Moku Hanga in Progress, and in London for SWLA

Spotted, Solitary and Least Sandpipers. Working  proof  of  moku  hanga print by Ken Januski.

I'm not sure if I've ever shown a work in progress from my Moku Hanga prints. But I easily could. That's because they take forever. I'm now on week three of this print. And I still don't have the final design, or colors. But  I'm getting close.

I had been planning to write my next post on my field sketches, both those done at Cape May in May and also those done around  here. But having three of my works in The Society of  Wildlife Artist's  annual show 'The Natural Eye': Purple Finch and Hairy Woodpecker at Andorra' has been a bit of a distraction, though certainly a pleasant one.

The three framed works waiting to be shipped off to 'The Natural Eye', accompanied  by  the  hope  that at least one of them would get in!

I'll go on a bit more about  the SWLA show later but for now I'll try to finish a thought and stick with this print. Though not a field  sketch it is based on and inspired by them.I think it was in May that I did some field sketches of both Spotted and Solitary Sandpipers at Morris Arboretum. They ended up being somewhat clumsy works but they still captured the life of the birds. And as I've said probably a million times over the course of this blog it's next to impossible for me to get that feeling of life when I'm working from photos. So it's much easier for me to be inspired by my sketches though I often will use my photos to at least see the details, and  then decide how important it is  to try to get them into the work. In this instance I also added two Least Sandpipers which I'd also seen and sketched  at Morris Arboretum in  previous years.

Once I get started on a work, particularly a print, though it used to be just as true in my large abstract paintings, my main concern becomes the orchestration of shapes, colors, textures,  and movement. Often I get seduced by the colors, shapes, etc. and find I've gotten too far away from the original impetus. So  I find it's always a dialogue/dance/or whatever you want  to call it between the original impetus and the logic and poetry of  the medium itself. I think that is why they always take so long for me to complete.

When it comes to most wildlife art, and again to repeat something I've said a million times, I  often find that it seems to get all of its emotional resonance from the reaction to  a PHOTO of something not to the real thing. That is why I love 'The Natural Eye'. Once again viewing the online gallery this year I find it positively thrilling. The art about nature  should  be as exciting as nature, or  even moreso in that it combines  the excitement of  both art AND  nature. It was particularly thrilling to be able to walk through  it in person last year both to admire and enjoy all the art work that was in it but also to honestly assess whether my own work really belonged there  or  perhaps  had gotten there by some fluke, twist of fate or whatever. Almost all artists and some time doubt themselves. I'm happy to say that I  left feeling that my work did  hold its own!

But that is not what is most important. What's most important  is  that this show demonstrates that it's quite possible to make the most ambitious, exciting, moving art possible all using wildlife as its subject. The Society of Wildlife Artists should be proud of themselves for coming up  with such a rewarding exhibit year after year.

A Finished Reduction Linocut

Falling, Fighting Blue-gray Gnatcatchers. Two-block Reduction Linocut by Ken Januski.

This two-block reduction woodcut is finally finished. I'd guess it took about three months altogether, with many interruptions for allowing the ink to dry and other things. The main delay though was compositional decision-making.

I often see prints, in all media, that obviously take a lot of time to complete either due to a wealth of detail, technical complexity or something else. This type of print is generally unimpressive to me. As I've said many times in the years I've been writing this blog I'm not impressed by work in and of itself. That seems a very puritanical way of appreciating art.

But I'm sure another perspective is that time spent on compositional decision-making is just as off-putting to others. That may well be. And it may also be that many people looking at the print above won't realize how much time was spent deciding on colors, shapes, which colors on which shapes.

I've had the good luck to sell quite a few prints over the last month. They've been in a variety of styles, some more primitive, some more realistic and some more abstract. In general I'd say that the prints I've sold most of over the last years have been simple and direct, often almost primitive. When I package them off for shipment I feel some kinship with the people who buy them. And I wonder if I shouldn't stick to this more simple and direct style.

On the other hand I come from a tradition, particularly in my abstract work, of worrying over a painting or print until it is just right. Matisse said that every shape, every color, every brushstroke had its place. And it's something I'm very sympathetic to. One reason for this I think is that such work rewards viewing over the years. There is always something more to find and appreciate.

So when I do more compositionally complex prints that is the main motivation. I want a print that sticks with you.

The other thing that I think really delayed this print, and most compositionally complex prints, is that I know that I'm not making just one print. I'm making many. That is the nature of a print. You make more than one. So I figure if I'm going to be making 15, 20, 25, 30 prints I want them to be good enough that someone might want to buy them, even years after I've made them.

Solitary Sandpiper and Twelve-spotted Skimmer. Linocut by Ken Januski.

I was reminded of that when I sold the 2012 print pictured above. So much work goes into a print, into being careful to print them in such a way that they are as identical as possible, to avoid ink smudges that ruin the print. And yet most don't sell when made and just go into storage(a separate complication). But the reward is to be able to pull one out years afterwards, be reminded of how much you like it, and send it off to a buyer.

Because I know that I've already spent hours on the print, and that I'll be spending more hours printing an edition, I want to make sure that the composition is as good as I can make it before I print.

Thus the three months making the gnatcatcher print.

Since I've not made many prints this year I haven't written much about printmaking. But I have been thinking about it. One type of print that I often like is the monoprint. I like it because it is very spontaneous, and more like a painting than a print. But I've never made one. Why? Because I don't see the point of just making one. I might as well paint as print just one(thus monoprint). Still I very much like what many people do with monoprints.

In many of my prints I'm actually trying to create a multi-print monoprint. What I mean by that is that I hope to capture the feeling of spontaneity that a monoprint has. And yet still make an edition of it. I think that this gnatcatcher print may capture that better than any print I've yet done.

Still it is a far cry from my simple and direct prints. My guess is that I'll continue to find a place for both styles.

Dead Common Yellowthroat. Pencil and Watercolor Sketch by Ken Januski.

We have one outdoor cat. But because I'm seriously allergic to them we've set a limit as to how many we can have inside. So our outdoor cat, who my wife adores and I have to say I like, causes far more problems with local birds than I'd like. In fact we've drastically cut down our bird feeding so that we don't attract birds that in turn might end up as prey for the cat. We do pretty well but recently he got our first backyard migrating warbler of the late summer. It's a very sad event. The best I can  do is to make a quick sketch of the bird, in this case a Common Yellowthroat. It is amazing what small, delicate creatures they are.

Pectoral Sandpiper. Watercolor by Ken Januski.

A slightly less delicate creature, though I can't say for sure since I didn't hold him in my hand, was this Pectoral Sandpiper. I had committed to bird and try to sketch shorebirds for World Shorebird Day. But I said I would do so nearby in locations that sometimes but certainly not always have shorebirds. Over four days I found none in very local locations and only a few further away at Heinz NWR. Those were too distant to sketch. So instead I did this watercolor of a Pectoral Sandpiper, seen and photographed at Morris Arboretum last fall.

I still greatly enjoy watercolor and it is no longer the sheer torture it was when I started. I like going back and forth between it and printmaking. But I think printmaking will remain my primary medium.

First Shorebirds of Spring

Solitary Sandpiper at Morris Arboretum. Watercolor Sketch by Ken Januski.

Spotted Sandpiper at Manayunk Canal. Watercolor Sketch by Ken Januski.

This time of year it's easy to be totally distracted by the often brief appearance of the neo-tropical migrants, like warblers, orioles, etc. Often they also are very boldly colored in yellow, red, orange, blue, etc. The shorebirds are less common, unless you live near the right body of water, or shoreline. And often they are around a bit longer.

And of course they are easier to see. If you're an artist it's a thrill to be able to see the entire bird, not just a wingbar, or a partial face. I think that's one reason I like seeing them and sketching and painting them. But they also offer an artistic challenge. Their shape, markings and colors are subtle. As I've mentioned many times I'm not to concerned with capturing the subtlety of markings, most of which aren't visible to the naked eye except with the help of optics. But shape is always there, and it is subtle.

We used to have the hardest time differentiating Spotted and Solitary Sandpipers with their large eyerings and bobbing tails. But over time it has become easy. The Solitary is so much more fragile and elegant looking. The Spotted is often clunky and ungainly. So I enjoy trying to get that difference down, even in these quick pencil and watercolor sketches(based on photos I took). For all the ungainliness of the Spotted though I think it is my favorite, if I were to actually have to choose between these two most welcome visitors.

And I should add, that I didn't title this 'First Shorebirds of 2016'. The reason for that is that the Killdeer is here even during winter.

Never Seek An Empty Perfection

Solitary Sandpiper. Watercolor Sketch by Ken Januski

But when something bores you, leave it alone. Never seek an empty perfection. Some faults, some things which the vulgar call faults, often give vitality to a work

Eugene Delacroix, The Journal of Eugene Delacroix , entry for Friday, May 7, 1824. Translated by Hubert Wellington, published by Phaidon Press.

The first and foremost thing in painting is the contour. Even if all the rest were to be neglected, provided the contours were there, the painting would be strong and finished. I have more need than most to be on my guard about this matter; think constantly about it and always begin that way.

Eugene Delacroix, The Journal of Eugene Delacroix, entry for Wednesday, April 7, 1824.

Hooded Merganser and Ruby-crowned Kinglet. Field Sketches by Ken Januski.

The most enjoyable book I've read in the last few years, particularly in regard to art but perhaps on any subject, is The Journal of Eugene Delacroix by Eugene Delacroix. Today Delacroix is the favorite artist of very few I'd guess. He's certainly never been mine. In fact I don't even know his work that well. During the days when I spent hours per month traipsing through art museums Delacroix was not an artist whose work I stopped to appreciate.

And yet it really doesn't make any difference what you think of his work once you start reading his journals. Though I hate to quote the television blowhard Chris Matthews he did mention the other night as we switched channels watching election coverage that politicians seemed to forget that politics is a profession. Amateurs, and I can think of a few who lost badly recently, don't fare well for long regardless of their good intentions. That has been my most frequent criticism of the current administration: they don't seem to have the slightest idea that it is a profession and works best for you if you treat it as such.

Sorry for the detour. Once you leave art school, assuming you went to one, your circle of artists seems to get smaller and smaller. This is no surprise. It happens to everyone once they leave college as family and work become more important than old college chums. What Delacroix offers is a very intelligent, curious and active artist in your home day after day, conversing with you about art. Every day a professional artist comes in to chat. I don't always agree with him. And often he contradicts himself. That really makes no difference to me. What is important is that he helps to clarify my own thoughts about art.

I particularly like the first quote about an empty perfection. I think that this is a thought that stays with Delacroix throughout his life. It reminds me of what I call a licked surface in painting. Everything seems licked clean, reminiscent of people who do the final trimming on their lawn with scissors. Since my work never looks that way you can see why I appreciate it. But my work never looks that way not just due to lack of skill but more due to lack of interest. If my painting or prints tend to look too perfect I tend to do something to destroy that empty perfection.

But my main reason for quoting Delacroix today is the second quote, about the importance of contour. Delacroix himself mentions how varied art and painting are. It's easy to think of great art that doesn't care so much about contours, starting of course with the Impressionists. But for anyone who doesn't want to totally break up the pictorial surface, who wants to portray objects not just the effects of light, then contour is important.

Contour can also be cloying and help to create the type of empty perfection that Delacroix decries. But I think for most artists it can be a lifeline amidst what might otherwise be a chaotic canvas. To me Winslow Homer is a great example of this. His early work seems almost enchained by line and contour. But his later work, especially in watercolor, shows incredible freedom. And yet underneath the freedom you can always sense that the contours are there holding everything together.

So I've been planning to do some work where contour is important, even if it may end up somewhat hidden. Shorebirds are perfect subjects for this because they are often out in the open where it's easy to see their contours. Kinglets, as shown in the field sketch, are different. They seldom sit still so it's hard to see anything other than a fluttering ping pong ball. But even if you do their complex flight feather patterns confuse things. They don't follow the normal wing bars that you see in so many sparrows, warblers and other passerines. But in trying to get them down correctly you almost always force the focus from the important contour of the bird, the thing that gives it life, toward the relatively unimportant flight feather patterns. That's what I've done above. But I do expect to do some more work based on kinglets that I hope will notice their details but do a better job of capturing their form.

Because I'm enjoying my rereading of Delacroix's Journals so much I expect to keep quoting from them as I slowly read them over the months to come.

Spotted Sandpiper Along Wissahickon Creek. Watercolor Sketch by Ken Januski.

After I'd posted this I returned to looking for a new subject for a painting or print. Soon I found a number of my photos of Spotted Sandpipers, a rarer bird here than the Solitary Sandpiper but still one that I see fairly often. Since they can be confused, especially when not in breeding plumage, I thought maybe I'd contrast the two. But of my 30 or so photos I've taken of Spotted Sandpipers over the last couple of years one that has stuck with me is this distant view of one across the Wissahickon Creek against some of the magnificent rock formations that border it. I had hoped that even at this distance it might be able to identify the bird but I don't think that is probably the case. Still I think it is obvious that it is a shorebird, and knowledgeable birders will realize that only a few would likely be in this location. By the way this is primarily a two color composition: Yellow Ochre Light and Paynes Gray, with touches of a few other colors like Neutral Tint, Transparent Yellow and Cobalt Blue.

Drawing With a Brush

Solitary Sandpipers. Watercolor Sketch by Ken Januski.

While out enjoying the cool weather early this morning I ran across a Solitary Sandpiper. Every time I see one I realize that if I want to portray them believably, even if abstracted or stylized, I need to understand them better. In particular I need to understand where the head and neck are in relation to their slim elegant torso when they're bent over hunting for food.

I'd thought that I'd been pretty successful as I kept reworking the field sketch below to get the outline right. Only now that I see it online do I realize how many problems it has. But no matter. It convinced me to spend some time sketching them from the many photos that I've taken, mainly within 5 miles of home, over the years.

I took up a method of painting that I used to love in order to do these sketches: sketching with a brush using a wash. I used to use India ink and Chinese brushes. This time I used watered down watercolor and my normal watercolor brushes.

There is something exhilarating in working like this. Part of the exhilaration is that you can fail pretty quickly! Since you have to make big strokes that encompass much of the shape of whatever you're drawing it's easy to get it wrong, and see that it's wrong. Oddly this adds to the excitement and tends to keep you focused. There's really no room to be tentative.

Because it's a light wash it's also possible to make other darker corrective lines without the drawing looking too bad. So it's far more forgiving than it at first might seem.

Perhaps best of all it combines drawing and painting. This is really just about the main problem for most realistic artists I think: are you painting or are you drawing? Does line, often outline, matter most or does mass, and sometimes color, matter most? Skilled artists learn to get some lines from the edges of color masses without enclosing everything in an outline or within strict edges. A great example of this is Winslow Homer.

He started off wedded firmly to line and outline. By the end of his career most line was implicit not explicit. He added line in subtle ways. Wash drawings like this really do meld both line and mass, and can easily include color as well. Of course the masters of this method are Chinese and Japanese artists. Hokusai immediately comes to mind but I haven't really studied art of that part of the world well enough to know all of the other skilled artists.  If you look at Hokusai though you can see an incredible fluidity. He was a master!

So having stumbled accidentally upon this method of working today I'm quite pleased. I'm forced to simplify the shapes of things and in doing so to make a commitment to what I think they should be. It's a great way to work and I suspect I'll be doing a lot more of it.

Below is the field sketch of Solitary Sandpiper, as well as Green Heron on a log, that sent me off in this direction.

Green Heron on Log and Solitary Sandpiper. Ballpoint Pen Field Sketch by Ken Januski.

More Shorebirds and a Damselfly at Morris Arboretum

Semi-palmated Plover, Solitary Sandpiper, Least Sandpiper. Field Sketch by Ken Januski.

I checked out Morris Arboretum for shorebirds again today and found a new one: Semi-palmated Plover. It is not a rare bird but it is one that I've never seen at Morris before. Hopefully this influx of shorebirds will continue. The Semi-palmated Sandpiper was missing today but Solitary, Spotted and Least Sandpipers remained.

It may be hard to believe that the sketch above, on Stillman and Birn Delta sketchbook paper, is a field sketch like the others I've shown recently. Why does this one seem so more developed? There are a number of reasons. One, I planned it that way, assuming that the shorebirds would cooperate and two, and far more important, I was sitting down supporting my drawing pad on my knees.

Normally, even when I'm using a scope, I draw with my right hand, while standing and holding a small sketchbook in my left hand. This results in a very unstable drawing surface. My hand is not as solid as my knee, firmly planted on the ground.

Today I staked out what looked like a good area for viewing shorebirds, lowered my tripod to about 2 feet tall and put up a small, portable 3-legged stool to sit on. All and all it's a vast improvement over my usual method. But it only works if I'm pretty sure that birds will appear and stay in the location in front of my stool and scope. If we were talking about warblers it would be silly to set up the stool and scope since there's no way in the world that warblers would stay in the same place.

In any case it was a great pleasure to be sitting, drawing against a sturdy surface and having the birds be somewhat cooperative. Everything here is something I saw. I didn't finish off the legs on the Semi-palmated Plover or the flight feathers and scapulars on the Solitary Sandpiper because I never got a chance to focus on them.

Also these birds were never all together like this. I started with the Semi-palmated Plover then added the Solitary Sandpiper when the Plover left. The Least Sandpiper was a last minute addition when one appeared in front of me.

Working like this it's easy to get the birds out of scale in relation to one another since I never saw them all together. But I think the scale is pretty accurate nonetheless, with the possible exception of the Least Sandpiper being just a wee bit big. Many bird artists do developed field sketches like this. For me it's a very rare treat to be able to do so.



Female Eastern Forktail Damselfly. Photo by Ken Januski.

Both I and Jerene were at one point totally flummoxed by shorebirds, especially since we saw so few in Philadelphia where we live. But over time, especially with trips to the Cape May area we've gotten more familiar. But it's back to square one with damselflies and to a lesser extent dragonflies. Today I saw my first damselfly at Morris.

I took the photo above thinking that I'd be able to identify the damselfly. But no such luck on a first perusal of my two guidebooks. So it's time to start studying damselflies again, just as we did with shorebirds, starting 5-10 years ago. Either way it's a great pleasure to be seeing them again.

(A few hours later after a thorough perusal of Dennis Paulson's Dragonflies and Damselflies of the East and I'm pretty certain of the id: a female Eastern Forktail. The violet cast  to the damselfly is due to pruinosity.

We saw our first dragonfly of the year last weekend doing the PA Migratory Count at Schuylkill Center for Environmental Education. But we were birding, and talking, and all we noticed was a large, blue/green dragonfly. A wildly speculative guess says Eastern Pondhawk but it was there and gone and we'll never know for sure.

Unknown Shorebirds

Solitary Sandpiper with Wood Duck and Ducklings. Watercolor Sketch by Ken Januski.

As we got ready to leave the wetlands of Morris Arboretum yesterday I saw a flurry of activity on the mudflats at the other end of the pond. Had a new flock of peeps arrived? We'd seen three Least and one Semi-palmated Sandpipers earlier but there were far more than four in this group.

They surely were shorebirds as they were hunched over in a typical shorebird feeding position. But when I put the scope on them I found one Solitary Sandpiper, the large bird in lower right in watercolor sketch above, and many small birds. Not sandpipers though, Wood Duck ducklings. Then in the far back I noticed Mama Wood Duck. I've put her a bit closer in the version above.

I love coming across these odd juxtapositions. It is one of the pleasures afforded by birding when your interest is more than just checking birds off a list.

As is typical with so many of my watercolor sketches this is done in a Stillman and Birn Gamma sketchbook. It is tough enough to hold a few washes, yet not so expensive or valuable as to make it an inhibiting surface, where you're afraid to put down the first mark for fear of making a mistake and ruining good paper. I've found it perfect for this type of exploratory sketch.

This is based on a couple of photos from yesterday and took about 60 minutes to complete. Any more time or work probably would have ruined the paper and the work.

From Warblers to Shorebirds

Spotted and Semipalmated Sandpipers. Field Sketch by Ken Januski.

Least and Solitary Sandpipers. Field Sketches by Ken Januski.

It's been years since I've seen a variety of shorebirds at Morris Arboretum in spring. It was almost starting to seem like something I'd dreamed. And yet yesterday an email stated that there was a LOT of mud flats there, and shorebirds.

So we were there for their 10 a.m. opening hoping the shorebirds, and shore, were still around. They were. How exciting it was to be able to see local Least Sandpipers again. I know that they can be found in a few other parts of Philadelphia in spring but Morris is very close by. It's far easier to hop over there. I love being able to see shorebirds there.

Above are some field sketches I did today. I'm rusty as is probably obvious. But I'm happy with them. I also took a number of photos and will most likely use both as the source of new work. In seeing shorebirds for the first time in a long time I tend to try to stay true to them rather than work more abstractly. Eventually I'll take greater liberties. But for now I'm hoping that they'll stick around so that I can concentrate on getting down their form.

Canada Warbler. Watercolor Sketch by Ken Januski.

Warblers are of course another story. I've never seen as many in Philadelphia as I saw at Carpenters Woods during the first 7-10 days of May. But things have quieted down - so soon!?!- and the foliage has filled in. What warblers remain are hard to see. Still I'm sure that there will be more to be seen, or heard, for another week or so.

In the drawing below I tried to quickly capture a briefly seen Canada Warbler. It's in upper right and quite disappointing. But I have wanted to commemorate some of the warblers seen over the last couple of weeks, first in watercolor and later perhaps in woodcut or linocut prints. Above is a quick watercolor sketch of a Canada Warbler, based on some photos of them from numerous visits to Shenandoah National Park in May.

Ruby-throated Hummingbird Buzzing Tufted Titmouse. Field Sketch by Ken Januski.

One of the more interesting experiences I've had while birding recently is in the upper left. Though it may be hard to read because I have the scale wrong it is a Ruby-throated Hummingbird dive bombing a Tufted Titmouse. It did this over and over for 60-90 seconds. At lower right another surprise. I didn't recognize the large bird when if flew over Carpenters Woods last Saturday. I knew it wasn't a heron, egret or cormorant. Then I ran into a local birder who'd just seen two Common Loons fly over. Sure enough  that's what it was. Also pictured  the ubiquitous Black-throated Blue and Common Yellowthroat Warblers.

It's hard to believe that spring migration is almost over. But it has been great. And I hope that I will eventually have a lot of artwork based on it to show and write about.

On a Slippery Slope with a Solitary Sandpiper

I found two great surprises when I read Roger Tory Peterson's All Things Reconsidered a number of years ago. First he was far more than a bird man, and seemed to have just as much interest in mammals. Even more surprising was that he also had a great passion for still photography and for the movie camera. The latter may not be true but it certainly was my impression. Where I'd be excited about having the chance to sketch some birds he seemed to be utterly enthralled with the idea of getting them on film. There's nothing at all wrong with this. It was just a real surprise to me, especially for someone known for their bird art.

I confess I'm left bewildered though every time I see a commercial for some new phone that shows, and I assume shoots, video. Who in the world would want to watch anything on such a small screen? I can almost picture the owner's brain cells being siphoned off into the tiny phone, never to return. Personally I can't think of anything more perverse. When it comes to actual news I'd far rather read an intelligent article, assuming that they continue to be published, than to watch a video. I'm not at all a video person

Occasionally though I'll see someone's bird video, for instance of the Bahama Woodstar that was in Pennsylvania earlier this year, or other birds, and find myself fascinated. Recently I discovered that I can shoot video on my old Lumix FZ28 camera. So when I saw a Solitary Sandpiper at the Manayunk Canal this morning I had to try to capture it on film. That is was is above. I'm sure it is quite poor in terms of video technique. But I'm fascinated by watching this rendition of a Solitary Sandpiper. Still video to me is a very slippery slope. I assume I'll shoot very few such videos.

Green Herons, Gray Catbird and Solitary Sandpiper. Field Sketches by Ken Januski.

The home page for the  Pennsylvania portal to eBird has an article on Shorebirds in Pennsylvania right now. I quite enjoyed reading it as I see very few of these windbirds, as the article calls them. They are exciting in so many ways,  in their subtle beauty as well as their very lengthy migrations. When I saw the Solitary Sandpiper today I spent far more time than I intended to viewing it. As the article says you just don't get to see them that often in Pennsylvania. So I took advantage of the opportunity to do some field sketches, above on right hand page, as well as taking photos and a few short videos. Other birds above include two Green Herons and one Gray Catbird from memory.

A couple of days ago I had the pleasure of seeing another Solitary Sandpiper at Morris Arboretum, though he was far less cooperative than the one above. What was equally exciting though was an Osprey flying around with a fish, looking I think for a place to land so that he could enjoy his lunch. Migration season is here!

White-tailed Deer, Green Heron, Wood Ducks. Reduction Woodcut/Linocut Proof by Ken Januski.

And with migration being here it's difficult to find time for finishing my print. Well not really. I'm happy with its progress. But each day I'm torn with what to do first: go out and hope for some field sketches or explore the next step on the combination linocut/woodcut. Some days, like today, I'm lucky enough to get them both in. This print began, as best I can recall, with two different versions of a woodcut, i.e. a reduction woodcut. Then on top of that I've printed a reduction linocut in two colors. I like what I have. But I'd still like to get some yellow/greens into it, either with the linoleum block or more likely the woodcut, or even the other side of the woodcut, which hasn't been carved yet. I'd like to make it a bit more vibrant without having it start to scream, the way yellow often does when you, or at least I, add it.

Before ending this I went back to check the Peterson book referred to above. I was thinking it was there that he mentioned a bird artist should use subdued tones, something I don't agree with. It wasn't there and I think is instead in a version of Audubon's Birds of America that he edited. Sometime I'll find it and write about it. But as I read through the final essay of All Things Reconsidered, called "My Evolution as a Bird Artist" I was struck by a couple of quotes, both relevant to sketching, photography and film:

Although I frequently refer to my 35-millimeter transparencies as a memory jog, I enjoy wildlife photography for its own sake; it is action. Drawing by contrast is cerebral. Whereas a photograph is a record of a fleeting instant, a drawing is a composite of the artist's experience and selectivity.

I have found that when I am on a guided tour in the Antarctic or on safari in East Africa, there is little opportunity to sketch. Too many things are happening too fast. If a cruise director allows us only two hours ashore in a colony of 100,000 penguins, I am more likely to use my camera. Sketching takes time. I prefer, therefore, to travel by car or van, with plenty of time to dawdle if there is an opportunity to sketch.

Thankfully I had some time to dawdle this morning, though I used the camera as well because I didn't have all day. Good sketching does in fact take time though, and it often seems a luxury to have the time to indulge in it.

Rescued by Rembrandt

Solitary Sandpiper at Morris Arboretum. Conte sketch by KenJanuski

I haven't been showing much here recently mainly because I'm of two minds about it, or more likely three or forur or five. In other words I've got too much thinking and second-guessing going on.

I first experienced this as a graduate student in studio art at the University of California at Berkeley. One advisor would come in, talk about my work, and often suggest certain changes. Within 24 hours another advisor would come in and do the same. Almost inevitably some of it was directly contradictory.

The end result was that I had to think for myself, sift through all the information and decide what I wanted to do. This wasn't too difficult because I've rarely painted to please others. I paint what I want. Still when you get opinions on your work they always continue to rattle around in  the back of your mind, like nagging little voices.

This isn't necessarily bad. It probably helps to confirm me or anyone else in their own decisions. Years ago I  think I startled some of my friends by saying that artists and CEOs were similar: they both had to listen to others but eventually  make their own decisions, and  live with the consequences. I'm not sure how many  CEOs would agree, thinking I assume that what they do is far more significant. But for good, serious art I think the decision making is similar.

In any  case I've had a lot of thoughts rattling around in my head recently. This was compounded when I got two emails within a 10 day period regarding  my work. One was from a well-known  artists organization. It offered a critique of my work,  very complimentary toward some of my linocuts, and fairly critical about others. All of this was done with the best of intentions and was overall quite complimentary. But the words hurried and pay more attention to anatomy still are in the forefront of my mind.

On the other hand I also received a completely unsolicited email from someone who'd seen my work online and very  much  liked it, especially the warbler portrayals. She normally didn't like wildlife art but to her my work seemed an exception. Since I entered the world of wildlife art with great foreboding, not liking much of it myself, this truly rang a bell. It was very appreciated.

Unfortunately now I think of both of these every time I touch pen,  pencil or brush to the surface. Should I worry about anatomy or not? When does anatomical accuracy, especially that of surface rather than underlying structure,  hurt rather than help the artisitic quality of the work?  Just as in graduate school both views are valid and valuable. I just have to decide what's true and what's important to me.

Another factor in my indecisiveness,  though to a lesser degree, was another rejection from Birds in Art. Yesterday I happened upon two blog posts alro regarding rejection in BIA: Sandra Blair and Susan Fox. I'm getting used to being rejected there. The one difference I think with me is that I expect it. And I also don't mind it all that much.

Why? Well unfortunately I'm never really all that thrilled with what I see in the catalogs. I know that it's heresy to say this. And I'd prefer not to say it. I've been included in the last two Society of Wildlife Artists shows in London. I won't this year because I just can't afford all of the costs involved. So I won't apply. But if I'd been rejected there I think it would bother me much more. Some of the artists I most admire are members of the SWLA. It would bother me not to be in. But I'd also see it as something to strive for, a prod to get my work good enough to show with artists I admire so much. Sadly this is never the case when I look through a BIA catalog. I never feel the same desire to work harder. Instead I feel it's best not to apply, that I'm wasting my time and money. Only working in a style not true to myself will ever have a chance of success there.

Some of those SWLA members, and other artists I very much admire,  also show in Birds in Art. But for whatever reason the catalog just always leaves me cold, even though it's a very high quality production.  Every year I flip through the catalog, not reading anything, just looking at pictures  to see what strikes me. It's the same way that I view big museum shows. First I want to see my immediate reaction. Later I can see what my  reaction is after being filtered through the text, ancillary information, etc. Almost without exception I'm not moved by anything I see in the BIA catalog. Only afterwards as I look at it for the second, third, or fourth time,  perhaps after reading the text as well, do I see the worthiness of the work. And I really do. I can eventually find much to admire in most of what I see. But every year I wish it would just hit me the first time through. I'm afraid I'm just on the very periphery of the type of art shown in BIA. This in turn reminds me of the recent appreciative email about my warbler works. Perhaps I have a very, very small audience, one that also would often be left cold by the BIA catalog. (One day later there is something I should add about the catalog. I've always very much enjoyed the essays that introduce the catalog when there is a Master Artist that is featured for the year. Whether it's artists I already like or ones that I'm fairly lukewarm too I almost always end up with a greater appreciation for the artist and their work when I'm finished reading it. In some ways this makes the entire catalog worthwhile even when I'm disappointed in the work that is actually in the show.)

With all of this in the back of my mind I've done various studies recently, most for possible linocuts. And I've looked through my  photos and sketches,  over and over and over, looking for a new subject. None have led anywhere. Too many voices rattling around. How can I do the type of wildlife art I want to do? Should I continue to do what I want to do, or should I try to go more in the direction of what I think someone else wants? This always seems like a mistake to me to I continue to work towards doing what I want to do, towards what looks good and fresh to me.

Then for whatever reason, possibly this recent post at The Best Artists, I got out Volume One of The Drawings of Rembrandt by Seymour Slive.What a breath of fresh air!! Though I admire all of Rembrandt's sketches it was the animals that struck  me most this time. Who has done better sketches of lions? Who has captured the feeling of a lion like this? The same is true of people. If you  look at a Rembrandt sketch you often see that just one line functions as a nose. A hand might almost seem to be a blob. BUT it reads as though it is a hand,  with real weight, attached to a  real moving body. Sometimes that hand will seem heavy as a five pound sack of flour. At other times it will seem as light as a  feather,  ready to waft off in the breeze. This is what Rembrandt captures with just a few lines.

Out of curiosity I also got out the only other Rembrandt book  I own, called The World of Rembrandt, from  Time-Life books. Both of these are very old by the way. Though I've studied Art History at both Berkeley and Cornell Rembrandt always escaped my attention. I have no idea why especially  as  I bought both of these  books long before I attended  either school. I can only guess that I saw his drawings somewhere when I was  very  young and decided I needed to see more of them. In any case the Time-Life book also includes paintings and in them too  you can see his incredible ability to capture the life of what he paints. He seems to have a physical empathy for everything he sees.

I think what really  hit me over the head in  looking at his work was how different it was from  work based on photos, particularly that of so much wildlife art. I did find one sketch of a Bird of Paradise, the only bird in the book as far as I could tell. It's not my favorite but still I like it. Today though  most artists would render every  feather. They wouldn't capture the entire bird. So much wildlife art crops out the full figure of a bird and instead focuses on the surface details of just one part of the bird. I prefer to see the whole bird, to see it as a living thing. I can of course only make the wildest guess as to what a contemporary Rembrandt would look like. But my guess is that it would show the same sense of liveliness and empathy for the subject portrayed, not in a cute, endearing way, but in a way that seems to actually feel the physical pose of each subject portrayed.

Female Rose-breasted Grosbeak. Watercolor sketch by Ken Januski

To make a long story short, well more or less at this late stage of the game, I've tried a couple of broader works since looking at Rembrandt. One is a female Rose-breasted Grosbeak, done from a photo of a bird seen at Magee Marsh about a month ago. I deliberately avoided using a pencil sketch and forced myself to work  more broadly, more like Rembrandt. I also tried the large Conte drawing of a Solitary Sandpiper at top of post, also based on a photo of a bird seen at Morris Arboretum earlier this year. It was incredibly refreshing to force myself to avoid sketching in all the information that was shown in the photo.

Great Blue Heron and Singing Acadian Flycatcher. Field sketch by Ken Januski

It has been non-stop rain here for the last few days so I've done little outside work outside of this sketch of a Great Blue Heron and singing Acadian Flycatcher, done in between storms. But when I next head out I think my Conte crayons will be with me, and Rembrandt rattling around in the back of my head.

First Shorebird and Yellow Yard Wildflowers

Solitary Sandpiper at Morris Arboretum. Watercolor by Ken Januski

Perfoliate Bellwort in Bloom in yard.

Golden Ragwort in Bloom in Yard.

Yellow Trillium in Bloom in Yard.

There really is not enough time in the day in late April and May. Between the refreshing weather, migrating birds, wildflowers in bloom and garden chores every day is a full day.

Since we spend a lot of time outdoors we've come to appreciate wildflowers and over the years we've tried to grow various ones that we've become familiar with out in the wild. Fortunately a number of local nature centers, arboretums and such offer a great variety of choices. This time of year it is the yellow ones in particular that stand out. Above you see a Perfoliate Bellwort at top. This was sold to us as a Large-flowered Bellwort but both color and stem-pierced leaves make me think it is really Perfoliate. We're not complaining either way.

One of our favorite wildflowers in Shenandoah National Park is Golden Ragwort. That is the plant above with the numerous bright rays. It is a marvelous combination of colors and shapes in its basal leaves, its stem and its flowers. The one difference we've found between this and the Shenandoah plants is that ours do not hold their deep burgundy stems but instead turn green.

The last wildflower and newest addition is a Yellow Trillium, also called Trillium Luteum. It is more common to the Smoky Mountains than here so only time will tell if it will survive. Over the years we've lost a number of trillium but we keep trying. It is with good reason that many woodland wildflowers are called ephemerals and here and gone before you know it. That makes them all the more special and probably explains why we try to grow some in our small urban yard.

And finally along with all the warblers, quite ephemeral themselves, and other neo-tropical migrants that are passing through come the shorebirds. They are far more subtle than the warblers. But their story of very lengthy migration, often breeding in Alaska, is a gripping one. Once you know it it's hard not to be taken by them. Above is a small watercolor sketch of the first Solitary Sandpiper of the year seen at Morris Arboretum yesterday. Oddly enough he seemed to behave oddly, almost as though stunned. We don't seem them all that often but when we do they seem more active than this one did. Perhaps he was just acclimating to his new climate, or just recovering from one long flight. By the way we actually saw our first shorebird in January, a Killdeer. But since they possibly overwinter I'm calling this the first true shorebird.

The Secret Migration

Kenn Kaufman had a great article in my print copy of the newest Bird Watcher's Digest. In it he talked about the 'secret' migration season, the one right now that no one pays any attention to. I'm not going to summarize it but just suggest that you read it yourself. A quick look at the web site didn't find it but if it's not there you can always subscribe or pick up a copy at newstands, assuming they still exist in this for-better-or-worse digital age.

The secret migration is something I've been talking about in some recent posts. It's what helps to get me out in what seems like an enervated time, the end of summer. There are probably many reasons not go  go birding now but for us we know that we may find shorebirds, warblers, flycatchers, hawks(like the osprey today) and who knows what else.

I was at Morris Arboretum mid-week and found three Solitary Sandpipers. One of them is above in a small 7x10 inch watercolor. I may do more with it but probably very little. As usual I don't want to mess it up. Of course by tomorrow fresh eyes may convince me that I just can't leave it as is.(Well a day later and I had to make a few tweaks. The new version has now replaced the old one at top.)

It can take me a long time to do artwork. I can think and plan it to death. Often it's better to just start and learn from what happens rather than trying to  plan perfection from the start. That's pretty  much what I did here.

I spent a lot of time sketching three Solitary Sandpipers at Morris the other day.  Inevitably though  I realized that I got something wrong when I looked  at my collection of photos I've taken. The more detailed one above is pretty good but I finally decided I'd use a similar photo as the basis for this watercolor. It may not seem so but it really is informed by all the time I spent sketching these sandpipers earlier this week. Field sketching is as much  about looking and seeing as it is about getting something down on paper. There is a tremendous amount of learning that goes on. That learning continues when I eventually do a more developed work in the studio. In fact one reason to do more finished work is to try to consolidate, and perhaps remember, all that  I've learned. If  I'm happy with the results it's particularly satisfying.

Also on the pages above are a Northern Rough-winged Swallow, immature American Redstart and poorly remembered Nashville Warbler. Both the Redstart and the Nashville were drawn from memory 30-60 minutes after seeing them. This isn't the ideal way to do things but warblers move so quickly that  often when I see them I'll give up on sketching them because they're here and gone so quickly. Then in a quiet period later, especially if I happen to be sitting down, I'll decide to try  them anyway, just putting down what I remember. What I distinctly remembered about the Nashville were the bright yellow  belly and undertail coverts. What I  forgot was just how much of  the head and back is blue-gray. Much more of the head than I remembered it turns out.

So something gone awry with it but still a very fruitful time outside in the secret migration season and also later in the studio.

A Most Recalcitrant Print

In my long history as an artist there have been numerous times, maybe two or three times a year, when I have battled a work. I don't know what else to call it. From one perspective it's a battle of wills. From another perspective it's an unwillingness to admit defeat, something that is not true of all artists. Some have the sense to just destroy or abandon the troublesome work and move on. From one other perspective it's a chance to learn, to face difficulties and come out having either conquered them or at least have learned something in not conquering them. When I was a graduate student one professor/artist said, partially I think because he wasn't that fond of my painting in its current state, that one of my most admirable qualities was that I'd press on to completion with the work, one way or the other.
What he said I think is true. It's not a badge of honor though. Sometimes it's far smarter to just abandon ship and find a new more seaworthy vessel. But I'm now stuck on the current dinghy, headed I fear for capsizing on the rocks.
I ran out of an oil based black ink about two weeks ago. Perhaps partially because of that, but I think also just because of the appearance of the print I decided it needed a third color. So I printed the brown that was in the last print. It was far too dark and didn't really indicate the true color of the Solitary Sandpiper. I showed that version in last post.
But I hoped that once I received my new jar of Gamlin Portland Intense Black that I'd be fine. I could remedy the problems with the black, especially in the Twelve-spotted Skimmer. Well to make a long story short that didn't work. The results are at top. I eventually cut away all blacks except for the skimmer and the eye of the sandpiper. Everything else just looked like a fuzzy mess.
The black was supposed to be the last color. But I see that it will never work as is. So I hope to add a fourth color now, a lighter brown for the sandpiper and perhaps for highlights in other brown areas. I don't have high hopes for this but you never know. Sometimes artists tend to be too critical immediately after making something. A few days later, especially with some modifications, things may look better.

You could say that this print has been snakebitten though. I did the first version of it about four months ago, just in black. By the time I'd taken this photo I'd already used ink that was too tacky and that convinced me to recut the lino more deeply, losing much of its original crispness. Just a day or two earlier it was much crisper than it is above. All in all this print has been going downhill for four months now!! But I've always loved the composition. So that's why I decided to redo it in color. It has been a real, and very lengthy, struggle. But as I said this will happen a few times a year, just as financial advisors will tell you that your investments, if you're fortunate enough to have them, will go down at times. In the long run though, if you're not constantly buying and selling, you'll come out ahead. I think that's true here as well. But I'd prefer to come out ahead, RIGHT NOW.

Due to the smell of the solvents in oil-based inks I try to avoid them in the initial stages of a print. I've found that Dick Blick's Water-based black ink printed on copier paper is perfect for proofing as I develop the print. But towards the end I like to change to the ink, and eventually paper, that I'll print the edition on. Above is the first proof of the Hermit Thrush and Sandhill Cranes lino using the Gamblin ink. It looks very good and gives me hope for the edition. It will be printed on Rives Lightweight paper which is nowhere near as willing to accept the ink as the copier paper. Still I hope it will do well enough. That is the next challenge ahead, outside of color number four for the dragonfly and sandpiper print
Finally I got my new ink, and a new Japanese carving tool, from McClains Printmaking Supplies. Along with them came a catalog, the first I've seen from them. My eyes are still BIG from looking at the tools, papers, etc.

Multiple Blocks, Online Stores

One of the methods I've never before used in my linocuts is that of multiple linoleum blocks. You print one or more colors on one block and then one or more colors on another block. As usual the biggest problem is registration, so that what you print on one block matches up with what will be printed from the other block.
I'm not sure if doing a reduction linocut as I've done on my other multi-colored linos is easier or more difficult. In them you keep carving into the same block. But each time you print a new color you have to make sure that you place the paper you've already printed earlier colors on onto the block so that it registers. This was not an easy job with my 9-color Blackburnian Warbler lino. What made it possible for me, without my head exploding, is that I've never been finicky. A slight lack of registration gives me a bit of dissonance that I think I prefer in my own art.
For some reason such dissonance seems more modern. I'm not sure if that's true or not. And it's quite a comment if it does. Still it does strike me as true. In any case in the lino at top I've tried to revive my old lino of the Twelve-spotted Skimmer and Solitary Sandpiper from late last year. This is a proof at top but I do like it. In particular I like how the striking black and white spots of the dragonfly show up strongly. I'm still deciding whether or not to add a second color to one of the blocks using reduction. If I do so it will be a brown that more accurately reflects the color of the sandpiper. But I may decide to just leave is as is. I don't want to lose the strong contrast that I have right now.

Though I've wanted to do more with this subject for quite a while I was prompted to do so now because I needed to keep my mitts off the lino above. It's nearly done. But when I'm not sure what to do next it's very tempting to just do something and see what happens. That's the odd thing about art. I don't believe you can really ever THINK something through. It's always a combination of thought and action. But too much action, especially with media like lino and watercolor, that punish you for overwork can also be very dangerous.
So to force myself to leave it alone and glance at it occasionally I've started on this new lino. Only time will tell how much more work will be done on it. Eventually I'll need to print both of these linos on good paper.
I think it was at least three years ago and probably a few more that I started an online store to sell my work. That link is listed on the upper right as 'For Sale.' But I've never been too happy with it. It's expensive, has teeny, tiny images in the various templates that it offers and has very bad analytics, so that it's hard to know who is coming to the store, where they come from, why they might put an item in their cart and then not checkout.
So about a year and a half ago when I took up printmaking again for the first time in many years I opened an online store on etsy that was mainly for prints. Since they were lower priced and etsy, at least from what I can tell, is also geared to lower prices this made sense. But as I've gotten more and more unhappy with my main online store I've added more work to etsy. I'm now at the point where I'm seriously thinking about just dropping the other store. Etsy has its own problems. Who knows how anyone can ever find anything there. There is just so much STUFF!! But it also has tools like Etsy Mini, the little grid of images of my own items that is at upper right of this blog. I like this and my guess is that it sends a number of viewers to my etsy store.
I don't think too many people who read this blog frequent my online store. But in case you do this will explain what happened if you no longer see it in a few weeks.

And What of Lino?

It's been quite awhile since I've done any linoleum block prints. This is odd because it's a way I like to work and my prints are relatively popular, at least in terms of comments I receive. I think one reason is that for me linos require more planning than the other media I use: acrylic, pastel, charcoal and even watercolor. Once you carve away part of the linoleum block it's gone for good. So it seems smarter to have at least some rough guidelines before starting.
There are a number of other reasons that I won't go into here. Suffice it to say that generally speaking I think my best linos have been ones that are based on other work I've done in other media. Transposing something I've already done seems to work well for some reason
So after hemming and hawing for months on what to do next I finally decided that the newest lino would be based on an old pastel of a Hermit Thrush and Sandhill Crane in the background. At the top is the second stage of this, printed with cheap ink on copier paper.

Since it's been so long since I've done any linos I was surprised to find the block for the Twelve-spotted Skimmer and Solitary Sandpiper in my printing and proofing area. THAT was a disappointment, the finished print I mean. I seem to lose all detail when I changed inks going from proof to edition. I then cut deeper to make up for it, before I realized that the problem might be the ink itself. I finished the edition but told myself that sometime in the future I should go back to the block with different ink and try a proof. That's what I did today with some leftover ink. The results remind me of how much I like this idea. I think that once I finish the Hermit Thrush/Sandhill Crane lino I'll return to this. I still think there's something great waiting here.
It supposed to be 100 degrees or more later today. I do all my proofing and printing in our very cool basement. Do you think that had anything to do with my decision to finally return to lino? I don't think so but it is compelling evidence!

Finished

Just the other day I remarked on how swimmingly the edition of the Downy Woodpecker and Canada Goose had gone. None of the typical problems with ink consistency.

But today things were back to normal or even worse. I just couldn't keep the fine detail in this print of a Twelve-spotted Skimmer with Solitary Sandpiper. I still like it but it's a bit broader than I'd intended. I've yet to figure out what prints need to be tossed from the edition I pulled today. I pulled 18 prints but my guess is that the signed edition will only include between 12 and 15.

I do really like this subject. So who knows? Maybe there will still be a larger painting sometime in the future.

Twelve-spotted Skimmer and Solitary Sandpiper Lino

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about using sketchbooks as the source of more developed work. I showed a new watercolor sketch based on field sketches of Twelve-spotted Skimmers and Solitary Sandpipers both seen on the same day at Morris Arboretum last summer. The sketch was not complete or finished. But I thought it had a lot of possibilities as a more developed work.

The main area I felt that I needed to work on was the foreground and to a lesser extent the background. I had objects in two different planes in space: the dragonfly and the bird. I felt that I needed something for the dragonfly to sit on that both held him and added to the design of the picture. I wasn't really satisfied with what I'd done in the watercolor.

So I started sketching the dragonfly and the dead flower that it had been sitting on. The flower had extravagant curves, in both flower and dead seed head, that were infatuating. So I wanted to get them in if I could. The trick was to get them in without having them dominate everything else.

When I had a sketch I was happy with I scanned it and made some prints of it. I then pasted in into my sketchbook and drew in the rest of the sketch, as you can see above. Eventually I then scanned it, reversed it and copied in onto a small 4x6 inch linoleum block.

I've spent most of the day cutting this lino. After getting it to where I was fairly happy with it I switched to the paper I was going to print on, Rives Heavyweight, and the ink I planned to use, Caligo Safe Wash. Unfortunately the ink is too heavy and is covering up some detail, especially in the bird and dragonfly.

So the next step is to recut some of the more subtle lines and hope that the ink has thinned out a bit. After that I may do a bit more work on the far shore. But there's not much lino left. I've cut a lot away. So I'll be cautious, I hope, with any remainging changes.

As with the watercolor sketch I like the idea of combining two things that I saw in the same day in the same location, though not in this exact view. It's part of what makes art enjoyable.

'Nothing I Say Can Improve the Way it Looks'

That was the large type quote in today's Wall Street Journal obit on ceramic artist Ken Price written by Peter Plagens. It immediately got my attention.

I don't let my feelings about contemporary art theory slip out much on this blog. I'm sure that they do occasionally. I'm much more open about them on my main web site. I also believe that art theory is pretty worthless, or at least debilitating. It's so easy to waste your time thinking about art and the art world rather than undertaking the far more rewarding and satisfying task of just making art. So I assume very few readers of this blog are interested in my thoughts on the subject.

But sometimes things just bother you and get under your skin. I looked at an online application for a local juried art show today. It will explore the 'themes and ideas that are current within the arts of Philadelphia.' Uh, oh. That most likely rules me out. I don't even know what those ideas are. What's worse I'd be willing to bet I'd think that they were utter nonsense if I did know. (So by now you can probably see why I don't write about this much here!). In any case the notion of ideas in art is always under my skin, like a nasty thorn.

So when I read the Ken Price obit, an artist I should say I vaguely recalled from my years in California, my heart leapt when I read

Part of Price's uniqueness -- particularly in today's logorrheic, theory-besotted art world -- was his straightforwardness.

'Theory-besotted art world.' I couldn't have said it better myself. It's the main reason I turned from abstract art to naturalistic art 10-15 years ago.

Plagens goes on to quote Price:

I can't prove that my art's any good or that it means what I say it means. And nothing I can say can improve the way it looks.

I think that this is at the heart of my view on art, whether it's abstract, naturalistic or anything in between. The only thing that's important to me is how it looks. Just as with music I care about what it sounds like. This would seem to be a simple, self-obvious statement. But in the bizarro world of art nothing is self-evident other than the one fad will follow another.

Well, as I said, not many people who read this blog I suspect are very interested in this type of thing. They're interested more in nature or naturalistic art I think. But even for them I think the importance of what something looks like is worth mentioning.

I said yesterday that I don't get much satisfaction out of working from photos, even if the work turns out fairly realistic. I'm happy with my recent ballpoint pen drawings of wood warblers. But they seem to me more like exercises than anything else. And in fact they were I did them mainly to learn. I also tried to make drawings that were pleasing to look at and that somehow captured the bird. But there was still a bit of 'exercise' in them.

By contrast I'm now trying to create a print or painting of the Twelve-Spotted Skimmer and Solitary Sandpiper that I saw last summer at Morris Arboretum. Yesterday's ink and watercolor wash drawing was one attempt. Today I changed it to a vertical format, moved the shorebird and added some foliage and fallen trees in the water. To me this is what art is all about, regardless of subject, trying to make something that looks good, just like Ken Price.