Parts of Art

   It's November, and every morning now there is frost on the ground. Even so, t his yucca plant is thriving in the middle of my herb garden. Although not an herb itself, it is surrounded by bee balm, lavender, spearmint, peppermint and catnip in the spring and summer months.  It's a robust perennial, so it stays put long after all the herbs around it have died with the frosty November air.         I love the view looking straight down from the top of the plant. I am also fascinated with the silvery white threads that swirl out playfully from the stalks. The tall stems that radiate from the center shoot out stately spikes of white flowers in the summer.        The yuccas are such a beautiful part of my herb garden that I decided to do some paintings of them. Here they are, along with some photos from my actual plants and a video of the painting process. See those cool white threads?! The paintings and more are ...

   When my husband and I visited Bavaria a few years ago, I was delighted to discover a patch of fragrant, blossoming bushes that were alive with butterflies. I so wanted to plant whatever that white showy bush was  in my garden, but figured it is something only native to Germany. I took pictures of it and did an illustration in my illustrated travel journal.  The next year I visited my local plant nursery and was helped by a very knowledgeable gardener who was showing me around the nursery and painting a picture of how all the new plants would look in my garden. I pulled out my phone, showed him the picture from Germany and said, "Do you know what this is?"  "Of course!" he said immediately, "That's a butterfly bush, and we have them right over here." So much for me thinking it was a Bavaria only bush! So now I am the proud owner and illustrator of my own very prolific and alive with butterflies bush! To see the collection of butterfly paintings visit...

 So I’m back in the woods, and here’s what I mean by that:       It all started when we moved back to Indiana from Florida eight years ago. We moved here to help my in-laws in their last season of life. It was a decision that had been bathed in prayer and much discussion over a long period of time. Finally, the timing became clear and right. So we moved here, to my husbands boyhood home in rural Indiana, in late summer, 2013. Not because it was convenient (it wasn’t) but because there was a need and we were the best choice to fill the need.        It took awhile but we adjusted to our new home and new responsibilities. David’s dad’s health was declining rapidly by the time we moved here, but he was gracious and thankful to the end, and I am so glad to have had the time with him that we had.       Once he passed, life and routine changed, especially in regards to my mother in law. David became increasingly wrapped up in her care...

   When my husband and I visited Bavaria in celebration of our 40th anniversary, we spent a few days in a delightful garden cottage in Gebsattel. Right outside the door was a patch of fragrant blossoming bushes that were absolutely populated with butterflies.     The whole garden space was alive, not only with plants, but with the fluttering activity of glorious winged creatures that covered the many blooms. I was inspired by this sight and wanted to capture it with my camera for future paintings. I determined that, once stateside, I would find out whatever this exotic flowering bush was.   Come spring, I started my quest to identify the flower. At my local nursery I showed the picture to the gardener. Her reply?  "I have no idea what the plant is, but the photograph is beautiful! You should be an artist!"        I chose not to go into detail about how I AM an artist, and that's the whole point here. That by then I had done sketches...

Want to learn how to paint right from the garden? Watch here as a garden grows on watercolor paper right before your eyes!  We have some classes and workshops coming up soon.  Stay tuned right here  for our class schedule.

Beautiful Day for Coneflowers  is my latest watercolor/acrylic painting.  It is available at my shop Sandyartparts.etsy.com

    My time in my peaceful country studio revolves around waiting for the paint to dry.         This expression implies mind-numbing boredom. After all, what could be more dumbing down than watching paint dry? I recently saw an experiment where a group of adults were tasked with watching paint dry, just to document how it affected them mentally. It’s pretty easy to guess what happened. Mind. Numbing. Boredom.     Because it actually does take time for paint to dry, it’s a good idea  to have other tasks and projects going on in the studio.  My day starts here, at the watercolor easel, with my current illustrated journal. It’s a new day, which translates into a new white, blank page.  The first thing I do is fill a brush with water, wet the paper, and add color.          One beautiful feature of watercolor paint is that it’s simply colored water. Its very nature is to bleed into the w...

     This is a re-post of an article from 2015, which I wrote during my Florida show circuit. Since then my home, my city, my color palette and the subject matter of my art has changed, but the concept remains.    What is it that makes art happen? Does it happen because the preliminary sketch has every painstaking detail? Or does it just flow out of the fingertips of the artist? Or is it somewhere in between? Serendipity: noun.  1. An aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident.  2. Good fortune; luck. Plan: noun. 1. a scheme or method of acting, doing, proceeding making, etc, developed in advance: battle plans. Like I always say, there is a balance in there somewhere.         Once I was at an art show which was not very well attended and I had time on my hands. I was showing mixed media collage. It was a beautiful venue in Florida and the weather was spectacular. I don't know where the customers were, but...

Now that the presents are unwrapped, the cookies are eaten and the mistletoe is down, now what? Tis the season for looking to the New Year and asking the age old question: So NOW what? I have been pondering that question a lot, especially in terms of my art and where I am going with it.  So I pulled out a large journal that holds a history of such thoughts and plans, and wrote this:  Not that you can read my writing, and I do realize it goes right off the page! I especially like the part that says “in no particular order”. There is something cathartic about simply emptying all the thoughts and plans onto a sheet of paper,  just writing down all those thoughts that have bumping around up in the gray matter, needing a place to land. Good, it’s done. Now I can fold that list into a little paper airplane and send it up to God. (At least in my heart) "Begin, continue, and end every work, purpose, and plan with God. Self-sufficiency and self-confiden...

Here’s another page from my illustrated journal.  It’s an impression of what I see when I look at my studio window. The walnut grove in full swing, shedding its leaves with gusto.  And as inspiring as it is to be in the studio with the wood stove cooking, I am not there now.       I left for Florida on Sunday (just in time to miss the arctic blast that came through Indiana)  and arrived at the doorstep of my son and daughter in law on Monday. I got to meet our newest Walker, my first grandchild,  sweet little girl, Avery Lee. So for the next few days I will be holding the baby, cooking and baking in their beautiful kitchen, and enjoying walks on the beach.  I intend to collect new imagery for future art pieces as well. Already this morning I became intrigued with the curvilinear design of the sea oats.  Of course seeing the ocean is always breathtaking, even when its overcast and the wind is gusting.  ...