Happy Mother’s Day!

Wild turkey- Benson House, Harvard Forest, 5/11/08. Watercolor on Canson drawing paper, 111lb. Drawn and painted through a scope.
I thought this might be appropriate- a very maternal wild turkey on a nest, right outside the house. She decided we could provide a good foundation for her family, literally. The nest is on the ground right next to the wall, with arching raspberry canes and a discarded roll of hog-pen wire over it. I discovered it when I stepped out back to look at some warblers and inadvertently got a little too close. With a hiss, the turkey vacated and stalked off to the woods, possibly to lure me away from her clutch of big, buffy-tan and speckled eggs. An even dozen.

I’ve been drawing in the woods for the last few days, hauling clunky gear with me- a big wooden easel, a large drawing board, portfolio of papers, shoulder bag and backpack. Lots of junk. I think she’s gotten used to me walking back and forth past her nest and has learned to sit tight. I try not to look directly at her. She’s relaxed a bit. I’m harmless.

Today I decided to draw and paint her alongside the house where she could keep her eye on me. I went a comfortable distance away and set up my camp stool and a scope (borrowed, thanks Barry!) and waited until she’d stopped looking tense. That’s when I began looking through the glass, sketchbook on my lap, pencil in hand, followed by a brush. Eventually she looked bored and sleepy, but she never took her eyes off me. She’s a good mom.

Yellow rumped female warbler gathering nesting material from a turkey’s nest. Watercolor on Canson drawing paper. Drawn through binoculars. 5/11/08
Another good mother in the neighborhood is a yellow-rumped (myrtle) warbler, who has been gathering stray feathers a few feet away from the turkey nest where the wind has carried them. She’s flying back and forth from the raspberry patch to the woods, feathering her nest with genuine turkey down. There’s a lot of serious activity going on around here in that department, lots of mothers-to-be, babies soon to follow (can’t wait!). It’s funny to see a hawk carrying sticks in her feet, or a hummingbird with puffs of spider web in her slender bill. They’re just great mothers. Happy Day, all you moms out there!

When Bloggers Collide

Two Birds of a Feather

Just chillin’ with my homey over here at the Rancho Motmot; TR came by for some liquid beetle juice. Nothing like cochineal on the rocks with a twist and a lifer black-and-white warbler to get your mojo going.

TR: “Motmot serves the best beetle juice in town and a wicked platter of wild birds and Zick dough“

M: “Don’t forget the fresh mozzarella- I slaved nearly half an hour over that!”

TR: “Didn’t know you could get fresh mozzarella in Oklahoma- you’re about to embark on a third career- they’re going to be lining up to get their gums around this stuff”

M: “What exactly are you saying about Oklahoma dentistry, pal?”

TR: “My dentist is still in New Mexico”

Black Swans and The Impact of the Unexpected

This little painting is my way of working out the kinks, technically and otherwise, in a larger painting that’s going to a paying customer (the commissioner). It’s where I can relax and have fun and make mistakes with reckless abandon. And sometimes the mistakes turn out to be in the right direction. Sometimes it’s a good idea not to overthink it too much. I repeat again what Gustave Moreau said, Art does not live by will alone; everything depends on docile submission to the inrush of the unconcious. I’m not sure how much absinthe he’d had by then, but I believe he’s right, up to a point. At some point the conscious mind should intervene and give a bit of direction. Or should it? Discuss among yourselves. See here for further enlightening instruction, but come right back.

So there I was, fussing and tightening up all those gray-edged black feathers (it’s really a beautiful pattern, but after awhile it was all you saw). My forest was vanishing under all the trees, the overall form (and that nice negative shape) was getting buried in detail. I suddenly saw this, grabbed a fat flat and started scooping darks at random off the palette. Big blobs of raw umber, ultramarine blue, burnt sienna, and small swipes of light gray mixes that got in the way of the brush ended up on the swan. My purpose was to go back to the negative shape and try again, but something unexpected happened. The paint landed in a flurry of brushwork, unintended and unconscious, but when I stepped back the swan form had blossomed into positive shape. Nice edges, interesting sweeps of shape, interplays of warm and cool. I couldn’t have planned it better. And so I washed out the brushes, turned off the light, and went to make dinner. I know when one shouldn’t intervene with a good session of submission to the inrush of the unconscious.

The Black Swan Theory strikes again!

Speaking of highly conscious minds, Bill of the Birds has given me a mention on his very excellent blog. As Editor of Bird Watcher’s Digest, he’s been an enthusiastic supporter and celebrator (is someone who celebrates called a celebrity?) of everything-bird-and-bird-art-related, including bird artists. BWD is one of the very few magazines today using commissioned illustrations. They use plenty of great photos, but every cover is a work of art, and there’s plenty of fine art between the covers. Oh, and Bill’s got a podcast now, filled with entertaining interviews and discussions with top birders. Yay, Bill and Bird Watcher’s Digest!