2020 Annus Horribilis

Outside the studio window, snow is falling hard and the ground is white. Days and nights are dark and cold, and the end of the year is almost at hand. Reflections on the year behind us and the one ahead are usual here in the dregs of the year. 

The first few months of 2020 were deceptive and calm here on Druid Hill Creek. January through March (and the onset of pandemic) kept me busy with metalpoint drawing, watercolors of the creek, and digital paintings of endangered species. Two of the endangered species paintings went on to be exhibited in a virtual show benefiting a great ape sanctuary. 

 

"Red Wolf," digital painting

Winter on Druid Hill Creek, silverpoint, 2020

By March, as the pandemic swept into the United States from Asia and Europe, as the numbers of infected and ill patients began to overwhelm hospitals and health workers in New York and the east, my digital work began to deal with events. A series of drawings of people in the pandemic, particularly nurses and physicians, was the result. At the time we hadn't begun to see the emergency that faces the nation now, but it was horrible enough to cause lockdowns, mask mandates, and more that we have dealt with over the ensuing nine months or so. My own response was to keep working but at a distance from others. Starting that month began a long series of plein air oil paintings devoted to nearby landscapes. In the spring summer and fall months much of my time was spent painting at Gray's Lake Park and along the Raccoon River. Eventually these works formed the core of a virtual exhibition A Season in the Sun, of plein air works (which is still running). 

Although the watchword since the beginning of the pandemic has been isolation or social distancing, on a few occasions I did manage a sketching excursion or two in autumn with the Saturday Sketch Group, but mostly 2020 was an exceptionally solitary year for this painter.

"Along the Raccoon," oil on panel, June 2020

 

"The Point at Gray's Lake," oil on panel, October 2020

Besides oil paintings, I also did watercolors outdoors, both with the Sketch Group and solo.

"Downstream," watercolor

2020 truly has been a horrible year. More people have died in this pandemic than most of us can even comprehend. The world is suffering terribly but with vaccinations, increased personal responsibility (wear your masks, folks), and vigilance it will pass.

Next year, if the pandemic eases (fingers crossed), my plan is to spend more time with other painters and with people in general. 

Holiday

The holiday comes, with much less to celebrate. This Christmas is certainly less merry, given that more than 300,000 Americans have died so far, intensive care beds are full and the world's society and economy are in tatters. But even in these dark times, light is on its way, vaccinations are beginning, and there is hope for the nation.

In spite of everything, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Good Kwanzaa, and enjoy Solstice. Whatever holiday you and yours celebrate, be happy and be safe. Wear your masks. 

 

Here Comes the Sun

Years ago, a friend of mine used to proclaim joy as the days grew longer after December 21. Her take on winter was that it was a necessary adjustment that allowed us to embrace the returning light. Without the darkness the lightening days wouldn't be nearly so delicious. George Harrison even wrote a song about it, Here Comes the Sun. The story is that he wrote the song in spring but in my mind it's a celebration of the turning season at solstice. 

In honor of the returning of sunshine, here's a summer watercolor from a couple of years ago. It's a pathway along the bank of Gray's Lake, a park near my home studio.

"The Path at Gray's Lake," watercolor, 5x10

 

So happy holidays and happy solstice. Here Comes the Sun.

The Sky is Blue

There is song from the 1950s that begins with the words, "The sun is out, the sky is blue.." Set to an upbeat, cheery tune, that phrase is a perfect summary of how it feels when sunlight breaks through in winter. After a spell of cold, grey, snowy days there have been some beautifully sunny ones. Druid Hill Creek has remained open and unfrozen, even after the deluge of wet snow and low temperatures in the teens, draped in the now-frozen snow that fell a few days back. 

Now that the skies have cleared the heavy snow that clung to branches and twigs is thawing a bit. The morning light across the creek sets up beautiful, abstract shapes and colors in the woods along both banks that I wanted to capture in watercolors. 

Hoff, "Downstream on Druid Hill Creek," watercolor, 8x10

This particular painting was begun my usual way, with a light graphite underdrawing. After that I laid in big pale washes of a mixed blue for the distant sky and shadows and an array of mixed warmer washes. These watercolors are the QoR brand, which carry a higher pigment load than traditional watercolors owing to their synthetic vehicle. Using these colors and a good pointed brush, you can lay in very thin lines that show well because of the higher pigment. I eliminated two or three trees in the foreground to concentrate more on the mid-range and distant scene.

Snowy Days

Heavy Snow on Druid Hill Creek (photo)

The latest cold snap here in flyover land settled on us a few days ago and has refused to leave. The day before the cold weather the temperatures here in Iowa reached 60, but the next day it was thirty degrees colder and a cold wet snow fell with a whump. This was the kind of wet, sticky stuff that is heavy and causes heart attacks in the unwary shovelers, every time. Since then the daily highs have barely reached the high 20s and the snow has lingered, encrusting trees and twigs. And until yesterday the cloud cover was heavy and the light limited (left).

The weather got me thinking about painting winter scenes. Snow is white--we all know that--but taking time to really study the snow reveals the presence of many colors, both subtle and obvious. The colors in snow depend deeply on time of day, cloud cover or lack of it, the colors of surrounding objects, and more. It's enough to discourage a beginning painter. Like so much in realist art, repeated intense study can help.

Hoff, "Up North," watercolor, 9x12

Here is an example of a snow scene in watercolor that contains no white at all. This particular painting is a studio work done on heavy cold-press paper. My first step in most watercolors is a more or less detailed pencil drawing. You can use graphite or colored pencils but water soluble pencil is a great way to begin. After that I usually put down broad washes of color, often faintly coloring the whole support. As you can see in the painting above, the background wash was a warm yellow-brown. Over that I added the foliage shapes with a darker mix and painted the lamposts, figures, and walls with an even darker mix, doing it in several steps. The yellow of the lamps and sky were added in the late stages. In some of my watercolors I use ink as a way to show shapes and transitions, but in this case the image is all watercolor. 

This winter I'll be doing a lot more snowy scenes, I suspect.

Help Endangered Species

 

Hoff, "Burning Bright," digital painting

In past editions of this blog I've posted digital images of endangered species, including the Amur tiger (above), a big cat whose population likely comprises fewer than a thousand. In most cases, the shrinking numbers of animals like orangutans, among thousands of other species, is because of loss of habitat. Humans destroy, occupy, pollute or otherwise alter the ecology in such a way that endangered species can't survive. 

I am honored to participate in Endangered Art4Apes a virtual fine art and photography show spotlighting endangered species. Two of my digital paintings are included in their efforts to assist a great ape sanctuary in Florida, The Center for Great Apes. The art show has previously been gallery-based with an additional online presence during its history but this year it has gone entirely virtual. Clicking the first link above takes you to a state of the art 3-D set of galleries that display winners, highly commended works, and so on. I am happy to have two pieces in the show.

Most everything on the site is for sale. Purchase one of these giclee prints via the show and the Center receives one-third of the proceeds. In the spirit of the dreadful climate and species emergency, I will donate the remainder to selected non-profits also working to save the inhabitants of our planet.

Hoff, "Watchful," digital

Alternatively, you can purchase individual prints or signed sets of four through my website. They make a great holiday gift, you're supporting a creative endeavor, and helping preserve the earth. Pretty good deal. 

The online show ends December 31 so take some time to browse through the online galleries before the holidays, and find a work you'll enjoy.

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Related posts:

Vanishing from North America

Jeopardized 

Distance is Difficult

For many, I suspect, the need to keep away from others outside one's own bubble has been difficult. We are social animals, after all, and Zoom is useful but insufficient. The same goes for open studio events. Although my studio building is holding evening and weekend events during the pandemic, crowds are reportedly sparse. Owing to personal and relational risk I've kept my own studio closed. 

Originally I had planned to hold an exhibition of the past year's outdoor works plus some other new pieces along with a public opening--wine, cheese and all that. But the pandemic has prevented that sort of gallery show. Instead you can see the paintings on my website. The link is here.

Below are two of the nearly twenty new works on display. 

Hoff, "Early Fall at Gray's Lake," oil on panel, 9x12

 

"November on the Point," oil on panel, 9x12

Worldwide Pain

The coronavirus pandemic is out of control in much of the world. The numbers are stupefying, so large their emotional impact is more muted than you might expect--about 65 million infections and about a million and a half deaths. The United States is reporting more than 180,000 new cases daily. 

Hoff, "Despair," digital

This global emergency can be overcome if we as human beings come together regardless of any and all differences. If we come together.

Let it Snow

When December comes it's time to switch to winter mode--a lot of in-studio work, mostly. That means working up paintings from the sketches collected over the last several months but also means time to sit quietly indoors and really look at a subject. One of the best practices for me is still life. Unlike plein air paintings, still life is a chance to utterly control what one does, from subject to setup to lighting and so on. And still life can contain emotional content, implied narrative, and explore light, color, key, values and so on. 

Hoff, "Vanitas," oil on canvas, 20x16

In the vanitas work above I was exploring a number of ideas. For one thing, the pyramidal composition is generally thought to be a positive one since the sweep of vision goes heavenward. For another, it was interesting to employ a three-primary color scheme. Vanitas paintings are generally intended to warn the viewer of universal mortality and warn against excess pride. Early vanitas works, painted three or four hundred years ago, are also often quite dark. The high key of this one is because of a strong light source from the upper right, an intentional effect to emphasize the skull. Another goal of this work was to study the anatomy of the human skull and reproduce it with anatomic accuracy. 

Vanitas works are only a small subset of still life in general. Some still life contains enormous numbers of objects, either to imply narrative or perhaps simply as a way to study disparate objects. In my own case I sometimes set up only one or two items. The painting below is an example.

Hoff, "Transparent and Translucent," oil on panel, 12x9

The bottles in Transparent and Translucent were chosen for shape but also because their materials--transparent glass and translucent plastic--are different problems for the painter. And although there is an orange lid and a touch of red in the pimento olive stuffings the dominant color scheme of blue-green was interesting too. 

In contrast, my interest in the objects below was the contrast between the red drapery background and the Pellegrino bottle. I had a small silver cup in the studio and plopped it down in front of the bottle to study the reflective metal. The lemon was an afterthought--I didn't have one but wanted the round shape as a contrast, so the lemon is an invention that wasn't in the setup. Part of the intent in this work, too, was to be as loose as possible while being accurate.

Hoff, "Pellegrino and Silver," oil on panel, 12x9

So bring on the ice and snow. I'll be snug in the studio.