Red is quite a fiery, flashy color, isn't it? It likes to jump up and down and wave for attention. It monopolizes all eyes in the room. Too many flashy colors in your painting and it could escalate into a brawl. Although I adore them I rarely place such flaming colors so prominently in my paintings. Usually I save them for a few bright accents just to liven things up. That didn't happen this time.

It was full harvest mode at my local farmer's market. Amid all the produce was a dazzling assortment of peppers in yellows, oranges, reds and greens. All these gorgeous colors caught my eye, so I brought a box home to paint in a still life. I arranged some orange and green peppers in a bowl with a few red ones scattered about for a bright color pop. Frankly, my first attempt was not a success. (Hey, it happens. All the time, actually, and thereby lies a tale for another post.)

When I finally got around to the second try the peppers had ripened into a full blazing scarlet. Not my original intention, but what can you do. An artist has to adapt. Anyway, that red was such a rich, ravishing color that I went for it. I'm a sucker for a challenge. But how to make it work with all that heat? I thought that by surrounding the reds with some cool grays and blues it might calm the composition down a bit. And allow the reds to shine. And that it might be fun to contrast them with that one lone green pepper that refused to ripen. 

For the next painting I went back to my usual m.o. with a gentler color scheme. And some brilliant color pops. Back at the market I picked up another box of peppers. Orange ones.  This time the red accents were in the leaves of a croton plant sitting by the window. It was a dark, rainy day and I loved the way the soft, cool grays played against the vivid reds and oranges in my peppers and leaves, setting them off nicely. 

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In our last episode I featured a painting of flowers with not just one but several glass vases. Colored glass is one of my favorite subjects to paint. I love the beautiful tinted shadows that are produced when light passes through it. And the way that glass sparkles with little highlights of reflected light. Fun, right? 

In fact, the vases were so much fun to paint that I looked around for more shiny objects. On one of my forages through the kitchen I spotted some fine-looking peaches sitting on the counter in a stainless steel bowl. I thought maybe a bit of striped fabric would make for some interesting reflections. I wasn't keen on all those energetic stripes overwhelming the whole composition though. That's why the stripes nearest to the bowl were painted with more intense color and contrast, while the surrounding ones were left a bit hazy. The lemons were placed in a sort-of semicircle leading the viewer's eyes on a little walk around the bowl and stripes before heading back to the juicy peaches. 

You can click on the image to see it larger, to purchase, or to contact me about this painting. Thanks for visiting! 

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 Why do people love realistic looking paintings? The more a painting resembles a photograph, the more most people seem to admire it.  Maybe that's because it takes real virtuosity to pull off a photorealist painting. And, like watching Olympic athletes, we love to see people excel at things we have little chance of accomplishing ourselves. Sure, I get that. I even admire some photorealist watercolorists myself. But it's not a style I try to emulate. 

Why not, you ask? Well, perhaps it's just a matter of personal taste, who knows. But I'm attracted to a more spontaneous, understated and fresh approach. One that watercolor is particularly suited to with its playful, watery ways. It's one of the reasons I decided to study the medium in the first place. And, by the way, to do it well takes incredible virtuosity! That's why I keep on learning and practicing, just like an athlete does. 

Which brings us to the next question: When is a painting finished? And when is it overdone? As in cooking pasta, I believe it's best to take it off the fire before it gets mushy. While it's still al dente, if you will. Maintaining that delicate balance between describing too much and just enough. To create an illusion you can understand without being shown everything. To say it's not easy for the artist to stop before crossing that line is a complete understatement. A painter is always, always tempted to add just one more little thing. And then another. And so on. Oy!

Okay, so I was going for that magic balancing point when I painted these veggies from the farmer's market. Fortunately there was an automatic time limit because we were having corn for dinner. With no other choice, I had to finish it before dinner time. So I refrained from painting each and every leaf,  every single corn kernel, and every little silken hair. Instead my best effort went toward suggesting them, and leaving room in the viewer's imagination to fill in the blanks. Something that the human brain is designed to do.

You can click on the image to see it larger, to purchase, or to contact me about this painting. Thanks for visiting! ​

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Lately I've been taking my nonagenarian mother out for her morning walks whenever circumstances permit. Luckily she's an artist too. So it's not hard to persuade her to sketch outside with me for an hour or two. We can only walk a few blocks, and there aren't many parks close by. So we find little corners and courtyards and churchyards or really any old place with a few fresh blossoms that break up the gray. Sometimes it's a challenge to see beauty in an area that I'm so used to walking right past. But since we've started sketching together I've noticed more and more little spots that we can stop for a while and enjoy the view. Here are two brush pen and watercolor sketches from this week in my immediate neighborhood:

I'm so lucky to have found a wonderful sketching group, The New York City Urban Sketchers. It's the local branch of an ever-growing circle of sketchers from around the world. In normal times we meet weekly to sketch on location at various sites throughout the city. I love sketching with my buddies, and visiting places that I wouldn't necessarily think of going on my own. 

But what do we do during a pandemic, when it's impossible to meet in person? Well, we do what other groups do, we go virtual. With teleconferences. And we temporarily break the organization's rules about working onsite from direct observation. Okay, so it's not strictly "urban sketching". But it's our way of keeping our community together and staying sane during crazy times.

So, what can you sketch online? There's a great big world out there, and the possibilities are endless. We just pick a spot somewhere and find some street views and photos to sketch from. We've "met" in Florence, Amsterdam, Las Vegas and Newport, RI, among other places. We've traveled to zoos and museums. We've kept out of trouble and had some good times. Safely. And together! Well, sort of.

For these events I've been favoring a brush pen with watercolor on hot press, which is a smooth watercolor paper. It allows me to work quickly in our limited time. My absolute favorite pen is an inexpensive Pentel pocket brush pen. It's waterproof, has a brush tip that flows oh so smoothly, and I can easily draw a thick or thin line. Just ordered one in a sepia tone. Can't wait to try it.

One of the cool things about going out painting with friends is that they take you to places you wouldn't necessarily think of going on your own. My dear friend and fellow artist Shawne Cooper loves to paint  in the East Village, so several times last summer I met up with her there. I'm fascinated by any greenery that manages to hang tough in this concrete and asphalt city. So I gravitated to the trees and flowers while Shawne painted mom and pop storefronts nearby. 

The East Village is a colorful neighborhood with quite a few community gardens. These gardens are green oases built with sweat equity out of rubble-filled empty lots. They struggle with city bureaucracy and encroaching real estate developers to remain in existence. But exist they do. So far, anyway. And their existence contributes joy, creativity and beauty to the neighborhood, making it a much more livable place. I wish we had a few community gardens in my neighborhood!

El Sol Brillante Jr Garden (above) seems to be the little brother of a larger community garden, El Sol Brillante, both on East 12th Street. Would love to paint the bigger one next summer. 

On our walk through the neighborhood I was enchanted by a sunflower beautifying the block in its elegant reach for the sun. Naturally I had to paint it. While I was working a resident came out to say hello and see what I was up to. Turns out she's one of the gardeners at El Sol Brillante! She said she decided to grow this mini garden when the tree that had been there died at the end of its natural lifespan. I was told by another neighbor that this gardener makes everything she touches magical and green. Aren't we lucky to have such beneficent wizards in the world? 

Here are two more summertime watercolors that I painted on the streets of New York City.

The first was at lovely Gramercy Park, an exclusive green oasis that you're not allowed into unless you happen to be a posh neighbor with a pricey key. Since I'm not, I wandered around to the southern perimeter. There I saw the afternoon light cascading over a planter filled with red flowers. My camping stool sidewalk perch was in the cheap seats but the view was beautiful nonetheless. 

The second sketch was done on another landmark block. This time at Hunter's Point, a section of Long Island City in Queens. I was struck by the contrast between the old Victorian brownstones and the towering new construction going up all around them. Life is change. 

Summer is my favorite time of year. Of course I love the warm weather and the longer days. Another real bonus is that my day job schedule lightens up. So there's more time to paint outdoors, yay!

When I'm busy painting there's little room in my head for much else. Like housework, or chores, or writing posts on my blog. That means my to-do list can get really backed up. Which brings me to another catch-up post about watercolors I painted during the summer. 

So-o-o-o ... here are two watercolors I did within walking distance of my home in Manhattan. One is in Central Park, and the other in Carl Schurz Park. Both paintings have long shadows from the late afternoon sun. To avoid the heat and the sun's white glare on my paper I stood in the shade and wore a big floppy hat. Looking at these paintings brings me right back to those lovely, warm afternoons I spent painting them. Can't wait for next summer!

According to the Central Park website, there are four butterfly gardens at the north end of the park. They provide a welcome stop-over for Monarchs and other butterflies as they migrate through New York. Yes, we do have nature right here in the city, believe it or not.

The Peter Pan sculpture in Charles Schurz Park was created by Charles Andrew Hafner in 1928. In a former life it was in a fountain at the old Paramount Theater lobby in Times Square. Apparently the theater was modeled after the Paris Opera House, with painted murals, niche statues, marble columns, red velvet curtains, a Wurlitzer organ and a grand staircase. Wow, what a spectacular palace that must have been! 

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Most artists around the world make their living at a day job. I'm one of them. So when the work day is over I try my damnedest to get in a few hours of painting. In the warmer months I often stop at the nearest park on my way home to look for a bench with a paintable view. All I need is a 5x7 inch watercolor block, a folding travel brush, a small palette filled with paint, a couple of paper towels and a plastic water jar. And I'm in business. Here are three summer-time sketches I made before the evening commute:

What I got down on my paper doesn't completely match what I had in mind when I first spotted these two spectacular views on the piers. Don't get me wrong, I'm not unhappy with them! But the results are  an approximation and a surprise. I'm still pretty new to watercolor, and In these paintings I concentrated on experiments with washes and dry brush techniques. I didn't know how they would turn out. Of course, an artist who wants to grow never stops experimenting and learning. After all, we're always inventing ways to interpret a three dimensional world in a two dimensional medium. Not only that, but we've only got a finite number of pigments to describe all the infinite and dazzling colors of nature. So we're always reaching. And then reaching for more. And so it goes.