I try to make at least two pieces of art each month. You can find them here, and sometimes they have a story .
This is the first year that I've ever noticed 'Antelope Horn' or green milkweed. It's one of the flowers favored by the Monarch butterflies that make their way through the country down to central Mexico in the fall. I don't know how I missed this gorgeous, minty-lime green flower cluster with it's purple stars and thick petals blooming in the tall dry grass of North Texas. Maybe because it only blooms for a short time until the flowers turn into fuzzy brownish pods. Maybe also because I've spent so much time this past strange year walking outside. I loved making this painting. When I was mixing the light green and purple paint, I kept having flashbacks to my first bike, a dreamy sea foam green 80sHuffy with white and lavender streamers.
I'm just beginning a large commissioned painting that will probably take me at least two months to finish. I want to keep my promise to myself to make two small paintings a month for this year, so I've decided for the next few months to make some even smaller paintings like this. This one was a lot of fun to make and only took a day or two to finish. They will most likely all be colorful, cartoony little paintings of insects. The originals will be available, all for under 50 dollars, and I will probably use the images to make greeting cards and smaller things. This is the first one! A festive little firefly :)
This painting was inspired by a visit to Medicine Bow National Forest in Laramie, Wyoming a few years ago. I love the connection between the clouds and the little pond. I still have a lot to learn about landscape painting, but this was really fun to make.
This painting was inspired by a beautiful peony blooming in a friend's garden this Spring. The rain on this day, made the grain on the gray fence look extra saturated, and I wanted to play it up even more when I was painting the background. I added a katydid because I love their leafy camouflage and their long faces. I also love their names.
8x11 inch watercolor & gouache
Mariposa Lilies discovered on a trail through meadows and mountains near Boulder, Colorado. I had never heard of them before I found them on that day. It was enchanting to see the striking colors at the base of their petals, especially contrasted against a grey and ochre overcast landscape. It reminded me of the hypnotic quality of the patterns on moth wings, birch bark and woodgrain... like there are eyes staring back at you.
9x12 inches watercolor and gouache
Based on a wild rose hybrid from Peninsula Park Rose Garden in Portland, Oregon. Roses are the most dramatic flower. Their blooms are explosions of petals, scent and hues so saturated that it's almost surreal. It is not a peaceful kind of beauty. I couldn't quite capture the colors, but tried to recreate the drama with other elements in the composition. I did my best :)
11x15 in watercolor & gouache
Hono Hono orchids growing over stones near my old house in Manoa Valley in O'ahu. They grow from long woody vines, and cascade like a lilac and lime waterfall for three or four feet. I used to see people holding them like homecoming mums at the lei shops near the airport. They smell wonderful.
12 x 8 inch watercolor
Painted from a picture of a trail I walk with my dog, Leia several times a week. I'm always surprised by how much it changes from one day to the next. I have no idea why this tree has grown sideways, but it makes for great movement.
18x24 inch watercolor & gouache
Cloudy sky over Emery and Montie's house in Goodnight, which sits on the edge of the Palo Duro Canyon.
8 x 12 inch watercolor and gouache
Inspired by a little February bee I saw in the grass, as well as the little clovers that some how survived the Texas freeze.
Kalanchoe reaching towards the sunlight during the gray winter time.
9x12 inch watercolor
A crawfish washed away from the lake after a stormy night. She had such a long way to go when I found her. That same morning, I had scooped up a few fish that were flopping in the puddles and thrown them back in the lake. When I crouched down to consider if I should move this creature to deeper water, she curled her back tail under her body and lifted her cephalothorax and claws towards me. It was impressively intimidating and the clearest kind communication between animals. I knew she would be fine on her own. When I looped back, she was nowhere to be found on the land.
Geraniums from a backyard in Amarillo, Texas, that is always ringing from the sound of windchimes. Geraniums were my favorite flower when I was young, and I still think they are the most cheerful flower you can plant. The way that they bloom reminds me of bursting fireworks.
Prickly Pear blooming from a cactus at Oak Point Nature Reserve. Painted as a gift from a photo taken two months earlier. January is warm here, but not that warm.