Laurelines

Atmosphere, atmosphere, atmosphere: why I love toned paper

 

Yesterday, I posted on instagram a sketch I made of a still life in our new/old house on that cold, rainy afternoon. I made this on a Stillman and Birn gray Nova sketchbook, using colored pencils and other assorted materials.

This sketch took me right back to another interior still life I made at the house of dear friends four years ago at just this time of year. Atmosphere!

 

These started me looking back at the many drawings and sketches and some paintings I've made on toned paper for many years. 

Gray and tan paper automatically provide a lovely mid tone to give lines and colors a soaring start in life. This has many advantages. For a traveler like me, who takes only a carryon suitcase even on long international trips, I can pack a few pens, crayons, pencils and still have the range and flexibility I want.

Crucially for me, this paper guarantees the kind of atmospheric work I strive for.  And since I love to travel to, shall we say, atmospheric places like Norway, Wales, and Iceland, quite often in atmospheric seasons like winter, it is perfect for the task.

I have used three kinds of toned paper over the years: kraft paper, pastel paper (very rarely), and both Strathmore and Stillman and Birn toned paper in sketchbooks.

When I went to Alaska for an art residency a few years ago, I took along some high quality kraft paper to use for landscape studies. The ability to make atmospheric drawings with an economy of means was critical. Here are two of many from that project:

Toned paper has traditionally been used for pastel drawings/paintings. I'm not a pastelist, but I have used it occasionally, for my own purpose. Here I've used watercolor on pastel paper. The toothed softness of the paper gives the watercolors a texture boost and the bright colors against the gray/tan paper come to life.

Finally, I have so many of the above-mentioned atmospheric travel sketches to show you that I'll have to sit on my hands and just pick a few. Before there was Stillman and Birns toned sketchbooks, there were Strathmore ones and I used them plenty. Below are examples from both brands.

If you've seen this blog before, you've seen scores of my cold weather outdoor atmospherics on toned paper, so I won't repeat them, but here's a link to work from a recent December trip to Norway.

 

Atmospheric indoor scene at a Norwegian café in December:

Woman waiting at the Vienna train station on another chilly December day:

Blue jellyfish washed ashore in Abersoch, Wales. I adored how the cool colors and degrees of opacity behaved on the warmish gray Stillman and Birn paper!

New Year's Eve warmth and light in our seaside cottage on Whitesands Bay, Pembrokeshire, two years ago:

Hot chocolate helped ward off the cold at an outdoor market in Vancouver a while back in a Strathmore sketchbook:

I'm now sitting on my hands. Enough atmospherics! I do have other uses for toned paper, particularly in the making of expressive drawings and museum drawings!  Let that be a story for another day.  

New house, new studio, new work, and a new poem from a friend

 

As I've written here before, I'm researching the history of our new house and its people.

A quick background recap:

The one-story farmhouse was built in the 1860s in Smithfield, NC, by Burkett Jones, a cotton farmer and entrepreneur, an exConfederate soldier, who had been injured early in the war and sent home. The structure was moved to its present site in Hillsborough in 1997 to prevent its demolition at the expansion of the Smithfield airport.

Since the house's story is now part of mine, I want to weave its history into my art life. First steps in this process have been making loose portrait drawings of the original owners, drawing a cotton plant from life, collecting red clay soil to turn into paint for use in the coming weeks.  Below are a couple of early examples.

Cotton bolls and stems bought at the state farmers market. Acrylic, ink, soft pastel on paper.

Drawing from a copy of a copy of a copy of an original photograph of Burkett and Mary Ann Jones, provided by the Johnston County Heritage Center in Smithfield. No doubt these faces will appear again in different format and media. Graphite, water-soluble crayon, and soft pastel on toned paper.

Recently, Rachel Victoria Mills, a local poet and a new friend, as yet unmet in person due to Covid restrictions, saw on Instagram my image of cotton above, and, in her words, "the fields opened up", and, after a long period of quiet, a new poem emerged. 

Here are Rachel's own words as they appeared in a recent blog post of hers:

On the nowhere road between home and office, those 18 years I lived in the Eastern part of the state, this time of year the fields flatten and turn to short-haired flax, much like the farmers driving their loads along the highway next to me.   Along the road, the cotton workers go about their work, hatted and gloved, darker and more serious as they gather the seed-specked balls in combine-waves across the landscape.  Trip by trip, I must have absorbed that common scene until years later it has impressed itself indelibly in memory.

But it is Laura Frankstone's Instagram photo of her painting, yesterday's "warm-up" (as she calls it), which brings that vision back to me.

 

Cotton, in its various envisionings, has been a sort of opening of the field, to borrow Robert Duncan's phrase. Laura has been writing about the slow work of getting back to art after a long time of personal trials and removals, and her days finally in her new studio,"warming up" again to the field of making.  Whether, like her, there is now a new, big bright space to work in, or like me at this small table before a window which looks out, just as brightly, to garden beauty, insights come from all the windows we look out of.

 

I feel happy and deeply moved by Rachel's response. Who knows what will prick the creative spirit and when? As for me, I have light and color, rich stories, new energy, and lovely new studio windows to look out of. 

Colors! It is not only red clay that is warming up my world. Christmas flowers in the new place have thrilled me. Ink and wash on paper:

Quick sketch of flowers I'm adding to my new garden. I will document this new creation of mine in the next blog post. Ink and watercolor wash.

 

And last, a glimpse of my beautiful new studio, until recently a two-car garage. In 2021, may you, too, have new windows to look out of and opening creative fields.

Happy new year!

Janus, the god of beginnings: my 2020 version

My birthday is very close to New Year's Day, so I am in the habit this time of year, like the god Janus, of looking both ways, to the past/the old year and looking ahead to the new. I am a frequenter of liminal states and this time of year is a such a state for most of us.

These sketches from my Norway trip were made on my December trip to that sublime wintry country. They are from my recent past, but I have them in the studio now, as sources for paintings I've begun and will continue working on these next weeks.

This time of year in those far northern climes, the light is blue. For me, the light is not at all depressing, but celestial, ethereal, magical. It is everywhere and it changes everything.

 

In a lecture on polar explorers, I sat and drew. Their stories were deep, often disturbing, sometimes, of course, triumphant. These men took themselves to the far limits of human coping... and sometimes they couldn't. Here we learned about Fridtof Nansen, Roald Admundsen, Hjalmar Johansen

 

 

More blue light, inside and out. My wonderful husband reads by the light of the sky and fjord and a small Christmas star.

Fellow passenger, reading.

And now, speaking of thresholds, I want to tell you that David and I will be moving this year from the house and gardens that we designed, built, lived in, and loved for 26 years. We are moving houses, but will stay in this area. It is exciting and anxiety-producing all at once!  I will tell more once I have more concrete things to tell.  I know this: in 2020, we will find our new happy home. It will be an adventure. I will have a new garden! I will share the story and images with you.

  May Janus, the god of beginnings, thresholds, and transitions, watch over us...and you.

Québecois Detour!

In the midst of months of painting and family events and obligations, a dear friend and I took a liqhtning quick 4-day holiday to Québec City last week. I had been to Montreal and Mont Tremblant, but never to the oldest (founded in 1608) city in Canada. Friends who had been had raved about it and since it was much easier to get to than my usual places (arctic Norway, anyone?) I decided to go.

Robyn and I stayed just outside the walls of the old city and it was a lovely 9-minute walk there. We walked everywhere, in and around, up and down, 7-10 miles each day. We sketched, we ate delicious food, and we drank an Aperol spritz or two (not quite the national drink of Québec, but still ;D.) We were charmed by this vibrant, small, deeply historic place.

The sketches I made are all over the place, stylewise, mediumwise, and subjectwise and just as I was getting a feel for being there, it was time to go. Fortunately, I'm going back for another short stay in August, but this time with my husband and two of our grandsons. I look forward to seeing the child-centric parts of Québec City and I hope I have time to make a sketch or two then, too!

I had long had a passion for sketching fountains. It felt like coming home to sit down and sketch this lovely Fontaine de Tourny, near l'Assemblée Nationale!

I'm not a great one for sketching architecture, normally, but in such a city, with such architectural richness, wouldn't it be churlish not to!  

And, on the other hand, I AM one to sketch people and flowers, so voilà! Me in my element with brush pen, ladies, and geraniums, after eating a delightful mushroom and ham crêpe at le Petit Chateau.

More architecture, but Chateau Frontenac... need I say more?

Continuing my mixing up of mediums and styles, I drew this fantastic salade Niçoise on a sunny, warm day at lunch with Robyn. I felt this happy subject called for my Koh-i-noor Magic Pencil, with its multi-colored lead. I love this drawing tool that leaves magic behind wherever it goes!

And I can never resist drawing figural sculpture, particularly men with curling locks, knee britches, and supercilious expressions.  I'm sure my DNA is involved somewhere here.

This last sketch is actually the first I made. I'm using a small, stiff-nibbed pen here and so the drawing is a bit stiff, but I still enjoyed making it. And I loved loosening up again over the next days.

 

I feel refreshed and clear after this little trip and I hope I will be able to transfer that feeling when I get back to the studio tomorrow. Oof, what a time it's been!

Happy, happy summer! May your heart be light and all your colors Québecois!

Artist in the studio, artist in the garden

I'm really mostly in the studio these days, walking my long and slow painting path.

As I work with the cool, atmospheric palette of the littoral paintings of my Places Project, though, ( the example shown here is a poor reproduction I nabbed from my Instagram feed, but you get the idea),

 I begin to think of the colors waiting on the other side of my studio door, ready to smash through winter's gray barrier. 

The earth is turning and it's calling me as a witness. 

Last April, 1300+ people were here to see my garden, one of several on the Chapel Hill Garden Tour.  My garden was a total party girl, bedecked in many shades of pink, purple, green, yellow, blue. And, lordy, there were blossoms.

Since I didn't share with you images from our star turn last year, I thought it would be timely and fun to do so now.

First, a bit of history, a 2010 ink and wash drawing I made of the early stages of my garden,  a major redo after my life-changing visit to les Jardins Agapanthes in Normandy:

And here we were last May, many years later.

 

As of today, spring is still in babyhood. I'm tweaking the garden design, of course, simplifying and rethinking shapes and colors.  Likewise, In the studio: tweaking, simplifying, searching for solutions. I'll be back to share some of those solutions when they emerge.

Happy spring to you! 

 

PS Here are links to a couple of essays I wrote on the history of my garden, in case you missed them and are interested!  

Photo essay in Walter Magazine 

Illustrated essay in Charleston Style & Design

Starting the New Year in Wales, a glorious beginning

There's a lot of story to tell, too much to try to share tonight. 

But before I post a few sketches, I will share quickly some memories: my exhilarating polar swim in the Irish Sea on New Year's Day; seeing the Quadrantid Meteor showers on my birthday night while wrapped in many layers and sitting on the front lawn of our cottage on Whitesands Bay; with the help of a traveling professional astronomer on the same birthday night, seeing nebulae, a galaxy, the Milky Way in bright form, many constellations, the fuzzy green comet 46P/Wirtanen; at Evensong of the first Sunday of Christmas at St Davids Cathedral sitting in the choir stalls with choir and clergy, hearing hymns and the liturgy in both Welsh and English.

I walked and walked and walked and walked some more until my heart was overspilling.  My husband and I slept deeply in that quiet, safe, numinous place. 

It's been another rough re-entry to real life (like the one from Norway last year) but I have several paintings going, a few from before the trip, but several newly started ones, all inspired by Wales. This circular and multi-pronged approach has me nudging each one along until I finish one, then another, then two more, etc. I'm happy in the studio.

So, sketches, just a few. I spent more time being, being outside, walking, resting, being with my husband, taking it all in.

Looking out over the Irish Sea to Ramsey Island and beyond, from the warmth of our cottage by the sea. This is white marker and pencil on brown paper. In real life, the sketch goes across the gutter of the sketchbook, making a double spread. I will add the other side later. 

Brush pen sketch made on site at Whitesands Bay, color added later.  These rocks and the ones below are old friends. They figured in the 12' long concertina sketchbook I made in May 2017, part of my Caledonian Orogeny project!

The first thing I bought on New Year's Eve day were two votive candles and holders. With these and the wood fire burning in our cottage living room, we had light and warmth.

After the polar swim on New Year's Day, I was cold and starving, so David and I repaired to our favorite St Davids café at Oriel y Parc and had lunch. I drew the family at the next table.

Sketch of St Davids Head, made standing on Whitesands Beach in the cold and wind. This and the one above are roughly and quickly drawn (the cold! the wind!), with color added later.

I'll be staying at home more this year, finishing paintings, being with family and friends, walking and trying to get more sleep! Wales spoiled me in that way and in so many others.

A tardy, but very Happy New Year's greeting to you!

Christmas sketches past and a wish for all of us

I am putting discussions of painting on hold until I return from Wales in a couple of weeks, but I wanted to make a December post to wish you happiness, a festive spirit against daunting odds, and to thank you for your support and interest, still. I feel and cherish the warmth you send in your messages to me and in our real world encounters. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Being the cold-seeking missile that I am, I travel in the winter a lot.  Here is my Christmas card to you, some sketches from such travel over the past years.

Here we are in Bruges, on one December a while back. I sat quietly in front of our hotel's lovely fireplace and Christmas tree, sipped a glass of sparkling something, and drew:

Next, a trip to Vancouver in early December one year found David and me running for cover from a rainy late afternoon walk on the harbor. The Fairmont Hotel bar had empty seats. I had great fun drawing their winter-themed lobby:

Oh, Copenhagen, how we love you! This was another time we headed for warmth on a cold winter night. It was Tivoli Gardens in December, where explosions of millions of lights and colors vanquish the dark.  My sketch was made in a bar in the gardens, where a stately tree dominated the impressive room.

For love, there is no equal to Norway in my heart! Here's a glimpse of a very cozy café, we repaired to when we were staying in a small village near Tromsø:

And how we love Munich, too! This was from the first of two trips we made in successive Decembers. We couldn't stay away!  Orlando Café is busy and touristy, but nevertheless beautiful and the pastries (and beer!) (and soups!) are superb.

Finally, here we are in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, a village where I spent important time with my family in childhood.  Walking from the parking lot just outside the village toward the center, I suddenly felt the intense presence of my late father. The last time we were there together, I was 6 or 7. His very real presence, and the memories of all my life with him, overcame me and I sobbed and sobbed. 

Later, having collected myself, I drew this scene from the warm interior of Restaurant Alpenhof.

 

Love and joy come to you, no matter where, and no matter how or what, you celebrate. 

See you next year! Blwyddyn Newydd Dda!

 

 

Back on track:Norway story, continued

Summer heat has cast a pernicious spell on me, it's clear, but the winds are changing, the light is changing, and, finally unwilting, so am I.  Weather aside, reentry to normal life has been very difficult after such an exalted and inspiring time in Norway.

My chief reason for going on this trip was in pursuit of my Places Project,  to see and draw another vestige from the Caledonian Orogeny, circa 450-250 MYA.  I had fewer days to do this than I had for my first two drawings, made in Wales, one in Pembrokeshire, one on Anglesey.

The accordion sketchbook I drew in here was custom made for me by book artist friend Josh Hockensmith. It is 10 1/2' long when stretched to its full length and each page is bigger than those in the Seawhite of Brighton concertina books I used in my first two drawings. The paper is ivory and slightly toothed, not white and smooth, and so the resulting drawing has a slightly different look from the first two.

The rocks I drew were very different, too. The rocks in Wales were faceted, sharp, angular, with mostly smooth surfaces. The rocks in Norway were flowing, textured, and multi-colored in shades of grays, ochres, some siennas and subtle blues. These outcrops will lend themselves to later studio pieces, some collages, some linocuts, perhaps,  and I am looking forward to seeing what will emerge!

 

In between my days of Caledonian Orogeny drawing, I sketched, as you will have seen in my last post. Here are some miscellaneous moments, caught in my sketchbook. On a remote island in the Barents Sea, magenta saxifrage grew improbably and brashly between rocks in the tundra.

Later, in the Lofotens, I drew another view of the majestic Olstind mountain, seen from our cabin near Reine.

My husband and I love Bergen and it was in Bergen that I had this delicious vitello tonnato dish for lunch at a café near the Kode Museums. Note the candle, lit in the middle of the day in sunny, summery Bergen. This is one of the things I love about Scandinavia, the use of candles, a profound celebration of light, at all times of the year, at all times of the day, in the Polar Night or in the time of the Midnight Sun. I have taken this to my heart and I do the same thing in our home in North Carolina.

Circling back to Longyearbyen, here is a drawing of a bus passenger, who was a wonderfully monumental figure, compelling to draw:

On the painting front, two recently finished pieces.The first is another work belonging to my Places Project. This is a Copper Mountain sunset painting, inspired by my artist residency in Alaska, fall before last:

The second is an example of What I Did for Love, a snowy owl painting requested by my four-year-old grandson Miles. I have two more requested owlish pieces to finish, but I am returning to Norway in the studio in the next days, too.

I won't wait so long to post again. Soon I am taking a shortish trip with two dear friends to Yorkshire, not on the trail of the Caledonian Orogeny. The main focus will be to spend time with my friends in the birthplace and childhood region of one of them. Though I have lived and traveled widely in the UK, I have never been to Yorkshire. It turns out that my long-ago ancestors from Norway, settled in Yorkshire (coincidentally near where we will be), before much later emigrating to the US, so I will be, in some small way, returning home. Who knew??? See you soon!

Norway in May and June: first glimpses

Well, those were three glorious weeks! My Inner Adventurer emerged big time, much to my delight! i'm still crowing with pleasure and pride over kayaking in polar waters! We went just beyond the 80th parallel, as I mentioned we would and it was all that I had dreamed of! It was celestial. It was never to be forgotten.

More later about all of that. For now, a scattering of sketches,  quiet glimpses of things we saw and did when we weren't being swept away by magnificence. 

A large carved wooden sculpture called Kongetorsk, (cod is one of the traditional mainstays of Norwegian cuisine, commerce, and culture) located in a small square in Bergen, is a favorite subject of mine.  David and I woke up early so I could draw it before clumps of view-obscuring tourists arrived.

I had *drawn this one December a few years ago, so it was fun to revisit and draw it again! See below for earlier drawing.

Oh, man, trying to capture the splendor of that scenery in a little sketchbook seemed futile, but I made what I call little mnemonic devices... images that endlessly reopen to me the moments of being there.

 

We visited a toy museum at the tiny village we stayed in near Reine, in the Lofoten Islands. I made friends with Dagmar Gylseth, the owner of Sakrisøy rorbuer (fishing cabins and cottages) there and drew this little scene from her marvelous museum. What a moving experience to be surrounded by her collection of hundreds of artifacts of Norwegian childhood.  Their stories and their meaning were palpable in the atmosphere there.

While in the Lofotens, David and I had our evening meals at Underhuset, the fabulous restaurant which is owned and run by Dagmar and her son Michael. Fresh seafood was offered in abundance! In fact, I ate seafood and fish three times a day most days throughout the trip. I expect gills, fins, and shells to sprout on my person at any moment! And I'll put my current Omega 3 count up against yours any day!

We went to a lecture on the geology of Svalbard given by a French geologist on board our ship and while I listened, I drew. Geology! Svalbard! Caledonian Orogeny! All my favorite subjects!

Rounding out this miscellany of moments on our Norwegian trip is a sketch I made in Bergen, at one of the city's art museums, during the last days of our visit. Shiny, compelling objects that here, too, arrested my eye and my imagination.

I have several more sketches as well as the accordion sketchbook I made of Caledonian Orogenic outcrops and will share those in the next days. I have begun some studio pieces as well, deriving from the images I lived and breathed and stored in my mind's eye.

Balancing my accordion sketchbook... Laura on the rocks! More to come! Come back soon!!

 

*Here's the same cod sculpture pictured above, but drawn on an earlier, winter trip. 

*

80° North, anyone? Art supplies for the Land of the Midnight Sun!

 

That's where we'll be the first part our trip!  Far, far, far northern Norway, off the mainland. I am going to try to get some sort of memento with that latitude engraved on it! I'm a north-going spirit, that's for sure. 

This being such a once-in-a-lifetime trip, I vow to document it fully in writing and sketches, in addition to the separate group of drawings I'll do for my Caledonian Orogeny project.

But what supplies to take with me?? I travel only with a carryon and that has to contain clothes for winter weather (still there in May and early June in Svalbard) as well as for cool spring days, which I hope we will find in the other parts of Norway we are going to. Yikes!

Wakeful at 2am today (and you can understand why!), I looked at past sketches of similar atmospheric situations. Here are my tentative choices. If you have any suggestions, by the way, please do make them!

I know you've seen most of these before, but bear with me. I have to think.;D

1. Caran d'Ache watercolor crayons: I use these often. Here are some examples from  the past:

Iceland, Budir Bay

More Iceland. Here there's a wash of Daniel Smith Lunar Black with the crayons. I'll take that and Lunar Blue and those will be my only watercolors. Right? I can add more washes later. if I want to.

 

Mt Hood, Oregon. Unlike my previous trips to Norway, which all took place in the Arctic Twilight, this trip will be, as I mentioned, under the Midnight Sun!

    2. Pentel pocket brush pen. These are practically extensions of my hands. I use them everywhere.

In Bergen, Norway, with white gel pen and watercolor wash

 

In E.Lansing, Michigan, with watercolor crayons! Two for the price of one!

    3. Inktense pencils? When you must have bursts of juicy color!

Don't you love how a mere spritz of water makes inktense sketches ebullient!

Inktense pencils at Carn Llidi, Wales. Speaking of atmospheric, as we were:

     4. Cretacolor Oil pencils in Nero. I have to have these for regular drawing, right?  With these, you can be both gestural and precise:

And I'll need these for my Caledonian Orogeny drawing, of course;

    5. Sketchbooks: I'll have a couple of custom handmade concertina sketchbooks for the rock drawings and then two Stillman & Birn softcover 8 x10s, one in gray, one in white.

    6. Blue and red colored pencils, not watercolor ones. Oh, let's add orange and green, too. I just like to draw with these and they come in handy if you want quick, dry color.

 

 Oh, I've given myself a headache now.

I'm serious... if you have any suggestions, any new products you like for travel sketches, or old favorites of yours (not watercolors, though, or fountain pens for this trip, unfortunately,) I'd love to have them!

Takk!