In Season

I'm pretty pleased with myself that I managed to get a photo in here with the new species of computer.  It only took an hour or so, and I may or may not be able to do it again.  I mean eventually I'm sure I'll be able to do it again.  

By most accounts, the Christmas season has passed.  The are still some lights up and some very dry trees at the curb.  Maybe you haven't started your diet yet - there are still those Super Bowl parties and heart-shaped boxes of chocolates to consume before you worry about how you look in your swim suit.  I painted this just after New Years.  Lots of painters came out to paint.  

It was cold and overcast when I started painting.  This is the Sierra Madre Congretational Church, or part of it.  They also have the white be-steepled church across the street that I've painted before.  I've always liked this building, but since we paint in the morning, it's always backlit and dark.  It wasn't so backlit on that gloomy January morning, and lack of light and shadows made the colors brighter.  And then I guess the sun crept overhead while I still had time to light up the stairs.  

With the fall foliage and the after Christmas wreaths, there's some blending of seasons.  When I'm outdoors, I notice a lot of that.  Leaves fall off and expose the buds of spring blossoms.  And each new spring blossom contains its fruit, its seeds and its inevitable end.  And its beginning.   Those dry fir trees at the curb, they've seen some things too.  Been witness to quiet cold starlit nights, birds and rain, decorations, gifts and holiday celebrations.  The trees aren't going to come back to life, but they will get to be mulch, and in the meantime the dogs like to sniff them.    

Where did November go?

I've been losing the strangest things lately - like the Christmas lights and the little travel journal sketchbook thingy I brought to Italy.  The latter I was going to use as the basis of this post.  As I sought to explain "lonely and awkward" to the uninitiated, my very raw and unedited scribbles of my awkward and lonely thoughts illustrated with some crappy little pen drawings would help.  But it isn't to be.  I replaced the Christmas lights tonight.  Buying new ones may just bring the old ones out of hiding.

The painting here is my last Saturday painting before I left the country.  It may be the pinnacle of my former quirky style of painting.  I can't quite shake the stuff I learned in the workshop.  I wouldn't want to unlearn it, but it would be nice to use it at will, or at will paint something more like this instead.  I kind of trust it will sort itself out as long as I keep on painting some way or other.    

This is in Sierra Madre Canyon.  It turned out not to be my best day, but it could have been much worse.  I'll say no more about it.  

In a Canyon

In early November, I painted at Mary's Market in Sierra Madre Canyon.  This a view looking over the bridge and up the road.  It's a really lovely area.  Sort of a little local Topanga Canyon, or maybe more like Brigadoon.  I've known and know a few people who live up there, and several more over the years who wanted to.

I like the painting, even though it's kind of cluttered and confused.  And there's plants in a planter box that look sort of like a giant red-eyed lizard.

Knowing R. J.

This is less postcardish than the last few paintings. This is a view from Bailey Canyon Park in Sierra Madre, looking across Carter and south to the lowlands. I kind of expected to paint trees when I headed up to Bailey Canyon Park, but the ravages of November's winds are still very apparent there. I saw plenty of downed trees and plenty of stumps. There was a lot less shade to be had as well. Challenging painting conditions because of the speed at which the paint dried. I liked the image of the morning sun bathing a roof top with the blue expanse of distance beyond. Since I believe painting is an intimate act, I think I should know something about what I paint. I was able to learn that Bailey Canyon was named for R.J. Bailey, a homesteader who didn't stick around long. Nothing more than that. I don't know who the roof belongs to either.

Here's a treat, and I only wish I could have gotten closer and focused better. This is an acorn woodpecker. There are several that I think live in palm trees to the south of me. They come and get peanuts that I put out in the morning. They've gotten used to me over the past few years and don't seem so shy any more. I think they might be an extended family group; they work cooperatively to chase jays and crows away from the nuts. Hang in there, woodpecker.

Sierra Madre

I hope this is just a stage that my painting is going through, and I'm on the brink of a breakthrough. For now, just another failed painting. I painted this at Bailey Canyon Park. I was pretty enthusiastic about my subject. I'm been wanting to paint our mountains - that particular regional variety of rugged mountains with scrubby growth and the most beautiful contours and colors and textures. I also liked the flowering and almost flowering foreground. I may have lacked commitment to the middle ground.

What do we do with our failed paintings? Do we try to save the paper by soaking it or painting on the back. Do we burn them so they'll never show up to embarrass us? Do we cut them into small pieces to use as bookmarks and gift cards? Do we give them away to people kind enough to tell us they aren't all that bad? Do we save them to measure our progress?

Mary's Market

Mary's Market sits somewhere between the heart and the foot of the eclectic enclave that is Sierra Madre Canyon. The setting is idyllic. There was a babbling brook (or the equivalent) right behind me as I painted, and two robins were foraging there. The people of Mary's and their customers were very nice and friendly. A couple of especially wonderful locals loaned me a place to park and hosted me for lunch at Mary's. Mary's is even cooler inside than out, I think, except it doesn't have the trees and babbling brook. It does have very good coffee and food.

I struggled quite a bit with this painting, but in the end I'm kind of happy with it. I especially like the background - the house and the trees. My oil paint trees improve a little each week I think. I think I did well to generalize the cars and the patio. The front of the market got a little too precious, but then the sun came out and made some interesting shadows. The photograph has some sunlight and shadows too.