One little rock

 

I spent a few hours at the sea recently, on my way to see my daughter drumming in the end-of-the week concert at CampRock. The train stopped in the town of Cecina, and from there I turned west and headed toward the sea. After about forty-five minutes, the Umbrella Pine-lined road brought me to the water's edge. The beaches in this area are naturally stony (though sand is sometimes brought in to complete the picture of a proper seaside), and where the water meets the land I started noticing little rocks (stones? I am never quite sure just what distinguishes one from the other) traced with intriguing white lines, some straight, others circular. As I continued along the shore, I picked up several to bring home to the studio for further study—each was unique—but it seemed ridiculous (and a bit greedy!) to take so many, so in the end I chose my favorite. It has come around with me quite a bit lately, but finally made it onto the studio table. And then onto my tea tray. And the series of photos that follows could perhaps be called 'Anatomy of a rock'.

 

Photographing the rock's many faces led to more image-making. The deep gray called to mind that of my collection of new pencils (among them a dozen Palomino Blackwing 602s). Likewise, the Japanese tea pot on the platinum-rimmed 'tray'. And the rippled reflections of the amber glass I've been using as a pencil holder also captured my fancy (below), reminding me of July's reflection in my 'Arno Reflected' calendar (in the image at the top of the post). I love discovering these little connections between things as I go along, and it's been a while since I've had time to play around with the camera like this...

 

Glancing back through the last few weeks' photos, I then came across this stand of candles in Montepulciano's Cathedral. Their shape echoes the long slender Blackwing pencils, and even the golden flames seem to be mimicking the shiny gold eraser holders.

And yesterday I made a quick watercolor in indigo (still on my mind after this month's ROY G BIV challenge, mentioned in the last post). As an homage to the tradition of Batik, which I associate with the color of indigo, I'd love to explore this idea further using a wax resist technique.

 

I will continue to turn over the image of my pretty rock & its pattern of crisscrossing white lines in my mind, even as my daughter & I head for a much-looked-forward-to week at the sea. This brings brings me to my word for July: wander. As we began the month, we shall end it—wandering—though this time a little closer to home... 

Here's hoping that, summer or winter, you are finding joy in this season.

 

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Below (as well as the image next to the indigo watercolor) is the sea at Cecina, upon whose shores my little rock came to rest...

Little orange houses (+ other orange things)

I've been having some fun with this month's color for the ROY G BIV photo challenge*: orange. It's hard for me to name a favorite color—I like specific shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue & purple—but orange is probably the one that makes me happiest. Again, it's certain kinds of orange—mainly natural, earthy shades, like terracotta, rust & copper...but just the right intense, bright orange also has the power to absolutely make me swoon.

The image at the top of this post shows a few of the little houses I started working on just last night (only the one at the front has been glued together); they are modest structures of just 4x4x5.5 centimeters each. These first ones all fall within the 'orange' family; one is a bright 'color wheel' orange, another terracotta, and a third iridescent copper. I hope to keep going (though I'm not really sure where I am going), and create one of these in each of my favorite colors of Canson Mi-Teintes. I tend to spend so much studio time planning/experimenting/pondering that it was nice to just run with an idea without over-thinking it. After all of my work with cubes in the last several months, creating a 'net' for a cube-based house was fairly easy, and there's something satisfying about seeing all of those squares & triangles piling up on the paper while preparing it to score/trim. In fact, I almost got distracted by the geometry of the drawing, and seeing where that might lead...

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This month's challenge also inspired a still life of sorts, composed of some items made of copper & terracotta. They are not very representative of the color orange, especially in their patinaed state, but rather of these materials that are closer to orange than any other color found on the color wheel. Equally fascinating were the undersides of the copper items—the tray with the fabulous circular verdigris pattern, the round plant dish, and the 'pencil holder' (which I see now is barely recognizable as being made of copper)—but the short bursts of sunshine we had today made even this one shot below nearly impossible...something to try the next time we have a proper sunny day.

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And next are my usual quartets of images grouped together—a little of this & a little of that, with quite a bit of terracotta & copper. As my daughter commented, there's also a lot of purple. I do find it curious how often purple seems to accompany orange, especially in natural materials like the roof tiles & paving stones found throughout Florence. And sunsets, of course.

 
And here's a little traditional orange...

And one final splash of orange, intensified by a quick moment of sunshine...

* In case you haven't come across mention of the ROY G BIV photo challenge in past posts, it's inspired by artists Jennifer Coyne Qudeen & Julie Booth. Each month is devoted to a different color of the rainbow—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo & violet. This is the second year, and all are welcome to join in; guidelines are here.

A gathering of red things

After using the rustic white studio table as the backdrop for so many photos lately, I decided to try something different—a chalkboard that is usually completely obscured by pictures, paper & bits of inspiration. I was thrilled when I saw the contrast that it lent to these wintery staples that ended up becoming my contribution to this month's ROY G BIV challenge. As you may already know, Jennifer Coyne Qudeen & Julie Booth organized this photo challenge (which cycles through the seven colors of the rainbow one month at a time) last year; this time around they are also proposing the inclusion of tints & shades. For February's color—'RED'—this means pink, burgundy, etc. It's definitely a good choice to brighten up this month of grey skies/drizzle/snow we have in the northern part of the world during this period. Originally my 'color of the month' was going to be gray, like this view of the Arno:

But when the ROY G BIV challenge started up again with red, I thought, 'Why not infuse the month with a nice jolt of color'?

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First up are red onions. We eat a lot of red onions, and I have the pleasure of slicing several a week. One thing I had never really appreciated until photographing them is the way the skins twist at the top—like the finishing touch to a sweet little package. And the layers tinged with gentle curves of red are also very appealing as they're diced, sliced or cut into wedges.

 

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Next are these pale pink, paper-thin garlic skins—their delicate color made me start saving them in a ramekin a few weeks ago. Little did I know they would also find a place in this month's ROY G BIV. (At least, now that they have been photographed, they won't be sitting around on a kitchen shelf for the next few months!)

 

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And here are some peperoncini...along with a little garlic & olive oil, are a classic way to dress up an otherwise plain bowl of pasta. After eating in bianco (literally 'in white', meaning bread, rice) for several days as I recovered from the flu, this was the first 'adventurous' thing I craved. The peperoncini shown below are not the usual ones we get, with the familiar long shape, but I love how these look like miniature fluted pumpkins. They are extra spicy—and just about numbed our taste buds, as I didn't know how to gauge the amount—but I seem to be getting the hang of them after adding them to several dishes over the last week. Like red onions and garlic, they can take a meal from okay to memorable. I especially liked the little blossom shape of the slices...

 

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This cyclamen already showed up in my Twelve days of Christmas post, but I snipped the last little buds and did a little deadheading to extend its life a little longer. As beautifully velvety as the vibrant red petals are, I quite liked the darker red of the shriveling blooms that I removed too...

 

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Instead of the usual primroses we buy at this time of year, for this month's flower, I chose a species of primula that is new to me—perhaps the 'primula prolifera', but I'm not sure if I've identified it correctly. The leaves are smaller than primroses and several tiers of blossom clusters quiver at the top of tall skinny stems. I found them very difficult to photograph; for one, the golden sunlight we had earlier in the week has given way to gray skies & drizzle, which casts harshly on the blooms and makes their color appear almost florescent. Plus I found that the inherent structure of the flower stems made it hard to compose pleasing shots while they were on the plant—they appeared to all be huddled together in kind of a clump. (I like to think I would have found some way of capturing them if the sun had shown up though!) I ended up plucking off a few stems—which in turn caused some of the sweet little flowers, with their heart-shaped petals, to drop off—and I found their 'parts' more appealing as photography subjects.

Once again, I used the chalkboard as a background (since it often appears gray against the light, I suppose I did work some gray into the month after all). My favorite photos were controluce, which I often favor in the absence of sunshine—and, more and more, with sunshine as well. The more photos I take, the more I'm recognizing just how fickle the light can be as it plays on a subject, whether onions & garlic, flower petals or paper. And it's amazing how quickly the light can change, even in a discreet period of time. I suppose this is why the same background/subject can appear slightly different from one photo session to the next. It's also fascinating to see how different things appear depending on their position in relationship to the sun. Through trial and error, I am learning a lot about photo-taking, and I must say it's a lot of fun. It feels like Christmas each time I upload a series of photos; it's so exciting to see what the camera finds. Sometimes they aren't as wonderful as I expect, but there are almost always some nice surprises. The hardest part is sifting through the photos afterwards, trying to choose favorites!

 

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Circles of orange

There are few things making me happier this month than the three-kilo bags of tarocchi we've been buying. The tarocco (sing.) is a type of blood orange that often has red-tinged flesh & skin, but the color doesn't tend to be as intense as the other varieties of blood oranges. It is very sweet, easy to peel, and makes a beautiful juice. Lots of Vitamin C and other good stuff...

I love the patterns found when you cut through an orange: you get a starburst effect from slicing it around the midsection (i.e. horizontally), and then there's the more linear pattern that happens from slicing off an edge vertically (shown in the upper left image, below). These interior designs are such an interesting contrast to the simple (near) spherical shape of the uncut orange, with its fairly uniform surface. I suppose one appeal of the tarocco in particular is the mottled color; the skin seems to have been sponge-painted, and the flesh looks as though someone may have squeezed in a few drops of vermillion paint, which then proceeded to seep into the different 'sections'. 

Part of the '12x12' project I've mentioned a few times recently includes focusing on a fruit or vegetable that's in season each month, and exploring different ways to interpret it. These days, 'getting to know something' often seems to begin with the camera, but ultimately my hope is to also draw, paint, collage—or cook with it—as well. This month, I considered somehow using the 'net' bags I have been collecting—maybe for splattering paint?—but so far have only cut some circles from them. I'm not so sure about their plastic-y-ness. Along with circles of orange & red Canson paper, the net circles appear scattered through some of the images below, and I'll see where else they may take me.

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This seems like a perfect opportunity to show off the gorgeous 'Orange' fabric that I won from Julie Booth last summer...she created the print blocks herself. I just love the colors (which are actually a little darker & richer than shown in the photo). She likes to experiment with using things from the kitchen in her printmaking, and includes details on her techniques in a monthly newsletter. I am really looking forward to trying out some of the ideas one of these days...

Orange by Julie Booth

Paperwhites (+)

These are some of the Paperwhites photos I mentioned taking a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately there wasn't much sun in the studio during their brief stay—not until the blossoms had finally begun to shrivel, that is...but I even liked the faded paper-thin petals scattered along the piece of creamy Fabriano Ingres (shown in the last image).

I adore everything about Paperwhites...the masses of unpretentious little flowers, their whiteness, the perky stems, that insistent, somewhat spicy perfume. (I find that not everyone is drawn to the scent—including my daughter—but I think it's delightful.) When we used to live in the US, I would buy a few pots-worth of Paperwhite bulbs in December. Some time after the New Year arrived, when I was just beginning to get used to the emptiness left in the wake of the Christmas tree's disappearance, the bulbs would begin to sprout. Soon their stalks were shooting up so fast you could probably see them grow if you wanted to, and the flowers didn't keep you waiting for long.

I haven't experienced the joys of watching the scraggly bulbs come to life for several years, as I have never seen any here—not even the florist could tell me where to look for them...daffodil & hyacinth bulbs, yes, but no Paperwhites. She does have a supplier for cut Paperwhites, so that heady fragrance I associate with the month of January still fills the studio for a little while. It never seems long enough to study them as much as I would like, but I do have some photos from this year's bunch.

The two images fourth from the top (the sort of 'foggy' glimpses) show the Paperwhites reflected in my roasting pan. As I was getting ready to scrub it recently, I noticed how much character the combination of repeated heat, not-very-well-cleaned olive oil remnants (and heaven knows what else) had given it, so I took the pan into the studio to see what the camera thought. The dappled surface happened to catch the reflection of the paperwhites, reminding me of one of those speckled old mirrors found atop antique bureaus. So the pan ended up getting its own photo session too (I'll post a some of the images one of these days). I just love where things like washing the dishes can lead...

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As it turns out, I didn't have a chance to publish this entry yesterday, and had some time to look through the roasting pan photos on the train today as I was taking my daughter to the Milano airport to meet her father for what is known here as a settimana bianca ('white week', i.e. a ski holiday). It was an easy seven-hour round-trip that got me home just in time for that lovely golden hour of the sunniest day Florence has seen in a long while. Funny that, no matter how brief a period I am away from Florence, it always makes me feel so happy to see the Cupola's shiny gold ball (the highest thing in the whole city) coming into view again...

My daughter was as enthusiastic about the photos as I was, but said she hopes that child services doesn't see them. (I do line the pan when I use it!) A couple of notes: the photo on the left of the second row shows another reflection of the Paperwhites, and the right-hand image in the bottom row is of a different pan, which has taken on an actual silvery patina in places.

As I photographed the pan(s), I was fascinated by the effects that occurred depending on what was positioned in the background—the mostly overcast sky, the ocher plaster of the building across from us, the terracotta rooftops—and how the pan was angled in relationship to the light. I applied auto-contrast to the images (then in some cases toned it down); this brought out the patina in an unexpected, almost surreal, way. One explanation for the metal's unusual coloration may be that, for lack of enough kitchen storage, these two pans make their permanent home in the oven and are therefore exposed to heat more often than is normal. In any case, they have provided me with quite a bit of amusement!

Below is a manipulated version of one of the shots...I really liked the palette that emerged when I played with the colors. (The original is shown below it.)

Capturing shadows

On sunny days, I'm always happy to see that first sliver of sun light up the studio wall (shown in the upper left image), and it was my inspiration/starting point for January's 'addendum' to the ROY G BIV challenge: classic black & white. The silhouette cast by the Paperwhites I mentioned in my last entry also enticed me, but good old fashioned sunlight has been hard to come by in the last week, and they began to shrivel before I got to fully explore their potential. When I saw that the forecast called for rain every day this week—which would make shadows a scarce commodity indeed—I took along my camera on an errand-session on Monday so I could photograph a few splashes of black & white that my daughter and I had noticed on an outing last week (yes, she is also keeping her eyes open for me each month). Just as Montepulciano obliged for 'VIOLET' in November, black & white was in abundance in the streets of Florence, and it wasn't hard to find a thread to hold together the collection of images.

But then the grey blanket of clouds began to dissipate for a spell on Tuesday, so I balanced a blank canvas adjacent to the studio window and, between bursts of sunlight, started grabbing random objects to create shadows. The sun played a fast-paced game of hide-and-seek with the clouds, testing my patience, but soon I slowed down and started to enjoy the process itself: as always, there's plenty to capture the imagination in the little street below, and the swiftly moving clouds created some magic moments of their own.

All images below are shadows on canvas—with the exception of the leftover paper cuttings, which are scattered on a piece of Fabriano Ingres. I am quite enamored by 'scraps' from projects, and took quite a few photos of the paper strips, but the shadows weren't very striking compared to the effect of the larger objects projected onto the vertical surface of the canvas.


Waiting for the sun to strengthen the shadow of my pruning shears...

A few items in the studio: drafting brush; paper strips leftover from trimming a project; scissors; T-square & triangle...

Things from around the house: lamp; gingerbread man cookie cutter; hangers...

And the Paperwhites...

 

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The images from Monday's excursion are so different in spirit that I will post them tomorrow (though here's a peek)...

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And, meanwhile, another idea for capturing black & white came to mind; they will make a good introduction to one of the elements of my 12x12 project, so I'll post them in a few days. Here's a sneak peak...

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{I am still collecting names for the one-year-on-Blogger drawing. In case

you didn't see my last entry, anyone who leaves a comment or emails me by

the end of January will be eligible to win the item of their choice from my shop.

At the time, the end of January didn't seem that far away, though now I'm

realizing how long a wait is actually is! Thanks for your patience...}