Another Landmark

First of all, happy New Year. There's no particularly good explanation for my protracted absence from blogging, and I'm not feeling quite clever enough to invent one. I also took a short hiatus from weekly plein air painting and from work, and the fragile structure that defines my life crumbled. Not in a bad way. I slept in and ate sweets and the time got away from me.

I painted at St. Luke's hospital. I could have been born there. Most of my elementary school classmates were. Instead I was born at Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital because my parents lived in the Hollywood Hills until I was three. My children weren't born there either, and now St. Luke's is shuttered and nobody is being born there. I'm not sure what the present plans are for this wonderful property. There was a bit of landscape maintenance going on in the parking lot, and the City was storing some Rose Parade litter.



This morning was extremely foggy when I started painting and less so when I finished. As a result the painting is somewhat schizophrenic - hazy and muted in some parts and bright and contrasty in others. You may not have noticed that. You may have only realized that there was something wrong with the painting. Well, no matter. I spent a nice morning outdoors and I'm back at it.

Sky About To Rain

Even if you've just driven through Pasadena, you've probably seen this - St. Andrew Church. St. Andrew's is celebrating its 125th anniversary this year, although the current beautiful building with the tower wasn't built until 1927. The interior of St. Andrew's is wonderful. You should visit, maybe take a tour, or at very least visit their website and look at the pictures.

I was painting from a vantage point at Memorial Park. Memorial Park suffered devastating losses of trees in the recent winds. It's possible that a couple of weeks ago I could have stood in the same spot and giant oaks and camphor trees would have been in my sights. The sky was pretty today, but kind of emo. Then it started to rain and I hightailed it to my car, not because I mind the rain, but it plays hell with watercolors. I painted for another ten minutes at home.

Persimmons

Here's a recent indoor painting. Generous friends shared their haul of delicious fuyu persimmons. I think because I'd painted persimmons in class last year, they called to me, not only to eat them, but to paint them too. I got the color much more saturated than my typical slightly faded looking watercolors. I recalled other lessons of oil painting as well: attention to values, contrasts, sparing but bold brushstrokes. They look a little like they're teetering on an abyss. I think the eating was a greater success than the painting. I ate at least one persimmon almost daily for more than a month I think. I shared a few. But the truth is few people like persimmons as much as I. I'm glad I didn't waste any, but I'm sad that they're all gone. I considered purchasing some at the market, but they're priced at bit beyond my fruit budget. Please think of me if you ever have more persimmons than you can use.

Can This Be Winter?

When I said it was a beautiful day at Arlington Garden, this is what I'm talking about. It's nowhere near spring, and yet a hundred different things are blooming. Fruit of the prickly pear cactus.


These seed pods are on one of Yoko Ono's wishing trees. I don't have any idea what became of the wishes, but the trees live on at Arlington Garden. I remember a time when I thought Yoko Ono was not a real artist, but was an opportunistic selfish woman who broke up the Beatles and took John for herself. With more mature eyes, I can see how perfect Yoko was for John; how they exemplified the very best of love, nurturing what was truest and most beautiful in one another. That's a good wish.

Arlington Garden

Beautiful day today. I'm glad I was out painting rather than shopping. At Arlington Garden, the citrus trees were heavy, and any windstorm damage had been lovingly cleared away. Exotic flowers were blooming and lizards were basking. Dogs and people were getting some exercise.

Once there was a enormous house here at Arlington and Orange Grove. The mansion wasn't torn down until 1961, by which time I was four and living in the area. How on earth did I miss it?

I also meant to note that instead of photographing my paintings laying flat in bright shade as I usually do, this was photographed upright in sunlight. The color washed out a bit, but is much more true, and you see the texture of the paper as well.

After Wind

Possibly you heard that California experienced some unusually strong winds which took down thousands of trees and knocked power out in many locations. The trees at my home all survived, with just minor injuries. Power was only out for about seven hours when I was most interested in sleeping anyway. But my old computer? Fried when the power went out. Surge protector notwithstanding. That is why there have been no blog updates. My advice to you? Replace your surge protector every so often.

I went out last Saturday to paint, but it was still pretty windy, and I became convinced that a tree would fall on me. Or at minimum, that my easel and paper would blow away. This painting is one I had been wanting to paint for a while. One morning I found a dead moth floating in the dog's water. It was really very beautiful. But when I took a photograph, it looked awful. Sort of like a dead moth in the dog's water. It needed artistic interpretation. Which I have attempted.

Thank you for being here.

After Rain

Nothing sparkles quite like a freshly washed garden.

Looking Back

I didn't schedule a painting outing today, and I apologize to anybody who was disappointed. It is a very long weekend to go without painting, I know. Yesterday, I eschewed Black Friday in favor of Sleep In Friday, and then I just got swept up in the inertia. Mid-way through Saturday morning, I was itching to paint. I headed out to my front yard, thinking I would make a quick painting there. I live on a pretty nice-looking street with overhanging trees, some fall foliage and a mountain view. It was a beautiful morning. But I simply could not abide the music being played by the guys working on the sewer line at my neighbor's house. I thought about requesting that they shut their music off, but I'm not quite ready to embrace my inner curmudgeon. So I went back inside and waited about four hours. By the time the music was gone, the light in front was also. So I turned to the back. This is the view from the right of my back stoop, with several liberties taken.

I am especially pleased to discover that I am a compulsive painter. I am also pleased not to have a picture of a cold plucked bird at the top of the blog any longer.

Grateful Fed

24 pound turkey. 28 pound pumpkin. 15 beloved people. Riches and blessings beyond measure. 3 glasses of wine. Many dishes - full, empty, washed and dried. Memories and leftovers.

Ahh Thanksgiving -- Festival of butter.

Life Continues

Seen on a leaf of the pumpkin vine: a pair of gulf fritillaries, ensuring another generation.