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Tag: Sedona Plein Air

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Reflecting on my Arizona landscape paintings

Poplars, 12X16, oils on archival canvasboard, available through Sedona Arts Center.

Laura Martinez Bianco and I came independently to the same conclusion at the start of the 20th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival: Sedona is so beautiful that it makes no sense to drive around looking for the ā€˜perfectā€™ view; there is a painting at every intersection.

The prior year, Ed Buonvecchio, Casey Cheuvront and I spent half a day edging our way up the terrible washboarding and washouts that are Schnebly Hill Road. It took so long we barely had time to paint. This year I didnā€™t want to spend that much time driving, especially since Iā€™d just traveled 3000 miles from Maine.

Country Road, 14X18, oil on archival canvasboard. The color in this image is more accurate than that on the website.

With the exception of one interlude on the West Fork of Oak Creek, I stuck close to home. Since Laura was staying nearby and had made the same decision, we painted together, and had a lot more time than we would have otherwise.

Five of my paintings remain at Sedona Arts Center, where theyā€™re available until the end of November. Theyā€™re part of a bigger show featuring work from most of the artists who participated in the plein air festival.

My Practice Cactus, 11X14, available through Sedona Arts Center.

My Arizona landscape paintings

Country Road is one of those rare paintings which perfectly pleases me. Iā€™m happy with its simplicity and abstract shapes. Ed showed me a wetlands area, but I was underwhelmed. Instead, I focused on this dirt road with golden cottonwoods and long purple shadows.

My Practice Cactus was painted at a roadside pullout. Like all true cactuses, prickly pear cactuses are native to the Americas, but not where I live. I practice painting them every time I visit the southwest.

Peace, 8X16, available through Sedona Arts Center.

The Fleeting Hand of Time was painted over two sessions from Posse Grounds Park, so named because in the past it was a stagingĀ groundĀ for the Sheriff’sĀ posse. This is a conventional city park, but the views and trails are outstanding. At sundown, the shadows from Coffee Pot Rock reach across like fingers caressing their neighbors. However, they move very fast, necessitating more than one trip. The painting IRL is a bit lighter and more saturated than the photo.

Peace: My friend Bernadette told me that there were prayer flags along the trail near the Amitabha Stupa and Peace Park. Frankly, I was attracted to the bright colors fluttering among the piƱons and junipers, but why not pray for peace while youā€™re painting in a peace park?

The Fleeting Hand of Time, 11X14, oil on birch, available through Sedona Arts Center.

Poplars and cottonwoods turn golden-yellow in the autumn, and they stand off beautifully against the red rocks and evergreens of Oak Creek Canyon. This painting interested me for its abstract qualities.

Why buy one of these paintings?

One of the most venerable arts organizations in the country, the Sedona Arts Center is committed to promoting local and regional artists, particularly Arizona landscape paintings. By purchasing art from the center, you’re supporting the creative community of Sedona and the twenty nationally-known artists who trekked to Arizona to paint.

In addition to selling art, SAC offers educational programs, workshops, and events that nurture both aspiring and established artists. Your purchase helps support these programs.

The pieces available through this show were inspired by Sedonaā€™s famous red rock landscapes. Theyā€™re a visual narrative that holds meaning and connection to the land. And all the artists in this show are collectible, meaning that your painting will be a good long-term investment.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Things I noticed at Sedona Plein Air

A Road Less Traveled, Barbara Mulleneaux

Instead of looking at my paintings, I thought you might appreciate seeing some other work from the 20th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival. This is hardly complete; some painters hadnā€™t hung much work before I shot these photos.

What interests me in painting? Color, composition, and a unique viewpoint. This is a smattering without critical analysis, but I hope you enjoy it.

Guillo, Barbara Tapp. Of course I love it; that’s my dog!
By the Lake, Hadley Rampton
Road to Adventure, Manon Sander
Enchanted Passage, Krystal Brown
Ainā€™t We Got Fun, Casey Cheuvront
Bruce Gomez
Laura Martinez-Bianco
Hai-Ou Hou
Breakfast, Tom Conner
Here is my wall of finished paintings. As you can see, I’ve encroached on Tom’s space. Tomorrow I’ll choose my three favorites for judging, and I’d love to hear your opinion.

By the way, all of these paintings are available through Sedona Arts Center, 928.282.3809.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: plein air festival etiquette

Country Road, 14X18, oil on archival canvasboard, available through Sedona Arts Center.

There is something about Casey CheuvrontĀ and Upper Red Rock Loop Road. Last year, a woman parked herself in front of Casey and gave her clients a long spiel about the magnetic energy of the rocks, while rolling magnets around on a metal plate. Another guide occupied the same spot to talk about ley lines. Itā€™s distracting to have people looming in front of you, obscuring the view.

On Saturday evening, Casey, Ed Buonvecchio and I set up to paint the sun dropping over Sedona. We were careful to follow the etiquette of a plein air festival, which includes:

Snoopy in the shade, 8X10, oil on birch, available through Sedona Arts Center.
  • Respect the venue, and follow any rules;
  • Donā€™t disturb othersā€™ enjoyment of the natural surroundings;
  • Donā€™t plant yourself in the middle of a path;
  • Clean up after yourself;
  • Engage with interested passers-by;
  • Be considerate of other artists. This means giving fellow artists space to work, and not getting in their sightlines.

Casey was tucked into the shadow of a juniper, painting the sunset. A swarm of photographers suddenly surrounded her. It was a workshop. Despite there being tens of thousands of acres of open land around us, and paths leading in every direction, they were packed so tightly around Casey that she didnā€™t have room to move.

Hailstorm over Coxcomb, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, available through Sedona Arts Center.

ā€œDo you mind?ā€ the instructor asked. ā€œWeā€™ll only be a few minutes.ā€ Forty minutes later, they finally shoved off, but the light, and the moment, had passed.

It all starts with drawing

ā€œYou donā€™t always do a value drawing, do you?ā€ Ed asked me. On the rare occasions when I skip one, I regret it.

Unfinished painting of dawn. I spent a morning sketching options, a morning transferring my best sketch by grid. I’ll start adding color this morning.

Iā€™ve been going out at 6 AM to paint the dawn. In two days, Iā€™ve done several sketches and gotten my final idea transferred to canvas. (I still have some foreground issues to work out.) My canvas is gridded because, yes, I do a value drawing and then transfer it to my canvas.

That proved very handy last evening as the shadows changed by the minute. I was able to reference my drawing when the light had gone. When you think you donā€™t have time for a value drawing is when you need it most.

Painted at the speed of light, 11X14, oil on birch. I haven’t decided if it’s finished.

Show ponies

Hadley Rampton and I were sitting on a fence watching the scrum at our first quick-draw. ā€œI think plein air festivals are like the rodeo,ā€ I mused. ā€œWe all know each other, we all go around the same circuit, we compete for the same prizes.ā€

ā€œIā€™ve thought about that,ā€ she responded, ā€œbut I think weā€™re more like show ponies.ā€

And on that note, Iā€™m off to paint the dawn again. Iā€™m sorry these missives are so brief, but plein air festivals mean long days of painting.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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When you overdo it

My kit in happier days, at the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde. Come to think of it, Port Clyde has also seen happier days.

There’s healthy hard work, and then there’s the point at which efficiency rapidly descends into chaos. I must have been at that point on Saturday because, after carefully wrapping frames and paintings at the end of the 19th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival, I managed to lose my painting pack. Although my paints and pochade box were in my suitcase instead of in the pack, it’s still a big issue. I’ve contacted the Sedona Arts Center and my car rental firm to see if either has it. Until they respond, I wait.

My exhaustion comes not just from my teaching and painting schedule but from the hours spent filming and editing Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters. Four are done; the fifth is almost in the bag. My intention was to finish them by the end of this calendar year, but that’s looking impossible.

My kit going canoeing in Camden Harbor.

Exhaustion has many harmful effects on the human brain, including cognitive impairment, emotional instability (quit saying that; I’m fine!), reduced attention span, impaired judgment, and a greater risk of accidents. Add to that the stress I alluded to here, and I had set up a perfect storm. However, I still don’t know how I could have missed a full-sized backpack full of painting tools as I was packing to come home.

“When life hands you lemons, make lemonade,” my husband told me. “Tell your reading audience what was in that pack and why you have those things.”

Eric Jacobsen and I were trudging up Beech Hill in the early spring when he noticed I was carrying my gear in a crummy old messenger bag. “You have good backpacks for hiking,” he pointed out. “Why don’t you buy one for painting, which you do every day?” That’s why I bought a Kelty backpack. Although expensive, it’s paid for itself many times over. The exact model I have is no longer made, but this is a close approximation. It’s sized for women, but they make a similar pack for men. If I’m carrying a small pochade box, I can hike long distances without hurting my elderly back.

My seedy but functional pochade boxes rely on a Red Devil scraper to keep them going. I don’t clean them, I just scrape out any paint that’s started to get sticky.

Two years ago, my students got sick of me telling them, “you need good brushes for watercolors, but you can paint with sticks in oils,” and bought me this fantastic set from Rosemary & Co. I added a few Isabey Chungking bristle brushes and three long-handle flats for laying in flat fields of color. Needless to say, I have great sentimental attachment to that brush set.

The only other important thing is my brush-washing canister, but I misplace them so often it hardly signifies.

In the miscellany category, there’s my Bristol-board sketchbook-my dearest friend-and a mechanical pencil from Staples. Eric Jacobsen also recommended this Princeton Catalyst wedge for moving paint around (I swear it only cost me $2 last year). I have a marking stylus given to me by my friend and monitor Jennifer Johnson, and a 4″ plastic putty knife I use as a straight-edge. Then there’s my Red Devil scraper, key to keeping my pochade boxes in their seedy but workable condition. And of course, there are bottle caps I use instead of palette cups, assorted S-hooks and other random hardware, and painting rags.

The problem with losing my sketchbooks is that I never know what drawings are in them. This appears to be a sketch of my depleted firewood pile.

I had pulled my paints out along with my pochade box, but my pack still held my lucky 1-pint Gamsol bottle, which has been refilled endlessly and has traveled around the world with me. There was also a small bottle of stand oil.

Last but certainly not least, there were these inexpensive mesh bags I bought from Amazon last year on the advice of Casey Cheuvront. They keep me organized-can’t you tell?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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When life blindsides us

Tilt-A-Whirl, oil on canvasboard, $869 framed. Includes shipping in continental US.

I had an extremely tight schedule this week. I leave for Sedona Plein Air at noon today, and I needed to finish recording video for Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters. I’m a person with one-day, one-week, one-year, and five-year plans, and I’m running behind.

I’m also a list-maker. When my schedule is overloaded, I just drop my gaze and focus on the next task. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

Deadwood, 30X40, oil on linen, $6231 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

That’s where I was on Monday morning when we received a phone call that suddenly changed everything. (It’s not my news to share, but we and our family are fine, and that’s what matters.) My carefully-calibrated projections have been knocked sideways.

I needed to start a whole-life pivot while discharging my immediate responsibilities, all the while coping with that horrible buzzing in the head that accompanies extreme stress. By the grace of God, I did it, but it wasn’t easy.

By Tuesday, I was a little more sanguine. “This is not the first time I’ve been blindsided,” I told my husband. The accidental deaths of two of my siblings as teenagers and my two cancer diagnoses were much worse shocks.

The Logging Truck, 16X20, oil on canvas, $2029 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Being blindsided is different from run-of-the-mill bad news. When artist Kevin Beers lost thirteen paintings in the devastating Port Clyde fire on September 28, he had no warning of the disaster that was about to crash down. One minute, he was larking along, and the next, his body of work was gutted.

Being blindsided has an instant physiological effect. Your flight-or-fight response kicks in, adrenaline pumps and your mind races. At that moment, it’s hard to take any action, let alone sensible action.

There are silver linings to most clouds, although they sometimes take years to realize. I often muse about writing a book called “100 Best Things About Having Cancer.” Since it didn’t kill me, my first cancer was liberating. I stopped doing things I didn’t want to do. I finally did something about the psychic damage caused by my sister’s and brother’s deaths. You could say that cancer allowed me to finally be happy.

The day I learned I was having twins was a good shock. However, it had its moments. My husband was in grad school so I was the primary wage-earner. I spent three months on bed rest and was hospitalized for five weeks. I did lots of worrying, and none of my fears came true. We waste a lot of time worrying in this life.

Ravening Wolves, oil on canvas, 24X30, $3,478.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Perhaps it’s true that challenge helps us develop resilience; I don’t know. My personal philosophy is that God has never let me down yet, and he won’t start now. Of course I have my moments just like everyone else; I frequently echo Doubting Thomas in prayer: “Lord, suspend my disbelief!”

Last Sunday, we had a visiting preacher named Gary Bolton. His vision is absurdly large, to plant new churches across Ireland (thereby neatly sidestepping the Protestant-Catholic divide). It would be so easy for him to lose heart and falter, but he’s applying the same logic I mentioned at the beginning of this post: How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Moving in with strangers

River Light, 11X14, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, $1087, available through Sedona Arts Center.

Host housing is an imperative on the plein air circuit; buying a hotel room for ten days in a town like Sedona would wipe out any profit from the gig (and anyone playing at this level is in it for the money). But itā€™s difficult to show up at a strangerā€™s house, drop your paint-stained luggage in their entryway, and ask to be shown their guest room. Amazingly, it seems to work.

Earlier this month at Cape Ann Plein Air, I gamed the system by asking to stay with Rae Oā€™Shea. Iā€™d never met Rae in person, but we have a mutual friend in Jane Chapin and weā€™ve been Facebook friends for years. Weā€™re both Anglophiles, so with the recent death of Queen Elizabeth we had a lot to talk about. Even with that, it was a little tough to pull into Raeā€™s driveway and announce, ā€œHoney, Iā€™m home!ā€

Sunrise, 8X16, oil on linenboard, Carol L. Douglas, $903, available through Sedona Arts Center.

I met Jane Chapin when she was my host for Santa Fe Plein Air Fiesta. I think she had six artists staying with her; wisely, her husband was elsewhere that week. As there is no cell service in the Santa Fe wilderness, we were frequently draped over her furniture, using her internet. Amazingly, she not only tolerated me then, weā€™ve become fast friends. We went to Patagonia together, where we were stranded at the start of COVID. There we developed giardiasis (so-called Beaver Fever). ā€œFriends that suffer unremitting diarrhea together, stay together,ā€ I always say.

Lisa BurgerLentz and I once shared an austere but beautifully-sited summer cottage at an event. It wasnā€™t being used by the owner, perhaps because it didnā€™t have potable water. Weā€™d been warned; we were careful; we still managed to catch Beaver Fever. While I like extreme plein air painting, it can be tough on the gut.

Sunset, 8X16, oil on linenboard, Carol L. Douglas, $903, available through Sedona Arts Center.

My all-time favorite billet was a tiny cabin in the deep northern woods by a lake. There was an outhouse and an outdoor shower and I slept in a loft. I could have cooked as there was a propane stove, but as usual I made do with sandwiches.

Like most of us, Iā€™m a creature of habit. Iā€™m early to bed and early to rise; I donā€™t eat out, and I donā€™t watch television or movies. After a day interacting with strangers, I want to crawl into a hole to read. Depending on my hostsā€™ habits that can make me either a fabulous guest or a terrible one.

Cypresses and Sunlight, Carol L. Douglas, 14X18, oil on canvasboard, available through Sedona Arts Center.

This week Iā€™m billeted with a lovely couple named Deb and Lisa at a luxurious home overlooking Sedona. Casey Cheuvront is also staying here, but sheā€™s on another floor entirely. We couldā€”if we choseā€”meet only by appointment. Thereā€™s a heated pool, a hot tub, and a gourmet kitchen. That last is completely wasted on me, but I have taken advantage of the pool.

Usually, our hosts are interested in the arts themselves, either because theyā€™re artists or they volunteer for the organization hosting the event. Lisa is a jeweler herself, so she and Deb understand the nature of our days. And theyā€™re wonderful company. Once more, Iā€™m afraid, strangers have become my friends.

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I’m rich!

The Rocks Remain, 16X20, $2029, available through Sedona Arts Center.

Flying west from a tiny town in northern New England lacks charm. You get up at an unearthly hour, drive to a bus depot, and head to Logan. It complicates the already-dismal nature of air travel to have to start at 2 AM.

I live in one of Americaā€™s beauty spots. Why Iā€™d spend 21 hours to get to another beauty spot is a mystery of wanderlust and economics, but apparently it works. I do it with frequency.

Rim Light, 16X20, $2029, available through Sedona Arts Center.

The trips themselves can make me grumpy. Yesterday, I was in Phoenix, consoling myself in my friendsā€™ kitchen with chocolate when my phone rang. It was Eric Jacobsen, calling to wish me well at the 18th Annual Sedona Plein Air. Thatā€™s whatā€™s brought me to Arizona.

Ericā€™s a great listener. Iā€™d made an error in my car reservation and it ended up costing me a thousand bucks. My frames were dinged in transit. That sets the break-even hurdle at this event higher than Iā€™m comfortable with.

He reminded me that blessings are not always linear, but they are guaranteed. That was an indirect way of pointing out my true wealth: Iā€™m surrounded by people of great intellect and compassion.

Falling Tide, 11X14, $1087, available through Cape Ann Plein Air.

My old pal Ed Buonvecchio, formerly of Manchester, Maine, has been watching for my paints. Theyā€™re traveling here by UPS. As of this morning, they still havenā€™t arrived, but I have a small reserve in my kit. Ed was my monitor at my 2022 workshop in Sedona and Iā€™m hoping heā€™ll do next yearā€™s, too. (Itā€™s called Towards Amazing Color, and it sold out last year.)

As I mentioned Monday, frames make me nuts. Edā€™s a dab hand at woodworking, and heā€™s offered to help me mend my damaged frames. Thatā€™s a generous offer, since he is also painting in this event. But thatā€™s Ed; he has a heart a mile wide.

Dawn Wind, Twin Lights, 9X12, $869, available through Cape Ann Plein Air.

It seems like I always land in Phoenix at rush hour. That puts me on Interstate 10 just in time to sit in traffic. ā€œI fail to see any beauty in this landscape,ā€ I grumbled. I felt better when I arrived at my friendsā€™ house. Iā€™ve known Jim and Ellen since our salad days. Thatā€™s a uniquely comfortable relationship that involves knowing each otherā€™s secrets but electing to not disclose them. I felt even better when we went out for dinner and Jim picked up the check.

After a too-short visit, I was northbound to Sedona on US 17. Thereā€™s a point around Black Canyon City where you cross a ridge, the saguaro cactuses giving way to the conifers of higher elevations. ā€œThis is the most beautiful place in the world!ā€ I exclaimed.

And thereafter, every ridge I crossed was tinged with lovelinessā€”not simple grandeur, but the ineffable beauty of Creation. My pulse quickened. Iā€™m uniquely blessed, because wherever I am is at that moment the most beautiful place in the world.

True wealth is in being surrounded with good people. Itā€™s also in not coveting anything but simply experiencing it in the moment. Iā€™m happy to be here, as I have been happy to be in all the places itā€™s been my good fortune to visit. When I get home, Iā€™ll be equally happy to be in my little farmhouse on Richards Hill.

By the way, paintings from Cape Ann Plein Air are up and for sale. There is work available from some of the best plein air artists in America. Buy early; buy often!