“So, the project was cancelled.” Or was it? On January 1st of 2023 I got a text from my client saying that he “chickened out” of doing the painted glass backsplash and decided to go with tile. But, he said, he’d still like me to do a beach scene, but on canvas. It turns out that he has a guest bedroom that his grandkids, two young girls, stay in when they come to visit. We arranged to meet so I could take a look at the room and talk over what he wanted. The room was decorated in blue and orange with fun throw pillows with illustrations of fish and starfish setting the beachy tone. I put a small, 24″ wide x 12″ high, abstract painting of mine in the shot to establish scale so that I would be able to create mockups of my ideas in Photoshop. My client restated that he wanted to continue with the beachy theme. He left the content wide-open beyond that. I could see from other artwork in the room that he favors expressive, whimsical illustrations paired with brushy expressionist elements (see the print below). If you know my work, I usually paint in oil in a realist style. A very long time ago I did draw cartoons, and I have more recently done a few travel sketches and illustrations, but I am not an illustrator so I don’t have a illustration style that I could just pull out and create something with. I did what any artist would do: I scoured the internet for style ideas. One of the artists I favored was MGL Meiklejohn. I like the whimsical feel and bright colors and thought it would work well in the space. I did a mockup in Photoshop to figure out what size would work in the room. Aside from that, I knew what the client had already paid me and wanted to make sure I was giving him a painting in a size in keeping with that amount. I settled on 48″ wide x 36″ high. I sketched out a few ideas, various beach scenes, but one after another, when I placed the sketches in the mockup of the room wall they just felt lost on the wall. Finally it hit me. What the room needed was a mural; a piece of artwork that would cover the entire wall. One of the commissions I took just before this one was for an illustration printed on wallpaper, creating in effect, a mural. That commission never came to fruition for various reasons, but I had researched printing wallpaper on-demand. I presented a thumbnail for my favorite idea as a wallpaper mural and got approval from the client to go ahead. I tussled with how to execute the illustration, knowing that it would be printed large scale. If you draw something on paper and scan it, or illustrate something on the computer in a bitmap program, you can end up with jagged or blurry edges.

I have learned that as an artist, if you take commissions you have to be ready for an adventure along the way. And sometimes the adventure is epic, spanning a much longer timeline than you could ever imagine. Two years ago, in the spring of 2022, a man who lives in my community in Florida told me he was renovating his kitchen and wanted to install a glass backsplash with a seascape-inspired painting on the back side. This was nothing like anything I had ever done. As I contemplated doing it my mind went back to an interview I’d heard with the artist, Cesar Santos, in which he was asked if he ever refused a commission because it wasn’t something he liked to do. He replied with something to the effect of, “No, I think that if you turn someone down who really wants a painting, just because you don’t want to do it, and you’re able to do it, you’re just being [a jerk].” There were all sorts of unknowns with the project. I had never painted on glass, except for a long-ago crafty project painting glass Christmas ornaments. And I knew that I’d have to paint from the foreground up to the background since it would be painted on the reverse side of the glass, the opposite of how I normally paint. The logistics of working on a huge and heavy piece of glass that would span the entire length of a rather long kitchen counter also gave me pause. But still, I told myself that I could figure it out, and said yes. The client showed me a couple of paintings he has and a few photos he took from a recent beach visit for style and color reference. He wanted a beach scene with sand and grasses in a lose style. I researched acrylic mediums and techniques that would produce the desired results since my usual medium, oil, would not adhere to glass. I went into the studio and created a study on a small piece of glass. It turned out well and the client loved it. This was mid-summer 2022. The client’s construction manager told him that they would be ready to install the glass in October of 2022. That would line up with my return to Florida so I planned to get started on the final project then. Florida residents will remember that on September 23, 2022 record breaking hurricane Ian hit the shores of Fort Myers. It devastated the area and prompted a flurry of re-construction activity. With a supply chain still reeling from the 2020 Covid pandemic lockdown, what glass plate that was available was diverted to construction projects. My client was told the project would have to be put on hold. So we waited. I moved on to other projects. My client had time to think. He had time to think of all the things that could go wrong with a risky project like this. Would moisture get behind the glass

Bruce and I at the Chagras National Park near Panama City, Panama. When I travel I usually bring a sketchbook and try to spend time trying to capture the feel of the place. It serves as a journal, reminding me later of special times in a more personal way. Before leaving on my last big trip I took an online course on Domestika called Expressive Architectural Sketching with Colored Markers. I had seen the work of Albert Kiefer, known as House Sketcher on Instagram and loved the colorful and playful way he depicts buildings around the world. His squiggly lines, bright colors, and watercolor-like splotches are so wonderfully free and expressive. Around this time I created a few fine-liner ink drawings as commissions that collectors gave as gifts. It reminded me of how much I like that medium but I wanted to work on developing a style that I could use to sketch more quickly on the go with materials that were easy to travel with. And I wanted to add color. I put together a travel sketch kit adding Copic sketch alcohol-based markers to my favorite Sakura Pigma Micron pens, along with other supplies to round it out. I created a few practice sketches while taking the course. On a walk one day I took a photo of the guard house in my community in Florida and sketched it when I got home. In December we set off on an adventure that started out in Panama City. We hired a private guide who took us to visit the Chagras National park where the indigenous tribe shared their ways, gave us a wonderful traditional meal and a tour of their village. I played with perspective in this sketch, below, of a Chagras indigenous peoples’ elevated hut in the way Albert Kiefer does with his house sketches. On the way to the village our guide stopped at a road-side fruit vendor’s truck to buy fruit to bring to the village that became part of our lunch. We sat in the car while he bought the fruit and I snapped a photo that I sketched from later. My goal for this sketch was to be true to the scene as it was, but be very expressive. On another day we drove around with a different guide. He stopped at a popular tourist attraction called the Chinese Monument that celebrates the long history of the Chinese in Panama. Guides like to point out the tall steel pole to the left where a tiny monkey perches and will peak out if you tap on the pole. I couldn’t quite get that in accurately, but the way I drew it reminds me of that detail. My goal for this sketch was to see how expressive and loose I could be while representing the structures in a recognizable way. The line in the poem, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” by T. S. Eliot, “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons,” came to

Laura Daluga AFID and Brian Skol, Meadow Brook Hall, Rochester, Michigan I have been surrounding myself with beautiful blooms as I work away at a series of paintings featuring orchids and post one botanical photo each day on my Facebook page. In line with this, I took a “floral fieldtrip” recently to historic Meadow Brook Hall in Rochester, Michigan for the annual Art in the Elements show. As luck would have it, I happened upon a fellow realist artist, Brian Skol, setting up to paint en plein air, (meaning, to paint outdoors). We chatted for a while, finding we share several connections in the Detroit Area arts world. We were joined by Brian’s wife, Laura Daluga, AIFD, also pictured above. Laura is the creator of this event, originally at the Cranbrook House & Gardens, Bloomfield Hills, MI, and now sits as co-chair for the event. This yearly event brings floral designers together to interpret the works of other artists in floral design. I left Laura and Brian to take a lovely end-of-summer stroll through the woods surrounding Meadow Brook Hall and take a few photos of the floral displays to share with you. If you’d like to be notified of this event in the future, I suggest you subscribe to the Meadow Brook Hall newsletter using their Stay Connected form found on this year’s Art in the Elements event page.

Laurie Tennant with the Belle Isle Conservatory in the background On an overcast Sunday morning a few weeks ago, I crossed the MacArthur bridge over the Detroit River to Belle Isle in Detroit, Michigan. I found my way to the glass-domed Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory and met up with a small group of photography enthusiasts to take a Botanical Portrait Photography workshop with the photographer, Laurie Tennent. The class was offered through The Atelier School of Art. I use photography in my painting practice to produce reference photographs and to take photos of completed artwork. I have also had a lifelong interest in photography as an artform in itself. As I am beginning a new series of botanical paintings with “The Alchemist’s Garden” as a first offering, studying botanical photography with a pro seemed like the perfect thing to do. We made our way into the Conservatory and began in the steamy tropical room where it felt like I’d instantly traveled to a garden in my winter home state of Florida. The blooms and foliage were dripping with moisture. The 50mm prime lens on my Nikon D850 camera fogged up immediately. Once I’d carefully wiped it off, I began to study the many blooms around me. There was no shortage of subjects to photograph. I took a broad sweep around the room and took many shots, then went back and focused on a few of my favorites. I decided to shoot in manual mode to challenge myself to make all of the decisions necessary to get a good shot so that I’d learn as much as possible. Above you see the oft-ignored back side of a Peace Lily. I love the graceful arch and the dewy jewels clinging to the luminous green and white surface. I will often add water drops to blooms in my paintings. I find the highlights and shadow patterns in water droplets to be mesmerizing. I think it also gives the image a sense of energy and movement with the anticipation of the droplets rolling off the petal any moment. The small yellow and orange blossoms of the Clivia Miniata with their sun-ray stamen look like bursts of joy to me. I composed the shot such that the foliage around it framed the blooms in a v-shape and the leaf to the right caught a bit of weak sunlight just so. As with all the photos shown here, I edited this one in Adobe Lightroom to perform what photographers call post-processing, or post for short, to improve the composition and change various aspects of it to bring it to my artistic vision. This is typical of professional photographers. Rarely will you see a professionally produced photo that is not artistically enhanced in some way. Long before digital tools, pros like Ansel Adams used dark room tricks of the trade to get the shot just right. Outside we toured the vast urban garden designed by Dutch landscape artist, Piet Oudolf. Looking at the bountiful garden you would

The Alchemist’s Garden, oil on linen canvas, 60″ W x 48″ H I have now had a second home in southeast Florida for nearly 3 years. What I notice in creating my living space there is that the heavier, darker, more traditional décor feels “wrong” in Florida, for lack of a better word. It’s as if the colder, darker months of winter where we’re holed up in our igloos in the north leads us to feathering our nests with warmer, cozier, darker décor choices. In Florida I feel, as I believe others do, that lighter, brighter, airy spaces just feel better. I feel that our surrounding environs directly influence our taste in interior décor. When it came time to create a painting for my own home, it is for this reason I chose to paint a lighter, brighter, more modern composition. One of the things I love about living in a coastal region is the abundance of brightly colored tropical plants. It’s a place where you will see orchids cultivated to grow in the cupped “shoe” of palm tree’s bark in a front yard. My spirit lifts and soars when I see bright sunlight shining on flowers such as these. The flowers become dazzling gemstones radiating a divine beauty and they lift my spirit. It is this emotional impact that I wanted to evoke in the viewer when I set out to create this painting. Creating Sunshine As you know, the sun doesn’t always shine brightly, or rather, not at the right angle, to create those bright bursts of color. When it does it’s sometimes a momentary flash, especially because of its transitory nature. I decided to mimic this through the use of a photographic technique employing a speedlight, commonly known as a flash, to create a high-key reference photo. Flowers change too rapidly for me to paint from life. It took a solid week, maybe two, of trial and error where I worked out the kinks in my process and waited (somewhat) patiently while my orchid, a common white phalaenopsis from the grocery store, went through several stages of growth and gave me a composition I was pleased with. The Title I chose the title, “The Alchemist’s Garden,” in reference to the idea of transformation of one thing into another, which the alchemist’s of old believed was possible. They believed that with the right combination of materials and process they could transform something as common as lead into something as valuable as gold. I endeavored to perform an alchemic transformation by taking the common yet graceful elegance of a grocery store orchid and use a flash of light to transform and elevate it into something vivid and ethereal. The desired result is not the capital richness of gold, but the more valuable richness of uplifted emotion. The Final Result After I finished the painting I showed it to couple of friends. I love watching people’s faces and listening to what they say when they first see a painting. I

As a child, before a predicted winter storm I would go to bed with visions of playing in deep blankets of snow and the excitement of staying home from school the next day. The so-called “snow day” was a longed-after respite from the drudgery of the school year. At least once per year the dream would come true. It would sometimes happen that the snow would turn to rain overnight, but the temperatures would dip, and the rain froze on the trees and bushes. With the storm passed, the sun rose and shone through the crystalline branches creating a dazzling, other-worldly, magical scene. This past December in Michigan brought a seemingly endless string of short, cloudy days. The grey clouds hung low and weighed on my mood like a heavy blanket. I went for walks but had to step carefully, walking like a penguin, with mincing steps to avoid slipping on the ice. On one of these walks in the woods I thought back to one of the days I describe above, and I thought about how beautiful that would be and how I would love to see that again. Back home again in our little home on the lake, I stepped outside on the patio and heard songbirds, hundreds of them, calling out to each other. It was such a lovely, uplifting sound that I recorded it so I could listen to it later. As I stood recording the birdsong I looked out at the lake and imagined the sun coming out on a sun-filled icy wonderland. I decided in that moment to create a painting showing just that, including a cardinal in flight, to buoy my spirits. In the days that followed I prepped my surface and began the process of creating the painting. One day I left the house early in the morning, just after sunrise, and as I passed a large open field surrounded by underbrush and dotted with trees. The sun blazed through the branches, and I saw that my vision had come true. My heart soared and my mood lifted. Even after all these years, this phenomenon brings joy to me, and it always feels magical and full of promise. “Cardinal in Flight” is listed for sale in my portfolio.

The first light of the morning glows dimly over the horizon. The light from my reading lamp makes up the difference and illuminates the blank pages of the lined notebook open on my lap. The only noise in my snug studio is the slow tock-tock-tock of a clock on the desk. I sip my coffee and close my eyes to clear my mind. A moment later I open them and bring the pen I am holding to the top of the page and write the date and my location. I have decided to start with a list of gratitudes. Then I move on to talk about how the cat is climbing on my journal and biting the corner. I gently shoo her away and continue writing whatever comes to mind at the moment, until I fill three pages. The day has begun. Last newsletter I wrote about The Artist Date, an exercise prescribed in The Artist’s Way, by Julie Cameron. The other cornerstone of 12-week course in the book is the practice of completing the Artist Pages every day. This is quite simply writing three pages longhand in a journal every day. That’s it. It is simple in its method but powerful in its potential, much as meditation is. I would venture to say that it is, in fact, a form of meditation in which you are similarly encouraging “a heightened state of awareness and focused attention.” The author maintains that writing in this way each day boosts creativity. After practicing Artist Pages myself, I have to agree that it feels like priming the creativity pump. After a few days of beginning the practice I found that my mind was filled with ideas and creative approaches to many things in my life. One of the things I’ve always wanted to do is write a book. Ever since I read my first “chapter book,” Island of the Blue Dolphins, as a child I was hooked and wanted to create a book myself. I have made many aborted attempts in the past but struggled with coming up with ideas. Shortly after I began writing my Artist Pages I came across a contest sponsored by David Baldacci, a thriller writer, through Master Class. I’ve told you that I’m a sucker for contests. I saw that I had one month to complete the entry requirements, which was to write two chapters of a mystery or thriller. Once I learned of the contest my Artist Pages filled with ideas for a novel. I went with one idea, writing a chapter. The words flowed and it felt good. The idea, however, was too dark and I felt like it would be torturous to continue to spend as much time as would be necessary to complete an entire book. I stored it away in case it appealed to me later and began again. It took a couple of days of writing in my journal, letting my mind clear and flow, brushing away worry that I couldn’t come up with

The Artist’s Way I recently saw mention of a book my mother gave me years ago when I was living at home, “The Artist’s Way,” by Julia Cameron. I never got around to reading it, too busy with school and my young life, I suppose. Perhaps feeling a bit nostalgic, or guilty for not having read it, a gift from my mother, I checked out the newest edition from the library. The aim of the book is to take you through a 12-week course of exercises designed to help you find your inner artist and provide tools to help you become more creative in your artistic pursuits, be that as a visual artist, writer, photographer, singer, what have you. The book is a bit of a commitment, but for many people it has been life-changing. The author of the well-loved, “Eat, Love, Pray,” Elizabeth Gilbert, is quoted on the cover as saying, “The Artist’s Way brings much insight, gently helping you see what is holding you back, and showing you how to move forward.” Beyond the nostalgia and guilt, I have been questioning the direction my art is taking so I thought it might be helpful to read a bit of it to see if it might help me. To be honest, I got through two weeks of reading and doing the exercises and I was so fired up with feelings of creativity that I said to myself, “I already know I’m an artist. I need to get busy with all these ideas!” The Artist Date One of the tools Ms. Cameron believes is essential to opening the path toward being an artist is “the artist date.” She acknowledges that it may seem like a strange thing to do, but assures the reader that it is useful. She says, “Doing your artist date, you are receiving–opening yourself to insight, inspiration, guidance.” Simply put, an Artist Date is a “block of time, perhaps two hours weekly, especially set aside and committed to nurturing your creative consciousness, your inner artist. In its most primary form, the artist date is an excursion, a play date.” So it came to be that I planned and took a trip to the rather loftily named “Butterfly Estates,” in Fort Myers. The centerpiece of the collection of shops, a co-op gallery, and a café, is a glass greenhouse which houses a “not for profit organization dedicated to protecting, preserving and populating our native species [of butterflies].” Small Size, Big Heart Last year I visited the mega-popular Key West Butterfly & Nature Conservancy, a must-see tourist attraction. The Fort Myers Butterfly house is a much smaller operation, but what it lacks in size and locale, it makes up for in charm and heart. It is nestled in a rural pocket of homes on a side street near the busy down town area of Fort Myers. Butterflies Abound As you enter the cool humid space inside the greenhouse you are surrounded by lush, tropical plants with butterflies flitting around and landing on

Recording our Love I sit in the white wicker rocking chair near the window with my feet up on a foot stool. I’ve just finished nursing my newborn son. I rub his back, feeling the warmth of his tiny body relaxing into slumber. I am tired too and I relax further into the chair and close my eyes. I want to remember this moment so I make an effort to record everything about it, the contours of his body, the weight of him against my chest, the feel of the cloud-soft blanket wrapped around him, his slow and steady breathing, the quiet stillness of the nursery. Almost 28 years later I am able to pull this memory forward and cherish it once more. Over the following months and years I set up and took photographs and painted him as another way of cherishing and remembering. Two early photographs stand out in my mind. One was taken a few days after he came home for the first time. He was jaundiced so I would lay him on a blanket in the soft winter sunshine next to the window. I had my husband hold his foot and photographed the tiny foot nestled in his daddy’s large, protective hand. The other was a shot I set up with my son leaning against my shoulder in front of a window. The side light caught my cheek and the downy back of his head with the rest of the scene in shadow for a lovely chiaroscuro effect. The connections we have with people are what give our lives meaning and sustain us. But, these moments are fleeting and people, sadly, are not with us forever, so it is important to capture them so that we may gather sustenance from them later.  The Human Touch As an artist, the human figure is one of the most interesting and beautiful things to paint. I love the contours, curves, and poignant beauty of one human touching another. I am especially drawn to paintings of a parent cradling their child. It speaks of a deep and abiding human connection and love that sings to my soul. Creating the Bond Last week I spoke to a young father who told me that he makes a point to schedule his time so that he can spend time with his infant daughter, giving her baths, reading bedtime stories, playing. He said that a friend gave him the advice to make sure to prioritize bonding with his daughter now because she will grow up quickly and the time to create the enduring connection is now. How true that is. This story and my own memories of bonding with my son inspired me to paint a small watercolor of a father’s hand cradling a baby. Another Treatment and a Series to Come I have decided to create a series of paintings like this in oil, beginning with the same subject, as an 8″ x 8″ rendition. Below you will see the beginning of the under painting. I

Student work from nearly 30 years ago. We are often told to stay in the moment, don’t dwell in the past. This is generally good advice in life. However, for an artist, looking back can be a balm for blue periods of self doubt. Listening to other artists, and knowing myself, I see that it is common to question our abilities. There are days, especially when we are pushing our boundaries, when every stroke of the brush brings doubt. The feeling that our work isn’t any good, or doesn’t measure up to our expectations. Class Work Revisited Recently I packed up my home and studio of 17 years up for a move to a new location. I uncovered a stack of drawings I’d forgotten I had saved from the mid-90s when I took drawing classes: life study, anatomy, and advanced drawing, at the community college. Seeing those drawings brought the thoughts and feelings I had while I created them flowing back. I remember the frustration of knowing what I wanted to create and not having the skill to pull it off. I had moments of success, but also moments of failure. I recall struggling to find the patience to still my mind enough to fully develop a large, complex drawing. I found drawing myself when looking at myself in a mirror to be challenging. The results were somewhat skewed, with too-large eyes and too-small mouth. Inked onto the back of one drawing of an interior in my house was a message from an instructor telling me to find a subject I could spend 6 or 7 plus hours on. She could see my restlessness and inability to settle down and dig into the subject. Another advised trying to use more expressive line work. She could see my stiffness and lack of confidence. I was frustrated because I had done the best I could. But, I kept at it, determined to improve. Moving Forward When I looked at these drawings recently I felt that old doubt flow back. In the next moment, though, I realized that with a slight pivot in my thinking, this discovery of my old work was a gift. I shifted my gaze to my current work that I’d gathered to pack for moving. It was clear to me that over the years of study and practice I have improved. I still push boundaries and sometimes I’m unhappy with the result, but sometimes I produce something I’m happy with. So, in this way, it is good to look back, to see where you have come from, the progress you’ve made. It gives you the reassurance that if you persevere and study with the purpose of improving, you will progress. If you let doubt stop you, if you let fear hold you back, you will not move forward. Young Artists at Work I talked above about looking back at progress over a long period of time, but another use of looking back is to create a tighter loop where you repeat

Mike, me, and Angie at the end of our visit, with the painting of Bella. Remembering Bella A short while ago I learned that Bella, a sunny, often beribboned Shih Tzu, and loving companion of dear friends, was ill. Over the course of the following days, I saw Facebook posts such as one that showed a small, tired looking, black and white dog reclining in a cushioned dog bed draped with warm blankets. The posts talked about her further declining health and a terrible decision that had to be made. These posts reminded me of my own experiences with pets in the past. The highs of the love and fondness I felt for them, and the deep grief over the eventual loss of my dear friends. Time passed, and my friends, Angie and Mike, made the humane, but most-difficult decision, to end Bella’s suffering. I followed Angie’s posts and my heart clutched when I saw the photo collages she posted. This beloved pet shared their lives for many years; picnics, car rides, quiet cuddles on the sofa together, and I could see that the loss of her would be very painful. I wanted to do something to memorialize her in a deep and lasting way. Inspiration My artist Instagram feed is filled with posts from many amazing artists. I kept seeing the work of a handful of talented pet artists. My favorite feeds feature close-up portraits of mostly dogs and cats painted in a lush and brushy style with special attention to soulful eyes, shiny wet noses and anthropomorphic expressions ranging from restful attention, loving adoration, playfulness, to “are you kidding me, I’m busy lounging here.” All were adorable. A Portrait of Bella It so happened that we were going to be spending a long weekend at a mutual friends’ cabin, along with Mike and Angie. As I scanned the pet-artist’s feed one day the week prior to the trip, it struck me that a painting of Bella would make a deeply meaningful gift for Mike and Angie. I scanned through Angie’s Facebook feed and found a suitable photo amongst others in a collage. It was a tiny photo, sized down for posting, but it showed the sparkle in her eyes on a happy outing in their car on some past adventure. I decided to paint that. Emotional Response I completed the painting over the course of the next few days and signed it the morning we drove the 3 ½ hours north to the cabin. Before we left, I asked my husband, “Do you think they’ll like it?” He looked at it closely and took a few seconds before answering. He said simply, “They’re going to cry.” The evening of the first night there I presented the painting to Mike and Angie. I looked at their faces and could see the dawning recognition of their beloved Bella and the welling of emotion it brought. They did cry. While I felt touched by the depth of their loss, and a