Saturday, July 31, 2021

Beech Trunks

©Robin Edmundson, 'Beech trunks', watercolor, 16 x 12 inches.  Framed $395.  
 

The trees never fail to bring me in.   My daily walk takes me through some heavily forested areas, some pastureland, some open fields, some small wetland - all within just a couple of miles of here.   

The flora and fauna vary according to the habitat, which makes me very happy.  I love the variety and endless flow of new things to get to know. 

The trees along the road are targets for the county bush hog so most of them have multiple trunks.   The bush hog got them one year, but during hard times, the county didn't mow them the following year.  If the weather is right, that's enough time for a strong root system to put up multiple trunks.   

They're beautiful and interesting and full of surprises. 

[This is another version of 'Place to Rest', which I posted in May]

Saturday, July 24, 2021

Peach Sunrise

 

© Robin Edmundson, 'Peach Sunrise', watercolor, 9 x 12 inches.


I'm still working on this series of sunrises.   Early mornings.  Clear cold light or soft misty light.  

Pieces like these force me to learn about the pigment, edges, the power of suggestion.   The small lines that tell big stories.  

This one is a favorite for me because I painted it at the end of last semester and left it in the studio.  Claire came out that night and spent several miserable hours fighting with university software to submit a project and at midnight, frustrated and trying to keep it together until the thing finally submitted, she looked over and saw the painting.  She said it helped her get through.

In the morning I came out and found a pink post-it above the painting that said: ' I like this.  Claire' with an arrow pointing down to the painting.   

In the middle of a miserable night, this little study managed to make someone feel better about what they were doing.  Better enough to actually write a note about it.   

Claire's seal of approval is the best compliment I've ever gotten, especially knowing what she was going through that night.

If there's any reason for me to continue painting and posting, it's that one.   To provide a quite space to feel one's feelings, to pause and breathe, and continue on.

[p.s. She got an A in the class.]

Saturday, July 17, 2021

Barn on a Hill, Spring


 © Robin Edmundson, 'Barn, Hill, Spring', watercolor, 8 x 6 inches.  Framed $125.



Sometimes I have a vision in my head of what I want to paint, so I paint it and it turns out that I only need one part of if after all.   This is a small crop of a much larger experiment.   Love this. 

Saturday, July 10, 2021

Moonrise, Marsh

 

© Robin Edmundson, 'Moonrise, Marsh', watercolor, 9 x 12 inches.   Framed, $300.



I've been studying a lot of  minimalist landscape artists.  I find myself asking just how much can you edit down a landscape to get your point across?  

It's a good question.  An interesting question.  The kind that you can explore for a long time and come up with several different answers. 

I like the idea of editing way down because I need to learn how to not fuss and overwork things.  There's a place for fussing, and most of the time I live there.  It's time to learn how to do things a different way.   

Watch for more pieces like this one to come. 

Saturday, July 3, 2021

Bean Fields, Tulip


 ©Robin Edmundson, 'Bean Fields. Tulip Indiana, Fall', watercolor, 8 x 11 inches.  Framed $300


I've got my eye on this scene for a larger version.  I love the light here.   It's a beautiful piece of property that shines in every season.  

Saturday, June 26, 2021

Grey Sky, Grey Barn

 

© Robin Edmundson, 'Grey Barn, Grey Sky', watercolor, 16 x 20 inches.  Framed $575.


The open prairie landscape seems like it goes on forever under a sky that goes on forever.   I had a friend from Nebraska in grad school who said he loved going home.  He'd get out of the car, take that first big deep breath and feel himself expand to fill the landscape.   

What a beautiful feeling.

Saturday, June 19, 2021

Summer

 

© Robin Edmundson, 'Morning Wildflowers', watercolor, 9 x 12 inches. Framed, $300.  

It’s summer. It’s hot. It’s noisy. I love it.

I’m not going lie, all these cicadas have been enormously entertaining, but I won’t be sorry to see them go. Every 17 years is plenty often enough. [This is my 4th time experiencing Brood X. It’s never dull.]

To beat the heat and the noise, I’ve been walking early in the morning, when things are cooler, a bit quieter and the morning mist is blue in the shade and orange in the rising sun. Even the neighbor’s cows are orange on those mornings.

So many wonderful things to see on my walks this time of year. The abundance of food has made the turkeys brave and I’ve actually met one on the road a couple of times. There are a few rabbits that venture out onto the road in the mornings and I’ve figured out how to behave so that they’ll let me walk right by them. I’ve chatted with turtles and salamanders and a few snakes.

I also happened to be standing in the right place one morning to see where a pileated woodpecker’s nest was and it’s been exciting waiting for the chicks to be big enough to venture out. There is a squirrel that lives in the next tree over and I was surprised and delighted to find out that grumpy neighbors are not just a human experience. I’m glad I don’t live next to that squirrel.

The gardens are looking lovely. My asparagus is almost finished, my peas are producing like crazy, I have baby tomatoes on some of my plants and my beans are getting taller by the minute. I love this time of year.

Wishing you lovely neighbors and an abundance of magical moments.

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