Cicada Summer

August 16, 2023August 18, 2023 ~ chubbstr ~ Leave a comment

The sound seems to drift down from the heights of the tall trees. It’s a dreamy, lazy buzzing, rising and falling in volume, and tapering off to be picked up again in a slightly different place. Growing up in Indiana, it was the background sound to the “dog days” of summer. I can’t separate my memories of freezer pops and visits to the Lake from the thrumming sound of the annual cicadas.

Our yard (3 acres of weedy grass, silver maple and black walnut) is revealing its wealth of insects this year (and other critters). Along the tree lines, I’m delighted by flying bugs, bees, spiders, and dragonflies. I discovered a tree frog sheltering from the sun, and rescued a handful of hungry monarch caterpillars that would have starved where they hatched. I moved them to bigger fare.

Gratitude seems like a small word to exchange for this bounty of wonders. I get to play out of doors as part of my job, and then generate something lovely from that play. The hours I spend outside observing, recording, watching, and listening are as important as the hours I spend in the studio creating, drawing, composing and rendering.

A new project is emerging from my summer’s work, as I process a deep dive into nature and local history. It combines my fine art paintings with genealogy and environmental education. You can follow along as I develop the project in upcoming posts.

In the mean time, the first two pieces are almost complete. The first is called “Place of Beginning,” and reflects our move back to Indiana. The text is a partial legal description from our mortgage documents. This bird is emerging from chaos (have you ever moved across country?). It’s song is a clear bell coming from the storm of activity brought on by change.

Each piece in this new project will incorporate historic documents about a geographic location, feature, or region (such as the Kankakee River or the Indiana Dunes). The documents record changes in Northwest Indiana between the years of settlement (roughly 1830) to the first successes of the conservation movement in the early twentieth century (roughly 1925). I’m eagerly searching out diary entries, land survey notes, stories, poems and articles.

“Enter a Wet Prairie” explores the historic loss of habitat for grassland birds like the Dickcissel. The background photo is the restored prairie at Reynolds Creek Game Bird Area, and the historical document is the land survey note matching that location. Restoration efforts in Porter County are reclaiming land for tallgrass prairie, and there is hope that we can continue to enjoy grassland plants and animals into the future.

Thanks for making it to the end!. As a reward, please claim your free downloadable prairie kaleidoscope coloring page!

There is Delight in Strangeness

March 24, 2022May 1, 2022 ~ chubbstr ~ 1 Comment

It’s late afternoon in the studio. Soft light sifts through the branches of the maple tree, and I’m longing to explore the spring plants emerging along the hedgerow. After two decades as happy Coloradans, we’ve returned to the Midwest to be Hoosiers. We’ve got a little more breathing room, a lot more yard, and a new home for ChubbellArt.

In February, my husband and I loaded our cats into their fancy carrier for the cross-country trek from Colorado to Indiana. It’s been almost two decades since we drove west with a different pair of cats to new jobs and new adventures on mountain trails. Now we were returning to our roots and to family, following the Platte River east as flocks of sandhill cranes descended on the Nebraska corn fields.

If the cats noticed the cranes, they kept it to themselves. It was bitterly cold, in the single digits with plenty of sunshine. After a few hours of restless complaining, they settled into a routine of occasional medicated mewling. We reached Lincoln after dark, grateful for GPS navigation and a warm Air BnB. We let go of the chaotic violence of loading day, the memories already softening into story.

When the moving van arrived at the end of our driveway, a flock of Sandhill Cranes flew over the house. I took it as a benediction. Soon, the moving-in crew was hustling every box, tote, and stick of furniture inside. There was chaos, lots of cleaning up, and exhaustion on all sides. I’m grateful for the few days we had between moving out and moving in—days to quietly observe nuthatches cascading down the trunks of the maple trees, and to listen to the small flock of redwing blackbirds singing in the cattails across the road.

Two months after unpacking the last box, my husband and I are slowly settling into new rhythms. And though it still feels like we’re between leaving and arriving, I take joy in the birds vying for the suet feeders. We stroll on the beach, visit family, and make home repair appointments. Meawhile the cats patrol endlessly round and round the rooms, remarking the furniture. Sometimes they circle back to us in recognition that our little family is all that really matters. But mostly they complain about the increase of clouds and the lack of window ledges.

Lake Michigan at Indiana Dunes State Park

Soon enough, this unsettled feeling will be replaced with the more grounded sense of being at home, so I want to slow down and savor the strangeness, too. We’re constantly delighted by some new surprise. Hiding among the non-native trees and shrubs we’re finding walnut, oak, black cherry, and raspberry. Woodpeckers, migrating warblers and grosbeaks are flitting through, providing lots of challenging inspiration for art. This leg of our life’s adventure is as open to possibility as the previous twenty years, and I can’t wait to see what comes next.

Tips for Sketching Trees

Ink and colored pencil nature journal sketch of a tree

September 24, 2021 ~ chubbstr ~ Leave a comment

We just had a cold snap here in Colorado Springs, with night-time temperatures dipping below 40. Mornings have a crisp chill that makes it hard to get out of bed, and spots of gold and russet signal the beginning of Autumn. Nature is pointing us toward a quieter cycle, and a last chance to sketch deciduous trees before they drop their leaves for winter. It’s the perfect time to share some quick tips for sketching trees.

Nature journal ink and water color sketch — Copyright 2021 ChubbellArt, Ltd.

Cottonwoods and Mountain Ash, American Plum, Gambel Oak and Willow, and even the little Common Hoptree sapling in our yard will be putting on fall color soon. So while the days continue to warm into the 70s and low 80s, I get my kit and head down to the park.

Nature journal sketch of an oak tree — Copyright 2021 ChubbellArt, Ltd.

I remember the first advice I got about sketching trees: “Don’t draw lollypop trees.” “Don’t try to draw every leaf.” That leaves (ha ha!) quite a bit of room for the unknown! So let’s back up a step to prepare for sketching by looking intentionally at different aspects of trees.

Diagram suggesting where to sit while sketching a tree — Sit far enough from the tree to see all of it without straining. Copyright 2021 ChubbellArt, Ltd.

Start by finding a comfortable seat far enough from the tree so you can see all of it without moving your head. By asking productive questions, you can break the tree apart to understand it, then put all the pieces back together in a coherent way. Here are some questions to get you started:

Can you pick one shape that represents the tree? Maybe it’s a diamond or a cone, a sphere or even a cube. The shape of the tree may be typical for its species.
Is the tree in direct sunlight or shade? How do the shadows create the three-dimensional form of the tree? How might they change in the next 15 minutes? The next hour?
How does the tree grow? Working from the roots and trunk upward, how do the main branches divide from the trunk, and what are those branches like? How many branches can you see peeking through the leaves or needles? Is the trunk single or double? Is it straight, gnarled, split?
What shapes do the leaves or needles make as they form clumps along the branches? Cones? Cubes? Spheres? Can you see individual leaves? What shapes are the leaves? Leaf shape is also a way to identify a tree species, so you might want to sketch the leaves separately.
What’s unique about this tree? Are there interesting bits of sky visible between leaves or branches? Does the tree have a cavity or a nest?
What do you love about the tree? Something drew you to this spot. What was it?

You can start to record your observations at any point, just know that you’ll want to make adjustments while you work. Start with a light touch in pencil or pen, then reinforce the lines as you work. I like to create an “envelope” based on the ratio of the tree’s height to width. I draw the envelope first, then cut in the overall shape of the tree. Inside the shape, I place the landmarks I’ve observed. These landmarks are essential for getting the details in the right places. There’s a time-lapse video at the end of this post that shows my process.

Ink and water color nature journal sketch of trees — Branches are a lovely subject for studying negative space. Copyright 2021 ChubbellArt, Ltd.

Deciduous trees offer us that last beautiful gasp of color before they drop their leaves in the fall. The golds and yellows we get here in Colorado won’t peak for another week or two. But I know that bare branches are just around the corner, and just as fun to sketch!

Under the Reading Lamp

January 31, 2019May 20, 2021 ~ chubbstr ~ Leave a comment

If you’re anywhere in the northern United States today, you’re probably experiencing dangerous cold. It’s the perfect time to take shelter with a good book. Here are three books on nature and art that are absorbing my interest this week.

The Revolutionary Genius of Plants by Stefano Mancuso

What a delight to breeze through this exploration of how plant adaptations can inspire us to achieve our very human needs and desires. I kept saying to my husband “this book is crazy!” But I also kept reading, even after Dr. Mancuso argued that plants may have a form of vision. No kidding. There are wonderful stories here about how plant structure informs some of our most creative architecture or how the decentralized organization of plants could teach us to create robust democracies. I’ve always been more into birds than plants, but this book could tip the balance in favor of plants.

Keeping a Nature Journal by Clare Walker Leslie and Charles E. Roth

I spent a happy half hour on my chilly porch sketching our resident rabbit and a few end of day birds with this book at my side. Leslie and Roth encourage readers to begin where they are by observing everything around them and recording it with any available tools. The object is to connect to the natural world locally, by exploring our cities and neighborhoods and parks without judgement. It’s the perfect message I hope to carry into the sketching workshop I’ll be giving in May, plus my sketchbook is filling up with happy observations.

The Laws Guide to Nature Drawing and Journaling by John Muir Laws

I love this comprehensive guide to drawing from nature. At 300 plus pages, it’s hard to imagine anything Laws hasn’t covered. From how to observe nature (including how to estimate groups of birds) to contextualizing observations by including maps and landscape sketches, there is enough material here for a lifetime of study. Because I struggle with page composition in my sketchbooks, I skipped to that section and picked up some good tips. It’s that kind of text – dip in and find what you need or absorb it cover to cover.

The arctic temperatures may be ending, but we’re not quite done with winter. So stay warm, make some art, and keep reading!

Got a good nature or art book to share? Post a comment!

At the Tail End of Quiet

January 24, 2019May 20, 2021 ~ chubbstr ~ 2 Comments

I understand why we use the beginning of the year to make a fresh start. The holidays are behind us with their noisy chaos and overindulgence. Closets and arteries need cleansing. And even at the end of January, the calendar still has a compelling sense of possibility.

But I don’t want to race ahead. I’ll be very grateful for spring’s renewing energy. I just want to stop a while at the edge of winter and take one last look around.

Magpies on a snowy trail — Magpie feathers are structurally blue in sunlight

What I see are the dusty browns and gray-greens of faded plant material providing camouflage for the birds. That’s Colorado, of course. Fifty thousand shades of tan! Look closer and you notice that song birds and other critters are surviving on grass seed and the fruits that have persisted into winter. So there’s life in this season if you know where to look.

House finch on a branch eating ash seed — A house finch gleans seeds from an ash tree

When I decided to illustrate the common hop plant, I was thinking about the plump green flowers I’d seen in early September.

Hop flowers and hop leaves on a barbed wire fence — Fresh hop flowers

But by December, the plants had long since dried. Botanical illustrators often reconstruct plants from herbarium specimens, which are specially prepared by trained collectors from living plant material. They are works of art in their own right, arranged to show the flowers and growth pattern of the plant. They bring the plants back to life.

Without a herbarium specimen, it was a bit of a stretch to think I could get the information I needed from a handful of dried hops. I got as far as soaking some curled leaves in water, unfurling them to get a look at their shape, and making a few sketches. The flowers were another problem. Hop flowers open and curl as they dry, so I couldn’t confidently use them to simulate fresh flowers.

What I did learn from the dried hop flowers was just how interesting they are in their own right. There’s something soothing about their monochromatic warmth. The bracts and bracteoles swirl around the strig, reminding me of a paper chandelier or a folk dancer’s skirt adorned with ribbons.

An illustration of dried hop flowers — Detail of dried hops. See the full illustration in the gallery.

There are many things pulling me forward as January drifts into February. In a few weeks I’ll be hosting my first ever open studio sale. Artwork needs to be matted, packaged and priced if it’s going to find a new home. I could jump into a swirl of activity.

Or I could ease into my studio while juncos forage for seeds in last year’s monarda. I could think about all the winter birds making a living among the last of the berries, and I could be grateful for a handful of dried hops on my drawing table.

Transforming Winter

January 11, 2018May 20, 2021 ~ chubbstr ~ Leave a comment

I used to hate winter, especially the month of November. Here in Colorado, fall leaves hit peak color toward the end of October. We’ve had our first or second snow. The winds pick up, then die off, and November sets in. November days are stark, short, and ugly. At least, that’s how I used to think of them.

I believe that making and viewing art is transformative. My attitude toward November took a 180 degree turn when I spent part of the month designing and painting a small illumination based on the letter “N.” At first it had nothing to do with November. Just nuthatches. I’d been seeing them in my yard and went looking for them down at the creek.

At the creek I met a lovely fellow birder who knew exactly which trees the nuthatches were using. Cathy pointed me toward a couple of hollow Cottonwood branches and there they were. We heard them, too. Nuthatches have a squeaky balloon chatter that’s unmistakable once you catch on.

The more time I spent outdoors looking for nuthatches, the more I noticed that the days were not just dry and short, they were also warm and soft and beautiful. Birds sang everywhere. The water in the creek had a particularly bright sheen from the low, south-driven sun. I couldn’t possibly be warming up to November, could I?

But there it was, creeping into my design for the illumination. The winter sun moving across the sky. The nuthatch prying at the bark of a Cottonwood amid scattered leaves. A sense of stillness at the center of a season in transition. This was my early winter meditation, and it transformed how I felt about those bleak November days.

I learned illumination techniques from Renee Jorgenson, who is a wonderful artist, teacher, and master calligrapher. The process starts with a small design, no more than 4 inches square. Every element is carefully planned, from the letter form to the motifs and background patterns. Gold leaf goes down first, then flat color applied with gouache. Black ink and white or pastel details make the colors pop and add visual interest. When it’s successful, you get that sense of a medieval manuscript illuminated with jewel-toned colors. A mini stained glass window on paper.

I scanned this piece and used it for Christmas cards, but its legacy is that I will always associate it with enjoying the month of November. I hope it speaks to you, too, because there are more tough winter months coming. February can be dark and cold. But “F” is also for flicker, and I think we’re ready for it.

Winter Inspiration

February 9, 2016May 20, 2021 ~ chubbstr ~ 3 Comments

Winter can be full of surprises. This year I decided to walk a single stretch of Cottonwood Creek several times a week. I took my camera along, birding and observing. We’ve had more snow than usual, but the birds don’t care. They ignore me as I trudge along in my boots under the bare branches.

My favorite discovery has been a pair of downy woodpeckers that I saw spiraling up the narrow trunks of stunted trees. I’ve gone back many times to find the female, listening for her brief chirp or light tap-tap as she hunts insects under the bark. She has so much personality, I wanted to capture it. Working from photos, I first composed and painted the pair together, then decided to draw them separately. I read that downy woodpeckers are more solitary in winter. Here’s my study in oil. This was a big help in preparing the more finished graphite painting above.

The creek hosts a nice range of bird species. Right now, it runs under a mantel of ice, emerging in matted vegetation at the edges. I caught this cat keeping a close eye on some mallards near the foot bridge.

Song sparrows, goldfinches, juncos, house finches, and chickadees all flit among the shadowed branches. This area also contains a number of dead trees that are perfect habitat for flickers.

As the weather warms and the trees leaf out, it will be harder to spot the birds. But I’ll keep looking. I wouldn’t want to miss spring migration and mating season, and all the lovely surprises that are sure to inspire new paintings.

Hubbell1628 — Cottonwood Creek, looking west.

Summer Crush

October 27, 2014May 20, 2021 ~ chubbstr ~ Leave a comment

I fell in love this summer – with chickens.

It started with chickens appearing all over my sketchbooks. Sometimes they lived in a chicken coop or met in the park to play chess. They looked like pirates, sea captains and school bus drivers. One, intensely interested in exoplanets, clucked his way onto a rocket ship.

I had a vision of large paintings of plucky chickens exploring the universe. The vision blossomed into a fantasy – a whole gallery of paintings, and maybe a children’s picture book! This was getting serious.

Half-completed projects tumble out of a box in my studio like the souvenirs of failed love affairs. Contour drawings, value studies, reference photos, receipts for supplies I’ve never used. What if the chickens ended up here, too – sandwiched between faded photographs of bantams and red jungle fowl? But love blossomed – and demanded a trip to the art supply store.

I bought Golden Open acrylics and experimented on canvas, watercolor paper treated with clear gesso, and Strathmore 500 illustration board.

Here’s a watercolor sketch treated with gesso.

Over-painted with acrylic. It’s definitely time for painting lessons.

Illustration board was better – easy to use and forgiving. But when a friend introduced me to watercolor canvas panels, I fell in love again.

This surface seems perfect for transparent layers of acrylic washes, which will produce beautiful botanical–

–wait–what happened to the chickens?

My summer crush is turning into a smoldering affair with acrylic paint.

And if it all goes wrong? If acrylic paint breaks my heart?

The cat is keeping my colored pencils warm.