Winter Roadside

As much as I want spring and summer weather, it's really still pretty cool and gloomy around here. Sometimes it's necessary to find the beauty that surrounds you, instead of pining away for what has been or will be. This painting is a means of stopping to 'smell the roses', as it were. There are times when the sweep of a hillside cloaked in winter chamisa can be breathtakingly beautiful.

I recall once, back in about 1989 or so, I was driving Albert Handell to a workshop in Albuquerque. The day was wet and gloomy. It was still winter, likely about this time of year--February or March. As we drove down a street filled with older adobe style houses a shaft of morning sun filtered through the gloom and we both looked at the incredible colors. It was a moment of mutual, mute understanding that's stayed with me all these years. The glory of winter's beauty was underlined by the moment of appreciation we shared.

The subtle beauty of dry foliage, clinging to the faint memory of dead greens, yellows and rusts, punctuated by deep, dark golds, browns and grays still thrills me. I love the colors of the rock in shadow, echoing those same hues in a darker tone, and the rolling hills in sunlight, reaching back tot he mountains in the distance.

So I guess today it's a matter of expressing appreciation for what is, and seeing the beauty of today.

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As always, these are for sale for $25.00 each, plus a modest shipping charge, depending on your location. Contact me to inquire: deb(at)deborahsecor(dot)com

Castle Garden

The photograph I used is from a WC acquaintance, Lin, who shared it on the Gouache Corner. I've taken some liberties with it, cropping and rearranging things. The stairway and path are inevitably the area of interest. I think the flowers on the right effectively balance it, especially since the shadow links the two sides visually.

I told you I'm totally in the mood for spring--this satisfies that itch. (Sorry, maybe I shouldn't mention spring and itch simultaneously. Too many of you are suffering the itchy eyes and noses of springtime allergies!)

It's painted on a piece of Canvas Paper, giving some nice textural notes. I like the way the distant foliage under the arch looks, and the walkway and wall use this texture well, too. All in all, this is a very satisfying painting to me right now.

And just so you have a reminder of the scale, remember it's close to a business card size. I'd love to send it to you for your desk or dresser. Let me know...

And as always, these are for sale for $25.00 each, plus a modest shipping charge, depending on your location. Contact me to inquire: deb(at)deborahsecor(dot)com

Olive and Indigo

It's nudging into spring. The plum trees are budding, dark eyelids still demurely cast down over rich pink flowers. I'm so ready for winter to be over. This painting must give you a hint of the mood I'm in. I want lush green grass, olive trees swaying in the breeze, and the indigo broom bursting with tiny lavender flowers. Soon... Meanwhile this lively color scheme feeds my soul.

Terry Miura's Challenge: SIMPLIFY

Today I'm showing you the paintings I did after Terry Miura challenged people to paint from his photo of an urban environment. Go take a look at his original photo. I don't get to view things like this shot much, so it was a lot of fun taking on the challenge.

The idea was to take a densely packed and busy photo and find ways to simplify it, perhaps by cropping, but also by resisting the temptation to paint every detail there. I love a challenge, so I was up to give it a try.

Here's my first one, my usual size, 2.5" x 3.5".

I was intrigued by the density of the small shapes and colors, but attempted to keep it unified by values. Close one eye and squint and you'll see the big dark shape on the far left, the medium-dark shape in the middle, and the medium and medium-light shapes of the hills. Successful, but not quite what I was after.

Here's my second one, a HUGE departure for me and far more what I wanted to accomplish. It's literally huge, for me anyway: 8"x5" on a piece of black Pastelmat paper!

I chose to crop and distort the image, pulling it into a much elongated and stylized version that appealed to me. I loved the sense of a street going uphill in stages, and enhanced that with the light coming between the buildings. I probably 'should' have added more shadow shapes of the buildings, but I chose to limit that response in order to keep it simple. I limited my palette, and heightened the contrasting values. Cars? No chance! I just haven't the inclination for those shapes, so I suggested a couple and let it go at that. Do you think it works?

Be sure to take a look over at Terry's challenge to see some of the things folks have painted already, and maybe even join in yourself!

(PS The second painting is $120.00 + $5.00 s/h)

Edited to add a link to Terry Miura's SIMPLIFY! - A Cityscape Challenge where you can see a slide show of 60 paintings, including Terry's beautiful version.

Adobe Shadows

I've painted this view at least ten or fifteen times! It's a photo I took over 20 years ago down on scenic Rio Grande Blvd in the valley that runs through Albuquerque. These adobe walls are really substantial, and this one has a window that allows a glimpse of the fields and trees beyond the road.

The pink is a little exaggeration of the color, but I like it. This is a romantic little painting, so the sweet colors seem to work. It's definitely "old New Mexico". I hope you like it.

Stormy Contrasts

This one comes with memories, too, of the many times I drove along Highway 14 on the east side of Sandia, which is dubbed 'The Turquoise Trail', amid these blue and lavender storm clouds with the tawny grasses stretched out in colorful contrasts. Gorgeous!

This one is also on Bristol paper (100 lb. in case you want to know), and I'm learning to love how it behaves. I really soaked the paper to do the sky, yet the paint sits on top of the hard paper and mingles differently than it does on the Arches. I have a lot of Bristol ACEO cards, so for now I'm sticking to using it.

My favorite part of this one is the way the light clouds drip down over the blue sky on the right there... Hope you like it, too!

Rio Grande to Sandia

This is a view of Sandia Peak that I see frequently from my neighborhood. I love seeing the glints of the Rio Grande wending its way along among the trees, and the transparent shadows turning the woods and distant city from blazing pinky-peach to cool blues and greens. You don't often have a sense of the depth of the ranges until you see the deep blue shadows delineating the hills this way.

I had a customer at an outdoor fair walk into my booth years ago and peer at one of my paintings of the mountain at sunset. She turned to her companion and in a definite New York accent said, "Mountains are never that color!" The real irony was that at that moment she could have looked over her shoulder and seen Sandia that very shade, as the sun went down. Some people have just decided what color the mountains are, and that's that. Well, if I have to choose, I'm choosing this color! ('Sandia' means watermelon in the Tewa dialect, and often our mountain resembles nothing so much as a giant slice of watermelon, rind and all.)