I have absolutely fallen in love with portrait drawing and love to teach portrait classes. This is a small group class with live models over four weekly sessions. We cover the essential landmarks of the head, how to start a drawing, tips for features, and how to use mark making for a realistic drawing. I do short demos and provide one-on-one guidance and instruction tailored to each student.
|
Plein Air Magic
Some mornings are magical. The morning dawned sunny and delicious, after soaking rains the night before. We were invited to paint on private property and what a delight it was. Our group of eight spread out across the grounds to paint barns, gardens, and this stunning view of the lake. The scent of lilacs drifted on the air. Goldfinches, rose-breasted grosbeaks, and common yellow throats called out in song as we painted and breathed in the fresh air. There was a moment when we stirred up the mosquitoes, but a brigade of dragonflies made quick work of them.
The hours passed, the paint flowed and before we knew it, folks were sharing their paintings and packing up. As I put the finishing touches on this painting, a quick shower moved through scattering is to our various afternoon activities. It was a perfect morning of plein air painting and comraderie.
Next week, we’ll be painting at the Forest History Center. Feel free to bring a lunch to gather after painting , or make a day of it!
Misadventures of Plein Air Painting
I’ve been painting en plein air for about ten years now. Maybe that’s why I was a little inattentive as I ventured out this morning to meet with our local group of painters for this first time this season. I packed my supplies the night before, and had everything in the car ready to go. Or so I thought.
It was a brisk morning, the temperature had only reached the high 40s when I arrived. I donned a stocky cap and my down painting jacket. After morning pleasantries with the other artists, I found a spot to setup and reached for my viewfinder. Gone. Emptying out the contents of my backpack yielded no results. Sigh. Ok. No problem. I can wing it. A square format looks good, “I’ll go with a 10×10 since it’s been a while,” I say to myself. I set-up my easel and reached for a panel. Guess what? No panel. No problem. A quick jaunt to the nearby car to grab a panel. No 10x10s. Ok. I guess I could do 12×12. That feels ambitious for a first painting of the season, but ok. Plenty of people paint much larger on location.
I trot back to my spot to layout my paint palette. I have reds, greens, yellows, earth tones, oranges, greys (hey! There’s the burns sienna I’ve been looking for!). No blue. I always have Ultramarine Blue, Pthalo Turquoise and Cobalt Blue. Sometimes I even have Payne’s Grey, Bice, some fancy Sennelier Blue, and Cerulean. Not today. Not a single blue. The closest I have is Chromatic Black and Pthalo Turquoise (which might as well be green).
Well, I guess we’re going with a limited palette today. Good thing it’s overcast! An hour and a half later, I was ready to wipe the painting, but I told myself to keep going. After all, this is all about practice. I did my best to ignore the people yelling at their dogs in the dog park, the sirens wailing in the distance, the heavy machinery down the road, the parents yelling at their children, and the voices in my head. I remembered to step back, to “mix brains with paint” as my teacher said and think through the problems of temperature, value, edges, and drawing. I made brush strokes and laid down paint. And it felt good.
Next time, I think I’ll bring some blue paint. And water. Water would be good.
Nature Journaling for the Plein Air Artist
As a plein air artist, I have struggled between creating paintings that record my experience and creating artwork from place. I finally have a name for the way I have been sketching, thinking about my experience of nature and inquiry – Nature Journaling!
I am far from the first to approach nature journaling, there is a long history of Nature Journaling by folks like Claire Walker Leslie and now John Muir Laws who has created the Wild Wonder Foundation. Nature Journaling is cropping up in schools and various groups are gathering around the country.
What is Nature Journaling?
A nature journal is a place to record your observations, questions, connections, and understanding in a notebook. Unlike a written journal, nature journaling uses pictures, symbols and numbers, in addition to words. It’s not a place for pretty pictures (although they can be). It’s place to record a way of thinking.
I remember studying clouds, thinking I need to know more about these clouds to paint them accurately. What are the names, why do they form, what is the pattern, what’s causing a microclimate, why do they change with the season, how do they change? I remember being in conversation with an art teacher that said, “You don’t need to understand it, to paint it. Paint what you see!” Perhaps he was right, but my curiosity was never quenched.
As I have been diving into the pages of my journals, I feel a newfound sense of freedom using symbols, words, descriptions, color, questions, and really taking time to look. To see.
https://neliaharper.com/nature-journaling-classes/I invite you to join me in this exploration of nature journaling and see how it transforms your experience of nature.
June 14th Plein Air Paint-Out
This month, we are meeting at the Grand Rapids Area Public Library on June 14th from 9am-12pm. The library sits along the edge of the Mississippi with a walking path that runs from downtown to the Veteran’s Memorial Park. There are pedestrian footbridges, views of the paper mill (if you want an urban challenge), the dam, and plenty of trees, flowers and river views.
Bring a lunch to enjoy at one of the picnic tables along the walkway or visit on of the nearby restaurants for lunch.
Bargue Studies
A right of passage for classical atelier training includes copying Bargue Studies. Created by Charles Bargue and Jean-Léon Gérôme and published between 1866 and 1871, over 197 lithographs were printed as individual sheets for aspiring artists to copy until 1911 when the firm reproducing the lithographs was dissolved.
Now compiled into a book, the Charles Bargue Drawing Course is used by many academies and ateliers which focus on classical realism to train the eye of the student.
Of course we start with simpler exercises, that use primarily straight lines and then build in complexity.
The goal is to match the line quality (thin and thick, light and dark) as well as the shape, curvature, and proportions. The example on the left shows how to simplify the drawing with straight lines before adding curves.
Each drawing is taped to a board with a sheet of paper next to it. A plumb line is drawn along with a horizontal line. From there, the student steps back a few paces and uses either a string or long tip of a pencil to ‘eyeball’ distances, angles, and eventually gradation of value.
Click on each image for the full view. Coming next: Stage two, drawing plaster casts.
Coming up – First Friday Art Walk in Grand Rapids, MN
Come to downtown Grand Rapids from 4 – 7 pm for a free, family-friendly community celebration of art and creativity.
I am excited to announce that I am participating in my hometown’s
First Friday Art Walk (for the first time!), October 4th from 4-7 pm
at Project Care (100 NW 3rd Street).
The Grand Rapids Art Walk is going to be active and full with an additional 200-300 people expected in the area for the Rural Arts and Culture Summit. Stop in at Project Care Free Clinic of Grand Rapids, MN at 100 NW 3rd Street (across from the Herald-Review office) to meet me and fellow artist Larissa True.
If the weather is clear – there will be pop-up sales out front with a bonfire and more fun. Light refreshments will be served. I hear smore’s are in the works!
For a full list of venues and artists, check out Grand Rapids Arts. There are 15 venues to choose from and a variety of art from paintings, murals, and photography to live music and wood carvings. The event is free, family friendly and open to the public.
We are #6 on the map.
See you there!
Three Weeks – Feels Like Three Months
Three weeks ago, I packed my Prius and headed north on I-25, rolling over the hills and plains of Wyoming, South Dakota and North Dakota, traveling 500 miles. Just before I reached Canada, I turned east and drove another 500 miles. Gradually the prairie gave way to clusters of trees, and I found myself passing through familiar territory of my hometown. There, I visited my family before continuing the final 75 miles to Duluth, MN.
Today, we finished our first week of class, and I’m exhausted. Standing in front of an easel for 7 hours a day, copying drawings, measuring angles, distance, space, and line, we search for errors of millimeters, all in preparation for working with a model in October, where fractions of inches and angles make a difference.
Maintaining Focus
One of the greatest challenges is maintaining focus for lengthy periods of time. Luckily, the time is punctuated with short lectures and critiques. We generally slip on our headphones and get lost in a world of line and shape, coming up for air at lunchtime. Occasionally there’s a mutter as we talk to ourselves, or a sigh of frustration as we miss our mark.
Slowly, we are developing our ability to see and enable our hands and pencils create the mark we want. Paper, pencil, eraser. The simplest of tools that provide the foundation for great works of art. What will we do with those tools? Where will this path lead?
Much like learning to play the piano, we start with the basic notes, finding our own version of middle C with a plumb line. From there, we practice scales and small melodies of abstract shapes. To move into chords, we must first master the basic notes. And to do that, we must practice, and practice, and practice.
First, I will sleep. Have a great weekend, friends.
PS: It’s been raining all week. Waves of water and wind. Definitely not sunny Colorado. Thank goodness for Amazon delivery. My vitamin D arrived Tuesday.
The Things We Take For Granted
Sitting in a grain truck, ten feet off the ground, I watch the sun set though a bank of storm clouds. Dust drifts through the air, kicked up by two combines moving in tandem across a field of wheat. A feeling of gratitude washes over me, while I simultaneously sense all that we take for granted.
My uncle, cousin, and their three hired hands work their synchronized dance of harvesting wheat, and I have the privilege of looking into their world for a moment. An average family farm on the plains of North Dakota, they grow wheat, soybeans, and canola. Having already already cleared a field to the north, they moved the equipment to the south field, and hope the impending storm continues to move north.
While I ride along, pestering him with questions, my cousin drives the grain truck and collects wheat from the combines as they work their way across the field. From there it is transferred to the waiting semi-truck trailer and hauled back to the farm. Eventually it will make its way to market.
From the outsiders view the process seems easy. The view from the driver’s seat is another story. As the dust flies through the air and I marvel at the computer screen and the size of the tires, I ask my cousin, “Do you maintain all of this equipment too?” He shrugs his shoulders as if to say, of course we do. How else would it get done? “Yep,” he says as he checks the rear camera on the console and sets the GPS to auto-drive.
The machinations of the farm, from preparing food for the workers to maintaining equipment, deciding what to plant, where to plant, when to plant, when to harvest, when to sell. And the thousands of decisions and actions that goes into this one operation swirls through my mind like a movie in fast forward.
And yet, people across the country do this very day. People run businesses that make the materials, that make the things that we need and use every day. It’s easy to forget what goes into a loaf of bread and assume it will be on the shelf.
And we know this is true for everything. When I left the house Saturday morning to drive a thousand miles across the great expanses of Wyoming, South Dakota and North Dakota to the northwoods of Minnesota with tears leaking out of my eyes, seeking one more embrace, telling my beloved, “I’ll see you soon. I love you,” I took it all for granted. My car, the gas stations, the quality of the road, the beauty of the rolling hills, fields of hay, wheat, sunflowers, grass, open space, even the oil fields were taken for granted.
It’s easy to assume that each of these things will be there when we need them, running in the background of our lives. That the farmers and oil workers, the construction crews and emergency responders will be there when we need them. We take for granted that each day, across our country and our world, people will get up, go to work in the morning, and do their jobs that make the world go round, just as regularly as the sun rises and sets.
Just as easily, it’s easy to take for granted that I will walk back into my home a couple of months from now and feel as if I never left. To believe that my loved one will be waiting for me, and we will pick up where we left off.
Aspen Forest, 12×12 oil on linen panel now available
In mid July, I was gathering my things for another yurt trip. After a fun adventure in June, I booked a second trip. This time, Andrea Gabel and I were planning a three night getaway to paint in the wilderness of State Forest State Park. We were excited about the trip and ready for some serious painting time.
The night before I was to leave, the phone rang. First of all, I rarely have the ringer volume on. Secondly, the few phone calls I get are usually robo calls. I looked down at the phone. It was my Dad. While my Dad and I get along great. He’s not one to call and ‘shoot the breeze’. Phone calls are generally limited to my birthday and bad news. Needless to say, my first thought was, “what’s wrong?” Please don’t be bad news, please don’t be bad news.
It was bad news. My cousin Jon and his wife Cara had been killed in a car accident. They were only in their late 20s. It was just a normal day. A normal drive. Good weather. A truck crossed the line, and the end was instant. Their little girl survived. Devastating news.
As you can well imagine, I was heartbroken. On the one hand, I felt relieved that my parents were ok, as well as my siblings and their families. On the other hand, I felt devastated for my aunt and uncle and the friends and family of Jon and Cara. The loss welled up and spilled over. Shocked at the news, time crawled to a near standstill.
The next day, I decided to go on our trip anyway. Time in the woods soothes my soul and quiet time felt right. And sure enough, I felt a sense of peace and calm. Especially when we came across a stand of old growth aspens rising up to the sky surrounded by wild columbine, and vistas for miles.
I sat with a tree trunk, drawing for hours. We returned the next day and I did an oil sketch of the scene. Weeks later, after the Celebration of Life and a return to the every day, I revisited the idea and decided to start a fresh piece. From my studies and memory, the painting Aspen Forest developed. After finishing the painting, I realized the prominence of the small aspen tree growing next to the old, rotted trunk. Death and life. Rebirth.
Now available.