Well, okay, my visit missed the actual Celtic Colours music festival by a couple of days (sad but true). But even a short two days on Cape Breton gave me a nice taste of the Celtic heritage of the island—
—as well as a panorama of stunning autumn color, absolutely everywhere I looked.
If that’s not a good consolation prize, I don’t know what is.
“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn’t it?”
—L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
And I’m so glad my first visit to Prince Edward Island was an October one.
Even without the peak fall color everywhere, the island was easily one of the most beautiful, picturesque places I’ve ever seen. In fact, the gratuitous beauty got to be a running gag between my travel companion and me—with each new jaw-dropping vista, one of us would roll our eyes and sigh, “Jeez, I guess I’ll just look at another pretty scene…” and then laugh.
Actually, laughing about it was about the only way we could keep our sanity. It was all I could do not to abandon any attempt at sketching (because what puny drawing could ever hold a candle to the real thing?) and just burst into dumbfounded tears over the enormity of it all. Because all those October trees, and October fields, and October skies made for two days so perfect that no amount of careful painting could ever do them justice.
I just got back from two glorious weeks in the Maritimes. I still have a lot of color finishing to do on my trip sketches, and somehow it’s still four hours later in my brain—so for now, here are just a couple of drawings to give you a taste.
The tiny fishing village of Peggys Cove (oddly, there’s no apostrophe in the “official” spelling) is a place I’d been wanting to see for many years—and thanks to the perfect weather on the day I spent there, it became one of the highlights of my trip. I’m told the place is one of the most-photographed places in Canada—and it’s not hard to see why. As I heard a tourist from Texas exclaim behind me, “Everywhere you look there’s a picture!”
Boy, howdy, is there ever. I sketched, and sketched, and sketched for hours—even in a steady, icy, screaming wind (the reason I couldn’t do any actual painting on site). Every time I finished a scene and started to walk on, I’d get about three steps before finding another vantage point I just had to sketch. I ended up filling fifteen page spreads that day with my pen scratches—so you can bet you’ll be seeing a lot more of Peggys Cove before too long.
There’s only one drawback (no pun intended!) to the sketching trip I’m currently on—and that’s that I’m missing my ten-year reunion at RISD this weekend. So to all my friends from college who are whoopin’ it up this weekend: I’m raising a glass to you from afar!
My friend Jessica and I had the opportunity to teach a letterpress class at Penland last year. For one glorious week we got to immerse ourselves in Penland’s unique studio culture. Somehow these folks seem to have figured out the secret to bringing out an artist’s best work.
Step one: put them in a beautiful, rural setting (with spotty phone/wifi so as to avoid distractions).
Step two: provide them with top-notch studio equipment—
—and lots of work time to get sucked into the deep end.
Step three: take care of their basics human needs.
Room and board are part of the deal at Penland—but while the housing is simple and spare, the food sure ain’t. I wrote “three squares a day” in my sketchbook, but it’s really more like “three dodecahedrons a day.” Just like a hearty meal might sustain a farmer on a harvest day, I think the secret to creative genius might just be a piping hot bowl of cheese grits and a dish of apple Brown Betty.
This Yankee is here to tell you: you can’t beat Southern cookin’ for surviving a long day in the studio.
There’s a little trail that makes a circuit around the base of Devils Tower, and it’s not hard to see why.
There’s just no bad angle anywhere—every side of the mountain is its good side.
For me, the problem wasn’t finding a good sketch spot—it was racing the clock and recording every “shot” I wanted (plus a few unexpected critters and Wall Drug signs…) before the sun went down on me!
Even on sunny days, the Claremont always seems to appear from nowhere as you turn a corner or follow the curving roads uphill. But in the chilly morning fog, it seemed to emerge from some other world.
Speaking of stormy weather, it’s a little unnerving to be sitting in the passenger seat, happily sketching along, and suddenly be startled out of your reverie by massive raindrops that sound like rocks hitting the windshield.
To be honest, though, it also makes for a thrilling sketch session—especially when you live in the Pacific Northwest, where the rain mostly comes in the form of thick mist and gentle drizzle.
At the time of this posting, I’ll be away on a new sketching adventure (for clues as to where, check out the Facebook page—or you can wait until I post a few sketches here in two weeks!). At this time of year, my destination is known for unpredictable weather that can be all over the map. I’m just crossing my fingers that it won’t be quite so crazy as the day I drove across New Mexico in a freaking sandstorm. Just sayin’.
What’s the craziest weather you’ve ever encountered on your travels? (I’m hoping that by sharing stories online, the weather gods will be distracted from dishing it out on me during my trip…) For you fellow sketchers out there, what’s the worst weather you’ve ever sketched in?
