Hill Country Paint

West of San Antonio, the Texas Hill Country skips and spreads. Over those mountains and hills, bluebonnets come in the spring.  Goats, sheep, deer, cows, and occasional buffalo dot the hills. More and more, exotic deer, lavender, and grapes join the customary peach and pecan orchards.

The Frio, Comal, and Guadalupe Rivers run through the hills. All these features beckon travelers. 

I get many requests for river paintings. 

I have an unusual request for a buffalo painting.  

I have a less-usual request for a painting of the traditional Gardner Park Dance. So, here's the beginnings!  

Some parts of the Hill Country are dusty and desert-like, scattered with prickly pear and scrubby vegetation.  It's all wildly beautiful.

Tea pots

Have you ever tried Bengal Spice tea with coconut cream? If not, why not? 

I recommend brewing it in a paisley teapot. Or pouring it into a paisley cup. I'll post pics of all my pots soon. 

This has been a long, crazy day at school. Teachers are frazzled getting in final grades. Case managers are urging students to get their assignments submitted. Painting, tonight, is out of the question. So I brew some tea, finish dishes, then begin taking pics of my collection. 

Then I naturally want to sketch or paint the pot. 

There is something domestic and comforting about antique teapots. 

I think about cast iron stoves and crocheted doilies, dainty teacups, and petite fours. 

My grandmother's best dishes and Mom's rose China. 

A student asked me today whether I paint daily. No, just on the calmest days of my life. A still life of nostalgic kitchenware might be very calming. 

Just add goats

I'm working on a painting designed to take me to the Hill Country of Texas.  Picture April, before it's so stinking hot that you want to sit in the AC and never venture out.  The bluebonnets are parading around like Southern bells aware of their charm.  Even goats look endearing in all that vivid blue! 

I've barely painted in their outlines, but I'll be adding horns, highlights, the whole works. 

And I have a request for buffalo. So behold the buffalo taking shape!  

Painting over the long haul

TI've gotten back into painting in the last 4-5 years.  It has been quite an episode, and I've gleaned wisdom from the process.

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Here are some of the lessons: 

*It's more important to paint frequently than to set aside days or weeks to paint. 

Who really has hours a day to paint?  Or do any beloved hobby? Most of us snatch moments in between work, fixing meals, cleaning house, and connecting with family.  Daily life is not an obstacle but a vehicle for art.  Our lives lend reality to painting. 

If I put my paint brush down for weeks on end, my skills will degrade.  

Keeping a small paint corner set up helps. Painting daily for 15-60 minutes keeps me sharp and focused. 

If I can't paint, I sketch in a notepad or color.  But as important as frequent painting is, knowing the motivation for putting color on canvas is crucial. 

(Notice the addition of rocks and shadows.)

*Find the Motivation

Painting is the best therapy for my busy, overwhelmed, creative mind. 
I have a challenging job and a busy life full of family and friends.  So many days, I don't even stop to breathe. 

When I paint, I can breathe.  The same is true of my other hobbies and loves--reading, cooking, travel.  When I pick up a paintbrush, I'm envisioning myself in that landscape--breathing the air, swimming in the water.  It makes a complete and total vacation for me--for the duration of the session!  

Then when I hang the work at school or in the house, I just have to look at the picture to recall that small holiday. Those who buy my paintings get that same vacation feeling!  

(partially done field of bluebonnets)

*When you paint, you must see. 

Painting is all about seeing, and seeing beyond the canvas and the photos.  Sight is different from vision. Just as reading is about imagining and inferring, painting infuses a scene with life. There's interpretation and emotion along with the images.  Otherwise, you could just take photos and print them on canvas--ta daaaa! A short cut. 

To really see, you need good light--literally!  Daylight is best, but in daylight, there is usually a lot of wind or heat.  I put a powerful lamp stand in my tiny studio so daylight is simulated when paint fever hits. 

To see, I need to cultivate vision.  I need to take some lessons from a master on this.  How to compose?  How to shade?  What is it that makes one photo or landscape breathtakingly balanced, while a similar piece is just a little off? 

I remember spotting a Van Gogh in a gallery full of exuberant expressionist art. It beckoned me.  The strokes were small and obsessive, colors were bold, and the composition compelling.  I knew what that small painting was from a great distance.  At the same time, I know his story, and that he was seldom satisfied and rarely marketable. That brings me to my final point: 

*Allow yourself to fail and to learn more every day. 

Have fun and enjoy the learning curve.