Slowing Time

 

© Robin Edmundson, 'Backlit Barn, Early Fall', watercolor, 10 x 14 inches.  $375.

It's October already.  The leaves are turning and we've had our first frost. This year has kept on moving despite all the upheaval.  

I've been thinking a lot about time this year.   Sometimes it felt as if things were standing still and other times, I blink and it's 3 months later. 

I find myself a little anxious that things are moving too quickly for me and I feel like I'm always behind.  I want things to slow down.

Do you remember the Star Trek movie, Insurrection?   One of the themes is the ability to slow time.  There are a couple of lovely scenes where Picard is focused on something so intently that time slows right down.  

It's that intention, attention and focus that helps me 'slow time'.  

I was in the garden the other day, quickly picking beans, trying to finish and cross that thing off the list, when I looked up and saw a vulture gliding in slow curves on an updraft.  I heard myself breathe deep and as I focused on that beautiful arc of movement in the sky, I could feel time stop for moment.

And I watched.

We talk about time slowing down, but time is a constant.  Time marches on.  Time flies.  In Latin, 'tempus fugit' literally means time flees. It runs away.

It's we who have to slow down.  To stop. Time slows when we slow.  

That afternoon in the garden, it was not time that slowed and stopped. I was the one who slowed, who stopped for those moments with intention, to pay attention and to focus on that miracle of flight.  

That smooth glide through the sky.  

That silent, joyful, gentle spiral.  

Higher. On a breath of warm wind.  

Higher.  

Higher. 

Around in another slow arc. 

One more time.

Higher.

I stopped; time stopped.

The vulture floated higher and my heart rose with it.

I hope, my wonderful friends, that you take a moment to stop time for something lovely that crosses your path today. 

Tulip Poplars and Sumac

© Robin Edmundson, 'Tulip Poplars and Sumac', watercolor, 18 x 24 inches.
Framed to 24 x 32 inches.  $750.

Some pieces take longer than others.  I did the first draft of this one waaay back in the fall and loved some things about and really didn't love others.   Mostly I loved the way it *felt*.

I showed it to a few other painters and got some feedback, which I didn't agree with, so I set it aside to think about. Eventually, I came back to it and tried a couple of things which didn't really work, so I took the advice I was given and discovered why I didn't agree with it.   In doing that, I learned a few extra things, so the experimentation was well worth the risk and result of a dud painting.

I painted another draft, tried more things, learn more things and was still not happy with the result.  So I painted another one.  And another.   And another.  And another.  And then this one.

I don't love this one as much as I find it interesting every time I see it. The version before was a bigger hit with the family, but this is the one that best says what I want it to say. 

The two versions sat side by side for a few weeks while I decided which I wanted to frame for my upcoming show.  Do I choose the one that is more popular with the viewers [and thereby has a better chance to sell?]  Or do I choose the one that most delights the artist? 

I chose this one.   I am delighted.

Impression - Fall Day

©Robin Edmundson, 'Impression - Fall Day', watercolor, 12 x 16 inches. 
Unframed $300

In 1873, Claude Monet painted a sunrise scene that he titled, 'Impression-Sunrise'.  The critics hated it.  It was the painting that gave the Impressionist movement its name.

His painting has always been a favorite of mine.  I love its subtleties.  He didn't try to say it all.  He simplified.  He made mood more important than accuracy. 

I pull up photos of the painting every so often to study his choices.  What he left out.  What he put in.  The colors he didn't use.  The colors he did use.  Where his focal point is.  Where the lines are.  How he communicated space and atmosphere. 

And then I close my eyes and let my mind's eye take me to a scene I've observed recently around here.  I focus on the feeling, the space, the atmosphere.  I exaggerate the colors.  I play with texture. I use a brush in a new way.  I practice the all-powerful Value.

The piece above is the latest one I've been working on.   I painted the initial washes, then let it sit for a few days, then decided how to emphasize the focal points and how to bridge them.  I added texture, then more, then more. 

And I stopped before it was an overworked mess.   I'm still practicing that. 

I could crop it into a square - and it would be beautiful - but it hasn't decided if it wants to be cropped or not and I'm kind of loving the greens on the far right.

I love that I managed to communicate [and then preserve] the impression of the day.  The bright colors, the clear air, the leaves falling.  This is the kind of creative practice that I love.

October Oaks

© Robin Edmundson, 'October Oaks', watercolor.

October is my favorite month!   So much color, so many shapes, such fabulous light.

Our oak trees put on quite a show here and they use aaaallll the colors.   How can I not be inspired?

We're likely going to get our first frost tonight.  Today I'll bring the bay tree and rosemary pots inside. I took down the hummingbird feeders yesterday. It's time to stock up on birdseed and suet for the winter. It won't be long until we hear the sandhills flying south for the season. 

I have a goal this winter to get over to the Goose Pond observation building and do some painting of the birds.  Sounds like fun, right?

Early Fall Color from the Dye Shop

Things have been as busy as ever around here.   This week, I dyed a whole bunch of yarn in one of my favorite fall colorways - 'Old Brass'.

Here's Moonbeam - a very shiny rayon knitted tape ribbon. It almost glows!

Look for all of these yarns to go up in the Etsy shop in the next few days. As always, if you've got your eye on something specific, let me know and I'll set it aside for you.

Morning Promenade, Late November

© 2016 Robin Edmundson,
Morning Promenade, Late November [final version]
watercolor, 12 x 9 inches

A couple of weeks ago I was weaving early in the morning and as the sun came out from behind the trees, the chickens happened to walk across the yard outside the studio windows.   The light hit the grass in a golden wedge and the chickens walked across in single file like dancers on a stage under beautifully backlit leaves.

It was gorgeous.

I did a quick sketch and thought about it for a few days before I had a chance to paint and it took a few drafts to figure some things out.  

Drafts are good.  They let you try things out in different ways.   I don't worry about 'ruining' one of these drafts any more than I worry about 'ruining' my favorite song if I decide to sing it a bunch of different ways.    If I can sing that song 12 times, then I can paint this scene 12 times.   The more you practice, the easier it gets.

© 2016 Robin Edmundson, 
Morning Promenade, Late November [Study #1]
watercolor, 12 x 9 inches

This was the first draft.   I really liked how the branch reached across the paper - very Japanese.  But it wasn't right.   Too much paper on the right.  Too brown all over.   The tree needed to be more vertical.

© 2016 Robin Edmundson, 
Morning Promenade, Late November [Study #2]
watercolor, 12 x 9 inches

So I decided to try again with a vertical format and more green in the grass.

I liked this one a lot more, but the leaves weren't crisp or bright enough and the tree really should have gone all the way to the bottom of the composition.  Also, I didn't like the rooster.     I could have cropped it up, but the leaves still weren't right, so I gave it another go.

© 2016 Robin Edmundson, 
Morning Promenade, Late November [final version]
watercolor, 12 x 9 inches

Better tree.  Better leaves.   Better light on the chickens. Better tree bark.  Better grass.

I'm calling this set finished.  

Colors: cobalt blue, quinacridone burnt orange,  new gamboge, Mission burnt sienna, raw umber, a touch of viridian in the rooster's tail and a touch of permanent alizarin crimson for the combs.

I Hate to See October Go

© 2016 Robin Edmundson, I Hate to See October Go, watercolor, 9 x 12 inches

100 years ago, in 1984, Barry Manilow sang a song with that line as the chorus.  That line has been stuck in my head all these years.  Every fall I think of it as Warm Fall moves into Cold Fall.   I have been deep in that season as I painted this piece.  I tried to fill it full of that late fall glow, after the leaves are down but the grass is still green.  Before the snow flies here.

The painting is about 9x12.  140 lb cp paper - Arches.

This one is for sale SOLD.   $150. Signed front and back.   Framed with a white mat, conservation quality [That's the good kind]. Simple black frame, like the one I used for the painting in the museum.  Framed size: 16x20.   Email me if you're interested: robin at morenna dot com.

October Gates

© 2016 Robin Edmundson, October Gates, watercolor, 9 x 12 inches

It's fall and even though this year's color hasn't been much to write home about, the light and the seasonal transition are as beautiful as always.  

This is a view off Highway 43.   For years I passed it every single morning on the way to work and this time of year it sparkles - a blue and gold fairyland.



I hope your next few weeks are glorious.

September Cornfields

Every week I drive to Clay City, Indiana for work and one of the things I love about the drive is the range of rural landscapes that I see through the seasons.   I'm always inspired by something that I see.  Always.

The past couple of weeks, I've been watching the cornfields and so I painted this piece.   The cornfields out here are the first things to turn colors in the fall.   From early September until late October the colors are spectacular.   I'm hoping to be painting a lot of autumn inspired pieces over the next couple of months.   At the very least I'll be taking photos for reference later.  

I'm developing a painting 'process'.  I paint like I write.   In the first draft I get down the main idea and I play with a few options.  It's messy and ugly.  Then I start refining and adjusting and trying new things in the next drafts.   I've done as many as 15 drafts of the same landscape.   I stop when I've learned what I need to learn or when I get something I really like.

This is only the third draft of this particular piece and I'm really quite happy with it.  I learned what I needed to learn and I don't need to do another draft of it.   In this last edit I made the sky a much brighter blue to really emphasize that cloud and to balance all those bright golds.   I also added a dark shadow on the road from the corn so that the day would look really bright.    I strengthened the darks in the front at the base of the corn and at the back behind the cloud of dust on the road behind the bus. The roof on the house was originally dark green.   I asked Claire for feedback and she said I needed some red, so I changed the roof to red, which made the house a better focal point and an obvious destination for the bus and the eye.

Fall Fashion

What the fashionable woodland is wearing this October.

The 'jealous trees in autumn’s chilly nights '
do indeed 'transform their own limbs into fiery brights.'

Late Summer Sonnet

It's late summer, the time when a gardener's heart turns to sonnets.

Yes, this is a poetry blog, too, and as you know, I am freakishly fond of sonnets. See the others here.

I can't help it. I love them.

It's ok if you don't like them though - I am no rural Shakespeare. That's for sure.



Rural Sonnet #4

Late summer bursts with color near my gates,
On roadside, hill and woods. The yellow blaze
Of daisies short and tall illuminates
The quiet edges of the woods when days
Grow hotter still and August sears. The grass
Blooms by the ironweed’s bright fuchsia knots
And bluing pools of mistflower as they mass
In lower spots beside orange touch-me-nots.
The golden rods of goldenrods sway high
Above lobelia’s lovely violet spires –
And asters’ paling pinks intensify
the almost hidden arum’s burning fires
‘Til jealous trees in autumn’s chilly nights
transform their own limbs into fiery brights.

Another Fall Color Post

These small ponds are right outside Tulip in Greene County, Indiana.    During the summer, they are often covered with green algae, so it's really nice to see them after a few frosts kill back the algae.  

These tiny ponds sparkle next to the trees this time of year. 

Bridge

I love this bridge.   It crosses one of the ubiquitous ravines out here.   Though this one is more a gully than a ravine.   It gets more ravine-like off the left of the pic.  At any rate, I like this bridge because it's big enough to drive a mower over.    There are a couple of places on our property where such a bridge would be a very nice thing to have. 

Around the Bend

And now, for your intellectual and viewing pleasure, a Philosophical Moment. 
Brought to you by Rurification. [cue violins....]

There are a lot of bends and curves in the roads out here.  You can't see straight to where you're going, but you've got to trust that you're going in the right direction and that any detours will be lovely.   You never know what fabulous things lie just around the bend.   Enjoy the curves.

Color

Happy Wednesday!

The fall colors are really starting to show.  I hope you get outside to enjoy them.

Early Autumn Bees

The bees have been busy.   No looting this year [knock wood] but plenty of action.   Last year at this time they gave us a bit of honey and we're hoping for a bit more this year.  

We have a good fall nectar flow here.  Acres of wildflowers, mostly goldenrod and Queen Anne's lace, but a good bit of Joe Pye Weed, ironweed, thistle and asters.   Also, the smooth sumac bloomed very late this year.  





The bees were all over the asters and the garlic chives in the garden.  All. Over.  Them.   It's nice to go and stand quietly next to those areas in the garden and watch the movement and listen to the buzz of hundreds of happy bees.   

We'll start to button up the hives for winter in October.  That'll mean pulling off the extra honey, tucking the small new hive in with some extra insulation board inside and adding some candy to the tops of all of the hives for the winter.   The candy will help insulate the hives and keep the heat in.  

A Couple of Fall Color Shots

The leaves came down too quickly this year.   What leaves we had left were unceremoniously ripped off the trees by the spectacular winds feeding hurricane Sandy.   

No kidding.   Here in southern Indiana, we were part of that storm when it hit land.   Holy awesomeness of nature, Batman.  

At any rate, I was not ready for October to go, so I saved these for today.    

The lower red in the picture above is sumac - probably smooth, but could be staghorn sumac.   The bees love it and it's so gorgeous when it turns in the fall.  

Seriously, we live in a beautiful place. 

This is the road to our cemetery.   I love that little dip and jog.  Our old roads dance through the hills. 

Some of the Prettiest Color in the Woods

...comes from the wild vines.  

I think this is an air potato vine.  [If you can identify it more accurately, let me know in the comments]

Poison Ivy.    It's gorgeous in October.

More poison ivy.  Do not be tempted to pick this stuff.   It's nasty all year long. 

Virginia creeper.    It's glorious this time of year. 

Early Fall Color

The kids love this time of year.  [We all do.]  They grab the camera and take off to their hidden places outside and come back later with glorious pics like these.

K1 caught some great pics of early fall color [including the one above] on a beautiful foggy morning.

K2 likes the macro shots, like this one of Bushy Aster, a fall blooming plant with tiny pink and white flowers.

It looks like the autumn color is coming on fast this year.  The wet, cool weather has super charged the color in the landscape.    I reminded the girls yesterday that it wasn't so very long ago that they were wondering if it would ever rain again, or if the temps would ever dip below 90.    And now it has rained and it is cool.

And we smile and dream of warm kitchens and soup dinners and cups of hot chocolate around fires in the firepit.    Bring on the Fall. 

Another Ridiculous Number of Fall Photos

It is a truly ridiculous number of fall pics. 

As I said in the previous post, I got carried away.   

Too carried away for just a single post.   

Here are more, yes more!   

More color, more leaves. 

Just get a load of this awesome tree.   With those cool kinky branches in front of that great color.   ALL those great colors.  

Really.    How could I not post this pic?   It's gorgeous. 

If Tiffany had seen this tree, he'd have designed a window to immortalize it.     So you see, I had no choice.  I had to post it.








And I had to post these, too.  These are our woods.   This particular little glen catches the late afternoon light.   I love it. 

 And I took a bunch more pics of leaves.

Colors and leaves.   I didn't want to leave the leaves out.  So, here are more gratuitous pictures of pretty leaves.  

I'd tell you that these are the last of the fall pics, but it'd probably be a lie.     I'm a color junky and it's hard to resist taking more and more and more....