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!

Mallomars! The chocolate cookie that's so much fun to paint. And since it's cold outside they're in season. And available right now at my local grocery store.

Though what I really wanted was another shot at that pink floral napkin. Yes, I love all the softness of the pinks against the crispy, dark cookies. But I have to confess, it's mainly because I love a good challenge. And for me, painting fabric in watercolor isn't easy. Especially patterned fabric. How come? Let me explain.

Well, one big challenge is in making the folds in the cloth look soft and rounded. Often there's a soft, subtle edge where a fold turns to the light, and a sharper, darker edge on its opposite side. A clean, moist brush will soften an edge, but just how moist is that? And since adding more water to the paint makes it lighter, I need to carefully gauge the ratio of paint to water for controlling lights and darks. All while choosing the right colors. And, as I make all these decisions, it's important to keep the paint moist and fresh, and not let it dry out. So the paint doesn't look blotchy. And the paper surface doesn't get wrecked. And the colors don't get muddy.

But wait, there's more! I also need to suggest the floral pattern, painting gingerly around the white flowers so they stay white. Why suggest? So each flower and leaf is just a little bit soft and hazy, without too much oomph. Otherwise the flowers will take over the whole painting and compete with the cookies for attention. After all, this painting is called "Mallomars, No. 3", and not "Floral Napkin with Mallomars"!

And, with all these different colors in the pattern and the folds and the lights and shadows, and keeping the white flowers white, pant, pant ... the napkin still has to read as a pretty, delicate pink.

Yes, it's a lot for a novice watercolorist! It's one thing to understand all this in theory, and quite another to actually do it. There's only one way to learn how to paint with beautiful, confident brushstrokes: Practice, practice, practice. I'm workin' on it.

Like rabbits, skilled watercolorists are proliferating all over the world. Instagram is absolutely teeming with them! It's nothing short of a miracle that we can follow artists from such far flung places as China, India, Japan and Russia, as well as from every corner of my own country, the United States. We're so lucky to live in a time when it's possible to be awed and inspired by these wonderful artists every single day. And without even leaving home.

As you may know, I've only been working in watercolor for a few years now. I'm way more confident than when I first started, but I'm still sifting through the medium's technical demands and unique pictorial possibilities. I'm so humbled by the expertise and brilliance of many contemporary watercolorists. When I see their work I toss my pesky ego aside in order to appreciate and learn. Just like way back in art school, when I planted my easel near the more advanced students so I could watch them paint. I miss those easy days of camaraderie, when we all studied together and encouraged each other. Back when we had the advantage of congregating in the same studio. But one thing we didn't have was the internet. And we never even imagined connecting to a worldwide community of artists online.

So, who are these wonderful watercolorists on Instagram? Well, to get you started here are four that I like to follow: Osamu Shibata, Nina Orlova, Yong Hong Zhong, and Mayumi Taguchi. These are just a few of my favorites, and they're all different from each other. And there are so many more! Who are your favorite watercolor artists? Please tell us in the comments.

While you're checking all the other artists out, please don't forget to visit and follow julie_time. That's me, of course!

I'd love to hear from you!
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If you've been following my ramblings for a while you may recall that I belong to a club called the NYC Urban Sketchers. It's the local branch of an international group of artists of all levels, from professionals to total beginners. We get together to sketch at various locations around town, making beautiful friendships and inspiring each other along the way.

In the "before" times (gee, seems so long ago!) the NYC Urban Sketchers gathered in person once or twice a week. Now we continue to meet regularly, except virtually, at a socially safe distance. There's a sketching prompt at each meeting, and by necessity most of us work from photos. However, my own personal preference is to work from observation. So I usually paint an interior scene, or set up a still life. And try to follow the prompt as best I can.

Recently, at our online holiday party, the prompt was to sketch a festive holiday cocktail. Hmmm. That was a tall order, since I seldom have anything resembling an alcoholic drink, let alone such a fancy one. But as it happens I had just unearthed a box from deep within the forgotten recesses of my closet, filled with six adorable shot glasses from the '50s. Each glass featured a pair of flamenco dancers, each in slightly different costumes and poses. And, as my friend with a poetic flair pointed out, they are all dancing together — yet separately. Each pair in their own little glass bubble. A metaphor for our times.

I tried doing something a little different in this painting. I used hot press paper instead of my usual cold press. Hot press paper is a little less forgiving, and it's harder to go back and correct anything I may have messed up. This approach forces me to make bold, executive decisions with each brushstroke, and then just leave it alone. For better or worse. It may result in a few nicks and bruises, but overall the quality of the paint stays fresh and lively. Such a hard lesson for me to learn! My perfectionist nature shrinks back in horror at the very thought of letting something go if it's not quite right. But in watercolor, as in so many things, the perfect is the enemy of the good. Just gotta be brave, that's all.

I'd love to hear from you!
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Sometimes paintings are so easy that they practically paint themselves. It's as if I were merely a conduit for some mysterious entity in the universe that knows exactly what to do and how to do it. For me those paintings are the most satisfying. They're the ones where suddenly I'm able to surrender my deepest longing for an ideal perfection. A perfection that exists only in my illusions.

For me, letting go of this fantasy is a rare occurrence. Usually my watercolor practice is more of a mundane affair. I find myself struggling with the complications of technique in a medium that I still find  baffling. But as I practice and experiment there are moments without as much sweating and swearing. When I'm brave enough to accept the little imperfections gracefully and allow myself to just go with the flow. Watercolor is a medium where the most beautiful effects happen when you place your brushstrokes down confidently and then just leave well enough alone. I'll get there. Eventually. It's my New Year's goal.

I'd love to hear from you!
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Have you been enjoying this holiday season? Indulged in any celebratory treats and libations, even if you've been partying at home alone? I certainly hope so!

During the holidays I've continued doing what I love: painting! Watching online tutorials and trying to improve my watercolor skills. Just like musicians, dancers, and other artists, painters get better with good old-fashioned study and practice. In future posts I'll show you what I've been working on. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, I wish we could share some holiday cheer together, right here and now in my studio. But instead I'll share my latest teacup painting, complete with coffee, cookies and cream. A little treat for my friends. With many thanks for all your encouragement and support during the past year. ❤

Good bye, 2020! May 2021 will be a kinder, sweeter and healthier year for us all.

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My sister asked me two excellent questions today that made me stop and think. The first one was: How do you get the water in your paintings to look like water?

Hmmm. I've never given this question a whole lot of thought. At least in any specific, scientifically-minded way. After all, I'm an artist, not a scientist. Truth is, I really just paint water like I paint anything else. That is, I merely observe whatever shapes and colors are right there in front of me. And I try to render them as faithfully as my pigments and skill level allow.

For example, as I painted Mums in a Bud Vase (below) I could see that the flowers had lots of crispy edges and the colors were clear and intense. The stems beneath them had softer edges and the colors were muted in comparison. This was because the glass vase formed a translucent layer in front of the stems and enveloped them in haze. An additional soupy layer was created when the stems dipped down into the water. So the stems appeared even softer and fainter there.

But wait, why do the stems seem to bend as they enter the water? Well, if I remember my physics correctly, light is a wave of energy that travels through many materials, including air and space. It can also pass through glass and water. But glass and water are denser than air, so the waves slow down as they pass through them. Slowing down makes the light waves change direction. Straight objects look as if they bend as they hit the water. Or they can seem to break and move over slightly. Or something like that. As I said, I'm not a scientist.

Okay, so I carefully painted the flowers and stems according to what I actually observed. I also included the line where the water starts in the vase. In the context of flowers and vases I think the viewer can easily tell that there's water involved!

I'd love to hear from you!
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