My week scouting inspiring locations for a bit of plein air work took me out to the Clackamas River. I enjoyed a chilly morning of hiking new trails, and scouting likely spots to sit alongside the river somewhere taking in the view. I finally found “my spot”, and I know I’ll be going back there. The chilly gray day threatened rain, but I did manage to get a bit of painting done before heading for home.
This piece was painted with Sennelier and Blue Earth pastels, on Ampersand Pastelbord.
“Spring on the Clackamas River” 7″ x 9″ pastel on pastelbord, 2025
It’s been a couple months since my last new work came off the easel. Honestly, I’ve been feeling a bit cynical and gloomy due to the current state of things in the world and in the United States. It’s less than ideally inspiring. I need to get away from all that, and expose myself to new paths, new sights (and new sites), and I’ve decided to take a few days away from my “day job” to devote myself to creative endeavors, and get a bit of plein air work done here and there, places I’ve yet to visit, or passed through once upon a moment, intending to go back. Seems a good time for such things.
My thought is to begin each day quite early, go to my selected location, get a hike in and maybe some photographs for other work, some other day, and once the morning chill has eased a bit, get set up and paint for awhile. Maybe take a break in the afternoon to make coffee or enjoy a picnic bite and watch the light change before painting awhile longer, then make my way back home. I’ve got 4 such days planned, each with a different location (and a different “plan B” option just in case I’ve got to account for something unexpected). Should be fun. It’ll at least be time well-spent on creative things and self-care, and a momentary break from the day-to-day routine.
I’ve got a day planned for a riverside location, with good views, and convenient spots to work from. I’ve never been to this specific place, only passed by a couple times on my way elsewhere. I’ll be starting with this one.
A fairly poor picture of a very lovely spot.
The next day, I’ll head up into the hills (mountains?), to a creekside spot I’ve picnicked at a couple of times, and always thought I’d like to come back to do some plein air work, there. The view is pleasing, and easy to get to although quite out-of-the-way. The risk here is weather; it may have snowed up there. If that’s problematic, I’ve got a beautiful meadow location I’ve wanted to visit, with a pleasant easy hike I haven’t yet tried as my “Plan B”.
Another day, I’ve got planned for two locations rather near to each other, and not too far from home, that I’ve simply never gotten around to, but I’m eager to visit them. One has a spectacular view across the valley; I glimpsed it once as I passed it on a drive some time ago and have wanted to return, managing never to get around to it. The other is, so far, only a mark on a map – a place I’d like to visit.
My final day is planned for a State Park known for its waterfalls and trails. This is another that may have snow (and although I enjoy a snowy landscape, I dislike plein air painting with cold fingers! lol). My “plan B” for this one takes me quite the opposite direction, to the coast, to a picnic table nestled in a forest, very near a small rather private beach.
I’d share more pictures in this post, but in all but one case, I’ve never been to these places long enough to take a picture! Modest adventures, to be sure, nothing especially exotic, but lovely opportunities for painting and enjoying some solitary time with my thoughts. I look forward to sharing new work with you!
I am thinking about art, feeling inspired, but too sick to paint today. It’ll pass, it’s not a big deal, just a cold or virus, or whatever. The local “ick”. So I look over old work that has not previously made it into this blog that I might share, and look for some theme.
Trying times, culturally and politically, in the USA. Hard times often produce some great art – which is not any sort of endorsement of hardship or chaos, it’s just a thing that occurs. It often seems the world is burning (wildfires, warfare, social upheaval)… I guess I’ll need more hues of red, orange, yellow… maybe some organic hues, and hues of violet and magenta? I look at older works that reflect other hard times…
Returning from deployment (Desert Storm) took me awhile to “sort out”. It was strange and difficult to come home to civilian life.
“Don’t Remind Me, I Can’t Forget” watercolor on paper, 16″ x 20″, 1992
Emotional pain, physical pain, cultural pain, violence, warfare, and hardship; it’s not the same sort of inspiration as I feel when I am inspired by love, or a beautiful sunrise. Painting just happens to be the way I communicate what I don’t have words for.
“Mea Culpa” watercolor on paper, 16″x 20″, 1992
A lot of living, a lot of memories, a lot of inspiration – some of it quite personal, some of it less so, are reflected in a lifetime of painting. I have done most of my painting in times of hardship, sorrow, and pain, because I didn’t have language for those experiences (and few experiences of joy in earlier years).
“All I Am” tinted linseed oil on paper, 8″ x 10″, 1988
We grow, we move on, we experience more and different and other, and we live again. I’m grateful that there have been more moments of joy than of hardship, and I’m grateful to be able to paint when I don’t have words. Hard times come and go, the art remains.
“Be Like Water” acrylic on canvas with glow and India ink, 12″ x 14″, 2018
“Urban Warfare (world on fire)” pastel on pastelmat, 2024, 5″ x 7.5″
This piece is inspired by recent world events, global warfare, and the unsettling sensation that the world is on fire, which has begun to seep into my dreams. It’s not a coincidence that it is similar to “The Nightmare City”; it is a place I see often in my dreams. In my PTSD-fueled nightmares, I find myself on this street, looking up the road toward…what, exactly? The distance? What is beyond, I never quite find out, however long I walk – or run. Sometimes it helps to paint these images, sometimes it doesn’t.
I’m enjoying exploring this theme of campfires – almost as much as I enjoy sitting by the fireside on a chilly evening in the darkness. This is one of those themes I’ll likely continue to play with until I get that feeling that I’ve “gotten it right” or said all I have to say about it, somehow.
I took a few days of dowtime on the Oregon coast to paint and reflect. Time well-spent, but I was missing a certain specific experience that I often indulge when I go camping in milder weather (this trip was a hotel stay, with a lovely view of Siletz Bay) – hours sitting by a campfire, just staring into the embers and listening to the flames crackle. I had it on my mind, and it proved to be sufficiently inspiring to try to capture that yearned-for moment in pastel.
“Winter Sunrise” 7″ x 9″, pastel on Pastelmat, 2024
I sat down to paint, feeling the lingering fatigue of a busy week, and a little low, generally. My heart felt heavy with the weight of unexpressed concerns, mostly fairly abstract and unresolvable. This painting is inspired both by my heavy heart, and also by the awareness that a new day will dawn. I could have titled it “This Too Will Pass” and conveyed similar sentiment.
This piece is painted entirely with Blue Earth pastels, and on Clairefontaine Pastelmat, taking advantage of a new tabletop easel. It’s been awhile since I worked from an easel, and in pastel there are some definite advantages, one being that loose pastel dust falls away from the work immediately, reducing the risk of smudging it into the work in spots where it doesn’t belong.
Some folks – maybe a lot of people – are hurting right now. Feeling angry. Feeling devalued. Feeling that their voice doesn’t matter. Feeling powerless. Hard times are… hard. Hard times make great art. Always have.
…The world feels like it’s on fire, and there is war and destruction everywhere…
When I came home from Desert Storm, my painting style had changed (rather a lot), and the things on my mind began to percolate up through my art. I painted the war. I painted the chaos. I painted the things I didn’t have words for. I’ve used art to give voice to the things I don’t have words for “all along” – at least for the whole time I’ve been an artist.
“Kuwaiti Oil Fires” 20″ x 48″ oil on stretched silk, 1991
Shortly after I returned from the war, I gave up oil painting entirely, in favor of acrylic and pursued an abiding fascination with abstraction, and the use of nontraditional pigments and mixed-media elements in my work.
… And events just kept delivering hard times and trauma to reflect in art…
“9-11″ 18″ x 24” acrylic on canvas, 2001
Hard times come and go. Trauma is inflicted and endured, and trauma heals. The art remains.
I guess I’m just saying inspiration comes in many forms. Sometimes a beautiful sunrise on a favorite trailhead is enough. Sometimes events and circumstances provide inspiration of a different sort. I don’t know what to expect of my work from here, I only know I’ll keep feeling – and painting.
“Drone Strikes” 5″ x 7″ pastel on pastelbord, 2024
“Sunrise at the Trailhead II” 5″ x 7″, pastel on Pastelbord, 2024
I take a lot of early morning hikes. I see a lot of sunrises. No suprise then that I also paint a lot of sunrises. This view is a favorite one, from “my” parking place at a favorite trail. I see the sun rise from this vantage point often. This colorful sunrise, a view seen in September (as I recall) was quite a splendid one, and I did my humble best to capture it, although there is no universe in which art could accurately convey the beauty of the colors I saw that morning. I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep wondering at those beautiful sunrises.
The Art of M. Elisabeth Howell 