Ironweed

©Robin Edmundson, 'Ironweed', watercolor, 8 x 10 inches.  

Framed to 11 x 14 inches.  $280.

I love ironweed.   I could [and do] stand at the side of the road and just look at it swaying with all that pink gorgeousness in the breeze. 

Lucky for me, the cows hate it and will eat around it, and fertilize it, thus ensuring that it proliferates with abandon.   

Sunflower & Rose

Confession:  I'm not ready for winter.  So I was happy to find these small floral paintings that I had done over the summer and never posted here.   

I'm thinking you need a bit of cheer, too, right?   I hope these do it for you.

©Robin Edmundson, 'Sunflower', watercolor, 11 x 7 inches. 

Framed to 11 x 14 inches.  $280

©Robin Edmundson, 'Rose', watercolor, 7 x 5 inches. 

Framed to 8x10 inches.  $125

Five Haybales, Evening

© Robin Edmundson, 'Five Haybales, Evening', watercolor, 18 x 24 inches. 

$750. Framed to 26 x 32 inches.

A larger version of my favorite haybales this year.  Our late afternoon/evenings are hot and even the shadows glow just before the sun goes down.  

This was a delicious exercise in glazing and harmonies.   I started it a couple of weeks ago and it sat with just the sky and trees for a long time.   Then a bit here, a glaze there, a shadow here, another glaze there and it slowly came together.  

Five Bales: A series

© Robin Edmundson, 'Five Bales, Dawn', watercolor, 10 x 14 inches.  $375.

Once in a while, I explore the same composition a bunch of times with different colors, different lights.  Working in a series with a strong composition lets me focus on other things than the shapes and composition; it frees me up to explore a lot of other things.  

In this series, I painted these five haybales in different light/times of day.  It was a lot of fun.  Over the next few days, I'll show you my favorites.

This first one started out with a 'What if I started with a wash of neutral gray?'   It quickly developed into a sunrise/dawn scene and I just went with it.  I walk at sunrise a lot in the summer and the light is very familiar to me.  

Red Dress

©Robin Edmundson, 'Red Dress', watercolor, 10 x 13 inches.  
[Available framed, $375]

I've been thinking a lot about summer mornings.  The ones when you get up at sunrise [Do you do that?] and the air is still cool.  I go for a walk and listen to the birds and the trees and then come back and head over to the gardens.   The last of the peas are high on the plants, wet with dew and I get a shower as I pick them.  The tomatoes are thinking about turning.  The greens are crisp. The beans are getting taller.  The earliest sunflowers have big buds and the little ones will be blooming soon. 

I love those mornings. 

Bottoms

©Robin Edmundson, 'Where the Ironweed meets Helianthus and Goldenrod', watercolor, 18 x 24 inches. 
Framed to 24 x 30 inches.   $750

The bottomlands are where the muck is. They are the flood plains. Where the creeks overflow.  Where the flood debris collects.  Where the silt get dumped.  Where damp things molder and decay.

Many times during the year, the bottoms are impassable - soft, muddy, wet.

But when late summer comes and they are mostly dried out, they explode with color. It's easy to wax poetic this time of year - these areas are ridiculously gorgeous.  Fields full of purple ironweed and goldenrod.  Acres of helianthus and Queen Anne's lace.   The roadsides are blue with lobelia and blue mist flower.  Jewelweed sparkles orange and yellow in the shade.

And on cooler mornings, when the mist rises off the ponds, the colors sparkle with dew and we know how lucky we are to live here.

White Hot July Sky

©Robin Edmundson, 'July Sky', watercolor, 18 x 24 inches.  Framed to 24 x 30 inches.  $750.

It's July. 

It's hot.

Searingly hot. 

The hay is cut and the fields quickly dry out to a dusty gold.  The days are hazy and lazy.  It never really cools off at night and the mornings are heavy and damp.  It's like the air itself is sweating. 

In our humidity, the clouds are varied and interesting - mackerel scales and mare's tails are indicative of quickly changing weather.  As things heat up even further during the days, we often get pop-up thunderstorms, dumping even more humidity into the air. 

It's too hot for the birds to fly and they stay inside the cooler edges of the woods.   Dragonflies and darning needles large and small flit around the trees instead.  At twilight the fireflies start their light show. 

And over and under and around it all is the gentle accompanying swoozh swoozh swoozh of the cicadas.

Holding on to Summer

© Robin Edmundson, watercolor wildflower collection.

Each is 5 x 7 inches, framed to 8 x 10 inches.  $95 each.

I've been working on a few small pieces to bring the Unitarian Holiday Art Fair this weekend and found my mind back in late summer, walking the roadsides, appreciating the wildflowers around here.

I painted more chicory [L], echinacea [C] SOLD, and goldenrod [R].  I've got some daisies on the easel to finish later and can already feel the pull to do more of these.

Doing these small florals is teaching me to practice, to listen to the paint, to play, to try again, to work in short bursts where I can come and go without bullying the piece.   It feels nice.

If you're around the Unitarian Church [Fee Lane at the 46 Bypass] tomorrow or Saturday,  please stop in and say hello.

Plein Air at Duckworth Farm

© Robin Edmundson, 'Duckworth Barn', plein air, watercolor, 10 x 14 inches. 

I've been practicing more plein air painting this year.  Claire has been going with me.  We try to arrive as early as we can, then walk a bit, choose our view and get settled where we will have a few hours of shade.  We work side by side in silence.  It's lovely.  I get most of a piece done in just over 2 hours, then it's time to let it dry.   The next day I can look at it with fresh eyes and add the darkest darks.  I'm pleased at how satisfying the process is.

This piece is 10 x 14 inches.  Matted and framed to 18 x 22 inches.  $375.

Playing in the Paint

It's sunflower season in the midwest and I've been playing in the paint, trying to capture some of their sunny optimism. They are a giving flower.  Even after the petals fade and the flowerheads droop, the garden is full of birds harvesting the seed until the stalks fall in the snow.   I love that.

A couple of weeks ago I finally received my copy of Jean Haines' new book, Atmospheric Flowers in Watercolor.  It is lovely and inspiring and I've been playing with florals ever since. 

This one is 8 x 10 inches, matted and framed to 11 x 14 inches.  $225.


P.S. Jean Haines' books never disappoint.  I love all of them.   Check them out here.

Thompson Barn

© Robin Edmundson, 'Thompson's Barn', watercolor, 18 x 24 inches

This piece was a commission for a lovely family who lives out near us.   They raise guineas and it was super fun to go hang out and take pictures of the place.  I love the squeaky hinge sounds the birds make.   

The barn has all the character you'd expect from anything that has had a long life of service.  Multiple layers of color, 4 additions, an inspiring collection of materials.   I'm always happy to honor the life of one of these old beauties.  

Haybales

© Robin Edmundson, 'Haybales, blue trees', watercolor,  8 x 14 inches.  $375

Usually I try to paint the colors in season, and winter here is all about the umbers, cobalt and indigo.  This winter, though, I haven't been able to set the golds, greens and brighter colors aside yet.   I'm still loving those brights. 

I have a feeling that I'll be keeping with the brighter colors for a while. 

Summer

Summer mornings dawn misty around here.   The air is a little bit blue.    The dew is abundant.  

The cow vetch has been abundant, too this year, like the daisies.  Our roads are lined with it.   The stems are wiry, but it has lacy looking tendrils, too.    It looks all dainty and ladylike, but in reality it's very tough.   

This is a field in Newark, Indiana.    It takes my breath away.