Second bite of the cherry . . .

Cherry Blossom II
mixed media watercolour by Teresa Newham

The cold weather continued right to the end of March this year, with snow on the ground in the South of England barely a fortnight before Easter.  The few blossoms which had dared to emerge on my neighbour's tree froze in the chilly wind.

this year's blossom
© Teresa Newham

The blossom is fully out now; perhaps not as spectacular as in some years, but still providing a welcome splash of colour as the gardens recover from what one of my friends described as "eternal winter".

the original Cherry Blossom watercolour
© Teresa Newham

That tree has inspired a couple of paintings in its time: last year it was a mixed media watercolour Flowering Cherry, and a couple of years before that a pen and wash called simply Cherry Blossom.

brightening up the background
© Teresa Newham

My favourite painting is always the next one, so when I do look back at my old work, I'm often pleasantly surprised.  Not with Cherry Blossom, however - it's never felt quite right - and once Flowering Cherry was finished, I knew it needed a re-think.

emphasising the foreground
© Teresa Newham

This year I embarked upon whole series of renovated watercolours, of which Cherry Blossom II is the latest: washed off and reinvigorated with Permanent Alizarin Crimson, Permanent Sap Green and metallic copper ink, and remounted. And at last I can say I'm happy with it!

revitalised painting in new mount
© Teresa Newham

A walk in the park

January frosts
© Teresa Newham

#HertsOpenStudios is less than four weeks away, and I should be in a frenzy of mounting and framing the various pieces I've made over the last twelve months, ready to exhibit.  Instead, I've been trawling through old photos and collating them for a piece I've called All the year round in Rothamsted Park.

Spring bulbs
© Teresa Newham

The idea began in September 2013, when I found myself wandering through the sun-dappled park at nine in the morning - a time when I would have normally been on the train to work.  Revelling in my newly-retired freedom, I began taking photos in the park whenever I had a spare few minutes.

trees in full Summer
© Teresa Newham

I soon discovered that the park has a regular rhythm of its own - as well as the changing seasons, the view is determined by the time of day - you can be elbow to elbow with joggers and dog walkers one minute, and disconcertingly all on your own the next - at least, it seems that way until the next person appears round the bend or at the top of the hill!

fallen leaves in Autumn
© Teresa Newham

Over the last few years, Rothamsted Park has been the source of several photos for the calendars I make as Christmas presents, various sketches, and one watercolour, which comes close to saying what I felt about the park that September morning without in any way excluding the possibility of making more paintings, perhaps of the park at a different time of year.

mysterious mist
© Teresa Newham

I've enjoyed putting together this montage of the park in all its glory all the year round, and I hope that visitors to my studio will enjoy it, too.  In the meantime, I have work to do.  I've just given myself something extra to frame, after all!

All the year round in Rothamsted Park
© Teresa Newham

#HertsOpenStudios runs from Saturday 9th September - Sunday 1st October 2017.  Full details of participating artists and studio opening times can be found here.

A walk round the corner - February, March, April

It's time to update the photo diary of our countryside walks, last posted on this blog back in January.  For a while I thought we might not get outside in February at all, what with the weather being so bad, but some sunshine did eventually arrive, and we duly made our way across the mud in the first field:

the first field - February
© Teresa Newham

The storms had removed the last of the old leaves from the trees but everything was still looking pretty bare - at least the sky was blue!

the old oak - February
© Teresa Newham

At the entrance to the second field the catkins had gone - the farmer had been out managing his hedges.  I imagine that left untrimmed they would look a right mess! We have discovered that this little track is called Mud Lane, and it was certainly living up to its name:

the second field - February
© Teresa Newham

The only sign of life in the hedgerows at this point was some gorse making a welcome splash of colour along the railway line:

flowering gorse - February
© Teresa Newham

By March things had dried out a bit, but at first glance everything seemed still disappointingly dormant:

the first field - March
© Teresa Newham

Some of the hedges near the old oak had sprung into life but the tree itself wasn't showing visible signs of life yet, at least, not from the ground . . . .

the old oak - March
© Teresa Newham

. . .  and not much to see in the second field either.  At least the track was dry, so we were able to go along it without getting our feet wet.  No more wellies!

the second field - March
© Teresa Newham

However life was stirring in the hedgerows, as this blossom shows!

hedgerow in bloom - March
© Teresa Newham

On our most recent walk everything looked much fresher and greener, especially along the railway line:

the first field - April
© Teresa Newham

The old oak itself still looks leafless against the light, but the hedgerows are starting to fill out!

the old oak - April
© Teresa Newham

At the entrance to the second field, all the trees along Mud Lane and the edge of the field are coming into leaf:

the second field - April
© Teresa Newham

And to my delight there are bluebells growing in the hedgerows.  Spring is finally here!

bluebells in the hedgerow - April
© Teresa Newham

a lesson in leaving well alone

source material and colour swatches

For some time I've been meaning to do another watercolour based on photos taken on our honeymoon in Venice over a year ago.  I finally settled on a shot of some Gondoliers, waiting for passengers on the Riva del Schiavoni.  This time I stretched some grey-tinted watercolour paper, which I hoped would add a wintry atmosphere to the finished article.

the basic sketch

The painting was going to be a fairly big one, so the basic sketch for it had to be done on two pieces of A4.  Somehow if I make a sketch from a photo before doing a painting, it doesn't feel so much like painting from a photo - and it gives an opportunity for editing. When I transferred the sketch to the watercolour paper, I hit the first snag: the two halves didn't quite match up, so some sleight of hand was needed.

transferring the sketch to the paper

Because the subject is a watery one, I decided to use plenty of water in the washes - keeping them pale and building them up if necessary.  I was so busy sloshing the water on, I realised too late that I'd hit a second problem:  the paper had buckled so much that it had come right away from the tape at the top, which was supposed to keep everything in place.

some very wet washes . . . 

Panicking slightly, I considered my options: (a) chuck the whole thing away (b) cut the paper away from the board completely, re-soak and re-stretch it or (c) wait until it had dried before deciding what to do.  Sheer indecision led me to choose option (c), which was basically 'do nothing'.  Just as well, because when the painting had dried completely it was still glued perfectly flat, as though nothing had happened!

a background in search of a subject

Carrying on with the background, I added layer upon layer of pale wash to build things up without overdoing it.  At one point I realised that the gondolier who was supposed to be leaning on the rail was actually leaning on nothing at all.  I fiddled with the idea of changing the angle of his arm, but decided to leave well alone again - he could be gesticulating instead!! Much of the subject is black (gondolier's coats and trousers, and the gondolas themselves) so I began to add darker, thicker washes of various colour combinations to distinguish one area of black from another.  By the time the painting was finished, the gondoliers had about six or seven layers of paint on them . . .

Gondoliers in Winter

So here's the finished article.  True, I've taken a few liberties with San Giorgio Maggiore; the gondolier on the left is reading a book rather than texting, another gondolier is missing completely and the chap on the right has sprouted a red stripy sweater (the gondoliers do wear a variety of red-striped or black-striped tops, sometimes on top of their padded coats, and either red or black ribbons on their hats).  I'm enjoying painting figures!!

Seasons of Mist . . .

© Teresa Newham 2011

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
      Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
   With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run . . .

                                                              -  John Keats

We've had a mild autumn;  scarlet geraniums are still blooming merrily in my porch at the end of November, and even the fading leaves have lingered longer than they might have.  If it wasn't for the evenings drawing in at tea-time you wouldn't know that December will soon be upon us.  I love the rhythm of the seasons, so the recent misty mornings, with just a touch of winter chill, have been a delight to me, as well as a sign that autumn is slowly giving way to winter.

This month's Photos on the Run celebrates this change: dramatic shots of bare branches outlined against the sky, berries in the garden, the trees of Harpenden Common shrouded in mist.  This time of year, with its shortening days, has a sense of anticipation and mystery.  Christmas is coming . . .