Saturday in November.

This is the season of changeable weather here in Iowa. Although it isn't yet December we've had more than a week of snow and cold, followed these past few days by sunny skies and unseasonably high temperatures. When the wind howls down from the north and the skies stay pewter-grey, I stay in the studio. But days like last Saturday beckon me outside.

"November on the Racoon," wc about 3.5x8

This photo is a trifle blue rather than the warmer white of my sketchbook. Nonetheless I think it captures the sense of the banks and waters of the Raccoon River, which meanders through our nearby park. The trees are bare now, the branches either fan-like or more spidery, while distant groves of trees take on varied shades of yellow-brown. The sky and the river are nearly the same blue, but the river is a little darker. These days, as drought has continued in the upper and westerly regions our rivers are all running low.

Waiting for Food

One of the great things about sketching is how portable it is. You can sketch virtually anywhere, with a bit of discretion. Last week I sketched in the program while our local symphony played. There was ample light from the proscenium and the music (Holst's masterpiece "The Planets") was transcendent. No one minded, of course. 

"At the Airport, Waiting for Food," wc/ink

Another place one can sketch is in an eatery. One of the fun things I've done over the years is sketch in a very small pocket book using watercolor and ink. I posted about that a couple of years ago. This is another sketch I made some years back while waiting for food in an airport. It's actually a lower corner of my trip diary, We were enroute to visit family in Seattle.

"Sarge's," wc/ink

This second sketch is another from a trip, this time to New York. A favorite neighborhood place on the east side of Manhattan is Sarge's, a fairly traditional New York kind of place that we used to visit quite often. Both of these were sketched quickly with permanent ink and colored either immediately or shortly after eating. 

Sketching is a simple way to make visual notes that can become part of a visual library for later work.

Up North

The cold months are upon us. Here in Iowa we are emerging from one of the coldest early November weeks in recent memory. And although it's comforting to remember the lazy hazy crazy days of summer, the realist in me says we have to face the winter weather. 

"Up North," watercolor on paper, about 8x10

 "Up North" is a watercolor from a long time ago that shows folks from our neck of the woods, going about their daily business in spite of wintry weather. .

Panorama

Most of the time my work is in standard sizes, mostly to make framing simpler. So much of my outdoor work is 9x12 and the majority of studio pieces is 11x14, 12x16 and so on. But sometimes an idea requires a different kind of layout, like a panorama. So far most of my more panoramic paintings have been relatively small, like "Oak Savanna" (below).

"Oak Savanna, Summer," oil on panel, 8x16

This particular work is quite similar to another I posted last month. But it's a wider view of the edge of an area of oak savanna--basically prairie with copses of oaks. The trees are all old growth because the savanna is as it has always been--never farmed, cleared or otherwise disturbed much. The difference in this one is the considerably wider format, which gives a better sense of the savanna.

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Related post

Vastness

Light is the Subject

One of my interests in painting is the interaction of light--natural or otherwise--with the tangible world. That is, what happens when light bounces, bends, transmits, and so on? How does a glass object look in differing lighting? What happens to the light of day as the sun traverses? 

Hoff, "Tryptich (Morning Afternoon Evening)," oil on panels mounted on board

In "Tryptich" for example there are three 5x7 oil studies of a bottle about half full of clear liquid. Despite the simplicity of the subject, the changing light provided the chance to study light intensely. Each panel was done at a particular time of day, and the light painted as it appeared to my eyes. 

In the far left painting the outdoor light is cool (blues) and reflects the bright indirect light of the sky. In the center work the light of early afternoon is now direct, warm (yellows), and quite bright, seeming to flow into the liquid and ricochet from the near-bottom of the bottle. In the right panel the bottle is at twilight so that the light again now indirect, dimmer, cooler (blues, greys, grey-pinks), and transmitted (not reflected) through the glass and liquid so that we see the dark bands of the window sill. 

There are quite a lot of differences among these three little works, owing to the always changing light. I enjoy returning to study them even now, more than a decade after they were made.

Veterans Day

Hoff, "Uncle Sam, after J.C. Leyendecker," oil on canvas

 Today we mark the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month--Veterans Day. It once was called "Armistice Day" and marked the ceasefire that ended World War I. Following World War II the holiday was modified to include all veterans. 

I hope you join in me in gratitude to all who served our nation in peace and in conflict. 

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VA Hospital's Final Salute

A Plein Air Summer

Reviewing photos of plein air work from last summer. Besides three weeks at my art residency, I managed to paint outdoors quite a bit. These three are from the first three months of the season. All of them are oil on panel, 9x12.

"Raccoon River Bridge," May 2022

The bridge in this painting is an old iron trestle bridge that's now a pedestrian/cycle path. The sun was behind my left shoulder as I painted this, standing on the riverbank. The light on the far trees and embankment was wonderful and warm. This one took two separate sessions to finish.

"North Shore, Gray's Lake,", June 2022

This is a view of the point on the northern shore of a lake near my studio, completed in a single rapid session of about two hours. The lake was quite still in early morning and the sunlight barely lighted treetops far off and caught the banks just across from my painting spot.

"Along the Cowpasture River," July 2022

During July we spent time with friends in southern Virginia, along a magical, unspoiled and sparsely populated river. I had the pleasure of painting several plein air pieces while there, all at a leisurely pace. This view is just outside their cabin--it's my favorite.

There are a number of plein air works on my website--check it out.

Another New One

More than twenty years ago, while riding horses with a friend in Alaska, I gazed down the Matanuska Valley, toward the glacier that feeds the river that flows to the sea. From the Glenn Highway the rolling hills and distant mountains were devoid of the touch of humans. No man made structures, no electric transmission lines, no bridges, dams, or other structures. The land looked as it must have always looked. Limitless, inspiring awe and explaining why people have sought the spiritual wilderness. The experience showed me how much I have lost by living in cities, among the millions of my fellow humans. The experience in residence at Whiterock Conservancy was something like that experience in Alaska. The conservancy is huge--5500 acres give or take--and far from metropolitan turmoil, noise, and lights. The quiet of the days and the starry starry nights suggest how the land once was, before we peopled it with ourselves and our machines. And it gave the faintest glimmer of how connected, how in the world we once were. 

"Near the River," oil on panel, 11x14

My work from the residency continues and is becoming a moderate-sized body of work. Here is a new studio oil of a trail along the Middle Raccoon River. It's a wetland, strewn with drifts of wildflowers--sunflowers, Joe Pye weed, coneflowers and Queen Anne lace among them. The sun in early morning seems to set them afire. 

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Reflections on the Residency

The Saturday Sketchers

A year or so ago I posted about an informal group who go sketching on Saturday afternoons (linked at the foot of this post). It's a group of folks of varied backgrounds and artistic interests, a professional or two and the rest committed painters. The organization is barely organized, meaning there's no hierarchy, bylaws, dues, or any folderol. We meet at 1 pm to decide on a place to paint--mostly nearby--for an hour or two. Afterward we meet for refreshment and to share work, discuss art, artists and a lot more. 

"Early Color in the Rose Garden," ink and watercolor on paper

Having such a group to work with, even when you can't do it regularly, provides a kind of anchor to the week's work. It's a time without deadlines or clients, a time when you can practice without worry. It's fun, and when the weather cooperates painting or drawing outside can be a sublime pleasure. 

"With the Saturday Sketchers," ink and watercolor on paper

This year's times outside have been great times of observation and thought, and mostly cooperative weather. After November 1, though, the weather inevitably turns cool, the skies close in, and winter lumbers in. I'm hoping to go out a few or times before cold reality arrives.

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The Saturday Sketchers