Road to Autumn

"Autumn Road," 10 x 10 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas

 Back porch thoughts as autumn nears next week--shorter days, cooler temperatures...leaves will soon be changing. The texture of the season looms in color, eagerly awaited after this summer of heat.

Dreams of a favorite season, and today's painting on back porch , in plein air, "Autumn Road," playing with a palette knife to grab the textures, and a few brush strokes. Soon available at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

Season of changes

"A walk in the park," 8 x 10 acrylic on canvas panel, palette knife

"Make the world go away

and get it off my shoulders."

       --Eddy Arnold

In a  world  and our lives buffeted by constant changes and uncertainties, there's no more obvious  and encouraging symbol to me than autumn leaves and light.

I need this season as reassurance that despite troubles and tragedies, from personal to global. I've often said that painting is my therapy, because the rest of the world goes away when I'm work on art. 

Brooding and stuck, I found that therapy today from autumn's lessons on change and the inspiration to use change itself. 

"Get outside and paint," I told myself on this beautiful autumn afternoon. Most of the colors are fading or gone from the trees, but I had to try something different. I packed up my painting gear, got my tripod and pochad box (a portable palette that fits on top of the tripod) I'd never used before, and went to Hafter Park to paint en plein air--something I've avoided.

Finding a favorite section of the winding trail through trees, I set up on the side of the trail, trying to figure out what to do with the earthy, largely brown view in front of me. That added to the challenge for a too-detailed former journalist like me.

But there was still the inspiration of fall. Out came largely earth colors, mostly warm, and my palette knife.  Friendly walkers stopped to chat every once in a while.  I don't know what happened, but the results were change indeed--abstract, outdoors, palette knife.The world went away. Autumn's lessons are therapy indeed.

I should have taken a photo of my set up to go with this, but will go back tomorrow to add that. At any rate,  here's today's therapy.

Autumn colors

"Autumn winds," 11 x 14 acrylic on canvas board

The favorite season is here, even with mixed up weather in Oklahoma and elsewhere Depending on where you live, the colors of Nature in change add texture and memories as every day grows shorter.

Today's painting captures that season, I hope. The largest I've attempted in acrylics, taking chances, learning, having fun painting on the back porch. Study in complementary colors, and a barn, again. Brushes and palette knives. A little tinkering left tomorrow (that road is just too straight).

Soon to be framed, and available at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

Season of colors

"Sunflower Season," 5 x 5 acrylic on canvas

Autumn...season of colors, nature's paintbrush, the most beautiful time of year.

We think of our lives differently, of aging, of approaching death, and rarely of the color of our lives. Perhaps we instead should draw inspiration from nature, that these times should also be our most vivid, most full of the beauty of life.

I especially love the colors of Aspen and Cottonwoods in New Mexico, in the strata of the Southwest, and of the brilliant hardwoods changing in the upper Midwest and New England.

Yet I only have to glimpse the roadsides of Oklahoma for more of the colors. 

Thus today's acrylic painting, sunflowers. My lesson to my autumn self. Available soon at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

 

A chill in the air

 

"Chill in the air," 5 x 7 watercolor holiday greeting cardAdd caption

Snow in the high country of New Mexico. A chill in the air. November days shorten, nights grow longer. Watching the fog of your breath. Bringing in firewood. Time for a fire in the fireplace. Stew. Chili. Blankets. Autumn.

Colorful medicine for a gloomy pandemic

"October medicine," 5 x 7 watercolor card

It's a a gloomy day, in a gloomy year. Today's cold seems to seep in, mirroring a year and a season  of disease, violent racism and the politics of intolerance.

My mood, our mood, our spirits, our mental health, need more than a medical vaccine. So while this late October day is gloomy, I'm so thankful for what October does best. 

Brilliant foliage brings  color and brightness into the world, at least in the upper northern latitudes. It's no wonder the month is a favorite, of scenery, of memories, of fun.

So today's watercolor greeting card is just that, a vaccine for my moping mood. 

October Country Journeys

 

"October Journey," 8 x 10 watercolor, 140 lb d'Arches rough press paper

When October gets here, I think of Ray Bradbury's The October Country, a collection of Halloweenish  mood short stories.

But there's also a different mood. I  think of changing and brilliant foliage, of gates opening to a new year, of rural landscapes, of back road journey, of footsteps shuffling through fallen leaves, of crisp air and light.

Thus today's watercolor. Let's go into October Country.

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Wow! This merited a poem from my friend and poet Kay Lawson Gilbert of Pennysylvania.

"Soft fall colors and shadows/respiration of memory/the passing of air through my lungs/the perfume of dry grasses and leaves/always the procreant push of the earth." 🍂

Cottonwood glory

 

"Cottonwood Glory," 5 x 8, 140 lb d'Arches cold press paper

Aspen claim the high country glory in autumn in New Mexico and the West.

But if there is a tree of the West, it is the low country cottonwood, a landmark of rugged bark, twisted branches and in many cases, giants centuries old, found anywhere there is water in the arid land.

And in fall, their golden color fills the valleys, contrasted brilliantly with the deep blue skies and distant purple mountains and mesas.

 Thus today's second watercolor. 

In the Autumns of our Days

"In the Autumn of Our Days," 8 x 10 140 lb d'Arches cold press paper 

Favorite season? 

For me autumn, and as get older, there are more intense reasons than before.

In earlier years, the cooler temperatures, the changing light, the colorful foliage, the end of summer, and more. 

These days, I identify, and notice,  more with the brilliant colors, the crisp air, the shorter days, the inherent necessity and promise of change, the coming of death. Metaphors and more.

Thus today's watercolor.

September birthdays

 

"September Arrivals," 8 x 10 140 lb Fabriano Artstico cold press paper

The leaves rattle. The light  crisps. The skies change.

Geese, all wildlife and nature know it. We do, deep down, especially in a walk in the park, on a drive on the backroads.

September. Birthdays of new seasons.

Autumn nears. Birthdays pass. Memories fade.

Thus today's watercolor

Autumn journey

"Autumn Journey," 8 x 10 watercolor, 140 lb Fabriano Artistico extra white cold press paper 

Every painting is a journey...of challenges, of learning, of imagination, of planning, of problem solving, of technique, of frustrations, and of failures.
This one, a version of today's earlier greeting card, came from today's earlier failures. So I had to try again, on a larger format than the greeting card. Learned more. Another journey.
Cabins? Yes. Autumn? Yes. Aging? Yes. Journeys? Too many to count.

The colors of a season

"Western Candles," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb Fabriano Artistico extra white cp

"Fall" was today's #WorldWatercolorMonth daily prompt, and the word immediately brings color to me.
To an Easterner and Midwesterner, it probably brings vision of the riot of multi-colored leaves of hardwoods changing as the days get shorter and cooler.
I love those, but as most Westerners, I'll bet the images that comes to mind are  either the lower elevation Cottonwoods, or the quaking high altitude Aspen, every shade of yellow and gold.
Both will "knock your eyes out" with gorgeous, luminous golds, especially against the contrasting, complementary intense blue Western skies.
So here's two paintings today.

Terrence Miller Clark, in the Aspens

Almost every Western artist has attempted painting the Aspen, including me--never to my satisfaction, and a photo of my Dad painting them in oils in Northern New Mexico long ago, hangs in front of me as I type this.
I wondered why we call it "fall," as a synonym for the more elegant word "autumn." Turns out that "autumn" was first used in English in the 1300s, but eventually "fall" came into use 300 years later as poets  used the phrase "the fall of the leaves."
It certainly applies. 
But today, on a whim, I tried again, using just sponges, with a minimum of brushwork. I think it's impossible to capture their real glory on paper, but this was something different, and I undoubtedly will try again.
And for the heck of it...a similar technique for those Eastern hardwoods.

"Hardwood Explosion," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb Fabriano Artistico extra white cp

New Mexico dreams

"New Mexico Dreams," 11 x 14 300 lb. d'Arches cold press paper

It's time to get away from it all, as the pandemic worsens, and the stupidity of unbelievers increases. 
I understand though the frustration of being cooped up in a pandemic prison, which increases the yearning to travel.
Fortunately we have access to "social" media and photos from favorite places to remind us of the world as it once was, but it also  increases the frustration.
More fortunately, we have our memories and dreams, and at this time of year I always think of New Mexico in the autumn, when the cottonwoods glow, the adobe reflects the sun, the skies reach forever, and the odor of pinon wood fires fill the crisp air.
Thus today's watercolor, out of my memories and dreams, hoping for the future. This is larger than I've painted in a while, and a version of the previous smaller painting.

Autumn on the horizon

"Autumn of our years," 8 x 10 watercolor, 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press

Autumn...so close, so welcome.
Yet the heat and humidity of Oklahoma continues to baste us every day.
Still, autumn will be welcome, even though it makes no sense to want days and seasons to speed up.
"Autumn of your years" sounds so trite, until you think about missing the moments of now for fewer moments ahead.
Are we not like an aging barn, weathering away, as the seasons change, as leaves change from green to colors and then die on the next wind?
Under pressure to paint, as time creeps by--Today's watercolor, another experiment, a lesson in do-it-yourself art, with thoughts of autumns.

Paint what you feel, not see

"Autumn," 6 1/2 by 8, #watercolor, 140 lb. d'Arches cold press paper

Maple trees in the autumn. What a sight, but don't try to paint them. You can only approach the colors, and details, and can quickly fail at what you "see."
What do I feel when I view them? What "art word" should I be painting?
"Autumn." That's how I feel when I see them. Yes, autumn is a feeling, an emotion, memories, sensations, more than just a drab noun.
So, today's watercolor.

Watercolor journey

"Early Autumn," 5 x 7 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press pape

Every painting is a story of a journey, a lesson, a composite of what has been experienced, of what you have encountered.
Today's #worldwatercolormonth challenge, "Nature Hike," prompted this, "Early "Autumn," from  views I've seen walking in nearby Hafer Park in Edmond.
Here's the painting and two related photos. 
Tomorrow's prompt? "Childhood memory." I've been thinking about this, another journey, another story. What is  one of your outstanding childhood memories?

Mountain Time

Mountain Time, 8 x 10 watercolor, 300 lb. d'Arches cold press paper

Happy? What makes me happy? Mountains. Big skies. Autumn. Cabins. Woodsmoke.
You may leave the mountains, but they never leave you. Grow up in New Mexico, or the West...you just know.
On a gray day like today, or on any day for that matter, we need more color in our lives. Mountains do that for me, in my imagination, my memory, or in person. Mountain time.
Today's watercolor--makes you want to go there, doesn't it?

(Daily #watercolorgroup January paint happy things challenge)

Last leaves

Last leaves, 8" by 10" watercolor, 140 lb. d'Arches cold press paper

A cold front blew through this last week, stripping almost all the leaves off our trees, as Oklahoma winds ripped clouds in steady streams across the skies, whipping fall grasses  with every gust.

Inspiration

Although the yards and fields are blanketed with dead leaves, a few held on to the tops of the now bare branches. More metaphors for the mysteries of life, and inspiration for ideas and painting.  
 

October arrives, somberly

October Arrives, 9 by 12 watercolor, 140 lb. d'Arches

Driving through the Oklahoma countryside early this morning to attend and speak at the funeral of my long time friend and fellow weekly newspaperman Steve Booher, we witnessed early autumn. Clouds started building on the horizons and rain is promised tonight.
I love fall and the country and the vistas, death hangs over it all. Coming home, I knew there were clouds and grief, but the bright colors of life, his and his family. This one is for you Steve.

Steve Booher telling me another story at OPA last year.

Celestial journeys--Autumn Meadows

Autumn Meadows, 8 by 10 watercolor, 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico

Autumn meadows are journeys that awaken me, reminding me of more than just  a peaceful view tucked in between trees and hills. 
They are not just earthly, but testaments to the wheeling cosmos of the universe. Life and death and eternity churn together in a celestial mix of lives, souls and creation. 
Take a walk or drive the back roads, and every meadow tells a story of another year--Seed time and harvest, shorter days and years and lives, falling leaves and brilliant colors.
That's why a lane winding through an autumn meadow always beckons me to follow it, bringing to mind the people and places I've journeyed with this year, as I wonder what's around the next bend.
Today's watercolor, a meadow, a lane, a cabin, a journey.