Standing outdoors in autumn at the edge of a tangled sumac grove is a reminder that some things remain constant even as the world around us transforms.  Birds fly overhead, branches sigh in the wind. Falling leaves add their fragrance to the damp earth.  These earth and sky sensory gifts are all abundant in Bear River. 

I feel a magical otherworldliness in places of unmanaged overgrowth. They return me to childhood fairy tales filled with mysterious forests and magical beings.  Anything and everything can and will happen.

The Enchanted Sumac Grove

Our little sumac grove is one of my favourite painting locations. 

Sumac trees have an unmatched fall presence with their red leaves, dark twisted limbs, and the sweep of their branches. But their crimson leaves are brief. They drop to the ground with the first hard autumn rainfall.

Much of my painting is inspired by the rush of joy I feel when an object or a colour moves me in a scene. I can’t anticipate it and it comes unbidden. The impulse is so strong that I follow it when I can and before it disappears. The experience of painting outdoors lifts my spirit. Indeed, the entire act of painting is my medicine.

Setting up My Outside Studio

These sumac trees are in an out-of-the-way spot end of the house where I don’t usually walk. Half the leaves had already turned from green to red when I noticed them. The arching trees and wild growth in this chaotic, private setting just added to the drama.

I rushed to the studio and dragged my heavy wooden, Italian double easel out to the spot. I felt I needed a huge canvas to capture the expansive beauty of the scene. The wheelbarrow transported my easel, brushes, water, charcoal, paint, rags.

There was a problem with a 4 feet x 6 feet canvas. Size matters but can be a problem. In the past I have depended on the help of friends with trucks to transport large paintings from our house to a gallery, because my car can’t handle anything wider than 40”. My work-around was to tie 2 canvases, each 3 feet x 4 feet together at the back. I also wheelbarrowed concrete bricks to anchor the easel so that the wind wouldn’t turn my canvases into sails!

There is an additional excitement in battling the elements this way. It definitely combines physical exercise with problem-solving.

Painting from the Heart

Once the palette and canvas was set up, the hard part begins. How could I translate my feelings of excitement and joy about the scene onto a blank canvas?

I loosely sketched the large shapes onto the canvases with quick charcoal marks. I wanted to capture the shape and the movement of the grove of sumac as a mass but also to show a few individual trees. 

The beginning of the painting took place over a series of chilly, blustery days.  It is never my goal to reproduce exactly what I see. Instead, I want to suggest a feeling, movement and to follow the curve of the landscape and then to edit what I am seeing.  Eventually the painting takes precedence over the actual scene and leads the way. I become present in the environment and feel like I could step through the canvas into another world. Everything melts away except an awareness of colour, paint, trees, wind and sky. 

A couple of days later, a wind and rain storm blew in and overnight the red leaves lay shrivelled on the ground in spirals of deep maroon. That was the fall of 2021.

Refining the Painting Inside the Warm Studio

I stored the canvasses until the sumac leaves turned red again. The painting waited. I missed the window in 2022. This past fall in 2023, I returned to the scene.

This time when the leaves fell, I continued to paint it in the studio. The shapes and colours of the painting needed refining. At this point it’s not as much about feeling and intuition as about tweaking colour and adjusting the overall design and composition. I rarely paint from photos because I love being IN the nature. Having something real, three dimensional and living inspires me. But now I needed to closely examine those signature twisted trunks of the sumac.

When I looked at the panels separately, I saw that the left panel had more interest. The right hand panel needed a variety of elements so that it could also work as a strong stand-alone painting like the other panel. It needed contrast; a focal point; defined large and small areas and a variety of marks and brushstrokes.

Painting is a call and response process and each additional stroke of colour affects what’s already there and influences what is still to come. It’s a constant dance with the brush and the colours. I put down some marks, I step back and look, I walk over to pick up some colour on my brush from the palette, apply it and then step back again and assess. Painting is a journey of a thousand marks and the end for me is always unknown until it’s done.

The Painting’s Debut in Bear River

I was very excited to debut this painting during February at Sissiboo Coffee Bar and Gallery in Bear River and now at Sissiboo Coffee in Annapolis Royal until mid April. The day after we hung the show, I sipped a divine cup of coffee and sat and stared at the painting and thought about all the steps it took to bring it to completion. Because it’s a diptych, I designed it so that it can be hung as one large painting or hung as 2 separate ones, depending on wall space.

The other 2 artists in the show at Sissiboo Coffee are Crystal Pyne (painter)  and Gary Fraser (Photographer). We all depict Nature in this show. We are artists at Bear River Artworks Gallery during the Summer months. We love this opportunity to show our works during the off-season at our favorite coffee shops run by friends who are community minded.

The exhibition continues at Sissiboo Coffee in Annapolis Royal until April 14, 2024. Open daily until 4pm.