Summer Workshops at Hog Island, Maine!

Well! It's been a long time since I've been able to announce an in-person workshop schedule. With improved and improving coronavirus and vaccine news, venues have started to make plans for amended summer programming. Yep, it's a spot of light at the end of the long, tedious tunnel.

Long-time followers will know that the highlight of my summers, long before I moved to Maine, was teaching at the Hog Island Audubon Camp. Summer camp for grown ups has run here every year since 1936, except for one summer during World War II...

... and last year.

So it's with delight that I announce the opening of registration for this summer's camp programs. There will be lots of changes, of course... participant numbers have been cut in half, masks and distancing will still be required. But the island will still be beautiful and even at arm's length the camaraderie and learning will be great.

I'll be on the instructional staff for Arts & Birding week, June 20-25. This year I am particularly excited that not only will I be working once again with the fabulous Jean Mackay, but we've also been able to add good friends and fabulous colleagues Barry Van Dusen and Sean Murtha to the team. The phrase Dream Team might be overused, but in this case it's totally appropriate.

Also new this year are "day camp" programs. If you're not yet ready to join a residential camp experience, but would like to visit Hog Island, I'll be leading a one day on-island sketching adventure on June 10! We'll start out with some skills practice and then roam the island filling sketchbook pages. 

I've got a few more workshops and demos in the works, so watch this space for announcements of firm dates. Yippee! Let's go draw outside this summer!

Spring Fever Hits the Studio

Yep. I've got it BAD.

73 F. Today's temperature was 73 (count 'em) lovely degrees. Even better? No wind. I threw open a few windows and tried to focus on tasks at home this morning, but I. Just. Couldn't.

So I gave up trying to be virtuous, grabbed my journal, and headed down to the river. I did walk there, a round trip of about 2.5 miles, so I told myself I scored at least a few points in the getting-some-exercise column.

There were a LOT of people down by the river this morning (clearly suffering from the same malady), so I tucked myself into a more-or-less hidden spot behind the bandshell and made a little drawing of the F Street bridge over the Arkansas River.

F Street bridge, downtown Salida

My semi-hidden spot behind the bandshell.

It felt quite nice to get out with my journal for a bit, especially since my practice has been sadly neglected through the winter months.

After my little field trip it was easier to work on projects in the studio, most importantly on a long-overdue birthday gift. It was great fun to carve some single-color linocuts, and then to play with the arrangement of the two separate blocks on different kinds of paper. (Full disclosure: the seated toad was carved a while back for another project. The leaping toad is a new block.)

Lino-toads

I also pushed around a few ideas for new color linos, although I haven't committed to anything yet.

Tomorrow, however, I'll be back to indulging my restlessness with a trip to the Monte Vista National Wildlife Refuge. The trip to MVNWR, stopover site for several thousand sandhill cranes, is a spring ritual, but this year it's gotten a bit out of control. Tomorrow will be my third trip there in 10 days. Is it any wonder I'm not getting much work done?

How can I resist THIS, though?

Yes! All cranes!

See? Not my fault. Wildlife spectacle is not to be missed, and with (ahem) spectacular spectacle weather, it would be pretty much criminal not to take advantage of the opportunity. That's my story, anyway, and I'm sticking with it. Monday will be a perfectly good day to tackle the to-do list.

Maybe.

Fieldwork...ummm... Fourth?

So here I am, less than 48 hours from departure for several teaching gigs on the east coast. The to-do list is FINALLY in the single digits (although it keeps wavering up a few tasks and then coming back down again), and my house is a riot of indecisive packing. I have only two small "carry-on"-sized suitcases and six weeks of gear to take for multiple events. Last week I shipped two small boxes of workshop materials... and it looks like tomorrow I'll have to ship one more. Ooph.

Yesterday, however, I was feeling secure enough about my available time (prematurely, it turns out) to take a little hike up a favorite local trail, Greens Creek. It's lovely and lush in there right now, and we got out early enough that my friend and I were headed back down the trail before we encountered the steady stream of weekend adventurers.

The hike inspired some field sketches of blooming flora.... hooray! It's been too long.

I intended to create the aforementioned sketches in my journal before I realized I didn't have a current one! I did the little watercolors on loose sheets and then spent all last evening making a new journal for them. Because I have time for that sort of thing right now.

New pages, new journal. Embiggenable with a click.

The good news is that by taking time to do some fieldwork and build a new journal I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The less-good news is that it might mean I don't get another color on the lino before I leave. But going back to the good news: I'm close enough to departure that I've almost reached that "no-more-time-let-it-all-go" stage. Almost.

I didn't just build a new book, I built a PRETTY new book.

The leather needs to relax a bit, but since it's about to get crushed in a suitcase I'm not worried.

Is it any wonder I got inspired?

Greens Creek, or Green Creek, or Green's Creek, depending on which map you consult.

In the high desert, lush riparian areas like this are just YUMMY.
It rained the night before, so everything looked extra-rich.

Fieldwork Friday: Alpine Meadow, Valley Floor, Island Bound

I wish I could say it's been a week of highs and lows... and I guess it has, if you count some time spent at timberline on Monday as the high. The rest of the week, indeed all of July so far, has been personally challenging. Hence the quiet at Brush and Baren.

But the brand-new journal got a little exercise... here's a page from timberline and an unfinished page from the edge of Sands Lake here on the valley floor.

This weekend I begin my journey eastward to Hog Island Audubon Camp in Maine, where I'll spend a week as a staffer for Educators' Week and then a few additional days collecting reference sketches and photos to help keep my lino tools in motion this coming winter.

Home away from home, here I come!

When I return I'll have a scant three days to pack up my goods and head over the Continental Divide to participate in the Crested Butte Arts Festival. After that? Well. Let's just say there's nothing so constant as change... and I'll be right back in the thick of it.

Island web access can be sketchy, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to post, but I'll try to get at least something up during the next two weeks. In the meantime, carry on everyone! I'll catch up with you in August.

Still here... sort of

I see that my last post had to do with being somewhat overwhelmed. Clearly I haven't gotten past that sensation, since two weeks have somehow evaporated. Poof.

A few items have been ticked off my list, a few new ones have been added. I had to change my mind about hand delivering work to the Shy Rabbit Print International in Pagosa Springs because until yesterday the road between here and there was closed by the West Fork wildfires. That piece went into a crate and out the door on Friday. Today my piece for Birds in Art headed the opposite direction, towards Wisconsin. Tomorrow a box of materials will head out to Maine for imminent adventures in teaching at Hog Island Audubon Camp.

I'm getting to know my local shipping agent pretty well this week.

Needless to say, there isn't much printing going on. This past weekend we enjoyed our annual Salida ArtWalk... I talked to lots of linocut admirers and am pleased to report that a couple of pieces have gone on to new homes. (No shipper involved THIS time.)

But a girl has to do SOMETHING besides admin or she'll go a bit bonkers, so last night I set about making a new journal.

And WHY did I have to make a new journal? Because the one I had more than half filled with sketches and travel notes went on walkabout at O'Hare Airport in May. Yep. Lost.

On my way home from my residency at the Woodson Art Museum I had to change planes in the madhouse that is Chicago. In the hour I was there our gate assignment changed FOUR times, and it was during the last migration that I stopped by the restroom and apparently set down my book. When I returned to the gate the plane was boarding, and it wasn't until I was in my seat that I discovered my journal missing. The flight attendant overheard my dismay and astonishingly encouraged me to get off the plane and run back to find it... but in those few minutes it had disappeared.

I filed a lost item report when I got home, but of course nothing ever came of it. I was fairly certain my email address, at least, was written in the book... but... it's off having adventures without me now.

It took me a while to drum up the courage to build a new one... but here it is. All ready to see what happens next. I'm thinking of chaining it to my backpack while I'm in transit, though. Or maybe I should wear it around my neck...

Fieldwork Friday: Images from the Road

The crazy pace of the last couple of months is starting to take its toll. I am tired. One more workshop to teach next week in Rocky Mountain National Park and then, JOY! I'm more or less home until early September.

I'm sure I don't need to point out that Brush and Baren has been sadly neglected, but I do want you to know that I know and have been acutely aware of the problem. Next week. After next week I KNOW that I have to get a linocut on the table, so I promise a return to the baren portion of the program shortly.

In the meantime, a few recent-ish pages from my journal to keep you company...

Lake Erie from the plane, leaving Ohio enroute to Maine.

A quiet morning in my friend Juanita's backyard, Maine.

Boat at mooring near Hog Island.

Eel grass and twigs below the Queen Mary building,
Hog Island.

Pinyon jays in my own yard. Home again.

Workshop season: Where am I?

Ah, summer! Remember how "they" used to tout summer as endless lazy days on the beach with a good book and a cold adult beverage? Who actually has summers like that? No one I know. And it's definitely not me this summer, which you've no doubt guessed since Brush and Baren has been so sadly neglected.

Even without its usual bounty of blooms the Gothic Road
is something to see.

Last week I was off teaching sketching workshops at the Crested Butte Wildflower Festival. Our persistent drought meant that the usually flower-lush valley floor was parched and blooms were thin on the ground this year, but we had fun anyway. Tuesday I unexpectedly experienced my most diverse workshop dynamic EVER: My students ranged in age from 10 to 90! Wow.

The monsoons have finally arrived, but the rain held off during
workshop hours!

On Monday I'm off again, this time headed east to Maine and Hog Island Audubon Camp, where I'll be an instructor for Educators' Week. 

I'm really pleased that I sat down and made a new journal when I did, since I've managed a few moments here and there to make some entries. The most difficult part is finding the book in the disaster that is my work area right now. I have piles of papers from last week, stacks of items for next week's workshops, stacks for an art festival the week after, AND another workshop the week after that. My drawing table feels like a "Where's Waldo?" book. Can you find: My phone bill, a linocut that needs to be shipped to a buyer, my paint box, workshop materials that need to go in my suitcase, a draft of a contract project, a checklist for an art festival, my "Square," my journal, my checkbook, a supply receipt, and... oh, gee... is that a bottle of aspirin? How do you suppose that got there?

Journals and Journal workshops

Yes, we're still at warp speed around here. Next week I'm off to teach field sketching workshops at the Crested Butte Wildflower Festival, and the week after I'm headed to Hog Island Audubon Camp in Maine as an instructor for Educators' Week. More field sketching and more illustrated journals.

But I'll let you in on a guilty secret. For reasons I haven't been able to sort out, I haven't personally had a designated field journal in service since the end of last year.

I have other journals. One for just making notes and lists about tasks. One that serves as a sort of personal grousing forum and occasional repository of sketches and image ideas. A tiny one that I stick in my pocket when I go for walks– I use it to record birds I've seen or ideas that pop into my head while I'm walking.

But no nature journal per se.

Huh.

Journals in progress

Part of the problem has been that I like to make my own journals, and I've been undecided about format, page size, and paper type. There's no paper that I've found that's perfect for all applications in my journal. I like a bound book, but I also like the freedom of loose sheets. I just couldn't make up my mind.

So this past weekend I decided I didn't have to make up my mind. Exactly. Yes, I built a journal with a sewn binding, but I also used the "leftover" paper to create a set of loose sheets for those times when I don't want to lug my journal around. I used four different papers. Two different sizes. A non-decision decision. My best kind.

The impetus was the crazy, fire-plagued summer we're experiencing here in Colorado and most of the western US. Even though the largest fires are thankfully far from us, they're impacting everyone in ways large and small. Somehow it seemed wrong not to acknowledge these weeks, so even before I had the clasp built for the book I recorded an impression from the many photos and video clips of the many blazes.

Of course now that I have a book started, I can't wait to get out and fill it. Funny how that works. It's a good thing I've got all these workshops coming up, eh?

Where I spent last Fieldwork Friday

Hint: A long way from home.

A fire in the west as we headed north through Wyoming and...

... the new growth after a previous fire in our destination.
Yellowstone National Park!

Yep. We went to Yellowstone for the annual gathering of the Journal-Keepers... a fabulous group of women who keep illustrated field journals. We meet for about four days once each year in some spectacular place, and this year the circumstances were such that the DM could join the Men's Auxiliary and share the adventure.

Of course, having David along meant I was more inclined to be a tourist than to get a lot of drawing done. I did make a couple of sketches I like, so once I finish sorting through the piles of stuff that came out of the car and get the scanner running again, I'll share them. In the meantime, a few photos from the park, where we saw almost all of the Park's "charismatic megafauna" the very first morning. (Bison, grizzly bears, elk, coyote, deer, and WOLVES! Black bear we saw a couple of days later.)

It's an early morning bison jam. Again.

Who knew bison were such willing and capable swimmers?

Pre-swim dust bath. Yes, it was that close and No, I didn't
approach it. It approached US from behind.
Who knew bison were also sneaky?

Bison in the foreground, but at the far edge of the valley,
where the forest comes down to the valley floor,
we saw the wolves of the Canyon pack cavorting.
We could see the white-colored alpha female with the naked eye,
but good looks required a spotting scope.

Yup. Grizzly bears in the lower right. Click to embiggen.

Plenty of birds, too. We saw sandhill cranes and pelicans,
bald eagles and tons of osprey. Here on a nest in the Grand 
Canyon of the Yellowstone.
I think I left this image biggish and clickable, too.

And then, of course, there were the thermal features!
My family visited here when I was a child and I remember well
that my brother's favorites were the fountain paint pots.
I like them, too... Erupting mud!

Great Prismatic Spring. 'Nuf said.

Great Fountain Geyser making a great fountain.

Sketching waterlilies on the Continental Divide.
It was so hot that watercolors evaporated before I finished
each stroke. Palette puddles of color were no longer puddles
every time I reached to fill my brush.

Hm. I don't remember the name of this spring, but it gives a good
sense of the overall landscape.

With the DM at Artist Point.
 

1700+ miles later we are happy to have gone and happy to be home. We returned to Salida via all the back roads we could manage... obliged to spend only 30 total miles on interstate highways. Now to the oh-so-familiar routine of shoveling out the car and wading through correspondence. This afternoon I have to go take down my show at Cafe Dawn, so it's right back in to the swing of things for us!

(Lobsters) Packed for Travel

That's "The Hog" on the horizon.
Hog Island Audubon Camp photo.

Nearly twenty years ago I made my first (brief) trip through Maine enroute to New Brunswick, Canada. On that journey it seemed that every few miles we came across a shop with a big, friendly sign that declared "Lobsters packed for travel."*

Is it just me, or does your mind also conjure a little crustacean perched on a bench, suitcase in one claw and bus ticket in the other?

I'm no lobster, but I do have a plane ticket and a bag packed for travel. Tomorrow I'm off to join a stellar cast of instructors at Hog Island Audubon Camp near Bremen, Maine.  Thursday we receive our 60 or so campers for five days of adventures in environmental education. Me? I'll be teaching field sketching and journaling. Gonna be fun!

In the meantime, Brush and Baren will be in radio silence until late next week. Pictures when I return!

*(Seriously, there's a video on this site... a charming young woman will show you everything you need to know about packing lobsters for travel.)

Whoo-ee! That was fun...

The mighty Rio Grande

Monday morning, and I'm wading through piles of post-travel debris once again. Thankfully I think I'm home now for a few weeks, and it feels good to know I have a chance to settle in to a bit of a groove.

Not that traveling isn't wonderful... it is! This last jaunt could even be considered spectacular, given the setting, the company, the purpose, and the unfolding. But one thing at a time, eh?

Last Wednesday I kissed the Darling Man goodbye and headed south to Albuquerque. Multi-layered trepidation was enthusiastically crossing swords with happy anticipation, but I kept going and arrived ready to relax at the Spiritual Renewal Center (SRC) with sketchbook and comrades.

Tucked away behind a housing development and a ginormous church, the SRC faces the Rio Grande Bosque, a five-minute walk through which lands you at the edge of the Rio Grande. Perfect. It was quiet, private, and a perfect facility to house the almost 30 of us who gathered for the annual meeting of journal-keepers AND for the opening of "Drawing on Nature," our exhibit at the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science.


And here we are! Thursday night our excited cadre arrived at the museum. There were MANY photos taken of the group... hopefully some of them will start making the rounds soon and I'll be able to share them.

Entering the exhibit. More photos.

Wow! Look at that! Look at that! Hey, that's mine! Hey, that's yours!

But wait! There's more!

My contribution is in the case on the right!

The funny thing is, when I got home and looked at my photos, I realized that I took no close-ups of work in cases. It comes from the respect that we all show to each other's work when we share journals amongst ourselves, I think. I didn't want to take photos of anything private. Funny when you think that this is a public exhibition, though. It's not like a zillion strangers aren't going to look at these things, too!

Many thanks to David Baccadutre and the rest of the exhibit staff (whose names all elude me at the moment, but I'll get them!). The show looked GREAT, and everyone was delighted with the respect and care taken with every aspect of it. There are even some murmurs that perhaps it will become a traveling exhibition... keep your fingers crossed! Most especial thanks, of COURSE, to Margy O'Brien, one of our "littermates" and the inspired (and inspiring) woman who thought of the entire thing in the first place. (I can't BELIEVE that Margy doesn't have a website I can send you to. Her work is amazing.)


After the high that was the exhibition opening, we settled in to the business of journal-keeping. Friday morning the group scattered in all directions... some headed to the Sandia Crest, others to the Jemez Mountains, Petroglyphs National Monument, Old Town Albuquerque, and some to Santa Fe. For me, the fact that Santa Fe and Albuquerque are only 4 and 5 1/2 hours away meant I was less inclined to try to cram in sightseeing and more inclined to hang around the "neighborhood." The lovely Albuquerque Open Space Visitors Center was a short walk from the SRC, the Rio Grande Nature Center just a short drive, and the bosque and river were out our back door. For me, it was enough.

Cottonwood in the Bosque, remnants of a fire. From my journal.

The traditions garden at the Open Space Visitors Center. From my journal.

Some of the gathered throng putting finishing touches on the day's journal entries.

Time for me to get back to work, but I'll feel sustained by the energy and friendship of this past week for a long, long time. (And just WAIT until you see the yarn that Beki spun for me!)

Mystery countdown: Seven