Hurricane Michael’s surge breached St. Joseph Peninsula, Cape San Blas, Port St. Joe, Florida, October 10, 2018, flattening a thousand yards of ancient tall dunes and leaving behind a tidal channel between the Gulf of Mexico and St. Joseph Bay. I studied the breach along with other aspects of “Healing in the Natural Environment” as the Artist-in-Residence for the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air this past spring, making 17 paintings to exhibit and giving a presentation on May 7, 2019, at Cal Allen’s Coastal Art Gallery in Carrabelle, Florida. I subtitled the residency “Hope”, because throughout my studies and visits, I found the natural environment healing on its own at a rapid pace, as well as from the boosts it was receiving from mitigation efforts such as the students of Marquette High School in St. Louis giving up their spring break to plant sea oats and build living shorelines here thanks to Franklin’s Promise.
I found the breach to be the most fascinating “healing”. The first time I visited in early March, 2019, the thousand yard breach was a field of flat sand, and I estimated the channel to be maybe 100 yards wide. A dune-covered tree was now fully exposed on the island across the channel, and the relative size of that tree turned out to be my gauge for assessing the closing of the breach. When I returned in mid-March, my photos showed the tree to be relatively larger, due to my being able to stand closer as the sand filled the channel to a 50-yard width. Two weeks later in April the tree appeared even larger, the channel being about 20 yards across. When I returned in May, the tree was gone, the sand eroded out from underneath it, and only the tangle of old roots remained. The channel was about 10 yards across. Surveyors were there, fact-finding for plans to restore access to the island now that the sand was unstable. They told me people had been wading across the week before, although a storm had deepened the channel since then.
The channel of course may re-open. The sand does not have the web of roots that hold a dune together. The area of the thousand-yard breach would be a perfect place for sea oats to be planted, to both hold the existing sand in place and to begin the formation of new dunes, since sea oats both trap sand and are stimulated to grow more as they become covered. Below are a few pages from my residency sketchbooks when I was learning about sea oats. I had found these pieces of sea oats by the roadside in Mexico Beach in March.
This post, Part 6, is an unexpected follow-up to my five-part blog about my Spring 2019 adventures as Artist-in-Residence and Florida’s Finest en Plein Air Ambassador for the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air, a nationally-known outdoor painting event along the coast of Northwest Florida where Hurricane Michael struck last fall. Click “Blog” in top menu and scroll down for the preceding 5 posts.
Florida’s Finest Ambassador and Artist-in-Residence
This is the final post of a 5-part blog (scroll down for earlier posts) about my experiences this spring as Artist-in-Residence and as a Florida’s Finest en Plein Air Ambassador for the 2019 Forgotten Coast en Plein Air, the invitational event held annually in the communities of Mexico Beach, Port St. Joe, Apalachicola, Eastpoint, St. George Island, Carrabelle, and Alligator Point, in Northwest Florida. These coastline communities together with Panama City and all points northward, encompass most of the area of Florida impacted by Hurricane Michael on October 10, 2018.
As Artist-in-Residence, my last tasks were to help hang my work at Cal Allen’s Coastal Art Gallery in Carrabelle, FL, and to give a formal talk about my work at the public reception on Tuesday of event week. I had the day off from my Ambassador duties that Tuesday, which allowed me to visit for the first time, St. Teresa and Alligator Point, at the easternmost edge of the Forgotten Coast. Alligator Point reminded me of the coastal communities of Seagrove Beach and Dune Allen when I first moved here from Colorado in 1980. Many of the roads of St. Teresa and Alligator Point are dirt, and the coastal live oak trees form a thick brush starting low to the ground at the top of the dune, the tops thickly arcing upwards to form a dome over the squatty, single story houses with low roofs, which is smart design for windstorm areas. One street in Alligator Point was closed due to erosion, and I had to detour for a few blocks. I could see more severe erosion near the “neck” of the peninsula, if you want to call it a neck, similar to the erosion at the Stump Hole on Cape San Blas. It is my understanding that barrier islands become islands when the peninsula is eroded through the “neck”.
I had met a resident of St. Teresa in one of the ANERR classes I took during my residency, Mary Balthrop, and she suggested I stop by the FSU Marine Rsearch Lab in St. Teresa, and that I ask one of her former colleagues to give me a tour, so I did. What a bonus! Durene showed me the damage the facility sustained and what they were doing with the amount of recovery funding they had received from the university to date, but she also showed me some of their research projects, which I can’t share because the conclusions are not yet published. That was very interesting to me, because in my younger years I toyed with the idea of a career in marine biology.
For my presentation that night, I spoke of the cycles of nature in constant flux, and presented the hope I found in each situation, from the breach in the peninsula nearly closing already, to the pitcher plants and underbrush coming up from the ashes of the Eastpoint wildfire, the students from Marquette High School in St. Louis, MO, coming to make living shorelines and plant sea oats and do other projects to help the community, and the animals returning, attired in breeding plumage, proof of reason for hope. I talked about the scarped dunes, with the roots of the sea oats and smilax and other flora exposed. I mentioned my amazement that one exposed rhizome was 11 feet long, with root balls every 12″ or so, ready to sprout new sea oats at each root ball,. The exposed roots seemed to me to be a metaphor for the people of the area, their character roots exposed, digging in and digging themselves out, one foot in front of the other. I shared something that happened when I visited Peru, to hike the Salkantay Trail over Apacheta Pass and down to Machu Picchu — I remembered the pack-trains of horses, and how the pack driver would look each hiker in the eye, and say “Buenos Dias”, to each of us individually. Since Hurricane Michael this was the first time I had seen this in the United States, where strangers are paying such close attention to each other, asking you how you are, and how your home is, and looking you straight in the eye when they ask. Normally we bump into each other and barely say “Excuse me”, but people who are solidly grounded seem to be more connected to each other and to everyone they meet. It’s humbling, as an “outsider”, to be greeted so directly and with such caring.
When I finished my presentation, one woman said that her perspective had changed during my talk, and she found herself more hopeful. What more could I ask!!!
A great deal of clean-up has taken place since the storm last October. But there still are mountains of debris on the roadsides of the communities, and in rural areas the marsh grasses are covered with debris. Most places are navigable although there was that detour I had to take in Alligator Point, and there is a long stretch on St. Joseph Peninsula where only one lane is open while the other lane is still being reconstructed, each direction of traffic controlled by a stoplight at both ends.
Massive destruction is everywhere. The few undamaged buildings seemed to be miracles, and suddenly you realize you are looking through the windows at sky on the other side where there should have been a roof or a wall. It is a disappointment our US Congress has failed to approve the much-needed federal funding to help the communities get back on their feet, as of this writing, now 7 months after the storm. Normally federal funds are approved within the first month. No city or county has the funding to survive a Category Five hurricane. Consider if you had to repair or rebuild your city’s infrastructure from the ground up, including the sewer systems, while also having to pay for massive debris removal and rebuilding essential structures. The area needs federal assistance — if everyone reading this each could call their legislators, it might help. Each party is blaming the other.
The four Florida’s Finest en Plein Air Ambassadors were tasked with providing 2-hour one-on-one introductory plein air painting lessons. I was scheduled to teach 3 lessons a day between 9am and 6pm, for 5 days. That translated to teaching from 9am-11am, 1pm-3pm, and 4pm-6pm, 15 students, 15 lessons, 5 days.
All supplies and equipment are provided for the Ambassadors’ introductory plein air painting lessons or “Painting Stations”. Some of the students were accomplished studio painters who did not have much or any plein air experience. One student had not painted since elementary school art class. Some others were novice plein air painters and brought their own equipment.
The weather cooperated, for the most part providing beautiful light for plein air painting. Each day we were assigned to a different community. Mexico Beach was hardest hit by Hurricane Michael, and our location was at the tourist welcome center near the boat canal, which is now housed in a trailer, the building destroyed. There was very little shade anywhere, and it was a hot day, so we set up in the shade of the trailer. Mexico Beach was in the path of Hurricane Michael’s eastern eyewall, so beauty was non-existent. Bulldozers had scraped up debris and then afterwards had smoothed out the land again. The trees were stripped lifeless. A pond remained in the distance, but I did not want to get close enough to be able to smell it. So I asked my student to use her imagination. I asked her to think of the scraped foreground as a field where a crop might have grown. Rows of grass were coming up at the edges of the bulldozer’s shovel tracks. I asked my student to think of the trees as if they were merely dormant, like in the dead of winter. By doing that, we were able to present the scene in a beautiful way, despite the chaos and noise around us. Below is my demo.
The afternoon sun eliminated every bit of shade at the trailer, so for my afternoon students, I set up underneath the bridge where US 98 crosses over the canal. The boat dredging the canal was not nearly as noisy in the afternoon as the nearby generator was during our morning session. For our subject I focussed on an outcropping of palms in the wall of the canal, quite bedraggled from the storm but with new green growth. Below are my demos from the afternoon sessions in Mexico Beach, 9×12 and 6×12.
My other locations were in Port St. Joe and Eastpoint, and 2 days were at the Millpond in Apalachicola. One of my students selected this more complex scene to paint in Port St. Joe.
The paintings at the Millpond in Apalachicola were simpler compositions, varying only slightly, but the lighting changed as the day passed.
It was an honor to be invited to be an Ambassador again. I had served as an Ambassador in 2016 as well as this year. Two of the other Ambassadors also were second-timers, Ruth Squitieri and Cathy Berse, and one was here for the first time, Theresa Grillo Laird. As an instructor, it is difficult to cover very much information in a two-hour lesson, just the basics of starting a plein air painting, so my efforts were aimed at getting a paintbrush in the student’s hand as soon as possible, after showing how to choose a scene and how to crop the scene before starting to paint. In each session I painted the same scene as the student, staying one step ahead of my student, offering tips and suggestions each step of the way. I started all lessons with a value study sketch and showed them a photo app I find useful for checking values, and then we toned our 9×12 canvases and started painting.
During the whole week, I and the three other Ambassadors each displayed five plein air paintings in The Joe Center for the Arts. We were honored with a reception for our exhibit along with the reception for the exhibit of pre-hurricane paintings showing things the way they used to be.
The oil paintings I selected for my Ambassador wall, each available and for sale, were the following:
Being an Ambassador is a grueling schedule, so I was a zombie for the week afterwards attending Plein Air South, an educational conference for plein air painters, following the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air. I served as a volunteer at PAS, which kept me active and engaged; otherwise I might have slept the whole week. The world-renowned faculty included David Boyd, Jr., Greg Barnes, Anne Blair Brown, Bill Farnsworth, Mary Garrish, John Guernsey, Kathleen Hudson, Christine Lashley, Larry Moore, Vicki Norman, Kathie Odom, Lori Putnam, Iain Stewart, and Dawn Whitelaw, and the keynote speaker was Quang Ho. What a treat, not just to rub shoulders with so many of these greats, but to actually know most of them and call many of them my friends!
And that wraps up this series of 5 blog posts. The experience has changed me and has put my fledgeling art career on a steeper trajectory. I finished all responsibilities for my business on May 1 last year, so the first of May marked my first full year as a full-time artist. Onward ho!
Florida’s Finest en Plein Air Ambassador and Artist-in-Residence
The work I produced during the Forgotten Coast artist residency and the month following was hung at Cal Allen’s Coastal Art Gallery in Carrabelle, FL, last week with the help of the Carrabelle Artists Association. I gave my presentation at the event reception on Tuesday. Then the collection was moved to the event wetroom in time for the collector’s dinner last night and for the event gala tonight. The wetroom is at Ft. Coombs Armory at 66 4th Street in Apalachicola, FL. I have one space and all the rest is filled with the most amazing and beautiful works the 20 invited artists who painted this week. What a show!
A huge thank you goes to event chair Cheryl Ploegstra and her team of volunteers and the board of the Forgotten Coast Cultural Coalition, producers of the event.
Here is a raw, unedited video of my presentation – thank you Karen Weir-Jimerson for sharing it with me! And below the video are the image notes I posted with each piece, in a close approximation of the order in which I talked about them, if you play the 25-minute video as you look at each piece.
Florida’s Finest Ambassador and Artist-in-Residence
“Nature is ever at work building and pulling down, creating and destroying, keeping everything whirling and flowing, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything in endless song out of one beautiful form into another.” ~John Muir
I was honored to be invited to be the Artist-in-Residence for the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air this spring. My artist residency is split into two parts over three weeks. I spent 4 days on the Forgotten Coast of Florida last week and I will spend another 3 days there again next week, continuing to study and to paint the 2019 theme for Forgotten Coast en Plein Air, which is “Recovery in the Natural Environment” relative to the devastation wrought by Hurricane Michael in October of 2018. My personal approach to this project focuses on Hope.
I am hosted by a sweet couple, George and Maggie Jones on Cape San Blas, just a few miles south of St. Joseph Peninsula State Park. They didn’t see much of me while I was there last week because I was out every day, observing, painting, photographing, and absorbing, from first light until sunset.
The Conservation Corps of the Forgotten Coast
Joe Taylor, CEO of Franklin’s Promise Coalition, invited me to see the mitigation efforts of the Conservation Corps and Disaster Corps that were happening last week. Marquette High School (Rockwood School District, St. Louis, Missouri) sent 120 students to spend their spring break here to assist in hurricane recovery and mitigation. They were planting sea oats, building living shorelines, picking up trash, and helping to restore longleaf pine forests. Accompanied by teacher and staff volunteers and two principals, Dr. Dan Ramsey and Amy Blumenfeld, Marquette High School chose the Forgotten Coast for their service project this year.
When people are motivated and leadership is effective, a lot of work gets done. The Conservation Corps of the Forgotten Coast posted on their Facebook page, “What an awesome Spring Break! Our CCFC GulfCorps and Disaster Corps Crews hosted 120 of the most energetic and hard working teens from Marquette High School in St. Louis, MO. They completed 6 service projects in three days. They helped restore the dunes by planting sea oats on the beach behind the SGI Lighthouse, they rebuilt the living shoreline on Sawyer Street, they removed hurricane debris from Unit 4 (East Hole) on SGI, at the Apalachicola National Estuarine Research Reserve Visitor Center grounds, and throughout Tate’s Hell State Forest. And they cleaned, weeded, and layed fresh pine straw for the Reid Avenue businesses in Port St. Joe. They were such fun young people and they really worked hard to help our communities recover from Hurricane Michael.”
I was interested to learn that the leadership development for this effort is funded by the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill settlement. The program crosses five states — Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas. The Forgotten Coast chapter and a chapter in Mississippi are the pilots, models for the others. I met crew manager Holden Foley who is one of these trained leaders. He was supervising one of the groups of students.
Per the website: “The GulfCorps initiative is a major part of The Corps Network’s activities on the Gulf Coast. Made possible by a $7 million RESTORE Act grant administered by the National Atmospheric and Oceanic Administration (NOAA), GulfCorps officially launched in August 2017. Over three years, funds will be distributed evenly to the five Gulf Coast states to support existing local Corps in hiring young adults to conduct restoration and conservation activities. The Corps Network, The Nature Conservancy (TNC) and the Student Conservation Association (SCA) will facilitate recruitment, training, and identification of projects. GulfCorps is expected to provide jobs to 300 young adults over the coming years.” ~CorpsNetwork.org
Planting Sea Oats
The first couple of days were cloudy or hazy, not the best light for plein air painting. I sketched a lot and took photos. I was impressed by how fast the job went when I watched the kids planting sea oats in front of the lighthouse on St. George Island. 4000 sea oats had been purchased, their root masses still in the shape of nursery pots. Holden, the crew leader, gave shovels to some of the kids and to some he gave plants, and some took the super-absorbent polymer, a product holding moisture which is placed in the bottom of the hole under the seedling root mass. The kids were models for us to see what we all can do to get along, cooperate, and do good in our community in real, impactful ways. Below are a few pages from my sketchbook.
Joe pointed out to me the difference that last year’s planting of sea oats had made. Even though some had washed away in Hurricane Michael, they greatly stabilized the foredune, versus the area in front of neighboring private property bordering the planted area. There, the berm was heavily scarped by erosion, forming a 4-foot cliff.
Construction of a Living Shoreline
The light was a little brighter the second day, so I was able to produce a plein air study of the students organizing into a “bucket brigade” to carry bagged oyster shells out to the living shoreline they were building on the Bay at Sawyer Street on St. George Island. A living shoreline is the placement of barriers in the Bay near the shore, which break the force of waves and trap sand brought in by wave action. The shoreline rebuilds as a result, eventually covered by cordgrass. Oyster shells are used because they are natural to the area. The students had loaded the shells into biodegradable mesh bags in an assembly line of shoveling, scraping, and tying. TURN DOWN YOUR VOLUME — it was windy that day.
Cait Snyder, the ANERR’s land management and stewardship specialist and advisor for the project, introduced herself to me and offered any research advice I might need. ANERR, the Apalachicola National Estuarine Research Reserve, focuses on scientific research, natural resource management and environmental education and stewardship and partners with local, state, and federal agencies for a multitude of projects.
Construction of a living shoreline requires a permit from the State and the Army Corps of Engineers, specifying where and how it will be built, with periodic gaps in the barrier so that the Bay critters and fish can swim back out with the tide. Where I stood when I set up to paint was exciting evidence of the success of prior barriers. Sand had accreted to a depth of more than a foot, and the spartina (Spartina alterniflora aka smooth cordgrass) had held up through Hurricane Michael, probably helping to prevent the road from being washed out. I visited with a local who thought the accreted dirt had come from the road. But I could see that the sand inside the living shoreline was very different from the dirt making up the road, so there was no confusion in my mind as to the Bay source of the sand. Cait told me that there even was a red mangrove tree coming up at the edge of the spartina, but that it didn’t appear to have survived the storm. I had no idea mangrove trees grew this far north. Cait said that historically red mangroves have existed in the northern Gulf, but have often been limited by cold events. She said fewer cold events, less intense temperatures, and shorter durations of freezing temps may be allowing mangrove expansion at the northern edge of their ranges in recent years.
Trash and Debris Collection
I also saw a couple of groups of the Marquette students cleaning up storm debris from ANERR Unit 4 on St. George Island and from Millender Park in Eastpoint. This task was very familiar to me, being the bulk of my own experience from cleaning up after tropical storms – there is so much trash, windblown, of course, and also waterborne by storm surge flooding. Hurricanes are giant mess-makers. The students had made piles of contractor bags full of trash, and grouped it into mountains for collection.
St. Joseph Peninsula State Park
Later that afternoon the sun came out, and I went to T.H. Stone Memorial St. Joseph Peninsula State Park to see the amazing breach again. I accidentally came upon a couple of deer, one full-grown, and the younger one nearly grown, certainly born last year, both of them survivors of the storm. They represent exactly the Hope I want to convey as my personal focus for the recovery theme of the residency, the reason I chose the John Muir quote to open this blog post.
Dawn brought bright sunshine on my third day there, and anticipating it, I was waiting at the entrance to the state park for the 8 AM opening of the gates. I was not disappointed. The area of the breach caused by Hurricane Michael’s storm surge has turned out to be a scenic wonder, different every time I see it. This morning, there were large tide pools on the Bay side, left by the tidal current running through the breach from the Bay to the Gulf. When time is fleeting, I use my phone-camera for my sketchbook. I took photos to document everything from the color of the water to the myriad of different kinds of ripples left in the tidal flats. I stood at the edge of the water for 20 minutes watching a new sand bar being formed, starting to enclose another small pool. Mother Nature was working to close the breach before my very eyes! I wonder how long it will take. When I first saw the breach 4 weeks ago, much of what had been a roiling hurricane current already was a sand flat, and this week I found the channel already only half as wide as it had been just four weeks ago. The sand on the Gulf side has piled up into a berm 4-feet thick. High winds of 18 to 20 mph overnight had glazed the plain of sand smooth as snow, with harrow marks where small shells dotted the surface.
I find the breach to be one of the most fascinating things I have ever seen, my imagination entranced by the majestic power of the Hurricane that carved through a peninsula hundreds of years old, perhaps thousands. The aerial imagery of the floor of the Bay in that area shows where a channel might have cut through before. Native American artifacts found there indicate activity over the length of the peninsula for a long time, but I guess they would have come on boats if the breach ever was open during their time on the peninsula. So I don’t know how old the peninsula is, or how long it’s been since it last was breached.
I stood my easel near the water’s edge to paint the far shore across the channel. I chose a small 6”x12” canvas because of the high winds. My study shows the old tree that was unburied by the sweeping storm surge, now standing alone by itself, a sentinel between the dunes and the channel. It seems to have a net or something hung up in its lowest branches, giving the trunk an odd silhouette. The early sun cast long shadows from the scarped dunes; they shortened while I was painting.
That afternoon I revisited St. George Island to see how the living shoreline looked with the sun shining, but when I got there, smoke from a distant fire was filtering the sunlight. I returned to Cape San Blas for cocktails and dinner with my hosts and their friends.
St. Vincent National Wildlife Refuge
On my last morning there, I took a walking tour on St. Vincent National Wildlife Refuge. I had registered for it on the Friends of SVNWR website a month prior. 30 people came across Indian Pass on the shuttle in 5 trips. We divided into several groups for the tour. The path we took skirted the protected bird-nesting area, winding up on the Gulf side of the island tip. The beach was flat where until Hurricane Michael, the guide told us, tall, 800-year-old dunes had protected the island. We walked inland over the 26’-elevation highest point and down to the old dirt logging roads. 70% of the island was inundated during the storm by a surge and waves of 13′. Most of the wildlife survived the storm, including the native deer, the exotic Sambar deer, and the recently introduced red wolf mates and their two pups. We saw lots of tracks showing the recent activity of deer, wild boars, and even the wolves. Happy birds filled the forest with the sounds of spring. It was a beautiful hike through natural Florida, slash pines mixed with swamps and palms, and wildflowers everywhere. I highly recommend it. Remember to bring mosquito repellent.
The Next Part of the Artist Residency
This week I have been reviewing my photos and thinking about what I would like to paint en plein air when I return for the second half of my residency next week. Wednesday, April 3, will be “Field Day”, when people can come watch or even paint along with me, and we will meet at the end of the day for show-and-tell and wine at Scallop Republic. I chose the breach in St. Joseph Peninsula State Park for the area I would like to paint on that day. I’d like to try two or three paintings. Registration for attendees is at https://forgottencoastculturalcoalition.wildapricot.org/event-3330246.
On Thursday of this week I will paint half a day, and the other half day I will take a class on Oyster Ecology at ANERR, where I hope to learn how Hurricane Michael affected the oyster industry in the imperiled Apalachicola Bay, and how it is recovering. On Friday I will paint and later that afternoon I will prepare to give a presentation to the Board of the Forgotten Coast Cultural Coalition which is funding this residency. The public is invited. My presentation will be at 6:30 Eastern Time at The Joe Center for the Arts, 201 Reid Avenue, Port St. Joe, FL 32456. After that I will have a month to refine my plein air paintings and to also produce studio works for the theme.
The Exhibit of My Residency Paintings
My residency work will be displayed at the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air May 3-May 12, 2019. For the first part of the event, the exhibit will be at Cal Allen’s Gallery at 109 Avenue B South, Carrabelle, FL 32322. I will give a presentation at the FCenPA reception there on Tuesday, May 7, 2019, at 6:30 pm. On Friday, May 10, 2019, my paintings will be moved to hang at the Fort Coombs Armory at the corner of 4th Street and Avenue D in Apalachicola, FL, for the Maecenas Dinner that evening and for the final day of the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air and the Collector’s Gala. Click HERE for the event schedule.
Stay tuned for my next blog post, “Forgotten Coast en Plein Air 2019: Florida’s Finest Ambassador and Artist-in-Residence, Part 3!”
Florida’s Finest Ambassador and Artist-in-Residence
Every year the Forgotten Coast Cultural Coalition hosts a plein air painting event, inviting twenty professional artists to paint the area of Northwest Florida known as the Forgotten Coast. It includes the communities of Mexico Beach, Port St. Joe, Cape San Blas, Indian Pass, Apalachicola, Eastpoint, St. George Island, and Carrabelle. On October 10, 2018, the Forgotten Coast was hit hard by Hurricane Michael. The City of Mexico Beach was decimated, and the surrounding communities also were heavily impacted. The theme for this year’s annual Forgotten Coast en Plein Air event will focus on the natural environment as it recovers from the impact of the Hurricane.
Florida’s Finest Ambassador
I am happy that for the second time I have been selected to be a Florida’s Finest en Plein Air Ambassador for the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air event. Every year, four to six Florida artists are selected for this honor. I also served as an Ambassador in 2016, so I know it to be a big job, some of the hardest work but also some of the most rewarding work I have ever done. It involves mentoring artists new to plein air, one-to-one, in two hour sessions, 3 sessions a day with a different artist each session, working with 15 artists over 5 days. The program is underwritten by Duke Energy, with all tools and materials supplied.
In the past, participating painters have been charged only $25 for what I would estimate is a $200 private lesson when you count supplies and equipment plus the compensation and housing provided to the Ambassadors. Watch the event website for the opening of registration for the “Painting Stations”: https://forgottencoastculturalcoalition.wildapricot.org.
I also am honored and deeply humbled to be invited to do the artist residency for the event. Residencies traditionally have been offered only to an invited professional artist, and not to Ambassadors. Being an artist-in-residence for the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air means that I will be housed there for a week this spring, to observe, learn, and paint scenes relating to the event theme focusing on the natural environment as it recovers from the impact of Hurricane Michael. In particular, I will be looking at mitigation efforts including the installation of living shorelines, planting sea oats, erecting sand fences, mitigating the combustible fuel overload in the forests, and restoring the longleaf pines.
I will be observing the work of the Conservation Corps of the Forgotten Coast which is managed by Franklin’s Promise Coalition. For background knowledge, I also have scheduled a walking tour on St. Vincent National Wildlife Refuge, and I will take two workshops from the Apalachicola National Estuarine Research Reserve, one on Oyster Ecology, and the other one a Bay Estuary class.
My residency is split into two parts. The first four days are this-coming week, and the last 3 days are in the first week of April. I will be observing, sketching, and painting en plein air, and in the month following, I will be refining some of my plein air works and also producing some studio works from my observations. If you are interested in painting with me, or observing, the Artist’s Field Day will be all day Wednesday April 3, 2019. At the end of the bring-your-own-lunch day will be an informal critique and wine. (!!!) Contact Cheryl at email@example.com for details. In early May I will present my residency work at the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air event, at a reception at Cal Allen Gallery in Carrabelle, FL, Tuesday May 7 at 6:30 pm Eastern Time.
On Monday of last week I drove over to Cape San Blas and St. George Island to take a look at some of the areas I have painted. Driving through Mexico Beach is still such a shock, even though a great deal of the storm mess and destruction has been swept clean. Seeing blocks and blocks of land where homes used to be, is something I can’t get used to. I drove on to Port St. Joe, to Salinas Park which is on the way to Cape San Blas. The marsh on the Bay side looks healthy, but the Gulf side of the park surprised me, a big cut coming all the way from the Gulf to the parking area at the southernmost boardwalk.
The inlet to the cut had filled in, leaving a large tide pool, and the county had bulldozed sand to form two dune-like mounds to restore the geography. The concrete floor of the pavilion next to that boardwalk was sloped and askew where the current of the storm surge had eroded the dirt from beneath it. A truckload of inmates were clearing debris from the park. I was disturbed to see green branches on the ground where still living pine trees had been removed along with the dead, but I confess I have no knowledge of how soon the living trees will die anyway because of saltwater inundation.
The rock-hardened curve of the road on the Cape was one lane, repairs and reinforcement being done. That road certainly would have been completely washed away if it hadn’t had a barrier of big rocks 5′ high. I saw some of those boulders washed all the way across the road, resting in the marsh.
Inside T. H. Stone Memorial St. Joseph Peninsula State Park, everything looked pretty typical for a barrier island hit by a storm, the foliage wind-burned and some pine trees snapped in half, until I got to the first beachfront boardwalk and restroom just past Eagle Harbor. There ahead was the 1000-yard breach in the peninsula, where the Gulf of Mexico washed through to St. Joseph Bay. I parked and walked out on the large sandy area bordering the south side of the channel. It is an awe-inspiring sight, imagining the power of the storm to move that much sand. I have been told that Mother Nature is filling in the channel already, that it was 35 feet deep when the breach first happened, and that now you can wade across at low-tide, though that is not advised because of the dangerous currents.
The island part of the park is still closed, dangerous with storm debris, broken buildings, exposed utilities and what-not. On the opposite shore from me was an oddity: a tree that had been buried in the dune was completely exposed, the branches balanced on top of a massive tap-root still holding it erect. Who knows how old that tree was. I expect it will provide stability for the new dune when one forms there. I returned following the eroded face of the dunes, past a second place where you could see how the dune eroded into the start of another cut, which would have further widened the breach but instead left a large tide pool. The sand is already collecting in front of the dunes and on the sea oats that are already growing up from their rhizomes deep under the wind-swept beach.
Below are images of a couple of scenes I painted last spring in 2018, and at right, the site where I was standing when I painted them, now a wide breach in St. Joseph Peninsula.
I drove over to the recently reopened St. George Island State Park, and found the scene of another one of my paintings, the massive dune I had painted no longer there, the beach scoured flat. A park ranger, Assistant Manager Lance Kelly, was very gracious in taking time to talk to me about their efforts to re-open the park. He said Hurricane Michael was so strong that a good deal of the dunes blew over to the other side of St. George Island, actually widening the island a bit. He told me how resilient the sea oats are, sending up new leaves even after being uprooted by the storm, run over by bulldozers, and plowed into the long hills of sand the rangers put between the road and the beach to encourage the start of new dunes.
Below is a scene I painted there on SGI last spring in 2018, and at right, the vast emptiness now where that massive dune used to stand.
On my way back off St. George Island, I stopped at East Hole (ANERR Unit 4), and walked out to the Apalachicola Bay shoreline, where I found bordering the marsh a wide stretch of new sand about a foot deep, tossed up onto the shore by the wave action in the Bay. No doubt this was some of the gulf front dune sand the ranger had been talking about. A pair of blue herons were fishing a short distance from me, signaling spring nesting coming soon, continuing the cycle of life on the barrier island.
This is the first of a five-part series on my experiences as a Florida’s Finest Ambassador and an Artist-in-Residence for the 2019 Forgotten Coast en Plein Air.
Last week I completed a painting of the early morning light on part of the hogback [rock formation running along the front range of the Colorado Rockies] at Devil’s Backbone Open Space at Loveland, Colorado, a Larimer County Natural Resources Park. I blogged about painting en plein air there 6 weeks ago, “A Quick Trip to Colorado, Paints in Hand“.
I am a believer in painting only what you experience. There is the occasional commissioned painting of someone’s scene from their own photo, or their dog or child, but I feel more strongly about the scene if I actually was there and I think that I make a better painting when I have a memory or feelings about the scene.
This certainly was true with Devil’s Backbone First Light. I blogged about looking one whole morning for the part of the hogback formation that I had remembered from my childhood, and about going the next day to Loveland to another part of the hogback with my sister and brother-in-law to hike, and then hiking it myself with my paints the following day while the sun was coming up, painting all morning, and hiking the trails again that afternoon with both sisters and their husbands and a couple of the grandkids. I was filled with powerful memories of the scene, made more significant by spending time with family there, and I had my 3 plein air studies, and my iPhotos. Only my memory held the actual lighting I wanted to portray — the photos were much less colorful than I remembered or than my plein air paintings indicated, but they provided better value comparisons and better perspective. My plein air works provided truer color, and the time spent painting en plein air imprinted certain details on my memory. If I had merely photographed the rocks, and not painted en plein air, I would not have remembered the yellow-green of the lichen and the pinks and lavenders of the sagebrush, and the tufts of grass growing between the rocks on top of the hogback.
I was thrilled to realize just how much the process had helped to make the painting. Below is Devil’s Backbone First Light, followed by the three studies I painted en plein air.
I attended the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air and Plein Air South again this May, taking time out for painting between demo’s and discussions. I practice painting en plein air to study the transient effects of light, to become more adept at composing, to learn more effective technique, and to develop a stronger instinct for decision-making. Many times a plein air painting will be worthy of framing. All are learning experiences. My intention is to study something different every time I paint, even when I paint a scene I have painted before. Every painting is making it easier to paint the next painting, but I challenge myself even more the next time, so I can’t say that painting is easy. I can say that I am seeing better. Continue reading The Forgotten Coast en Plein Air and Plein Air South 2018
I had an unscheduled week between painting in the St. George Island Paint-Out in mid-April and the Forgotten Coast en Plein Air in early May which I attend as a spectator, so it was a perfect time to take a quick trip to Colorado for a family visit. I stayed in the guest room at the retirement home where my 98-year-old Dad has an apartment, and I accompanied him to the on-premises cafeteria for meals in the daytime, but otherwise left him to maintain his routines and nap undisturbed while I entertained myself. One day I took him to the local state park, Barr Lake, where I think he enjoyed reminiscing with the ranger about old buildings that used to be in town as much as he enjoyed the scenic outing. His eyesight is still pretty good – he could see the herd of deer and a circling hawk after I pointed them out to him.
I had packed my small Guerrilla Painter kit, so I broke it out one afternoon to study the fountain in Dad’s courtyard. The light was changing fast, so I just settled for trying to get the shapes right for the overflowing bowls. Continue reading A Quick Trip to Colorado, Paints in Hand
Artist and art marketing guru Leslie Saeta periodically offers a 30-day challenge, to paint 30 paintings in 30 days. Since I managed to complete Mary Gilkerson’s Five-Day Challenge, I thought I’d give this one a whirl. Eventually, there should be 30 paintings on this blog post, and I will also post to Instagram at @JoanVienotArt and to Facebook at Joan Vienot Art. The 30-day challenge will start February 1, 2018 and will run through the first couple days in March.
The 30-Day Challenge is now complete, and I am happy to say that I managed to paint every day! It’s not so hard, if it is a priority. Granted, many of them are small, just 6×6, but I made each one of them count as a learning experience. At the same time, I had scheduled 5 workshops during this 30 days, so it indeed was a period of learning. Probably the most difficult part of it was posting to my blog and to social media — that took a minimum of 30 minutes each day, and if I wasn’t careful, I could find myself stuck on social media for another couple of hours, catching up on friends’ activities and generally being entertained by the mishmash of news and minutia one finds on Facebook. Below are my 30 paintings.
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12×6 oils on canvas panel, painted from still-life set up in studio.
This was a fun to paint. I purposefully painted a light background, so that the cotton bolls would be harder to see, requiring the stalk in order to be identified. Somehow this seems to me to be a picture of my life, that the things I think are important, are nothing without the thread or the stalk that binds them together.
16×20 oils on linen panel, painting in progress in Dorothy Starbuck workshop at the Cultural Arts Alliance of Walton County.
We are each using a different reference photo, to learn to paint a translucent breaking wave, and the lacy foam left on the surface after a wave has come in. Our paints are cadmium yellow light, alizarin crimson, burnt sienna, ultramarine blue, thalo blue, thalo green, viridian green, and titanium white. At right is the finished piece, and below is a photo of the work in progress.
11×14, oils on linen panel, painted en plein air at Seaside, Florida
I am taking a workshop from my neighbor and friend Dorothy Starbuck which it started today, my local plein air group’s day to paint. So I went to our plein air location early, right after the sun came up, and got started, but 2 hours was not enough time for me because I struggled so much getting the architecture right before I started applying color. I still have the roofline wrong — the roof on the right side of the arch needs to be a foot taller at the eave.
I had a definite idea before I started, so this is not entirely experimental art, but enough so that I am calling it experimental. Most of that is because I am not very familiar with the media I was using — acrylic paint, alcohol inks and Yupo paper. I live on a bayou, just a few miles from the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. I think that living near a large body of water accelerates interpersonal and spiritual growth. It’s like walking in a labyrinth with everyone else, and side-by-side, when all of a sudden you find yourself going in the opposite direction, or perhaps even in the same direction but several tracks away from the people you were walking with. Who moved – them or you? No doubt both, but either way, it takes some adjustment and some getting used to, hence my title for this piece, Recovery Notes, as I recover from a growth spurt.
I’ve been taking a workshop from Jason Sacran through Anderson Fine Art Gallery, St. simons Island, GA. On my last day in the area, I drove back out to Jekyll Island to see “Driftwood Beach”, where many very old trees have been laid bare by the winds and water, the unbleached wood completely de-barked, and many of the trees tipped over but still anchored into the beach. (Driftwood is a misnomer.) As I was crossing the causeways and the bridges, the sky was brightening, and the sun was finally just peaking over the marshes as I was approaching Jekyll Island. This is my impression of the sun-kissed clouds, painted after I returned home.
I am attending Jason Sacran’s plein air painting workshop sponsored by Anderson Fine Art Gallery on St. Simons Island, GA. We are painting on Jekyll Island. A crone is a woman in the latter third of her life, after childbearing is over. She is wise, nurturing, soulful, creative, weathered, a bit stooped and twisted, but hard as nails, a survivor. Birds nest in her hair, she holds the weight of the world on her broad shoulders, and animals shelter under her canopy. My dad is 98 and still going strong. If that is how long I will live, then I have just entered my crone years.
Study for Jekyll Island Crone, 8×6 watercolor on paper, painted en plein air
I am attending Jason Sacran’s plein air painting workshop sponsored by Anderson Fine Art Gallery on St. Simons Island, GA. We are painting on Jekyll Island, intending to work on the same painting for two days. There are a lot of ancient cedars and live oak trees on the west side of the island.
Painted in Jason Sacran workshop. Tomorrow we will be painting larger paintings of the same scene we studied today.
Day 22, 2/22/18: Morning Sketch
8×6 graphite on cream paper
Today was the first day of a workshop with Jason Sacran, and I didn’t want to be worried about posting for my 30-day challenge, so I just posted my morning sketches.
Day 21, 2/21/18: Good Night, Sleep Tight
8×8 watercolor and ink on paper, a color sketch of Tucker Bayou, Point Washington, FL, at sunset.
Today I don’t have a lot of time for the 30 Paintings in 30 Days challenge. I am embarking on another adventure, this time to study from Jason Sacran, who is teaching at the Mary Anderson Gallery on St. Simons Island, GA. That scenic area has a strong pull for me, and I am excited to be going there for this workshop. I hope my cats will forgive me these absences!
Produced at the end of the Mary Garrish workshop at the Artist Cove Studio-Gallery in Panama City, FL. I was attempting to make this painting using the new materials we were introduced to, which were the Scott Christensen landscape oil colors by Vasari (Bluff, Ship Rock, Adobe, Shale, Jasper, Silver Point, Cedar, and Bice), painted on an aluminum panel. On the first day, I was a little early for the workshop, so I stopped and walked around at the Historic Marker just down the way from the gallery, on Beach Drive. Erosion had bared the roots of several pines there. This painting is an abstraction of the pattern of the exposed roots. I used my rubber tipped tool to make the weeds, revealing the shiny aluminum underneath.
Painted in Mary Garrish workshop at The Artist Cove Studio-Gallery in Panama City, FL. Our task was to paint a scene in all values, but to vary the color within areas of one value, and to add light in the clouds.
Painted in Mary Garrish workshop at The Artist Cove Studio-Gallery in Panama City, FL. Our task was to paint a scene in only 3 values, in black, white, and gray, and then to paint it again in 5 values. After that, we could add color or colors, but the values had to remain the same. This was my 5-value color piece.
Last fall this sailboat, the Phantom of the Aqua, was damaged during Hurricane Nate and its captain had to be rescued from it far offshore. He thought the boat would just sink in the stormy Gulf, but instead, it drifted up to the shore at Miramar Beach in Northwest Florida, just 15 miles from my house, and became firmly entrenched in the beach.
I paint with the Emerald Coast Plein Air Painters every Wednesday, and we decided to paint the Phantom last week. Alas, the weather forecast was awful, so we postponed it to this week, only to read in the paper that the new owner would be towing it to his salvage yard to refurbish it, this very week. Nevertheless hopeful, we arrived today to find the roadside lined with onlookers, the crowd growing to hundreds as the day progressed, many going down to the beach with their beach chairs, to watch the proceedings from behind the yellow caution tape forming barriers from dunes to the sea, several hundred yards out from the boat in either direction.
Distant fog was providing a wonderful atmosphere. A Caterpillar excavator was parked on the low side of the boat, near the water, and four Code Enforcement pick-up trucks were parked on the beach, and a few groups of workmen were standing around the boat and the pick-ups. The crowd lined the street-level sidewalk, the elevation affording everyone excellent vantage. Nothing much was happening yet, so we all found our various locations to paint, in and amongst the onlookers.
After a while, the excavator started digging on the water side of the boat, and piling sand nearby, but it was slow going. We all were able to produce fair paintings without the boat moving, thankfully. Later, I came back by the scene after we had lunch down the road — at left is a photo showing the considerable progress they had made, and the excavator now up on the higher part of the beach.
In this painting I made an effort to create larger shapes, and not try so hard to model the interior of the shapes, but rather to leave them flatter, and to show receding space through temperature and overlapping. The idea for this painting came from a plein air workshop I took in Taos a couple of years ago. I think I’d like to refine the legs of the person with the yellow sweater — I want them to look like they are crossed above the knee, but I lost the lower knee.
We’ve had incredible rains here in Northwest Florida yesterday and today, and seasonal affective disorder is setting in — everything is gray, and dark, my phone receiving continuous updates of FEMA warnings for the potential for flooding. This color scheme, and in fact this composition, is very very common in this area, and super easy to paint — I’m allowed an easy one now and then, right? I used a palette knife to challenge myself. I really should practice with a knife more often.
20x16x1.5 acrylic/mixed media on stretched canvas.
Texture started in Jan Sitts workshop last week. I refined the texture today, and painted this expression of earth tones, and am pondering if it should go further. Non-objective work is outside of my comfort zone, but this experimental art workshop left me feeling charged up!
Painted from a live model at this week’s Figurative Artists Atelier, an uninstructed open studio with a live model. Typically we have 5 one-minute warm-up sketches, and 2 5-minute warm-up sketches, and then we launch into a single pose for the remainder of the 3-hour session, in 20-minute segments with 5-10 minute breaks between the segments, to allow the model to regain circulation and ease any tension from the pose. I will be tweaking this just a little, now that it is back at my studio, but not much. I really liked this model’s attitude and haughty expression.
Painted in Jan Sitts experimental workshop hosted by the Cultural Arts Alliance. I am totally outside of my comfort zone. Today we textured our supports with acrylic gel medium and various tools and supplies, but mine were not dry enough to paint on, so I created this small piece, texturing only with pinstriping tape. Our assignment was to not have a subject in mind while we worked, but rather to apply texture and color intuitively.
Today I was going to paint something easy. Then this view of Lake Powell, caught my eye, and having never painted “angel light” before, I thought, why not! I spent far too long on this exercise, thanks to being on the phone a good part of the time. Distracted, I found myself playing with the clouds, and then wishing I hadn’t and fixing them, and fixing them a little too much — play-fix-fix again, and repeat –while the phone call continued. It reminds me of the time I was having my hair cut, and the stylist had just returned from a trip to Russia. It was a long trip and a long story, and as she told it, my hair got shorter and shorter. 😯
I shoot a lot of photos to help me choose a location I want to paint with our local plein air painting group, and this is one of those locations. We paint here every 4 months or so. There are palms, pines, cedars, scrub oaks, mockingbirds, kite-sailors, a changing sky, tugboats and barges, winding paths through the grass, sand, water — did I mention it’s a National Seashore? Gulf Islands, on Okaloosa Island, to answer that.