The Swing

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The Swing

HOW do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside—

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown—
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850–1894). A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods. 1913.

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In case you are curious, here is how I started this painting. First I identified why I wanted to paint the painting: I loved the movement of the swing and dappled light of the trees in the background. Then I planned my approach: I started on sanded Wallis paper that I under painted with pink and red pastel, and then washed with denatured alcohol. I chose those colors because red is the compliment of green, and this panting is mostly green. Then I drew a skeleton of lines in light blue so I wouldn’t get lost, next I put in my darkest darks in a dark blue green (it looks almost black in the photo, like a true impressionist, I never use black). I unified shadows and darks and added and deleted until I had roughly an S shaped composition of darks. I liked the tension of the tire swing being cropped out. After I had the groundwork established, the rest was just play! What I am most pleased with in the finished painting: her feet.

Morning Drive

20130819-103341.jpgThe last of Summer passes
Gold and green and fair,
Gentle wind cool and sweet
Swirls through the damp warm air.
It carries not yet the chill of Autumn,
Though it is close at hand;
Verdant fields laden with grain just ripe,
Blanket the rural land.
Pastures where cattle graze,
Fields edged by stands of trees,
Farm houses blurred in the morning’s haze,
Stretches of clover dotted with bees.
Sunflowers and Queen Anne’s lace line the road
Waving in the breeze
Yet few of the people passing by
Stop to notice these.
Flowers along a barren highway,
Color beside a stretch of grey, blossoms beneath the arching blue sky,

Petals turned to greet the day.

-Ellabell
The author of this poem wrote about the things she sees on the way to school. Few people driving on the highway appreciate the natural beauty of the ordinary scenery that they see every day.