In the beginning: Face To Face

January 21 things actually started to happen. Having found a place to to be and a starter amount of materials to work with, I headed to Compass Printing, my F2F venue.

Cat

Unloading my easel and materials, my very first sitter showed up on a whim. Cat, "I came down to see how you were doing." "Come right on in!", said the spider to the fly.  Cat was looking real good like she knew when she got up that day exactly what she would be doing. The color layers up. Blending brings edges together and  I sense the end of how much time that can be given and it is done.
I won't touch things up. It is a direct impression of Cat.
After, she saw the work, "Wow I never realized how much of my father is in me!" A good thing.

Barry

Next day I asked my friend Barry to come in and he graciously obliged. And snapped a pic for the record.

Grace

While anyone is sitting, there is in and out traffic, printing business. Some folks are immediately curious, others are sort of looking from a distance. The network of people, friends and neighbors is phenomenal. One friend leads to another in conversation, only first names are used and everyone knows which Jim one is talking about. Halfway through Barry's portrait,  Grace came in and signed up for Friday. She bought a hat special just for the sitting. It had a personality of its own. I hope Grace doesn't mind that I aimed for her character vs. the hat.

All in all a good start.

 

Tada!

Last but not least: Moonset at Sunrise, Blue Mountain Lake.

SOLD! Moonset  at Sunrise, Blue Mountain Lake - December Calendar Pic

This painting, like all before it has a little backstory. I had the opportunity to be an Artist in Residence at Adirondack Museum last August during the full moon phase. My last morning there, I rose in the dark at 4 am to set up at the edge of the lake. In order to paint in the dark I had searched for and found a neat light set up designed for music stands: LEDs with two lights on goosenecks, battery operated magnetic clip-on base. Someone thought of everything. Light on the painting and light on the box of color.

I had worked at this location the evening before painting on the sunset, so I knew the topography of the spot in the early darkness.

I worked for about 2.5 hours with this scene in the moonlit pre-dawn, then had to quit. The sun was pushing light into the sky and changing things quickly. The breeze started picking up and riffled the mirrored surface of the lake. I wrapped my work in glassine, packed it in and headed back to the cabin for a cup of coffee.

I did not look at this image again for a week. When I opened it up again in the studio, even though the initial color took me by surprise, there was a realization that -  Hey, this one worked.

The calendar is available at my studio and at Adirondack Artists' Guild in Saranac Lake. Like a catalog of works with dates, it is printed on cardstock. All the full moon dates are in it with their old Farmers Almanac names. Some of the original paintings have been sold, some are framed and ready for a new home and some waiting for their frame. Contact me for purchase.

Is Bigger Really Better?

"Promise" 20x24 November Calendar Pic

This piece started out as a smaller plein air painting (11x14) made in the back field of Crystal Springs Dairy. A visitor to the gallery pointed at it once and said, "I would get that if it was bigger." Of course, I did not get her name.

What was great about working this painting larger in the studio in February was the memory of the original, a warm summer day, humid, maybe the sun would come out strong, maybe it would storm. When the early morning clouds lifted and revealed St. Regis, it surprised me for a minute then I quickly placed it in the plein air piece.

Bigger pieces take time. Pastel is one stroke at a time. Color build up is longer. I work across the painting for a couple of layers then break and come back the next day. The painting and myself are never the same with this approach. Re-engaging with the painting after a 24 hours takes a little time. But eventually the rhythm is found and the next stage develops. I work like that for a few sessions. Each time the pace slows a bit more, looking at the work, seeing what it wants, moving in and out of the shadows, into the light. Finding the swathes of flowers that never were in the original smaller piece, then come to a close.

The work has been framed in a lovely gold frame with that crazy clear museum glass. When November comes and the calendar reveals this work, remember the sun will return. That's a "Promise".

"Promise" is hanging out in my studio. Contact me to purchase or go on line to my website: dianeleifheit.com

And, oh yeah, so are the 2014 calendars.

Look No Further Than My Own Back Yard.

"There's no place like home."

In 2007-8, the meadow had my full attention. Working in every month of the year, paintings were made for "Meadow Front", an homage to seeing in the Adirondacks that did not include mountains and lakes.

This year I was making an effort to chase color in the elusive two weeks of high chroma that bursts through the foliage like a butterfly that then vanishes, leaving us in Stick Season. Walking with the dog out back, I saw it was time to go after that corner of the meadow that butts up against the ever encroaching woods of white pine and maple.

"Golden Meadow" 11x14 October Calendar Pic

Shadows are always moving fast and committing to their place in the work is the first challenge. Next, get the back light of the lowering sun through the gold coral leaves.

Observation: Shadow in the north in September is extraordinarily dark compared to the streaming light. Painters from other climes sometimes forget to see, say "o no it is too dark! It looks like a photo." But really, the sun is low in the horizon, the trees still thick with foliage and the ever dense white pines are all conspiring against sunlight's entrance on the north side of woods.

Though it was a good year to go after the color, I need to rededicate to catching more of it next year. 

"Golden Meadow" is available at my studio. The limited number 2014 calendars are at The Guild in Saranac Lake and I have a few in my studio.

Have Easel. Will Travel.

"First Color" 14x11 September Calendar Pic

Sagamore in the background, me in the fore working like crazy.

A painting opportunity arose for September, three days at Camp Sagamore, with a contingent of New York Plein Air Painters. Weather was a bit iffy for oil painter and pastel painter alike with low clouds, really low - touching the lake, and less than ideal temperatures. Wind pants and Patagonia gear, fingerless gloves, wool hat and yes even the easel umbrella came out. The stream moving out of the lake caught my attention with the scoured rocks strewn recklessly all the way down stream. This upstream view with the little maple tentatively announcing the change in the season, made me stay until I was too chilled to move.

There are a few pieces from this paint outing - one is still questioning me, another demanding time, another makes me laugh but I am not sure it will be seen anywhere but at the studio. It is of several boats and kayaks out on a dock, the yellow kayak looking very much like a big ole banana.

"First Color" is as yet unframed, hanging out in my studio. Come visit and see it up close. Better yet decide on a frame and bring it home.

Stories on a Hill

Late light in August. This one took a couple of evenings but I knew the weather was going to hold so I took advantage by setting up on a spot on Helen Hill two afternoons in a row.

A friend of mine feels this work is holding a story in it. I thought about that comment after and realized he was correct.

Last Light on Town Hall 20x16 Calendar Pic for August 2014

 The first night I was there was very quiet on the street. I was able to lay in angles, make decisions about where this view was going and coming from. I blocked in color found my darks, worked that strange angle of looking down the hill that in the painting that wants to be nearly parallel to the edge. Believe what your eye tells you. Listen to the painting.

The second evening there was chatter. Across the street from where I had set up, a family was on their front porch. The woman was feeding dinner to her children. The man was painting trim on the porch. A male friend was visiting commiserating on his troubled love life. The kids needed to finish dinner. At some point the friend left. Like the old tv cop stories, "There's a million stories in the naked city." Not that Saranac Lake is a city. Population of 5000 just does not come close. In the spirit of the evening though, while developing the late sun hitting the wedding cake clock tower, the atmosphere of the day is infused with the story on the porch, heard but not seen, in the air. 

"Last Light on Town Hall" is hanging at the Adirondack Artists' Guild in Saranac Lake.

Sunlight

Hard to imagine this day in my back yard last August. I see it here but I can't believe it. When I wrote this up there was over a foot of snow on the picnic table, a strange apparition at best. Now it is ice. jeez.

Tangled Garden 12x16 July Calendar Pic

As a gardener I will start thinking about planting and moving perennials around almost right after the new year. I'll order seeds for the vegetable garden, wonder what sort of year we will have - cold and rainy or warm and dry.

I will also wonder if a few trees that started as modest poplar saplings 30 years ago could be turned into a bonfire. They have become sun hogs, over 60 feet high, gobbling up the sun away from the vegetable garden. If we knew then what we know now and had our younger selves to deal with such a job. Hmm.

Gardening is a lot like painting. It has surprises - a lone survivor can pop up in an unexpected spot though it had long left its original location. Some years particular perennials thrive, lush with color. They want to be everywhere.  Other times in the seasons color is quiet, waiting to take off when the sun reaches that perfect spot. Sometimes a painting happens quickly, nourished by past endeavors, the work flows. Other times the painting stalls, as though the elements are not in place just yet to become.

This particular day in the garden was so bright one needed sunglasses just to keep your eyes open. It is a special place after 33 years. Its character is established and yet always changing.  Let the sun hit you full in the face - stretch to greet it.

"Tangled Garden" is available as a print. Contact me for a copy.