Weeping Cherry Study by Christine Marx

Well, yesterday I made my first attempt at painting en plein aire. Until now I have always painted in a studio, in a controlled environment. The lighting doesn't change, the temperature is controlled, the coffee pot (and restroom) are steps away.

I have had visions of myself, up until yesterday's fiasco, growing old and painting the vast landscapes of our beautiful country (Yosemite, Zion, the Grand Canyon, etc., etc. ) as well as Italy, Spain, and France and maybe an annual trip to Hawaii as well. I would wear smart clothes, have a big floppy hat and have a really fantastic, expensive travel easel that pops up in less than 30 seconds, and if I was really good, have an assistant to do such tedious preparation chores for me. Ahhhh, the good life.

I joined a plein aire group that starts meeting next month, in anticipation of my quasi-retirement plans that is decades away. So, rather than have my first outside setup occur in front of seasoned outdoor painters I thought I'd do a little painting in my backyard, because there is a blooming weeping cherry tree that enthralls me every spring. It only lasts a couple of weeks at most, so what an opportunity for me! I brought my not-really portable easel upstairs from my studio and took my huge laundry basket full of about 50 tubes of paint, turp (in a very large, heavy glass container), paper towels, palette, qtips, a mirror, and just about anything leftover from my various past three still life paintings, which includes two heavy vases. If you are a plein aire painter you already see many, many problems with my travel case for painting! My friend, Terry, has seen my dilemma based on what I bring to art class every week, and has so sweetly offered to come over and help me pack a realistic travel pack for painting. The look on her face when I barge in with my laundry basket always makes me laugh. She is very organized and has a neat and tidy compact travel bag.

So back to the painting. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining and the birds were singing. I got all set up, coffee in hand, and began the serious business of painting something I would not be totally ashamed to put online. After moving my easel about 50 times so the light was correct on my canvas I got it blocked in. The sky was perfect and I moved on to the tree. I was about 1/2 hour into the tree when I looked at my sky and there was a big black gnat mushed into my most perfect cloud. Yikes!!! So after picking him out and ruining my perfect cloud I spent another 10 minutes fixing the cloud. So, back to the tree. Very intensely working on the tree, picked up my ice-cold coffee, took a big swig, and realized the rest of the gnat family was floating around in my coffee cup. Yuck! On the list before I paint next month with the group is a big insulated coffee mug with a cover!

I finally finished the study after about three hours. I know this is not the worst plein aire story ever told. I've heard of spiders, rattlesnakes, and bears ruining a perfectly good painting session. I felt pretty safe from those perils in my own backyard. Suffice it to say, I have a newfound respect for those painters that go out in the snow, the rain, the blazing heat of summer, and out into the wild and come back with a gorgeous interpretation of where they've been! I tip my big, floppy hat to you!