Reflecting on the recent drive to the coast on my last painting getaway, I worked from the recollection of the drive, similar other sunset drives, and the view of a sunset in-progress from the balcony of my hotel room. It was a fun quick piece that I did while the sunset flared to full vividness, and finished as it faded.
On a December trip to the coast last year, I saw an amazing sun rise. The sky was infused with hues of bold pink. I managed to get a shot or two, but mostly just watched it quickly evolve. It developed quickly, and quickly faded away.
On my most recent trip to the same favorite location, I found myself trying to capture that moment and the bold pink sun rise in pastels, using a combination of the reference photo I had set aside for the purpose, and also the view from my balcony (for scale and proportion and things of that sort). I found myself faced with what could politely be called “mixed success”. lol
Yeah… no. There are things I like about it. Things I don’t. The “mistakes” shout at me – so I tried again.
Another attempt. Another piece about which I have mixed feelings, and a great deal of criticism. lol I set the idea aside for another attempt on some other day.
There are things about both pieces I greatly enjoy. The colors being one of those, and I admittedly simply enjoy a sunrise, and these both find room in my heart on that basis alone. I’ll try this again, though. There is so much to learn from these attempts, and the image that inspires them. I learn a lot from “failure”, if these can really even be called that. They have beauty of their own.
This piece illustrates how very much art is in the eye of the beholder, and how little control over that an artist really has. I painted this from the balcony of my hotel room on a misty morning, watching the mist fill the spaces between distant hills on the other side of Siletz Bay. Shortly before, I’d received a worried phone call from my partner, uneasy about the potential of a tsunami (because I’d earlier messaged at how interesting it was to be able to see the tide coming in so easily from my vantage point, then suddenly stopped replying while I was painting this very piece). When I shared the completed work with my partner, he saw the image as tsunami-like, more than any impression of a misty morning. Funny how that goes.
This piece is a war-themed piece, inspired by the terrifying devastation of drone strikes in modern warfare, and specifically the successful attacks by Ukraine which destroyed Russian ammo depots in the summer of 2024. This piece is not for sale.
This piece was inspired by my July visit to the Taft, on Siletz Bay, south of Lincoln City, Oregon. It is the view from the hotel I generally stay at when I take time on the coast to paint, and the early morning sky is often a soft smudgy assortment of pinks, mauves, and pale orange hues. The gulls circle the pier, and above the nearby fisherman, and even at such an early hour there are often people walking the beach at low tide.
This is another piece I photographed immediately after completion although the Pastelmat tends to warp just a bit when I remove the masking tape I use to mask off the border and release it from the surface I’ve secured it to. One reason I recently switched to Ampersand Pastelbord is to avoid this warping (and the time required to press new work flat again, risking smudging or damaging the work).
I painted this with stormy weather in mind, and recollections of my July trip to the coast, watching a storm approach from the western horizon, dropping showers as it passed over the ocean and the bay.
I’ve found that one challenge using unmounted Pastelmat is the paper tends to warp just a bit when I remove the masking tape I use to mask off the border and release it from the surface I’ve secured it to. This observation inspired the subsequent (recent) switch to Ampersand Pastelbord, although I’m not firmly committed to one or the other surface; they each have their advantages. This piece was photographed immediately after completion, and before I had pressed it flat again.
I’m planning to be “in the studio” today, though I no longer have a dedicated studio space, for the time being. I’ll fit painting in, between loads of laundry and caregiving tasks, and thoroughly enjoy my creative time, whether I’m perched on the edge of a couch, sitting at the dining table, or working on the floor somewhere. As an artist, I’ve always been adaptable in this way, because for most of my creative lifetime I didn’t have the luxury of having dedicated studio space at all (and once I did, it was often true that I squandered that luxury, and found myself working willy-nilly in some haphazard expedient fashion nonetheless). I’m fortunate to be able to allow inspiration to overtake me, wherever it finds me.
Inspiration finds me everywhere. I’m looking forward to the next time it catches up with me.
Inspired by a vibrant September sunrise at a local trailhead. A favorite source of inspiration for me is the opportunity to watch the sunrise before a hike.
It’s been a bit more than a month since I made the switch from many years (a lifetime, really) of working in acrylic and 3D mixed media. So much has happened since then, and I’ve been enjoying my first explorations in pastel. I’m definitely enjoying the brands I’d selected (a combination of Sennelier and Henri Roche, and a small assortment of iridescent hard pastels from Sakura’s Nouvelle Carre’ line, some of which I’d apparently purchased “back in the day”, and lay long-forgotten in a box).
I took a couple days of solo creative time, late in July, and “played in the colors” without any specific agenda or rigid goals. It was very much an exploratory time, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. The results were sometimes a bit humbling (how am I this messy??), and often satisfying and delightful.
Still, it’s not about neat vs messy, so much as the results, and I am pleased with those. I’ve surprised myself, too; of the new work, one piece is already sold, and two others are already spoken for. I did not expect that. This works for me. I also did not expect this medium to feel so… wholesome? Pure? Freeing.
I’ll no doubt do a post for each of these individually at some point, although they are part of the same weekend’s work. I hope you enjoy taking a look at my most recent work, and the first in this medium.
I’ve got a number of pastels now, and the additional supplies I need to begin exploring what is, for me, an entirely new medium. I may have gone a bit overboard, as starting points go, but I dislike half-way measures, and I’ve reliably found that good quality pigments and well-prepared canvases or good quality paper selected with the purpose in mind gets a better result that “going cheap” – which can often turn out to be more expensive than investing in good materials with care.
My pastels? I’ve selected Sennelier for my “basics”, choosing a variety selection of 40 half-sticks from a local art supply shop (to try them out and make damned certain I wanted to proceed with this exciting change), and the 80 half-stick landscape selection, which don’t overlap (as far as I can see). I added (very much an artistic “treat”) a selection of 12 Henri Roche half-sticks (their “vivid” assortment), less because I needed them – I just wanted them very much after seeing a video about their history and how they are made. It was this video that initially inspired me to consider pastels as an artist.
I found a nice Richeson “Roz Box” pastel case, used. I purchased a set of Rosemary & Co brushes and tools selected for pastels, and some Pastelmat in a comfortable size for “everyday work” as I take my first steps in this new (to me) medium.
Looks like it’s time to paint!
Every journey starts with a first step. Every painting begins with an idea. The Sennelier pastels came with a small piece of their sanded card paper, and I started there, exploring the colors, getting a feel for the medium, learning more about my limitations, my ignorance, and the nature of soft pastels (the dust! the smudging! the beautiful luminous hues!).
The Art of M. Elisabeth Howell 