My mother loves bright, beautiful multi-colored bouquets of flowers. And who doesn't? Lately I've been bringing flowers home to her quite frequently. Just that little drop of nature seems to lift our spirits while so many of our usual activities are on hold. Besides, she enjoys painting flowers. It runs in the family.

Recently I bought a gigantic bunch of blossoms that crowded even our biggest, baddest vase. I thinned it out by removing the tiny white baby's breath that florists use to pad out their arrangements. Maybe I'm alone in this, but I've never thought that baby's breath did much for bouquets anyway. So I put the little flowers into their own mini bud vase and casually set them in front of a blue screen. And there they magically transformed into a twinkly, star-like vision that became the inspiration for a painting.

Only thing is, how could I possibly paint a nice blue watercolor wash around all those teeny tiny little white flowers without going mad? Then I remembered that some watercolorists use liquid masking fluid (also called friskit) for just such a purpose. They brush the frisket onto paper, and wherever it lands it resists the watercolor paint. And abracadabra, it reserves the white of the paper. So cool.

However, I once used friskit with disastrous results, probably because it was way past it's sell-by date. Instead of rubbing off nicely when I was finished, it turned a nasty gray and stuck to the paper. Not only that, but it ruined the brush too. Ugh, I wasn't looking forward to a repeat performance. Nevertheless I persevered. This time with a brand new bottle of Schmincke liquid friskit that came highly recommended. And it worked like a charm. Thank goodness.

In the the language of flowers baby's breath is a symbol of everlasting love, pureness, and innocence. No wonder they're often found in wedding bouquets. Here's my homage to their celestial beauty. You can click on the image to see it larger, to purchase, or to contact me about the painting. Thanks for visiting!

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There was a tussle in the studio this week. Between me and my painting of a lovely red cyclamen plant. No matter what I did the painting just wouldn't come out right. Even after I made pencil studies of the tricky parts and then tried again. And again. It was a good fight but finally I'd had enough. Win some lose some. So why am I telling you this? Because if you're following my blog there's a good chance you're interested in the life of a painter. And let me tell you, there are humbling moments to spare. But they're nothing to get excited or discouraged about. No, I just do my best and move on to the next, and try to learn from the experience. Each and every painting is another step toward mastery. Even if it's a turkey.

But that left me without a new painting to post. Fortunately I found three sketches in my Pandemic Summer of 2020 Stash that had somehow never made it onto the blog. And why was that? Because I was trying to grow as an artist and had been exploring new techniques. And my experiments didn't turn out exactly as I had hoped for and imagined. But really, what does it matter? So what if they've got a few flaws, they're still mementos of an extraordinary summer of my life. My life that just whizzes by.

As you might expect during an epidemic, I didn't wander far from home for these sketches. The first two were within a few blocks of my NYC apartment. The third was on a hot, sunny afternoon in Central Park's Conservancy Garden. I didn't get to paint outdoors as much as I do most summers, but I didn't spend the entire season indoors either. Here's the proof.

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The bedroom. The place where people sleep. In western culture it's an intimate room often tucked away in a private area of the house. Artists have been painting them for ages. But in my search for images I found mostly erotic and religious works that happen to take place there. It was much harder to find paintings that were all about the bedrooms themselves. Until I got to the 19th century. So what changed?

Well, prior to the 19th century western painters made a living by making art for the one percent of their day. And what did the wealthy want? Mostly portraits of themselves, and art with religious, mythological and historical themes. Along with the occasional naughty picture commissioned for their own unofficial and secret enjoyment.

But then came the industrial age, and with it the growth of the middle class. Artists found new buyers who were interested in a whole 'nother type of art. Basically their new clients wanted nice paintings to hang on their walls, and were uninterested in large formal paintings with a religious or complicated  message.

Technology brought major changes for artists too. Photography, a new invention, became a  popular source for portraits. New tools, like collapsible paint tubes and portable easels catapulted painters out of the studio and into the great outdoors. Discoveries of bright new pigments opened their eyes to the brilliant world of light and color. Freed from former constraints, artists began experimenting with their shiny new toys. And looking to their own, personal experiences and immediate surroundings for inspiration.

Why was I interested in bedroom paintings in the first place? Well, as you know there's a pandemic on right now. I was looking for inspiration without leaving the house. This couldn't be the first time artists encountered rainy days or pandemics. I wanted to see how they made the best of being stuck inside. 

Do you paint interiors? Have you got a favorite artist who did? Or a favorite painting of one? Do tell us in the comment section below.

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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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Like many of you who live car-free in urban areas, I don't get out that much these days. Summer is my favorite season of the year, but this year I feel it passing me by. Well, not just me of course. There are so many suffering far worse. After all, there's a little thing called a pandemic that's pretty much changed the entire world as we know it.

Personally, I got smacked the hardest when the warm weather showed up. I wait all year long to pack up my easel and brushes and take them to wonderful parks and places all around my city. This year safety precautions and family responsibilities put a cramp in that. However, I'm supposed to be a grownup so I try not to sulk. Not 24/7, anyway. Besides, painting indoors is fun. Even in summer. There are luscious, dreamy fruits and vegetables at my local farmer's market just calling out to be painted. So I try my best to memorialize their deliciousness before feasting on them. 

You can click on an image to see it larger, to purchase, or to ask me additional questions. Thanks for visiting! ​

Gary Tucker is a very fine and experienced watercolor artist. A few years ago he gave a workshop in New York City that I was fortunate enough to attend. What a fun and wonderful learning experience that was! Ever since then I wished that I could take an ongoing class with him. But alas, he lives in far away Boston, while I live in New York City. Well, one silver lining in an otherwise horrific pandemic is that Gary now gives weekly online watercolor lessons. I've signed up for every single one of them, and I'm so glad I did. Recently my understanding of this beautiful but tricky medium has gone way up, and all because of this opportunity to study with him. 

Below are two still life paintings that I set up in front of my window. They were done as homework for a lesson about using transparent glazes over washes of warm color. The first composition is a variation on the one that Gary painted during his demo. The second painting is my own original composition and  shows a pot of azaleas in front of the New York City skyline. You can click on an image to see it larger, to purchase, or to ask me additional questions. Thanks for visiting! 

For more information about his online watercolor workshops please visit Gary Tucker's website. Highly recommended.

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.