Original house portraits make great gifts. I have just finished three that people are giving for Christmas, including the one below. I have time to paint one or two more house portraits before Christmas, so let me know right away if you’re interested. Details are here.
Tall white pines grow right next to our house. Raccoons nest in these trees, and in the late summer evenings we sometimes see a mother raccoon leading her young ones down the tree trunks to look for food. Here they are waiting for her return.
As you may know, our daughter Kate’s memoir, Following the Red Bird: First Steps in a Life of Faith, (available here on Amazon) was published earlier this year. The book includes a chapter on Advent, and she quotes from Caryll Houselander who describes Advent as a “season of growth and expectation.” In Kate’s book, the red bird becomes a metaphor for how we can begin to listen for and respond to the ways that God is calling us in our lives. Here is my cardinal painting, with hopes that you have a blessed Advent season.
It’s late fall, and most leaves are off the trees and the migrating birds are long gone. The colors are subdued and the days are short. A friend who moved back to New England told me that in southern California he had really missed the seasons. “Putting away your summer clothes, and taking out your winter clothes — you don’t realize how important the rhythm of the seasons is until you live in a climate where the weather is nice, but pretty much the same all year.”
Here’s a fall sketch of a nearby pond.
I’m playing hooky from painting because we’re still in Chapel Hill with family for Thanksgiving. I can’t resist sharing this photo, passed on by my dear friend Bev, with this caption:
Two of the most overlooked qualities in life are wisdom and patience.
When we think of specific people or things we are grateful for each day, studies show, it makes us happier and healthier. There are some good gratitude apps and tools online to help stick to a daily practice.
Crazy is fun.
In New England, we are past this peak foliage thanks to a cold snap last week. I painted this scene last year with artists’ crayons (trees and water), watercolor (sky) and a Sharpie to delineate the layers of trees. Water brushed onto artists’ crayons “melts” them, as on the lake. The crayons on the trees I left alone for texture.
Bruno came to live with us when our son Chris, now in his 30’s, was nine. Mr. Big Toyland was going out of business, and Chris used his paper route money to buy Bruno at half-price for $40. Bruno joined a menagerie of half-alive animals (not stuffed) and companion animals (not pets). The latter included our dog Charley, cat Otis, rabbit Sara (who, after impregnating a visiting rabbit, was found to be a boy), three snakes (Stanley, Ralph and Kirby), two parakeets, and various tropical fish.
Chris is now an animal rights activist at the Humane Society of the U.S., coordinating legislation to protect farm animals from the abuses of factory farming. HSUS sponsored Mass. Question 3 which, a year ago, won 72% of the vote and will prevent cruel caging of pigs, chickens and calves sold for meat in Mass.
Bruno continues to live happily with us, and emerge from the basement whenever we have underage visitors. Last week two-year-old Everett, grandson of our neighbors, sat in is lap. Despite his size, Bruno is very gentle.
Last week I posted a painting of paperwhites with the green stems emerging from the bulbs. Here they are in full bloom. I used watercolors, artist’s crayons, pencil and pen for a variety of textures and effects.
To cheer ourselves up, we now have strings of those little white lights on our indoor plants, set on a timer to come on at five when its gets dark.
Our fall has been warm and dry so the foliage hasn’t been that brilliant. Here is a painting I did a few years ago when it was at its peak. The foliage New England is famous for!
This is a foundational mantra for meditation. Thich Nhat Hanh said he practiced it even while sweeping and scrubbing dishes with ashes in his unheated monastery in Vietnam. I would welcome a daydream in such circumstances, but, hey, what do I know.
We will lose daylight savings time next Sunday, always a low point in the year especially for those of us in the eastern part of the time zone. Dark at 5:00 — gah!!!
So it’s important to find little ways to prevent S.A.D.D., like stringing white lights on indoor plants (we put a timer on ours so they are on from 5-10:30), and forcing some bulbs, like these paperwhites. These are 90% watercolor, but I added a little artists’ crayon at the bottom for texture.
I did no art at all until the age of 49. I can’t even remember taking art in high school or college. At 49 I decided I needed to get out of my head and do something to connect with the beauty of God’s creation.
Since then, I’ve done only watercolor. I adore the lightness, the transparency, the portability of watercolors. But it’s time to expand my horizons, so this fall I’m taking a class in acrylics. It’s amazing that you can “erase” what you’ve done and do layer on top of layer! And it’s helping me overcome my hesitancy to use darks. Here’s this week’s effort.
I am distressed about global warming, the actions of the current Administration, the recent hurricanes and wildfires. So I feel guilty that I have so thoroughly enjoyed our New England October with most days above 70 degrees and no frost yet.
The colorful foliage is late but is finally starting to kick in. This sketch was made with water-soluble artist crayons, which “melt” in the areas where water is applied with a brush. The effects are varied and interesting and I wish I remembered to use them more often.
Last weekend I was privileged to attend a conference in D.C. for social service agencies serving young women at risk. http://nationalcrittenton.org/in-solidarity/ The Crittenton Foundation, which organized the conference, was co-founded by my great-grandmother, and two of our children, Kate (who is on the Crittenton Board) and Andrew, spoke at the conference. One of the panels was Native American women who had vigiled at Standing Rock to stop a pipeline being built across sacred land. While listening to the panel, I did this sketch.
What a blessing to have older people in our lives to learn from and look up to! This week I’ve been in the DC area, and have visited my 87-year-old cousin Mary Cary and my 97-year-old godmother Aunt Penny. They are amazing role models of how to age while keeping your mind sharp and your body active, staying interested in and loving toward others, and keeping a resilient and optimistic attitude despite life’s challenges and losses.
We’ve had a warm and dry fall, so the turning leaves has been late this year. Finally we’re starting to get some of the color that New England autumns are famous for.
You can sketch anything. It doesn’t have to be fancy or polished. But it’s fun, because it makes you notice the ordinary things in front of you.
Why do we take our own city for granted until visitors come and help us see it with new eyes?
Last week our sister-in-law Jerry visited from Kentucky, and we went on the Boston Duck Boats. While we waited for the tour to start, I did this sketch of the people sitting in front of us with a Sharpie in my Moleskine watercolor notebook. Later at home, I added the color, which allowed me to paint whatever colors I wanted. I can’t remember, for instance, the peoples’ hair color or whether the vehicle (which drives like a bus and then floats in the Charles River) was actually orange inside. But in art it’s important to simplify (there’s a lot left out of the sketch) and to free yourself from being a slave to reality.
The simple shapes of fruit and vegetables and wonderful to draw and paint. The shadow which anchors them is always a challenge. In this one, I pre-wet the shadow shape before dropping in a little green muted with red.
Though this is a photo, not a painting, I couldn’t resist sharing it with you. This sign was at an outdoor cafe.
Just a touch of spring as the days get shorter. 
For the past decade, I’ve done house portraits for people. Here is an example of a rather fancy house I painted on West Newton Hill.
If you’re interested in a house portrait, for yourself or as a gift, you can find out more at https://www.lynnholbein.com/store/. If this is for Christmas, please let me know as soon as possible.
After trying to meditate for years, I’ve discovered the apps “Calm” and “Headspace,” both of which keep me on track with lots of choices for guided meditations. Here’s a wonderful quote, with one of my paintings. Feel free to print it if it helps keep you on track.
The days are starting to get shorter, so it’s important to seize the day!
We’ve gone up to Vermont to close up our cottage, which has no insulation or central heat, and (at 35 miles from Canada) gets a bit nippy at this time of year. I’ve painted this view of the Caspian Lake from our porch a dozen times, but I really like this one I did in August.
Last Saturday a dozen painters, members of the Newton Watercolor Society, sat on the banks of the Charles River trying to capture the scene. For over an hour I labored over a painting which turned out less than mediocre. Finally, in frustration, I dropped the painting on the ground and picked up my sketchbook. This took only ten minutes, and it’s not great, but I like it a lot better. Sometimes we try too hard.
The center of interest in a painting — in this case, the watering can — is often painted with crisp edges, and the background (flowers) have a soft focus. This simulates the way human eye sees. In watercolor, hard edges are painted on dry paper and soft edges on wet paper.
A typical Sandy Island cabin. This is the only painting I’ve ever done in oil, courtesy of Amy Stein who shared her materials at Sandy Island.
For 30 years, we’ve spent the week before Labor Day at Sandy Island Family Camp on Lake Winnipesaukee, NH. Everyone has their own little simple cabin — no heat, a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, a short walk to the bathroom. There are two big buildings, the Lodge, and this Dining Hall. We love Sandy Island!
It’s all about the shadows.
Who doesn’t love an ice cream parlor in the summertime?
I do house portraits on commission. This painting of a Vermont cottage is one of my favorites, because I love the angle looking up the stream toward the house.
New England used to be full of sheep raised for mutton and wool. There are still a few around.
This little sketch was done at Caspian Lake near our cottage in Vermont.
This is a classic New England scene. Sadly, it isn’t as common as it used to be, as many cows spend their lives in factory farms and don’t go outside.
Bostonians are roughly divided between those who, on vacation, head for the ocean (often Cape Cod) and those who head for the mountains and lakes (Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, the Berkshires). We are among the latter category. To me there is nothing more peaceful than staring across a lake at the distant hills.
I’m taking the rest of August “off” from posting new paintings, and am posting some of my favorites from my archives. All were painted of Vermont and New Hampshire.
Have you noticed that, as soon as you get away from the cities, so much of the view from planes is the geometry of farmlands? Here’s my sketch (from a cell phone photo, then painted on my tray table during the flight) ascending out of Denver on the way back to Boston.
Many people spend a lot of time waiting at airports. It’s more interesting if you have a pencil and paper in your hand. You can make a variety of darks and lights with a simple office pencil, rubbed with a kleenex for shading.
I’ve often wondered what people mean by “the big sky”. When we flew out of the Denver airport returning from our trip to Colorado, I took this photo out the huge windows at the airport, then did the sketch on the plane. It’s the kind of landscape that, as a resident of the East Coast most of my life, I feel unfamiliar with. No hills, no trees, flat and visible as far as the eye can see. A very different perspective.
As we drove back from Crested Butte to Denver to fly home, the views were spectacular. Here is my final attempt to catch the beauty of the receding ranges of mountains. (Watercolor, Moleskine watercolor notebook, Carbon Ink Pen, white UniBall pen.)
At a farmer’s market in Colorado, I bought these amazing radishes in a rainbow of colors.
Charley was one of the world’s great family dogs. He was a best pal to our kids, particularly our two sons, when they were growing up. Even though he’s gone to the great doghouse in the sky, we often talk about him. He’s a quick sketch I did of him when he was with us. His tail illustrates the problem with working in spiral sketchbooks!
In Colorado at Mona’s cafe, “Amazing Grace,” the wood-burning stove is the only source of heat during the winter. Since Breckenridge is a ski town at 9,000 feet elevation, the stove works hard. Here’s a little sketch.
This is the view from the condo where we stayed in Breckenridge, Colorado. It doesn’t do it justice, but it was fun, and frustrating, to try.
We are in Breckenridge, Colorado, where my nephew’s wife runs a wonderful homey cafe called “Amazing Grace.” It’s been so fun to sit here and draw! No wonder people love to hang out here for hours.
We are in Colorado for ten days, visiting family and enjoying the beautiful Rocky Mountains. What a gorgeous state! It’s tricky conveying the receding layers of mountains, with snow on the highest and farthest peaks. Here’s my fourth try.
Sometimes it’s fun to just suggest shapes of people and trees and let the viewer’s imagination fill in the rest.
