Welcome to high summer in New York City, when the steamy hot days come fast and furious. To beat the heat and maintain a disciplined work routine I get myself outside and painting first thing most mornings. And as early as possible, so I don't get too involved doing something else instead. (For instance those pesky chores and errands that seem to pop up like wack-a-moles.) It's true that I've never been much of a morning person but it's amazing what you can get used to if you haven't got a better choice.

One recent gray Saturday morning I met up with my pals, the New York City Urban Sketchers at the magnificent Central Park Conservancy Garden. It was our first real live outing since the pandemic, so it was an extra special treat to say hello to everyone and be in their company.

Because I was with my friends I only had a short time to complete my watercolor. So I kept it small and simple. Of course I love the lily pond and the Burnett Fountain, and all the colorful flowers in that exquisite formal garden. But on that day it was the elegant dancing trunk of the magnolia tree that called to my brush.

On another morning I chose a very different area of Central Park to work in. I'd like to tell you that I'd been planning on painting this beautiful London plane tree. And that I had passed by and admired it many times. But the bare naked truth is much more practical and banal. Because it was a wicked hot and humid day, and I knew I'd need plenty of drinking water to get through it. So I headed over to the North Meadow Recreation Center. It's an easy walk from my home and ...they have a restroom. And since Central Park has beautiful views in any direction you turn, I decided to find one right there. In the shade!

Find one I did. First I was attracted to all the interesting knobs and bumps and branches on the London plane tree. And then to the violet and mauve rock formation that's echoed by another outcropping in the background. And then I saw the fence that winds its way around the baseball field until it reaches the dusty diamond. I was hooked.

Okay, so I didn't plan to paint this view. But I'm so glad it was right there.

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Ah, tempus fugit, and that wonderful Central Park landscape class I've been taking is now officially over. Luckily I still have a season ticket to al fresco painting in New York City. And time to practice all the great new stuff I learned in the class. But summer marches on, so I hope the weather gremlins behave themselves. Gotta get out there and paint!

Hmmm, does the watercolor above look familiar? Well, if you read my last post you've already seen it. Only it looks slightly different now because during the class my teacher, Sam Adoquei suggested some modifications. Since our focus was on composition, he gave me tips on how to strengthen the design.

For example, I made the dark stately tree in the foreground even darker with a unifying wash. An adjustment that makes the tree less scattered-looking, and amplifies its grandness. But even more significantly, it intensifies the dominant dark value that I was originally going for. (Curious about what "value dominance" means? You can read about it here: All in the Balance.)

Okay, so first an artist grabs your attention with a striking design, and then tries to keep it there for as long as possible. To accomplish the latter Sam recommended that I jazz up the background for my viewers' entertainment as their eyes wander through the painting. A few spicy details were added in the sliver of lake, the row of trees, and that rosy Kenilworth building just beyond the park on Central Park West.

Central Park View (above) was my last painting in the landscape class. My dominant compositional value was in the middle (not too dark or too light). The row of trees behind the lake formed the dominant shape. It was a challenge to keep the varied greens and violets from straying out of the middle range, and to maintain that strip of lightness in the building tops and the sky.

Phew, that class kept me on my toes! But the effort, not to mention the mosquitos, heat and humidity-- yes, all of it was so worth it. Now I'm psyched to go out and play with the new concepts, so stay tuned for more landscape fun this summer. Thanks for visiting, see you in the next post!

If you read my last post you'll know that I'm taking a Central Park landscape class during the month of June. After a year of staying in place it's so liberating to be out and about with other people who love making art as much as I do. And in such a gorgeous setting! Not only that, our teacher, Sam Adoquei is a monumental source of knowledge, heart and skill. I'm thrilled that he's teaching the tools that will make my work stronger. And potentially more beautiful.

For an artist there are a million things to study. In this class my focus has been on the essential rules of composition. After all, no matter how well I paint, or how lovely my brushwork and colors are, if my design stinks then nobody will be interested in my work. A sobering thought. And high motivation to master this fundamental lesson.

Like Mr. McGuire's famous advice in "The Graduate", during the class Sam shined the spotlight on one single word. But in this case that word was BALANCE.

Yes, balance is the secret password to great design. Especially asymmetrical balance created by things that are dissimilar. Here are three simple examples of this principle: If you have a large object in your painting balance it with a few smaller ones. Or if you paint something round and smooth you might balance it with some short sharp lines. Or balance dull colors with a few bright ones. You get the idea. All the very best paintings, both modern and traditional, are based on this concept.

As the class began I spent quite a few days practicing balance with value. In art value is how light or dark things are. In the pencil studies below I used only three values: light, medium and dark. For each study my assignment was to choose one of the three values, using it as the dominant one in roughly 75 percent of the sketch. I placed the other two values in the remaining area, about twenty and five percent respectively. All this while making sure that there was at least one large, dominant shape.

For me this was an easy concept to understand. And like so many things in life it was a bit trickier to execute. I'm glad these sketches were fun to do, because I did a whole lot of them (smile). And I'll probably continue to make quick pencil studies before beginning a painting, even after the class is over. Turns out these little sketches are quite handy for solving big problems before committing to a larger work. 

If you take a look at the second sketch on the first page of pencil sketches above you'll see the study I used as the basis for my watercolor, Central Park Tree Looking West. Let's see if I managed to maintain a sense of balance in the design. Seventy-five percent dark in value? Check. One large dominant shape? Check. And there were several other things to balance too. For instance the tall, stately tree on the left with the smaller, delicate one on the right. And the trees representing the vastness of nature compared with the tiny man-made Central Park West building in the background.

What a great class, right? It's given me so much food for thought as I plan my paintings in the future. Hope you've enjoyed reading about my experience. Please let me know what you think in the comments!

Artists never stop learning. Never. Well, not if they're interested in the pursuit of excellence, anyway. It's a quest that takes a lifetime of dedication, hard work and contemplation. After all, an artist's calling is to produce magnificent paintings that people will want to look at. And keep looking at. That's the kind of work I want to do.

I've been desperately seeking a watercolor teacher for a while. But it's been tough finding one I can relate to. One who lives in my city. And yes, that's New York City, where you might think they'd be lurking around every corner. Oh well. Instead of taking classes I've watched online tutorials, read how-to books, and just generally taught myself. And for the most part my efforts have paid off.

Except ... sometimes I get a nagging feeling that something's missing. That my work needs just a little extra something to make it really sing. A wow factor, if you will. That's why I jumped at the chance to take a plein air workshop with Sam Adoquei, my teacher from my National Academy days. It was such a privilege to study with him back then, and I'm thoroughly stoked about doing it again. Not only are Sam's paintings exquisite, but he generously and expertly shares his vast knowledge with his students. He's a great teacher, and if anyone can give me a heads up, it's him.

The workshop started this week and help was immediate. First Sam explained the elements of a well-designed composition. During the workshop we'll  be breaking down and practicing those elements one by one. Sam also got me combing over my old work to see how my compositions could be improved. What a relief to get some answers!

Below is a watercolor that I painted last week, before the workshop began. There are things about it I'm pleased with, including the way that the top of the red maple tree is lit up by the sun as if in flame. It was thrilling to witness that miracle of nature on a busy Manhattan street, and my aim was to capture it on paper.

Still, I wasn't totally happy with the result. After Sam's lesson I can clearly see that the overall design of the painting could have been better. For example, the lit and shaded portions of the maple tree are nearly the same size and shape, and even the shaded green area beneath is quite similar. It would have been more interesting to vary these shapes and sizes for a more balanced composition.

That's just one thing I would have done differently. But there are so many things artists need to consider when they compose their paintings. I'll be learning about more of them this summer, and share them with you. I'm psyched!

I have no idea what year my grandma's old Singer sewing machine was manufactured. But I'm fairly certain it started out as a treadle and got electrified somewhere along the way. Even when I first encountered it as a child I thought it was pretty darn old. Back then it perched on a wooden sewing table, but later it was transferred to a prosaic plastic storage case. And then the poor old thing was unromantically stashed away in a dark closet. For years.

Until recently when I unearthed it and wondered what in the world to do with it. Sure, it had been my grandmother's, who was a seamstress when so many Eastern European Jewish immigrants earned their living that way. And I myself made skirts and dresses with it when I became a teenager and learned to sew. It's a beautifully designed and sturdy workhorse that still operates to this day. But there's precious little space for such objects in our small apartment, no matter how much history and meaning they're steeped in. Sadly I decided it had to go.

But I couldn't let it go without memorializing it in watercolor.

Then one of my sisters asked for the sewing machine. And my other sister asked for the painting.

I'll always have Paris.

Hi there friends! Here I am, back to blogging. So what happened, where have I been? Well, as far as I can tell, I was just plain tuckered out. And in need of a break from the perpetual cycle of painting and writing and posting and painting and writing and posting. Even though painting is what I most love to do.

Maybe you're not surprised. After all, it's been a long, hard winter, amiright? Clearly it's been an anxious time for the entire world. The mishigas and bewildering uncertainty of it all finally got to me. It was time to jump off the carousel and be still. At least for a while.

And then suddenly Spring sprung! Warblers warbled, cherry blossoms and daffodils bubbled up in jubilation and coaxed me to come out and play. All at once the days were warmer and longer, full of promise and hope. Time for renewal. Time to wake up and live.

And you know what? Soon it'll be time for painting outdoors in the parks and streets all over town. Woo hoo! I predict many new landscape paintings to show you over the next few months. Can't wait!

In the meantime I'm still busy in the studio. Here are a couple of recent paintings I thought you might like to see. I certainly enjoyed creating these setups and painting them. Actually, I could write an entire post about how I go about composing still life setups, and how I choose what to paint. But that's a story for another day. Stay tuned!

Sometimes words fail me. This is one of those times. Maybe because of all the street noise in the wee hours that kept waking me up last night. Not for the first time. Sure, it's exciting to live in New York, the city that never sleeps. But the brain could actually use a few zzz's once in a while. Just to keep it functioning in the word department. This goes even for New Yorkers.

Fortunately I managed to finish a new watercolor painting of a few Granny Smith apples sitting on a wooden cutting board with a paring knife. Next to a much needed cup of coffee. And which I whimsically titled "Pie Day". A name that occurred to me before my brain went dead. And since a picture is worth a thousand words perhaps you'll forgive me just this once if I let the painting speak for itself.

Of course if you have any questions about the painting I'd be happy to answer them. Tomorrow.

Today it reached a balmy high of 68°F. One more auspicious sign that spring is on its way in my corner of the world. Before you know it it'll be time to paint outdoors again, yay! It's what I dream about all during the nippy winter months.

But spring isn't quite here yet. So I'm still painting still lifes indoors with stuff I find around the house. And that's no hardship at all. Because it's actually fun to paint still lifes.

Especially because I'm still punching my way out of a habit in my painting practice.  When I'm in deep concentration I sometimes forget to use enough water in my paint mixtures. Enough water to let the paint flow easily over the paper. If I forget, the sizing of the paper gets ever so slightly beat up. And the work loses just a bit of it's clear brightness.

I think I'll put a sign over my easel that says: "It's WATER-color! Don't Forget the WATER!"

All in a day's work, as I teach myself to master the watercolor medium.

I'm happy to knock this lesson into my coconut while I'm still working indoors. In comfort. Without the distraction of the glaring sun, inquisitive onlookers, the occasional wild animal, and biting insects. And wondering where the nearest bathroom is.

Today I'm featuring three very domestic, indoor watercolors. The painting of two apples is a new one. You may have seen the other two before, because I pulled them up from the archives. Hope you enjoy them, and thanks for visiting!

I'm honored and thrilled that my watercolor was picked for an art exhibit at the Grand Central Terminal in New York City. Me and my buddies in the NYC Urban Sketchers were recently invited to submit our work for the show. Enlarged copies of the originals are up in the Great Hall and surrounding hallways until late spring of 2021. If you happen to be near there please take a look.

I painted my Grand Central watercolor from a photograph. Not my usual thing. For this sort of view I much prefer working on location. But during these strange and unusual times the NYC Urban Sketchers have been meeting on Zoom instead of in person. Lately if I'm not painting an interior or a still life, a photo reference is what there is to work from. But that's okay, it's good to shake things up occasionally. Exploring new possibilities keeps life fresh. And I'll appreciate painting outdoors so much more when it becomes possible again.

If you live in the New York metropolitan area you may have passed by this sculpture a gazillion times, most likely in a hurry on your way somewhere. And like me, you probably never knew much about it. Aptly called "Transportation", it was designed by French sculptor Jules Coutan. The whole statuary is ginormous and weighs 1500 tons. It was carved in pieces and assembled on top of the building in 1914. The Roman god Mercury is the star in the center, poised on a gorgeous Tiffany clock. Hercules and Minerva play supporting roles on either side. Grand indeed!

There are lots more fun facts about this sculpture and many other fascinating treasures at Grand Central. In normal times you can take a very entertaining audio tour of them, and perhaps it's possible even now. But it's always best to check ahead. And if you do decide to go don't forget to check out the art exhibit!

It was one of those weeks. The kind where life happens and not much art work gets done. Although I did find time to flip through some of my sketch books. And reminisce about the good old days when it was easy to take sketching trips for granted.

For me, sketching on location is just plain fun. And since it's fun, it's a painless way to practice and improve my design and drawing skills. It also happens to slow me down for a deeper look at my surroundings, which widens my appreciation of them. All wonderful reasons for regular sketching trips!

In the whole wide world, one of my favorite places to sketch is the Metropolitan Museum of Art. With so many galleries and amazing treasures, it would take a lifetime to draw them all. Of course, right now getting out and about is pretty much on hold. So my sketches have become precious keepsakes, bringing back memories of the days when indoor expeditions were a lot less complicated. I'm looking forward to their return! And I don't suppose I'll ever take them for granted again.

Here are a few of my Metropolitan Museum sketches. Click through the gallery below to see larger images.