist open my paint tubes, but pure pleasure to begin again.
This time of year I get incredibly impatient to get out in the garden and to plant. I know, I know it’s too early here in northeast Wisconsin. So instead, we head to garden centers to get a quick floral and veggie “fix” and to plot and weave together the plans for our still imaginary beds.
Seed catalogues, bare rooted selections, the newest, brightest and best new hybrids, native plants ...the selections dance through my head.
This little painting is the result of a trip to a new (to me ) garden center “up North” in Lakewood. Marilyn of Marylin’s was a delightful guide through her many green houses where people were busy transplanting the little sprouts to larger pots while a riot of annuals called out their colors. The tones of this piece suggest the cool greens of the interior green houses, letting the complementary pinks and reds shout out. Color dominance does play a role in designing a subject. To keep the figures from dominating the composition , the vibrant reds were needed to be the fist stop in a visual walk about the painting.

Fractured Forms

Fractured  Forms  24  x 20 acrylic on canvas Framed

Abstract, Abstracted Realism, Larger Paintings

Abstract forms have always been the foundation or even the underpainting for my work. This painting began with a process of introspection. I spent some quiet time reflecting on the landscape around me. The soft Curves of a shore, hints of structures against a blue sky and calligraphic personal marks came to be in a dance between the canvas and me.
Many, many times a painting session begins with fully conscious decisions and then a mysterious thing happens. The painting begins to take on a life of it’s own. My approach to an abstract painting relies heavily on many years of landscape painting. I can’t seem to escape my roots as I expand my branches of expression. Abstracted realism is a description I use to identify this genre of my work.
The feeling I have about experimenting with painting techniques is the same as my feeling about travel , you never know what is around the bend, but you keep driving.

Heading Upstream

Heading Upstream mixed media on 140 lb cold pressed paper 8 x 8

Water-media, mixed media abstracted realism, doodle

Sometimes I feel like a wild river salmon, heading upstream. Sometimes I feel like a small goldfish navigating a current in a small pond. Sometimes, the currents seem to push me forward and sometimes back. My goal is to keep swimming.
 The stuff of life happens, both good and bad and the effects of dealing with constant change can create opportunities or roadblocks on our journey.
Occasionally I like to set aside any extraneous goal or expectation and just play with my art supplies. If I can get myself to float a bit, to be still, to stop swimming so vigorously, I am often surprised to find that something is revealed to me. The power of doing nothing is that it can unlock creativity. Boredom can be profoundly rewarded.
When I was a kid I never missed a program called “The Romper Room”. A message I still recall from that program  is the admonition to be a “do-be” be not a “don’t-be”. I think a lot of my generation took that to heart. The trouble with that message is that it suggested success was only possible if we pleased others, said yes, and perhaps put aside a quieter nature.
Heading Upstream was created in moments of not doing. The imagery that happened surprised me and in a small way inspired me to swim in a different direction.

The Sunspire

The Sun Spire  20 x 20 acrylic on canvas

The Sun Spire  landscape, waterfront, impressionism

The inspiration for this painting was a brief glimpse of the brilliant orange spire of reflected light created by the sun setting over the Fox River.
For years the Fox river has been abused by human activity. In the 1990's the river was declared a super fund site, so heavily polluted that it has been undergoing  dredging treatment for the past 16 years. Slowly, slowly the river is recovering. Yet, at the same time that the water quality is improving, every walk down the river walk pathway reveals another condominium development, another cleared shoreline and more human intrusion. I find myself grieving for what once was.
Historically ,this was a fertile and vibrant natural waterway. The Voyageurs found fish, wild rice in the bay of Green Bay, thousands of migratory birds and countless fur bearing animals. Now, as in many urban areas, the river is also home to coal piles, cement plants and industrial and agricultural runoff.
 We struggle to keep  our wild spaces.  We try to "fix" our  grave mistakes. What we need to do is  to stop and consider that undeveloped natural spaces are of more importance than another cluster of densely populated homes along the river's banks.
When we walk along the fox river we may startle red-wings and a family of mallards out of the brush. We may see eagles fishing the warm and turbulent waters below the De Pere dam. We often see  families catching and keeping large numbers of catfish. During the walleye run in spring, the river is packed with fisherman who catch and release the spawning fish. Our river a tremendous resource. One that needs a fresh eye to find it's beauty and a fresh approach to save her.

After the Night always comes the Dawn

After the Night Always comes the Dawn acrylic on canvas 30x40

Morning Comes as Sure as the Night   Cityscape, abstracted realism, abstraction,

This large acrylic painting is one of the first large paintings I did last year following major surgery to replace both of my knees. I was getting used to many life changes. We had moved to a small condominium in downtown Green Bay and the new “me” was taking some effort to recover.
I turned to acrylic paints and began to experiment. I let the painting process and my own inner vision direct me. Much of the artwork I produced in those months was abstract in nature. Looking back, I see how this painting in particular was about moving on. I  created  a work that was subconsciously about now and then. The theme of the bridges just happened. Unplanned strokes led me to memories of past achievements and to new goals.
It is truly remarkable how these moments at my easel gave me both motivation and perhaps more clarity in viewing my life. I’ve always hoped that my work would appear open to the viewer, with that openness allowing a personal interpretation or story to emerge.
I hope that still happens with this one.

Where the Red Tree Grows

Where the Red Tree Grows  water-media, on 140 pound cold pressed paper

Where The Red Tree Grows  water-media on cold pressed 140 lb paper

I began my art career as a watercolorist. As my work developed I changed course and spent most of my art time working in oil and pastel. However, whenever I need a little freshness “fix” I return to sketching and experimenting in water-media. This small painting is such an experiment. The natural flow of water based paints can produce subtle washes and surprising edges and tones as the paint moves on it’s own and in guided pathways.
“Where the Red Tree Grows” is a place that exists only in my imagination and on this paper. Much like the ephemerals of the forest in springtime, it is a captured moment that would be difficult for me  to repeat.
I think water-media if applied wet -in -wet is a tight rope act. The artist and the medium working together and against each other to fulfill a tenuous idea.
With a bit of hand surgery scheduled for tomorrow I anticipate that my creative efforts may return to watercolors for a while. The ease of application and clean up and the feeling of childlike pleasure it gives me will help me recover.  Life happens. Despite the artificial depictions of life as we see it shared on social media, we all become a bit more vulnerable as we age. Dealing with change (which is constant for everyone)  can be mitigated by pursuing those parts of life that give us joy. Carpe Diem.

Autumn Reflected

Autumn Reflected   8 x 8 acrylic on an archival Raymar panel

Landscape, water, lakeshore, abstract realism, abstract, impressionist

When I was a child I spent countless hours exploring the small pond near my house and the shoreline of Big Sand Lake in northern Wisconsin. A favorite pastime was to lie on pier or shoreline embankment and peer into the still and clear water. It seemed that I could see everything in those moments. The sky, the trees, and even myself were reflected back to me. The water seemed magical because with one swift push of my hand I could break the mirror like surface to find the crayfish and beautiful stones that lay just beyond my reach.
That little girl found a tremendous sense of peace and freedom in those moments. Perhaps the broken colors and brief impressions are still with me, deep inside.

Kinnickinnic Boat Yard

Kinnickinnic Boat Yard. Acrylic on a cradled panel

Seascape, boats, waterfront,

I love to paint scenes that lie behind the hustle and bustle of most city life. The Kinnickinnic River flows through the south side of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It has a history of being a nitty gritty area, full of heavy industry, small homes and the commerce provided by the River itself.
 We used to shop for art supplies at a funky shop called Trade Winds very close to this spot. In general, the buildings there showed their years and gentrification hadn’t touched this part of the city.
Years ago I snapped a photo and yesterday I found it in my box of inspiration and I  decided to paint a memory. In reality the old buildings pictured in my photograph were beige, white, grey and were remarkably dull.  The photo greatly diminished what I had experienced and felt watching the activity of that riverfront.
I believe the job of the artist is to define the story they tell on their own terms. These simple shapes and colors are of my choice to celebrate a day near the river.