I sought out this location with some plein air painting in mind, but what I actually got was a rainy day with muddy trails and mist-obscured views. It was beautiful in its own way, and worth the trip. I’ll go back again, when the weather is fair and try to get a look at the view this spot is known for. There are lovely spots with picnic tables convenient for lingering awhile, and I can see this location becoming a favorite spot to paint.
“Bald Peak Viewpoint Misty Morning” pastel on pastelbord 7.5″ x 9″, 2025
This piece was done using a combination of Blue Earth and Sennelier soft pastels, and inspired by the dense mist, and rain-drenched early spring landscape of grassy slopes and mature hemlock trees.
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!
The year is winding down to a quiet finish. A new year is just about ready to begin. 2024 was a big year for me, artistically – I changed mediums after decades working in acrylic (and mixed media). I tried soft pastels for the first time and found myself utterly in love with them.
Newness being what it is, it has been a learning process with its own unique challenges, and this gets me thinking about art as a process (and a practice), and the artist as a being and a creator. There’s an “open question” here, and we each have to answer it our own way; do we seek out education, study independently, or just “do the damned thing”?
A stack of books, a holiday, and a path forward.
I was delighted to receive some books over the Yule holiday very much focused on art, two quite practical and technical, two that were more “depth of knowledge” oriented and less specifically focused on my needs in this moment. I’m content with that; I find my inspiration in a lot of places, including books. I’m eager to dive into each one – there’s so much to learn!
I’ve been surprised how deeply social pastel as a medium seems to be – so many groups and societies! I’ve had the opportunity to meet several well-estalished pastelists in my area – mind-blowing talent and amazing work. It’s quite humbling. Often. So many of these well-established artists are also credentialed professionals with impressive MFAs and CVs that read like grocery-lists of juried shows hither and thither. Amazing. I’m suitably impressed, no doubt – but is it my path? Hasn’t been. It’s not my way. I’m also not wholly inclined to just stumble about doing this-n-that discovering too late that it is a poor practice to mix this medium with that one, or to use X product as a fixative because it is known to damage the paint. Things like that are already known – and available to learn from well-sourced material. Artistically, I’ve tended to fall somewhere between; not particularly social (and less inclined to join things), unlikely to to enter juried shows (it’s quite a lot of work, and I’d rather just paint)… and as far as education goes? It’s a lot of time and money to spend on classroom instruction when I could read a book and spend more time at my easel. That’s tended to be my approach over a lifetime, and it has served me adequately well.
I’m not dissing artists with MFAs – for those with the commitment, time, and money, it’s an impressive and likely quite satisfying achievement. I’m not looking down on artists who “just do the damned thing” always learning as they go, mistakes and all. Those artists sometimes discover amazing things that we can all learn from and make use of. The art itself does not care one whit whether the hand holding the brush is an educated one.
What I’m really saying, I guess, is that it is a new year – a new opportunity – if you’re feeling inspired, create something! Buy that first set of paints and brushes, give it a try. Sign up for that course. Join that group. Be the artist you are, yourself, your way. We all benefit from that. Here’s to an exciting and inspired new year. ❤
“Urban Warfare (world on fire)” pastel on pastelmat, 2024, 7″ x 9.5″
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 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.
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
The full moon shortly before daybreak at the edge of a meadow inspired this piece. For me, this one is an autumn moment, in September; shorter days and later sunrises sometimes taking me by surprise, thinking I’ll be hiking, but finding myself waiting for the sun. The subtle violets and cobalt blues are among the delights of the Henri Roche pastels.
“Autumn Breeze” 5″ x 7″, pastel on Pastelbord, 2024
Autumn has long been my favorite season. Maybe it’s the colors, or the leaves falling? It could be the crisp air and chilly breezes. This piece recalls an autumn walk on a favorite trail, trees turning, leaves on the breeze, and migrating birds making their journeys to far off places.
The Art of M. Elisabeth Howell 