a knowledge of flowers

A couple of weeks back, I took a walk in Aullwood Gardens, this time with my mother.  We talked, pointed out particular specimens, wandered away from each other, wandered back.

My mother has a wonderful knowledge of flowers, of their species and varieties.  She loves their natural beauty, and I suspect, the way they refuse to be controlled.  In some ways, I am a better gardener, because I actually look up directions on how to care for particular flowers, and then follow them.

Mom, however, gets results that I never will, simply by breaking all the rules.
She puts shade plants in bright sun, and subjects sun-loving plants to gloomy spots.  She hates weeding so much that she would rather use weed killer right next to a prized plant rather than dig up a dandelion.  She lets plants duke it out for root space.  She prunes viciously, or not at all.  she doesn't create plant groupings with any symmetry, or even any organization. Nevertheless, her garden has a wild sort of beauty.  It makes no sense to me, much like my mother.

As we meandered through the garden, I found myself, trying to take a decent picture of my mother.  I'd try, look at the digital negative, decide it didn't work, take a pretty picture of a flower to console myself, then try again.

I've never taken a picture of mom that I'm really happy with, though I believe that the picture is there, if I can figure out how to take it.

There is a painting in the Philadelphia Museum of Art of Renior's wife, Aline.  Looking at Mom reminds me of it.
I admit, I'm not a huge fan of Renior.  His vibrant colors frequently fade into masses of pastels.  His paintings are almost too cheerful, or sappy.  However, when I look at this painting of his wife, I understand why his colors are so chipper, and that there is a depth in his happiness.

Aline modeled for her husband for years before and after their marriage.  In her youth, Aline was a buxom, cheerful brunette, with graceful lines.  She's a model in many of Renior's paintings from the 1880's onwards, and is clearly the physical inspiration for figures in his later works.

In this painting though, Aline is fat, greying, wrinkled, weathered. Her years of bouyant, buxom perfection are behind her. These are not the important details of the painting.  The important thing is how she is gazing straight out, and laughing with such joy.
The whole of her happy adult life is in the painting.  It's in the clear, vibrant french sun that's shining down on her.  It's in her sloppy, workaday clothes.  Most importantly it's in her husband's brush strokes, as he notes the damage that time has done, and clearly loves her even more for it.  It's as if he wouldn't have her any other way, because it's their life together that has put the pounds on her rolling hips and the wrinkles around her eyes.

Mom is so much like that.  Her life has caused her to look the way she does, and it's a life I'm very grateful for.
However, I am no Renior, and therefore it's been virtually impossible for me to take a really good portrait of my mother.  Instead, I have a handful of almost-portraits, and some good pictures of flowers.

Baptism card.

Catherine's paternal grandmother requested that I make a prayer card to hand out at Catherine's baptism, so I did.
Such a lovely, thoughtful idea!

Doesn't she look oh, so holy?!
The background frame is a picture of a gorgeously blooming magnolia tree I photographed the day Catherine was born.

Blessings

My darling niece was baptized Sunday.

My sister Ann made a beautiful God-mom.

Catie behaved beautifully, but by about 10 minutes after mass, she was done being chipper and quiet.  It took all of Sarah's newfound Mommy skills to soothe her.

Catherine's gaze is so much more direct now.  She stares in wonder at everything around her.

Tom's been honing his baby soothing skills too.

My siblings, of course, found a couch and piled as many of them on it as they could.  It's a family phenomenon we call a "puppy pile."  I think it's from having no personal space as children.

 Only a mother can look at a screaming child with this much calm affection.

my favorite field

There's a certain field off of Frederick's Pike that I have a minor obsession with.  Something about the way it changes through the seasons, and the way the colors of it change from watercolored dawn, through high contrast noon, onto a golden lit sunset, where the trees are just strips of black etched into the exposure.
I photographed it a couple of times around Christmas, capturing it during its winter dormancy.
I've visited it once this spring, but have yet to get out there at dawn to see how that changes the greens and yellows.  This is probably because I hate getting up early.

Its mood changes so much.  Also, last time I was there, I tried to capture the creek that was running parallel to it.  However, it just looked drab and dirty in all of the pictures.  However, with the advent of spring, it has an interesting ochre yellow cast, from reflecting the spring foliage.

I love the detail in the netted branches of the trees.

painting shoes.

As I was coming downstairs today, my mother asked me what my plans were for this afternoon.  I answered, "Painting shoes."
A little while later, she walked by my work station and laughed.  She thought I was going to paint a still life of my shoes.  Instead, there I was, happily painting away on my new ballet flats.

I bought this pair of ballet flats a week or so ago.  I love ballet flats, and I quite like the subtle pink color of these ones. However, I started wearing them, and realized that they were just too boring for me.  So I decided to spice them up a bit.

I did a little sketching first.  I've been looking at and photographing a lot of spring flowers.  I've been especially noticing crabapple blooms, like these.  I knew I wanted to encorporate them into the design somewhere, but also have some brighter, made up flowers too.  I didn't want the shoes to be too demure.

I started out by blocking in the design with white.  I wanted to put white down first so that the colors I added later would look brighter, and less muddy.  This step wasn't too important on such pale shoes, but would've been very important if I was painting anything darker.
I then added some defining outlines using burnt umber.
Then I just had fun.

the hardest part was getting the two shoes to match completely, even though their designs weren't symmetrical.
I don't know if this is normal, but if I'm painting two of something, one of them comes together almost effortlessly, and the other one fights me the whole time, threatening to turn into a sad mush of a piece.
However, the recalcitrant shoe (the right-foot one) finally came together, and i'm quite happy with my afternoon's work.
I had to take an obscene amount of photographs to show you how they turned out, because they look different from every angle.

And here they are on my feet.

I think my favorite part of the shoes ended up being the apple blossoms, though I think they needed the more colorful flowers as well.  I think I might buy a pair of grey ballet flats as well, and do them entirely in white apple blossoms, touched with pink. Mmmm, yummy!

As happy as I am with the shoes, I'm almost more thrilled with my impromptu pallets.  Maybe it's because I haven't painted in so long, but something about the mushy joy of unmixed pigments just thrills me.

Now I'm off to spray a sealant on my shoes, so that, hopefully, they'll stay beautiful for quite a while!

ps. if you want to look at some stunning flowers, check out Amy Merrick's web site.  I've been ogling it all weekend.  So lovely!