Jonas blew into town and I was Itching to go outside to paint

Plein air painting is a fun adventure. Usually. I had layers of clothing, and warmers, so it made the experience pleasant and inspiring until my feet started to feel the freeze from the ground, and the wind started to blow. Unfortunately, I did not have any warmers in my shoes so the cold transmitted from the freezing ground to my feet. It became too cold for me, and the paint hardened in the subfreezing temperature! The latter was a battle to move the paint around on the canvas. I was very glad that I brought my stiff bristle brushes. I quickly picked out the important shapes, values, colors and their intensity to describe this scenery. After about 30 minutes of painting, I quickly packed up and rushed back to my friends' home for warmth. Next time I shall be extra prepared. (Famous last words.)

Philadelphia Museum of Art (Schuylkill River Trail). Oil on cotton, 6 by 8 inches.

The last day of summer in the Northern Hemisphere

I rode my foldable bike over to Anson B. Nixon Park to explore more of the park. It is a lovely park, a jewel of Kennett Square. It was the last day of summer and I noticed hints of changes in the leaves. They were turning orange. Where the orange leaves landed on the bluish-green grass in the shade, the leaves seemed to glow but ever so subtly. Delightful. I think the colours for this fall will be quite vibrant.

I wondered how I could describe what I was seeing and feeling. I have already ridden to different beautiful areas of the park, and I could not settle down on one. I finally came to the pond where Kennett Square would hold its annual Trout Rodeo, but it was not the pond that captured my attention. Instead it was the grove of trees behind me. Behind this grove of trees on the hill was a sports field hidden from view. I loved how the light softly draped across the hill in between the trees. 

View fullsize

Cogitating Trees. Oil on cotton, 8 by 10 inches.

Paul Cezanne said, “Painting from nature is not copying the object; it is realising one’s sensations.” When I am out in the woods I could not help not imagining ticks lurking and ready to pounce on me. Perhaps this was why my painting looked jittery because I had ticks in my thoughts. It was not the sensation I desired. I had no painting companions as I had the other day to distract me from ticks that day. Nasty buggers. I just remembered that I must get more repellent spray before our next plein air painting social, which will be our first for this autumn.

Summer days are coming to an end, and I am getting as much plein air painting done as possible.

The leaves on the trees are showing signs of change, and the temperature is gradually dropping. Indian Summer. Fall is not far away. My friends from Studio Rilievo and I organised an impromptu plein air painting outing in Kennett Square. We chose Anson B Nixon Park. That day was my second time painting in this park. In fact, it was the farthest I have ventured into the park to paint. My first time, I was about 30 feet into the park. Ticks. I do not like ticks.

From Studio Rilievo: David Hoffrichter (left) and Tracey Rothenberger (right)

Anyway, we parked the car and walked down to the park’s community garden. It was in between the old waterworks building and Red Clay Creek. David and Tracey from Studio Rilievo decided to face the creek, but I was rather fascinated by the community garden and the old waterworks building. Especially how the light was highlighting its roof. There was a beautiful contrast of light and dark going on. I was also curious about the community garden. I wondered how I could include this garden in the foreground without details, but just enough brush strokes and colours and values to suggest its presence without taking away the viewer’s attention from the old waterworks building. It was a fun personal challenge to do this in about 60 or 90 minutes. I like to think the former because it makes a good big-fish story.

The old waterworks building in the middle ground, and the community garden in the foreground.

In the below image the inset painting is larger than the painting on the easel. the reason is that I could not set back far enough. Any farther back I would be standing in Red Clay Creek. A larger panel would have worked, but I did not have a larger panel and I did not want to paint any larger than what I had. So I made mental adjustments as I drew and painted on my panel from where I stood. In photography speak, I had to zoom out with my variable focal lens.

Sight-sizing was a drawing method that I have learned on my own and a bit farther on in school. It has its advantages and disadvantages. An advantage is that it could help make “correct” drawings or paintings, and the disadvantage is that it sometimes could hinder the imagination and the creative process. I think Picasso said: “Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist.” I lifted this off the Internet so I am taking the origin of this saying with a grain of salt. Nevertheless, Picasso or not, it has some truth in that saying. 

I find sight-sizing beneficial for me because it helps me understand and appreciate the relationship of forms and the space they occupy—it has an important place in composition. However it could also hinder me. So if I did not set my easel far back enough, and I forget to make the mental adjustments so that my subject will fit within the confine of my panel, I would run out of space to describe what I wanted to describe. What shall I do? Fortunately I have a habit of already having a mental image and size of what I want according to my panel size. This was a carry-over habit from my photography days when I would settle on one focal length so that I could immediately imagine the framing before I look through the view finder. I usually already have a sense of the composition I want.

The old waterworks building and the community garden. Oil on linen, 10 by 14 inches.