Tonight at Wiawaka the lake sound is gently lapping, and Judy (fellow artist) just said she heard a loon call. The pandemonium of last night – fireworks, a literal flotilla of boats, vigorous wake waves, crowd on our dock – are gone.
The view from our balcony at the moment starts with three trees in the foreground – a tall white pine on the left, small balsam hugging it to its right, and a tall dead birch stand-offish on the far right. Beyond them the water is slate gray, the mountains black with little orange twinkles of lights at their base, and the sky starts yellow-orange, fades to a pale green-gray and continues on to a deep indigo. It’s 9:31. A stately little boat passes by.
This morning, my project was a little garden of hydrangeas, ferns and a cement bird bath. Rather than paint quickly, I wanted to draw carefully, since the subject was complicated. (General concurrence here: without a solid drawing, a painting doesn’t stand a chance.) Here’s the result of working on the drawing for most of the day:
I’m taking a bit of a risk by making the top of the bird bath slightly askew, which is true to reality but might not read well in the painting. I like the funkiness of it, but we’ll see if it works in the painting.
Mid-afternoon I took a break from the drawing to paint this mini of a potted plant hanging out next to me in my little watercolor journal.
And tonight, while we listened to Trevor and Ninah sing on the deck (listen to them at https://youtu.be/bz3jCr4Ue0s, and read about them at http://www.fortvine.com), I did this quick little sketch in my journal of the view from the dock of the waning day.
Remarkable experience here. I feel very fortunate.