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.

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.

Midwinter Sky & Birds

© Robin Edmundson, 'Midwinter Sky & Birds', watercolor, 18x24 inches. 
Framed to 26x32 inches.  $750.

I've been working with this scene for a while and I realized that what it really wanted was more space, so I worked it up in a larger format. I love it.

Our winter palette is mostly umbers and ochres - until it snows, and for a few days it's hard to tell where the sky stops and the trees and fields begin. Then the trees shake off the snow and clouds and re-establish the boundaries.

There is a stark beauty in a winter day like that, with scraps of earth showing through the snow. On a day like this, there is quiet in the clutter of our woods and farms, with nothing to distract from the ebb and flow of winter birds moving from one field to the next.

I love this about Indiana.

Painting for the Trash Can

I read a great piece by Jean Haines recently about painting for the bin.   At the beginning and end of every studio day, she pulls out a scrap piece of paper and just plays.   She knows it's going in the trash anyway, so she feels free to risk it all and just put the paint and water on the paper.   No pressure.

I feel a lot of pressure.   Pressure not to waste time.  Not to waste supplies.  Not to suck.  Pressure to make Great Art.   To make Frame-able Art.  To make Sell-able Art.  Blah, blah, blah. So I was really glad to read that article on painting for the trash can.

And I went out to the studio and pulled out a good piece of paper and just played. I started in one corner and I tried some  new things.   The first one was Awful. [Owl]  The next one not so bad.  [Rose a la Jean Haines].  The next one really cool [Abstract in wild and crazy colors].  The last one was a quasi landscape - my first love is landscapes - with a lot of wet on wet practice.  

I looked at the last one and pulled out a new piece of paper and a big brush that I almost never use - 1" flat.  It's like painting with a wrench.  I had been thinking about the color around here this time of year.  Lots of black eyed susans, iron weed, blue mist flower, and grass, grass, grass.  Lots of clouds in our skies.  Lots of trees because hello this is Indiana.

I started with foreground and painted a field, wet in wet with all the colors I see.  I didn't worry about it being good, I just played with the color and the water.

Then I did the sky.  I love painting clouds.  We've been really looking at clouds this year, noticing how most of the time they look pretty fake.  If I painted clouds that looked like that, people would tell me I need to practice a lot more.  Often lately, someone in the family will message me a pic - Look at these fake clouds!  It's fun.  And it reminds me just to Go For It.    Keep it WET.  Leave some WHITE.  Define later with 2 or 3 more colors.

And then I realized that the sky did not touch the field.   It needed trees.   My heart knew it so it told my brain and my hand to leave some space for it.

My one goal was to make a really interesting tree line, because I've gotten so good at simplifying the shapes that my tree lines are boooring.    And I wanted to keep using that 1" flat because I knew it would be hard to make 'good' trees, which meant I'd have to be creative.

I mixed up a bunch of greens and took a deep breath and dove on in.   And what came out was a really interesting tree line.

In the end this was a very satisfying session because my brain was engaged, but not constrained.  There was low risk and high creativity.   I have enough stuff in my bag of technique tricks that I didn't get really frustrated or stalled.   It was loose without being too abstract.  I looks like a field and trees and sky.  It was fun.   It feels like my voice, finally.   I don't know that I've 'found my style', but I did sing my own song with this one.  It'll be interesting to see if I can catch that flow again soon.

Fields of Yellow Flowers

On the way out of Worthington, Indiana on Hwy 157,  just at a turn in the road, there is a huge field of yellow flowers. 

They look like yellow coneflowers to me, with some aster and purple coneflower in the mix.    I don't know if they've sown it for pleasure or to harvest seed.

In any case, it's beautiful.   From both the front and the back.  Here's the back

Sky and Tree

K2 took this pic while she was standing underneath the redbud tree in Lily's garden.    You can see the buds starting to form on the tree.  

Notice that gorgeous evening sky.    In clear weather our skies are spectacularly blue.   Very different from the buttermilk sky that this part of Indiana is known for.