Willow and Reeds

Willow and Reeds

Oil on paper mounted on panel, 9 x 12, Summer 2015.

Oh, I remember this one.  Every artist has a number of plein air horror stories, and this is one of them.  I was happy when I found a bench to work on angled towards a picturesque view.  I got my palette set, strapped my sketch box to my lap, did my drawing, and began working.  About fifteen minutes in, one of those green flies (the type the size of a house fly) started biting me on my ankles.  So I shook it off and continue.  Then I felt a few more bites and saw more flies.  The minor annoyance started to become very unpleasant.  I shook them off, and did my best to swat them, with my box on my lap making it difficult, but there were too many to stop all of them.  At that point the bites started becoming more painful, like an acute, but lasting stab, not unlike the feeling of having a needle driven into the flesh.  While the sketch was half done, the relentless biting became unbearable, so I unstrapped my box to see if I could kill the flies while unencumbered.  Upon looking down, I saw a small swarm of flies, and several streams of blood running down my ankles -- I did not know they could do that!  When you have shed blood for your art, it is time stop for the day.  I promptly packed up and ran back to the car with the plague following me.  The rest of the work was completed in the studio, and I think it came out good nonetheless.  I got a good contrast of brushstrokes and textures, along with a satisfying chiaroscuro.  And most importantly, it's naturalistic.

Someday I’ll put up a post of my boxes and explain the merits of that technology.  I’ll also tell you about HRS sketch boxes, and I think I have discovered things, by the grace of God, that shall surprise you.