RAGBRAI Roadside Painting

One of the most interesting things about making this painting on my first day of RAGBRAI riding was the context. The context is a bit lost in this painting, for though I've made an effort at depicting the beautiful hills of eastern Iowa, some of the liveliness of the experience is lost in this painting. While perhaps you can perceive that this painting was made at the crest of a hill, looking back upon the landscape's undulation, you likely don't perceive that I sat perched on a grassy section along the side of the road with hundreds of people milling about around me. An impromptu beer garden was all around, my friends were enjoying a mid-afternoon beer and I had challenged myself to complete a painting in the time it would take for them to have one drink. Being the only person making a painting in a sea of weary bikers led to a lot of questions about what and why I was painting, inquiries about whether painting is my profession, and suggestions about what to include in the composition. 

In making a quick sketch painting I tend to take broad artistic license, simplifying the scene to include that which I can quickly depict and that which will remain static enough for me to depict it. This leads to a new challenge, learning to better capture the action of those moments, quickly, and with flexibility in a ever changing scene. That is, to me, is one of the pleasures of the regular creative practice: one can, at once, feel the satisfaction of improving ability and also the challenge of how to paint/draw/write/{insert your creative pursuit} in a ever more expressive way.

RAGBRAI!

I had the recent pleasure of biking my way across (part of) Iowa. It was my inaugural RAGBRAI experience, and I hope not my last. What's RAGBRAI you ask? Well, actually it's an acronym that explains itself, RAGBRAI stands for The Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa.  The annual bike ride bills itself as the oldest, largest and longest bicycle touring event in the world.

Beautiful billowing clouds on the first day of riding

RAGBRAI started in 1973 and in chatting with a rider who had participating in one of the first rides (and has been participating annually since 1991!), I found that there wasn't much support for riders on those first rides. It's hard to believe that now, as the hospitality along the route is almost overwhelming. On our first day of riding, I was dubious that we would reach the end of the 50 mile ride before dark (though we departed around 9:30AM) because the opportunities to stop for coffee, breakfast burritos, slip and slides, pork on a stick, pie, beer, and much more are plentiful. 

The charming buildings of Pella, IA

The full RAGBRAI route averages 468 miles, though this year we only made the journey for 4 of the 7 days of riding, so we weren't able to participate in the full tradition of dipping the back tour of your bike in the Missouri River at the start of the race and dipping the front tour of your bike in the Mississippi at the end of the race. I was stunned by the beauty of Iowa, at times disheartened that the rolling hills of Southeast Iowa contribute to that beauty (the roll of each hill is noted when riding a bike over them). 

Delicious key lime pie!

Our ride was marked by beautiful weather, mainly partly cloudy days with billowing clouds, warm sun, and mild breezes. We were a bit star-struck by siting and chatting with Don Gonyea and Scott Horsley names familiar to frequent NPR listeners (they kept a great Tumblr worth checking out). There was the opportunity to spend many hours with friends--talking and riding, laying in the grass along the route, and camping in the evening. And, of course, the great joy of riding a bike. I am often struck with gratitude, whether riding around Chicago or along a road in Iowa with corn fields for as far as the eye can see (a bit surreal) that I am able to ride a bike, the ease with which a bike can glide along and also the physical challenge of a long ride!

Bridge over the Mississippi on the way back to Chicago

And, of course, for me when I hit the road, be it by plane, train, automobile or bike, there is always the allure of making a painting. Stay tuned, for paintings made on my Iowa Odyssey in the next two weeks.

Help me raise $1000!

As you may know, before moving to Chicago, I spent a year living in Alabama and working as an outreach fellow at the Rural Studio. I was working on a project called the 20K House. The team I was a part of designed and built a $20,000 House (the house pictured in this post), which helped in the development of a prototype for affordable for rural West Alabama. Now, 6 years later the Rural Studio is getting ready to celebrate it's 20th anniversary. To celebrate, the entire studio will focus on building eight 20k houses for the community, resulting in twenty 20K houses in total. In order to make that possible, the studio needs to raise $160,000. The Rural Studio alumni in Chicago have banded together with the hope of raising $20,000 collectively, so I'm hoping to raise $1000 in support of that goal. 

Wondering how you can help? You can purchase a set of my Western Avenue postcards or Ocean Collection notecards and the full purchase price will be donated to the cause. You can also make a donation of any amount (no amount too small or large) by clicking on the donate button below, Or, if you can't donate at this time, you can share a link to this post on social media, to help spread the word. If you'd like to learn more about the Rural Studio and the 20K house project, read more below!

What is the Rural Studio? In 1993, Sambo Mockbee and D.K. Ruth brought a handful of architecture students to rural West Alabama, giving them a more hands-on educational experience whilst assisting an undeserved population. Rural Studio has since built more than 150 community-based projects and educated more than 600 "Citizen Architects."

What's a 20K House?  The 20K House project began in 2005 as an ongoing Rural Studio research project addressing the need for affordable housing in Hale County, Alabama.  With nearly 30% of individuals in Hale County living in poverty, the 20K House has evolved to become a well-built, affordable house for everyone. 

Chicago Skyline in Pen & Ink

I feel as though when I attempt to write about the paintings (and occasionally drawings) I make, the things I write are essentially the same, typically something like: I visited this location, it was a lovely place, and I had the delightful experience of making this painting. When I make an attempt at conveying those experiences, I depend on a fairly limited body of descriptors and what is a vivid act becomes a bit flattened. 

I was considering that difficulty as I sat down to write about this recent sketch. This sketch was made on half of an a piece of 8 1/2 x 11 recycled scrap paper, a to-do list on the top half, and this sketch occupying the remaining blank page. It was made with makeshift supplies because as I sat by the lake on an recent evening, I felt a pressing desire to draw or paint, so I improvised with what I had. In writing about this work, I find myself trying to articulate what lies behind that desire, what motivates me to draw or paint, to make art.

The truth is I'm not really sure why I make art. It could be that the experience of sitting in a place and attempting to create a representation of it, forces me to be present, to be aware, to be still. It could be that as I travel through life it's hard not to see the deficiencies of contemporary society, it feels easy to be jaded in some way, to become cynical. For me, creating art never feels cynical. There is something beautiful about taking the time to record a moment, a place, a feeling. Art, of course, does not just record the things which are traditionally beautiful, art may reveal that which is unjust, art may reveal the world as it is and not as it should be. Regardless, though, the act of making art strikes me as an optimistic one, hopeful even. These are lofty words to write as I post a quick sketch made on a piece of scrap paper. Is that not the delight of art though, it is lofty, it calls upon the idealistic parts of ourselves, and what could be better than that?

Lincoln Park Conservatory

On a recent Saturday, I visited the Green City Market, wandered through the beautifully landscaped gardens of LIncoln Park, and settled into the Lincoln Park conservatory to make this painting.  I sat along side a friend who was also drawing, it was a delight to interact with curious passersby and make this quick sketch painting in the conservatory. This painting doesn't quite capture the marvel of the scene, which was the contrast between the soft, lush plant textures with the rigid metal and glass of the beautiful structure. Lovely afternoon!

Commissioned Painting

I recently had the pleasure of completing this commissioned painting, which was to be given as a wedding present. It was made from a photo taken at the couple's wedding and was indeed well suited to translation into watercolor. I was really taken by the soft light in the background, the green shade of the plant and the contrast of that color to the rustic shelf on which it sits. It is a lovely symbol of the commitment of one couple and a pleasing image as the recent supreme court rulings move our country one step closer to equal marriage rights!

Golden Gate Park, San Francisco

Last weekend I had the pleasure of travelling to San Francisco for the wedding of an old friend.  In additional to travel Mill Valley for the wedding, there was the delight of a few days to explore San Francisco, including visits to "little Russia" (home of grocery stores with some unfamiliar snacks and Russian Orthodox churches), Fort Point (which has an awesome view of the water from the vantage point of the underside of the Golden Gate Bridge), the Sutro Baths (ruins of public baths that were around until the mid-20th century--7 pools that could accommodate 10,000 people at a time!), and a hike in Pacifica (along this bluff called Mori Point, which runs along the water).  

On Sunday, a day which was uncharacteristically warm and sunny for June in San Francisco, we made a visit to Golden Gate Park. It's really a stunning piece of public infrastructure, which includes a buffalo pasture, botanic garden, and Japanese tea garden. The experience was made even more fantastic by the fact that the roads are closed to vehicular traffic on Sundays, so bikers and walkers rule the roads. I was particularly taken by the Music Concourse, a grand plaza which separates the de Young museum (also really interesting) from the Academy of Sciences. It is a public space that feels European in nature, particularly the Spreckels Temple of Music, a classically designed bandshell located at the west end of the concourse. So, I sat on a sunny afternoon, before the Temple of Music and painted the elegant arcade of Ionic columns, while enjoying a rehearsal and performance by Circus Bella and the Golden Gate Park Band.