I learn as I prepare to teach a class, reviewing notes from workshops I've taken, re-reading parts of my many watercolor books, looking through a very thick 3 ring binder filled with 30 years of articles cut from watercolor magazines, reviewing techniques on art DVD's, and doing research on the internet. Even if I already know much of what I plan to teach, a review is beneficial. Making lesson plans helps me organize my thinking. Preparing handouts with illustrations and class notes force me to find the best way to explain "why" of design and the "how" of techniques.

But one of the best ways for a teacher to learn is to listen to their students and observe what they do.

This year I had requests to teach the use of texture in abstracted paintings in the winter class I teach. While I have never taught this before, it is what I currently paint at home in my own studio. An advantage is that every class demo I finish will fit comfortably with the style work I am showing.

Putting random texture on the paper is the first step - and the easiest. Deciding what to do after that is far harder! When preparing visual examples of possibiltiies for that next step, I realized that painting the first, textured step in gray, then adding a second step in color would make it readily apparent to my students which was step one and which was step two.

As I proudly held up my samples in class, a student provided me with that AHA moment when she said, "These paintings would be great in black and white!" I had not thought of it myself, but that idea was immediately appealing to me. I could hardly wait to get started.

The goal I've set for myself is to complete a series of eight textured paintings that are essentially black and white. Each will be vertical and have two containers with unusual plants. I've completed the first two paintings in this series, and look forward to the exciting creative challenges posed by working within my self-imposed limitations.

Thank you Kay! I'm very much enjoying your suggestion. Disciplining msyelf to paint with such a limited palette forces me to employ design prinicples in different ways than usual. I may be an old dog, but I'm still learning new tricks.

Both "Two Vessels" paintings I've completed can be seen in the"Paintings" category on this website.

I had no idea of what a cybergook was or how it worked. With a bit of research I found that it is a book that can be bought online to be instantly downloaded, viewed, and stored on your own computer. There is no need to top off your gastank ata $4 a gallon for a drive to a bookstore, no fee for a membership card that gives you a discount equal to the price the card, and no hunting through thousands of books to find it. With much of our population regularly using computers, it seemed like a terrific idea.

The concept for the book was for each artist to write a detailed explanation of the process and materials used to create their painting. We were to write to the question "How did they do that?" which is also the subtitle of the book. And the challenge was to have it fit on a single page.

I shared the news of this appealing oppotunity with my artist friend Liz. Both of us decided to apply and spent considerable time discussing which images to submit, but that was only the beginning. Both Liz and I love words and like to write. Perhaps it could be said we are easily entertained, but we very much really enjoy reading what the other writes, providing endless critiques for each other, honing even that single page to make every word count! Of course we wanted our explanations to be succint, but we felt that what we wrote had to be interesting as well - not simply a dry narrative. I lost count of how many rewrites each of us did for our entries.

Happily each of us had both entries included in the book. You can see more about this book at www.awalkintoabstracts.com and watch a short slide show of some of the paintings from the book.

Does having work shown in a cyberbook count as being "published?" I think so! To have an artist unknown to me see my work and invite me to participate was affirming. The idea that I'm soaring in cypberspace with a couple of my paintings is a kick, and I don't even need to worry about dealing with those dreaded pretzels or a tray table.

I personally enjoy painting doors, and I had never assigned that subject in any of my previous workshops. Painting very old doors with colorful peeling paint that showed through another layer of a different color of peeling paint sounded fun and instructive.

Artistically anticipating the changing seasons and holidays is not my forte.  For instance, I get excited about painting poinsettias during the Christmas season, and the resulting paintings are invariably ready to hang for Valentine’s Day.  Paintings that include patriotic themes or flags are ready to frame about August 15. I paint spring in summer, Christmas after the New Year, Fall in Winter. But No one is interested in Easter themes for Mother’s Day. Should I say I am very early or a bit behind?

At least last year I realized that the first assignment to paint a weathered door could be repeated as a second assignment by adding snow flurries, a few icicles hanging from the door handle, or snow that fell softly into a small pile on top of an as yet unused door handle or collected on the top edge of a raised door panel. And for once, what I had in mind was perfectly “in season.” Like today, it was cold, with ice and snow on the ground. My photographs didn’t show flurries, icicles, or collected snow, but we could invent those details for the subsequent assignment.

Even though it was really cold, the need for reference photos for my students sent me outdoors with my camera to hunt for old doors that had unusual handles, broken screens or windows, layers of peeling paint, cracked walls, rust, and maybe even graffiti.  I hoped to take enough door photos so each student could choose a different reference photograph.   I soon realized the best doors for my purpose were back doors of the old buildings downtown.

If anyone saw me that afternoon, driving slowly down the alleys, parking at odd angles, sometimes stopping to take a photo from my open car window in an effort to stay close to the car heater, I would surely have been suspect. At least I wasn’t wearing a mask. Luckily no one called the police, thinking I was planning a robbery.

The image I’m sharing today was the demonstration painting I did in the first class to show students some techniques to effect a weathered door.  Finding a pleasing abstracted design of a portion of my own reference photo, I chose to paint only part of a door. It had the advantage of having several weathered textures - a broken stucco wall with underlying bricks exposed, a rusty screen, weathered wood, and rusty metal screws and nails.

My students enjoyed painting old doors. They did a great job, and I was proud that each put something of themselves into their paintings rather than replicating the reference photo.

At long last I understood. I simply needed a lot more experience to understand the language of artistic creation. What a painting "says" is not audible, but rather intuitive. The message doesn't come from a specific compositional rule, technique, or painting formula, but rather the sum total of all the artist has learned. Once you understand the language, the message is usally quite clear. Without conscious effort I have a strong feeling that a certain area of a painting needs more texture, that line needs to curve, the next shape needs to be round, an edge needs to be soft.

In my last blog I wrote about using the computer to sketch or paint over a photograph of the first step of a painting, and shared one of several sketches. But when I went back to work on the actual painting, intuition took over. The painting took on a life of it's own. I used my computer generated plan only as a suggestion, allowing myself to pay attention to what the painting needed to be interesting and exciting.

Today I'm sharing an image of the finished painting. It is quite like my sketch, but it is also somewhat different, and happily so. I think what I painted intuitively is visually more exciting.

"Flowers in a Red Striped Vase" is the second in what I intend to be a series of four abstracted floral paintings, each having some element with red stripes. I've added this image and the first in the series, "Flowers on a Red Striped Cloth" to the gallery of paintings on this website.

So if you see me with one ear cocked toward mypainting, feel free to whistle a few bars of the theme from "The Twilight Zone." I won't even hear you, because I"ll be listening to my painting.

I am an artist who likes to start a painting with color and texture in mind, rather than a specific subject, and then take advantage of interesting, even exciting things that happen on the paper that I could not possibly have planned. Sometimes I love the first step, but am undecided about how to develop it into a viable painting.

I’ve found an enjoyable, risk-free way to find my way out of that corner I’ve painted myself into.  I power up my computer. While it is groaning and buzzing (the  equivalent of early morning yawns and stretches) I take a digital photograph of the first step of my painting. And after transferring the photograph to the computer, I can paint and draw on it endlessly with the mouse.

Should the background be olive green or red orange? Would it be better to make it transparent or opaque? And solid, even  color or textured? Maybe spray paint.

Hmmm. I love the color and texture on the left side. I’m going to “clone” that in the upper right hand corner. No no no! That is not good, so I “undo” to back up as needed.

If I am really stumped about what direction to take a painting, I send my photograph of the first step to 3 artist friends. If they aren’t too busy they will usually email advice within hours, sometimes making their own suggestions in the form of a computer sketch on my photo to email back to me.  

Once I have a version I like, I save it in an onscreen file. But if I have other ideas to try, I start over. This process is really enjoyable, and I sometimes generate 4-5 versions of the same painting before choosing one. I suppose it is that creative right brain business, but by this time I can hardly wait to work on the actual painting!

Finally I choose my favorite version and print out a 4x6 inch photo reference to use as a guide. Plans are only that, and I often make changes as I continue to develop my image.  And if I am uncertain at any point, I can always take another photo and harness that mouse to help me.

One of the things I’m currently working on is a series of at least 4 paintings, each of which will have brighter than usual colors, dominance of a spotted texture, and stripes. I intend for this small series to be abstracted florals. But if I find that one or more of the starts could better be developed into a landscape, or a group of people at a party, I won’t hesitate to go that direction and simply not include it as part of this series.

In this blog I’m sharing an altered photograph of my first painting step for a new piece of work.  And now that I have my computer-altered sketch for how to proceed, my motor is revving.  I’m itching to apply paint to what will likely be the second painting in my series of four. The first, an orange floral, will appear in the work shown on this website as soon as I think of a title. I sometimes send a photo of a finished painting to friends, asking for suggestions for a title. Any takers to help me title the first in this series? I’m too busy painting the second.

Oh….please don’t send any mouse traps. It’s fall, and I’ve already set my supply of traps in case any real, unwelcome mice are looking for warm winter lodging.

One day a pickup pulling a flat trailer with ten white ice cream cones bolted to it drove up to my curb. One ice cream cone was removed and hefted into my garage. The cone was not really heavy, but it was very awkward, and top heavy. I was able to give it a bear hug and move it myself if I didn't care to see where I was going. I first put bricks on the base to keep it from tipping over, and eventually mounted the cone on a wood platform with casters.

The plan was to have the dip of ice cream made up of various coins. It was clear that the coins would need to be enlarged by at least 300-400% in order to finish it in my lifetime. By the time I realized I should have enlarged them more than I did, I was committed. I was too far to start over.

It took a number of weeks to paint the cone in my garage during the worst heat and humidity of the summer. I could steel myself to paint in out in the heat one day, but couldn’t face going out again the next day.

A benefit of painting in my garage with the doors open was that neighbors would stop by to visit, and check my progress - especially in the evening when I needed the lights on.

I had no concept of how long it would take to paint enough detailed coins to cover the dip of ice cream. How many times would I need to letter “United States of America,” or “E Pluribus Unum?” Out of curiosity I measured the dip from one side over the top to the other, and found it was 59 inches. It was a bit disheartening to realize how long it took to paint a single line of coins to span that distance!

I tried to choose coins that had something to do with our state and region, such as an Iowa Quarter. I next added quarters for all the states that border Iowa  – and painted Nebraska’s Chimney Rock, the St. Louis Arch, a loon in a Minnesota lake, the head of a Wisconsin Jersey milk cow and a fat round of cheese, and the four faces on Mount Rushmore. I painted some of those things several times.

Painting the same coins repeatedly was really monotonous, so I was excited to discover an array of coins about the Corps of Discovery which came through this area. Those naturally led to including the Sacajawea gold dollar. Lewis and Clark met the native Sioux Indians in this area, so adding the Indian head and buffalo nickels seemed appropriate.

The many different portraits of Thomas Jefferson that appear on nickels surprised me, and relieved the boredom of painting the same things over and over.

Most of the pennies in my small jar were wheat pennies with a portrait of Abraham Lincoln on the other side. I wanted more copper color on the dip of ice cream, but just thinking of painting that same penny again and again made my eyes start to cross. A friend told me there were four “new” pennies which I found on the internet, happy for some variety.

Soon I chose to incorporate more half dollars and silver dollars because they were larger, and filled up space faster. My friend Michael observed that I might have thrown myself “under the bus” by painting the elaborate details of so many coins. Smart man. He had a point.

I painted multiple portraits of JFK, Ben Franklin, and George Washington, and Roosevelt. The Liberty Bell, two different images of eagles, and the Statue of Liberty are all represented.

I considered creating a coin with another president – the bank president. But there have been several different bank presidents since I’ve lived here. Since I will always be the artist, I painted a self-portrait on a coin. One morning, anxious to show off my own coin, I suggested that my gym partner step in to see progress. She said, “I didn’t know there was a Harry Potter coin!” Hmmmm…..I do have spiked hair and dark rimmed reading glasses, but I don’t think I look like Harry. Maybe 7AM is a challenge for her.

I searched for still more different coins to paint and found a Susan B. Anthony silver dollar and a commemorative Boy Scout coin that was never in circulation. 

Near the end I found another Corps of Discovery coin with the words “Ocean in View! O! The joy!”  I was still in my sweltering garage rather than in view of the Pacific Ocean, but my sentiment was nearly the same as I added the last few brush strokes to the sculpture, “End in Sight! O! The Joy!”

The next day I made the call to have someone move the ice cream cone to a local industry where it will be clear-coated in preparation for installation. But I started wondering, “Just how many detailed coins did I paint on this project?” That evening I took an array of colored Post-It notes to my garage and started applying 10 yellow, 10 blue, 10 pink, 10 violet, 10 yellow with a dot, 10 blue with a dot, and so on. By the time I had marked every coin with a sticky piece of paper, I had counted 133 coins. If you had a real coin in your pocket for each of those I painted on the dip of ice cream, I think your pants would drop! Before that happens I suggest you start a savings account at the bank.

“First National Bank Saver? You’ll love this flavor!”



I had already painted the clocks on the steeple with the clock hands at 11:50 PM when it occurred to me that perhaps Midnight Mass culminates rather than starts at midnight. Since the painting was to have people walking toward the entrance of the church for Mass, it was a detail I needed to clarify to avoid the illogic of people arriving at Mass 50 minutes late.

This painting was to include glowing light shining from the stained glass windows, reflecting color on the snow outside. I’ve done this before, but this time it proved to be a particular challenge. I am no expert on stained glass windows, but I do know that the leading in them eventually loosens and the windows sag and can even break apart. One way to halt this is to add some sort of braces on one or both sides of old windows. Sometimes another layer of glass or perhaps even plexiglass is added to support the window, protect it from weathering, as well as adding an insulating layer. When I took my camera to the church, intending to photograph the details of the windows, I found that the outside covering had clouded and I could see no details at all! I went inside, thinking I would take photographs from the inside out, and then draw and paint the details in reverse. I was hampered even in this when I found some windows had been covered on the inside as well. I took photos of the windows I could, and did my best to replicate the style and details even though I was never able to see them very clearly either in person or in the pictures I took.

When I mentioned to my client that I intended to show people walking toward the church entrances for Mass, he asked if I would dress them in vintage 1950’s clothing. The figures would be small enough in comparison to the church that few details would show. But a bit of research on the computer gave me some general ideas of the shapes of winter coats, hats, and hem lengths. All women would surely have worn dresses to church in the 1950’s. I would have liked to add seams to their stockings, but it would have been a detail too small to be effective. I liked the feeling of movement and direction of people walking toward the inviting warmth and comfort of the church, with the subtle shadows pointing toward the open doors.

I can't help but share that this painting sold at a benefit auction last weekend for a winning bid of $10,000 – an astounding figure.  I’m pleased, and especially happy this painting of the old church will ultimately find it’s way “home” and be permanently displayed in the new building when it is completed. 

The local Chamber of Commerce has planned a project to render our town instantly recognizable as the “Ice Cream Capital of the World” to visitors who didn’t already know that official fact. To that end, about thirty 3-D sculptures of single-dip ice cream cones have been ordered. I was the artist of choice for a sponsoring business that picked my name from a list of “volunteers.” The 6-foot ice cream cone sculptures are to be painted and will be placed near each of the sponsoring businesses, so passersby won’t be able to miss the fact that ice cream is BIG in this town.  My sponsor and I are collaborating on a clever design for the fiberglass cone. I’ll admit the shape of this sculpture is limiting to me. It is hard to  see it as anything other than what it is – a very large ice cream cone.  I thought perhaps ideas would come to mind if I were to translate the published dimensions of the cone to a diagram on graph paper.  It will be 6 feet tall overall, 6 inches wide at the bottom of the cone, 18“ wide at the top of the cone, with a spherical dip of ice cream 30 inches in diameter. A friend dropped by and noticed my drawing. She asked, “Why are you drawing an old microphone?” Now there’s an idea! Not a good one, but an idea.

Another project is a fundraising effort of the Art Center near where I live.  This is the third year this Art Center has called for artist volunteers to paint old chairs or small tables that owners no longer want. Donating them for this fund raiser is more palatable than simply trashing them. The resulting colorful and clever pieces of furniture are first shown at the county fair, and then put up for bids in a blind silent auction. The bidding was lively for the first two auctions, and I was well satisfied at the amount of money each of my two chairs brought at auction. Today I'm sharing some photos of the Queen of Hearts chair I painted 

last year. The time I donated brought a good return for the art center. Thisyear I will paint an old lamp table with a small drawer. It is old, and while appealing, it is loose in the joints. So my first task will be to find a way to firm it up. No unique idea for a painting theme has yet popped into my thoughts, but at least it is not shaped like a microphone and is not 6 feet tall.

A third project, also a fund-raiser for an art center, is to paint the front surface of a guitar. This lovely art center is located in a popular lake area with a burgeoning summer population. Painting on a guitar piques my interest. Invitations to be part of this project were extended to 13 artists, probably limited by the number of guitars that were donated. For ease of painting, removable parts will be taken off the guitar before I pick it up. The theme for my guitar will be the historic “roller coaster,”  a much loved and well-known landmark in the lakes area. Boaters on the water hear the nearly constant rumble and swoosh of the roller coaster near the lakeshore during the summer. I chose an electric rather than acoustic guitar, thinking the extra curves and personality of that shape and would better reflect such a wild ride. And yes, I have had many rides on that roller coaster! The instruments are to remain functional after they are painted, and it would be fun to add another dimension by composing an original piece of music to be played on my guitar. Good idea, but unlikely, since I am more of a classical musician.

It would be interesting to mix these projects up a bit. If you ever hear of an offbeat musician performing a song about riding on a roller coaster, accompanying himself on a guitar with a roller coaster paintied on it, singing into a giant microphone – you’ll know what happened.



Given the size and complexity of this commission, I have had plenty time for “Here is the church, here is the steeple, and HERE are the people” to replay itself over and over in my head.  What was initially a pleasant memory as I worked, has by this time come to be like an annoying melody that is stuck in my head.

The oversized watercolor paper, stapled to an even larger piece of plywood, is really too large to comfortably fit on my painting table. In fact, it doesn’t fit at all! It sticks over the edge on 3 sides, and I need to be careful it doesn’t overbalance on any of the edges and slide off with a crash. The reach to see and paint details accurately in the middle of the painting is a challenge.  It would be foolhardy to set anything on the surface of the painting as I work. But if I set my tools off to the side, moving a brush dripping with water or pigment to and from both my water container and palette has its own dangers. My solution has been to put a large piece of clean watercolor paper over part of the painting and set my water, palette, and other supplies on it.

St. Joe’s Catholic Church is neo-Gothic in style, and in spite of its age and obvious structural issues, still beautiful both inside and out. The very tall, pointed steeple with a cross at the very top is a landmark in this community. The tolling bell at the start of mass has the unmistakable sound of an old, metal bell - the kind of bell that requires someone to climb rickety wood steps or maybe even a ladder into the steeple to heave on a rope to ring the bell.

I’ve long admired this church during the years I’ve lived in this small town. But it was only recently that I learned a surprising thing. The red brick church is not what it appears to be. The church was built of a soft brick that must be covered with a plaster façade. What appears to be brick is actually a plaster coating, first painted red, then white lines painted to give the appearance of white mortar over the entire building. How many miles of painted white lines must have been applied to that church!

Sadly, this church has served its useful life. It is crumbling, and can no longer be saved. It will be razed this spring to make way for a new church to be built. St. Joe’s is not my church, but I share the grief of the congregation that has made this decision. The sadness intensified for me as I visited the quiet church, completely alone, a number of times in the last months, taking numerous pictures both inside and out.

I might have finished this blog with “There was the church, There was the steeple….” But on a numbing, sub-zero day this last week, as I was taking still more photos inside the sanctuary, my friend Kim happened in. She is a member of St. Joe’s, stopped to chat, and pointed out the diagram for the new church, posted in the entry. She told me that the prominent steeple of the old church will be an important feature of the new as well, and It warmed me to notice that the new steeple will look very much like the old.

Today I am sharing a photograph of a detail of this lovely old building.