At the end of April I began taking an art class offered by one of my peeps, a young woman who walked into the lives of many of us one day about twenty months ago; a young woman with a million talents to offer. Among those talents, she is a self-taught artist and we’ve been begging her to teach us.

At our first class, we had to draw a small box in the upper left-hand corner of the paper and place the person who has been our biggest art critic into it. That done, the critic was forever boxed–well, until she sneaks out, which she seems to do way too much.

And then we looked at some photographs in magazines and had to sketch them and determine the direction the eye would travel in the picture.

Next we looked at lines and perspective. I’d brought along my favorite colored pencils, but immediately felt my inner critic jump on me because all of my classmates were working with watercolor pencils, watercolor paint or acrylics. And the artist herself, gouache. Until I met her, I’d never even heard of gouache. Or at least never paid attention, if I had.

And so between classes I purchased a set of watercolor pencils and tried all over again. It certainly was a quicker way to create and I liked how I could blend the colors with a brush. But still, it was a long process to produce such.

Our next lesson was on values and we looked at how values add to the picture and stood outside and quickly sketched some scenes in the neighborhood.

And then she produced a photo of a white iris for us to illustrate. I struggled with this because I couldn’t figure out how to make the flower pop and so I cheated (well, maybe it’s not cheating, but rather an artist’s prerogative), and outlined the flower with a different color.

When I later asked the artist how to do this, she showed me that by making the background darker the flower would stand out. And so I tried again.

The other thing about the artist’s prerogative–you don’t have to include everything in your illustration that is in the photograph. And so you can see I left some leaves out on the second try. But I did want more detail in the flower.

“Painting is not about ideas or personal emotion. Paintings are about freedom from the cares of this world, from worldliness. All art work is about beauty.” ~Agnes Martin

When we were asked to draw a scene from another photograph and complete it only with greens to get a sense of value, I again needed help since I couldn’t create green from blue and yellow, and so she helped me choose three colored pencils to use.

And then the third class was upon us and I was encouraged to borrow her watercolors because it would be easier to create a color wheel. And my confidence took a dip as I was giving up my beloved pencils for an hour or two. And walking down a path I hadn’t followed in many, many years.

This was a study in complementary colors and from our mind’s eye we needed to paint a tree with mountains behind and use such colors. Not only was it kinda fun, but definitely a faster way to reach the end and the colors popped more.

Next we had to go big. Well, not that big really. I usually stuck to the size of the photograph, the easier to figure out how to position lines. But we were all given this photograph of Hemlock Bridge Road and had to use those same complementary colors to complete the scene. And so I played. And had great fun. And began to learn that I could let go. Sometimes.

That said, at home I attempted the same scene with the watercolor pencils and actually liked that as well. It was a different effect.

Back in class again, we learned more about using complementary colors and had different scenes to illustrate. This was with the watercolor pencils.

And then the afternoon dawned when composition was the topic. As we looked for the most interesting area in a scene. It never occurred to me to crop, just as we sometimes crop photographs.

I was a wee bit nervous for this one for a couple of reasons. One, I’d purchased some watercolor paints and new brushes. And two, the photo struck me as being a really difficult scene to replicate. Or at least represent. And so I did a painting smaller than the paper I was working on. And discovered that white was my friend.

A day or two later, I couldn’t wait to pull the paints out again, and give this another try. It’s much lighter/brighter than the actual photo or my first attempt, but I kinda like it.

That inspired me to go back to the other water scene and try it again. It looks nothing like the photo of an original painting, (I’m sorry, but I don’t remember the artist) but playing with the paints was becoming a favorite pastime.

A really favorite pastime, so much so, that I’m addicted; in a good way, of course. When I showed this to My Guy, he immediately knew where it was for we’d only climbed this particular mountain a week or so ago to count Lady’s Slippers. On a rainy day.

Over the weekend I photographed this Four-spotted Skimmer, so named for the four spots on each side: two per wing, the mid-wing spot being the nodus, and the black spot toward the tip of the wing being the stigma.

I know that what I like about sketching is that I can focus on details, but when painting with watercolors, that is much more difficult for me. And so I need to figure out how to let go a bit more. But that will come in time. Maybe.

For our last class yesterday, we had to choose a scene of our own to illustrate. I chose the wee studio on our back forty (haha, we only own six acres total, so it’s rather hard to have a back forty), where a pollinator garden adds to the picture. Okay, so this is a painting. The garden looks nothing like that. And the stonewall behind is much smaller. And, oh geesh, here comes the art critic.

The cool thing about the studio, which I don’t use anymore, but someone suggested yesterday I should do my artwork in there, is that we won it at the Fryeburg Fair many moons ago when we paid $25 for five raffle tickets to support Harvest Hills Animal Shelter. To enter, one has to duck. I’ve always felt that was a plus for it put me into a different place where I could create. And thus, The Giant’s Shower, the fairy tale I wrote and Solona Ward illustrated, was written in that space.

At the end of the last class, we were invited to show off our paintings and I chose the mountaintop scene. We were down one because she is on vacation, but seated left to right are Pam, Linda, Debbie, and me.

And our teacher for these past seven weeks was the one and only Jessie Lozanski, who recently painted this scene from photos I’d taken along a trail at the Bold Coast of Maine. It graces our kitchen and each time I look across at it I am transported to that time and place, but also to so many other times and places for it triggers many memories.

This morning I was gifted a painting by another student of Jessie’s. The painter of this scene is nine years old. And she’s an extraordinary naturalist whom I’ve had the pleasure of working with every other Wednesday for the past three school years. I love the grassy mounds and the fox and the tree–especially its trunk. This is an artist who is well on the way to finding her style and both she and Jessie will have their works for sale at Gallery 302s Art in the Park in July.

Here’s a photo of the young artist and her mom heading back along a trail we’d explored a few weeks ago. Anywhere we go, she finds inspiration.

The same is true of Jessie, and I know I take a lot of photos, but she takes a million more and I get it now because I’m looking at the world from a different perspective, like seeing the shades of green and yellow, and brown and even purple in our yard and the field beyond in a different light.

I am chuckling because shortly after purchasing the watercolor paints, I found this ditty in my collection. If I remember correctly, I painted this in college. Nobody is perfect. Thank goodness.

And I’m having fun finding an art that I thought I’d lost . . . all over again.