Travel Notes from the Easel: Historic Woodruff Place

Old oak trees cast cool shade across a parkway of splashing fountains and flower urns, and history seems to cast calm and joy upon entering Woodruff Place, a Victorian neighborhood in Indianapolis, Indiana. I grew up in a large white Queen Anne house in Woodruff Place and have many happy memories of the sounds of water in the fountains. At night I can still hear the same sound of distant train whistles on the old tracks which pass about a mile away. Very little car traffic passes through the shady drives as I set up my painting easel in front of the lovely old houses looking out onto the peaceful parkway on the three drives. 

So, I am drawn many summer days out into the neighborhood to paint. And after roaming and painting, I finally begin to study the garden surrounding our Queen Anne home. I am the third generation to live here which means that three women - grandmother, mother, and now I - have added our touches to beautify the garden with wrought-iron balconies, large urns, bird baths, sundials, statues, and an herb garden with a burial plot for two of my mother's beloved dogs. The garden is shaded as I move through it to select sites to paint.

One-Minute Charcoal Sketches 

I have developed a process which begins with quick, one-minute charcoal sketches of a view I might like to paint. I do several sketches with very black charcoal and white chalk on grey charcoal paper.  When I am satisfied with the composition of black, grey, and white shapes, and have a story to tell, I am ready to repeat the process with oil paint on linen canvas. Oils bring in the added elements of color which I tone down to the same degrees of dark and light. I search for the dark, middle, and light tones in color which I find in nature. I like the dramatic contrasts of shadow and light. So, the drama I seek is the contrast between light and shade and shapes which seem to converse with one another.

Horsehead Hitching Posts (700 Middle Drive, Woodruff Place, Indianapolis), 2.75" x 4", $25.

Hitching Posts, 6" x 8", $550.

The first painting is of horsehead hitching posts which stand along the drive in front of our house. I find the animated objects seem to want to run back into the painting along the walkway and into the sun, back past the dark tree trunk. To pull the subject and viewer into the depth of the painting and to give the objects stability on the ground, I use linear perspective. I have learned a lot about perspective in my studies of Italian Renaissance art and the opportunities have come during the 12 painting trips to Italy to paint in formal villa gardens. There is a similarity, I think, in Renaissance gardens and Woodruff Place, the sense of manmade artifacts in nature's grandeur.

Amused by the Birds

Along the north-drive hedge in our garden, I next do a thumbnail sketch of a large, handsome urn where deep pink geraniums bloom. Just over the hedge, I see the neighbor's carriage house and, on that day, I am amused by the birds perched on a telephone wire. I almost laugh as I set up my easel to do a quick value sketch of the scene. I select one of the sketches and pull out the color paints to simulate the same scene. Again, I find drama in the contrast of sunlight and dark shade.

Twitter Birds Over the Hedge (Woodruff Place, Indianapolis), 3" x 4", $25.

Twitter Birds (Woodruff Place), 6.5" x 10", $550.

In our south garden, stands the summer season statue (one of four seasons inspired by statues found in Venice, Italy). The statue is holding grapes. It animates the scrolling wrought-iron fence that encloses the herb garden and, at that moment, tall lily flowers on long stems seem to point toward the statue. I draw several minute sketches before I get the composition that pleases me. And oil painting proceeds.

Gathering Grapes (700 Middle Drive, Woodruff Place,

Indianapolis), 3" x 4.25", $25.

Gathering Grapes (Woodruff Place), 7" x 9", $525

Growing up in a Park

I often wondered why I selected Renaissance formal gardens in Italy to set up my easel to create paintings on location - called plein air painting. Italian gardens have lovely trees, hedges, urns, fountains, and statues. And I wonder if my love of such gracious gardens I have gone great distances to paint are really inspired by Woodruff Place. Growing up in a park like Woodruff Place has had a profound impact on why I am so fulfilled when I paint nature's gardens.  

On Returning To Italy

I feel I am returning home again - maybe I should say, I am returning to my three Italian hometowns of Rome, Venice, and Florence. Every street corner, every canal, every cobbled street is familiar territory. This is my soul state of being alive, away from this world of commercialism, politics, war, and bad art.

In Florence, I visit Medici gardens which laid the groundwork for classical formal Italian gardens during the early Renaissance.  I am fortunate to visit four gardens: Castello, Petraia, Careggi, and Boboli. I love Castello and Careggi the most. Castello is still well-kept with bed after bed of lovely flowering plants. It is surrounded by a tall wall which, in a way, keeps out the wild world beyond. I am the only visitor and share a lovely September day with busy gardeners.

Bacchus at Boboli Gardens (Florence), 6" x 4", watercolor, $100.

Careggi, a prototype of all subsequent Florentine gardens, was owned by Lorenzo de' Medici and was the meeting place for the Neoplatonic Academy, a new philosophical and intellectual group of thinkers who held the Humanists' philosophy that classical Greek and Roman literature had much to say to modern man and to Roman Catholic liturgy. It inspired Botticelli's "La Primavera." But Careggi is dilapidated. Happily its once-lovely gardens are due to be restored. I offer my part to its preservation through my painting.

Where Humanists Gathered (Villa Careggi, Florence), 6" x 4", watercolor, $225.

My last garden is Boboli, built along with Pitti Palace. So I ascend the high and very long stairways up half way to the Neptune Fountain. My main mission, though, is to paint the naked Bacchus near the main exit of the gardens. By the time I reach the Bacchus, the exit guards are telling everyone they must leave. Yet, I pause before the statue which is hilariously immodest and shocking. I begin to sketch in the figure on a small watercolor paper. I am standing up and feeling uncomfortable and awkward; I persist and whip out watercolors and quickly paint the image on paper.

"Who can figure what will work out in art? Not I.

Rosanna Hardin Hall Is Just Back from Italy!

Rosanna Hardin Hall Is Just Back from Italy! - See Her New Watercolors This Friday

Join me to celebrate my return from my favorite gardens in Rome, Florence, and Venice at the First Friday open house on October 5 at Villa dell'Artista.

Please join me at my gallery, Villa dell'Artista, on Friday, October 5, from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m., as I share tales - and some samples of watercolors - from my visit in September and early October to lovely Italian gardens in three of my favorite places: Rome, Florence, and Venice.

Below is a description of what I plan to do on my sojourn to Italy, written prior to my departure. I'd love to share these stories - and more - at my October open house!

Giardini a Venezia II, 30" x 40."

Before I leave for Italy, I spend a day studying the works of Giorgione, as I plan to take a train from Venice to Castelfranco, where he was born. I will visit two painting sites: one in a house with frescoes of geometric instruments to study the heavens, painting equipment, and ancient philosophers. The other is an innovative altarpiece called the Pala. It is what they call the Sacred Conversation with the Virgin and Child on a high altar in daylight with a strong landscape behind.

In Venice, I will see his Tempesta, my favorite painting. I have selected pigments in watercolors that he used, although he painted in an emulsion of walnut oil and egg tempera. He painted on a white ground, and then did some preliminary drawings on the canvas before beginning to paint in color. The Venetians were not able to do frescos such as you see in Florence because of the damp Venetian air which disintegrated the paint on plaster. So they developed painting on canvas with the newly introduced fast-drying nut oil such as walnut and linseed.

Convento I, 10" x 16."

While in Castelfranco, I will take my paints and try to do some quick watercolor studies of the town, especially of the still-existing medieval wall which may be reflected in the distant landscape of Tempesta.

I am sorry that I don't have more time in Venice - only two days. I will have dinner with my old friend Tudy Samartini who wrote about the secret gardens of Venice and gained entree for me to paint in some of these gardens in the past.

During the rest of my trip, I will be in Rome for several days during which I plan to revisit Villa d'Este in Tivoli and nearby Villa Adrianna, the ruins of the ancient Roman Emperor Hadrian.
Then I will visit Florence where I hope to paint in Medici Renaissance gardens. I also hope to look in on the Florence Academy of Art where I studied in 1994. The school emphasizes good draftsmanship taught by the French Academy in Rome during the 19th century.


So, I will revisit all of the materials and techniques of the Italian Renaissance practiced by some of the greatest Western painters - those in Venice emphasized wonderful color and introduced landscape as the main subject of a painting, during a period of ferment when classical learning was reintroduced into the intellectual and religious life of Italy. By 1500, when Giorgione entered the arena, the high renaissance was beginning when the greatest Renaissance painters lived: Bellini, Titian, and Giorgione in Venice; Leonardo da Vinci in Florence, who had a great impact on the Venetians; and Michelangelo and Raphael, to mention a few. Since I am a landscape painter, I am naturally attracted to the Venetians - and to the lingering beauty of Venice. I love to return there to stroll through narrow winding streets, hop aboard a vaparetto on the Grand Canal and glide past the magnificent jewel-like casas along the way.

So, arrivederci. See you Friday, October 5, 6 p.m. to 9 p.m., at Villa dell'Artista where I hope to show you some of my own paintings inspired by Giorgione.

Avenues of Cypress I, 8" x 10."

SAVE THE DATES!

November 2

On November 2, return for my IDADA First Friday tour and see the full array of watercolors from my Italian tour of the gardens of Rome, Florence, and Venice.

December 1 - February 9

Also, beginning in December, there will be an exhibition of my work at Second Presbyterian Church, 7700 North Meridian Street. The gallery is accessible every day. Call 253-6461 for hours.

December 7

December 7 is the date of the holiday First Friday. Join us for a festive gathering. We will be announcing our guest artist soon.

HOLIDAY GIFTS

Available now are a multitude of unframed watercolors from Italy, Hawaii, and elsewhere, very reasonably priced for holiday gifts - or for your own collection. Also available are drawings and other sketches, also at very affordable prices. Of course, in my villa are also many smaller, framed oil paintings from locales around the world, as well as scenes from Woodruff Place, and larger works as well. View these framed works on my website.

Travel Tales at the Easel: Roam through Italian garden paintings

Italian gardens call me back this fall. Already I am packing my watercolors, brushes, paper, and easel for the return pilgrimage to my favorite gardens in Rome and Venice.

In “Travel Tales from the Easel,” my memoir, I reflect on the adventure of painting in Italy.

Giardini a Venezia II

Giardini a Venezia II. 30" x 40."

In Venice, I recall, after loading up with my backpack, carrying case, camp stool, and easel wrapped with a bungee cord to use as a carrying handle, I arrive by motor boat at I Giardini, the public park enlivened with statues which animate nature. I draw several charcoal and white chalk sketches of a large stone statue of Leda and the Swan standing to the left of a meandering path, perhaps reminiscent of Giorgione’s famous 16th-century Venetian painting, “Tempesta,” in which he places a nude nursing a child. Stretching behind her is a brick wall and a bed of red flowers (somewhat resembling the distant city of Bassano). The scene is heavily shaded with shafts of light piercing portions of the path. I choose the composition of one of the sketches and begin an oil painting with the same composition. I am happy with the result.

Ceres Gathers her Grain (Bomarzo Monster Park, near Rome)

Ceres Gathers Her Grains, (Bomarzo Monster Park). 24" x 32." oil painting.

At Bomarzo, a private Renaissance park full of huge stone statues carved out of mountain boulders, I see Ceres, the mythological goddess of grain and fertility. I fall in love with this giant woman who sits regally on green moss as if she were Cleopatra. Her huge clumsy arm stretches along a ridge like a great lion’s paw. Lined up beside her are large stone urns, perhaps containers for wheat.  I am inspired to paint.

 I sit on my campstool like a lady-in-waiting before Ceres who represents the growing season when fields of grain feed the ancient world. But her life is one of sadness: One lovely summer day, her only daughter Persephone goes in the field to pick wildflowers and is spied by Pluto, god of the underworld. Instantly, he falls in love. He swoops up to earth, grabs her, and takes her to the underworld. When Ceres hears of the kidnapping, she is overcome with grief. For months, she allows the fields of grain to lay fallow. Finally, Zeus, king of Greek gods, decides that Ceres will recover Persephone for half a year while Pluto reclaims the other half. Thus, the mythological growing seasons are created.

As I begin to paint this gigantic Ceres, I wonder if she is asleep during the winter while her daughter Persephone is away in the underworld of the dead. I do an under-drawing on my canvas in charcoal. I secure the charcoal with a spray can of fixative and am ready to paint when the thunder and lightning break apart the sky and the rains come. Just in time, I snap open my folding umbrella and for a busy hour of frantic painting in front of Ceres, I slap wet paint with the brush in my left hand and I fend off the rain with the umbrella in the right. Perched on the stool, I manage with difficulty to balance the palette of paint on my lap. My feet are cold and a puddle of water encircles my stool.
I rush to complete my composition as mud slides under my feet.

Afternoon of the Faun (Villa Sciarra)

Afternoon of the Faun, (Villa Sciarra). 20" x 40."

In the gardens at Villa Sciarra in Rome, I do a small oil study for the painting, “Afternoon of the Faun.” Near a gravel path is the gardener’s tiny, six-sided tool shed. Shadows fall in strange angles across the yellow ochre walls and steeply pitched, dark weathered roof. As I move around the shed in search of an interesting composition, I also study one of the many faun figures in the park. A faun nearest the tool shed carries a water jar on his head and is cloaked by a hood. Suddenly the relationship between the faun and the old tool shed creates a dialog. The best way to explain my surreal thought is that I see a symbol of a caveman returning to his cave. Hedges, trees, grass, and distant villas jar my thoughts with strange juxtapositions with the cave-like dwelling. According to Greek mythology, Pan is the god of woods and fields and his followers are fauns, which are wood nymphs. Fauns date back to early Greek beliefs that the earth is inhabited by spirits to preserve the laws of nature. At dusk, in Villa Sciarra, I believe I hear the rustle of Pan and his fauns passing through the darkened trees. I grow superstitious and, suddenly, am frightened without any visible cause. I feel Pan-icky. Now I begin to paint this nature spirit as I discover the dialog between shapes and objects in the gardens. I am dancing alongside Pan. With my imagined dialog of a caveman returning to his hut in play, I set to work. This time I have only my drawing pad so I sit down on my stool to recreate the strange scene. The faun is viewed at a low angle as I view his body appearing to turn to the right. He carries his vase on his head. He stands to the left side of the painting with the tool shed further along a path which runs at a diagonal across the bottom of the canvas. The path continues past the shed and toward the Renaissance wall. On the wall, in the distance, I paint a lovely urn filled with flowers. And, beyond the wall, I see villas fade into soft pastel colors.

I am pleased with the drawing and that night I cover the back of the paper with thick charcoal and trace the drawing onto a canvas. The next day I return to Villa Sciarra and paint “Afternoon of a Faun.”

Strolling through the Gardens (Villa Doria Pamphili, Rome)

Strolling Through the Gardens, (Villa Doria Pamphili). 30" x 40"

Aha! I’ve found another garden to paint in Rome and I almost gasp at how perfect a painting it could be. I am enchanted with the hillside terrain of Villa Doria Pamphili located in the Gianicolo hills across the Tiber River from Rome. During the early morning, joggers run along the many meandering pathways. After two hours roaming the park, I stand at the top of a steep flight of stairs at Doria Pamphili. I look down at the light green lawn far below. Running down the hill, as well, is a thick hedge of dark green foliage. I also am looking down at the tops of tall trees. Through the lawn runs a gravel path which draws the eye to a distant bridge. Way up on a far hill, I can see a glistening white villa.

The descending perspective of the stairs is challenging to draw. But I know how to construct vanishing points such as stairways using linear perspective and I think with this knowledge I can match the thrill I feel standing there, alone. So, I sit on my campstool and draw several thumbnails in charcoal and white chalk on grey drawing paper.  Once I select a study I like, I set up my easel and draw everything I see in my field of vision. I again use charcoal. After spraying the charcoal with fixative, I paint in the five values from black to white admixed with greens and yellows which dominate the landscape.

The medium I use is fast-drying Maroger medium which consists of boiled lead oil and, probably, some varnish to give the paint a glow. I don’t know the true make-up of Maroger, since I simply mail-order it. The artists who make it follow the complex formula published in a book by Maroger, a former conservator at the Louvre Museum in Paris. His medium resembles mixtures made by Renaissance artists. One of the ingredients is heated white lead paint which was widely used, along with other lethal paints and mediums of oil, turpentine, and varnish.

I become so engrossed in my painting that I don’t realize I am losing daylight. I am hungry and the woodland spirits rustle the tree leaves. So I pack up and lug my new painting in the carrying case in one hand, in the other hand my easel, and in my backpack my painting supplies. I walk along a path through a forest of umbrella pines. The sun sets and forest is growing dark. By the time I reach the street, total darkness engulfs me.

I am so pleased with the study that I plan to do an enlarged version back at my studio in Indianapolis.

Painting in Mughal Gardens of India

Even when I don’t complete a painting to my satisfaction, I feel I have owned the garden for my own earthly delights. The garden and I become one entity. I am happy. I experience such joy in Gardens of Paradise.

A glimpse into Gardens of Paradise – where I feel so at peace – is a quest I fulfilled during a two-week visit to the Mughal gardens of India. In the spring of 2012, I happily roamed these 16th- century gardens as part of a tour led by Patrick Bowes, a landscape architect and historian from Ireland.

“The true Mughal gardens have four canals of water running from the center of the garden,” so says Patrick, as he and I stroll into the Taj Mahal, a garden designed by Shah Jahan as a mausoleum for his favorite wife. “The four canals usually meet in the center of the garden at a temple or fountain, at a holy spot which represents the God of Mohammed. Water is the holy essence and man must walk beside – outside -- the holy centrality. The canals further divide the garden into four sections where flowers and trees are planted. This garden pattern originated in Persia and is called Gardens of Paradise, due to the derivation of the word for a wall enclosing a garden on all four sides.  The word is Pairadaeza.” He adds, “Xenophon, a Greek writer, was the first to identify such a garden design as ‘paradise’ and in Hellenistic times, the Greek word also appears in the Bible, where Pairadaeza is named ‘Garden of Eden.’”

Fern and Fresco (Oberoi Amarvilas, Agra), 7” x 9.75”, framed, $450.

Among the best examples of Mughal gardens, in addition to the Taj Mahal in Agra, are Agra Fort; the 18th-century garden laid out by a Maharajah of Bharatpur in Deeg; the City Palace of the Maharajas and Amber Fort in Jaipur; Samode Bagh, a 250-year-old garden with 42 fountains in the Jaipur countryside; Emperor Humayun’s tomb, with gardens restored by the Aga Khan Foundation for Islamic Architecture, in New Delhi; and Red Fort with audience halls of Shah Jahan in Old Delhi. I could describe each one as unique, even as they all fulfill the Mughal garden design.

I find the most accessible places to paint are gardens at hotels which have been Indian palaces. In Agra, where the Taj Mahal looms off in the distant mist, I find a corner within an hour of arrival at the lovely Oberoi Amarvilas hotel with a modern garden full of terraces, fountains, reflecting pools, and pavilions. I have only an hour before the sun sinks into night. I am tired from the long bus ride from New Delhi where I arrived just the night before. 

With my viewfinder, I decide on a simple composition of a prehistoric fern which dates from the days of the dinosaurs. It has lovely forest green fronds spiking in a dome shape. Behind the fern, I can see black and white marble tiled steps leading up to a covered walkway. The walkway is supported by Moorish fluted arches held by shapely columns. And inside the walkway, I can see wall frescoes of flowers growing on tall single stalks – a design I later see at the Taj Mahal. The flower petals are too shapely to be natural and resemble more the graceful turn of leaves blowing in a soft breeze.

Water Slide (Jai Mahal Palace, Jaipur), 7” x 9.75”, framed, $450.

I set up my easel and place a pad of cold-press watercolor paper in my line of sight and draw in the vignette with a pencil. The sun is going down and I am losing shadows and light streaks across the stairs. I continue to put in color, but so quickly that I nearly lose control of my brush strokes. The color in the frescos is intense and I am fearful that I have ruined my first painting in India. I wish I had more time to paint in this Oberoi hotel. It is truly a marble palace.

The next garden of delight is Jai Mahal Palace hotel. My room looks out onto the garden and each night I am there, big Indian weddings are staged. Garden pavilions are hung with pink draperies. Twinkling lights glitter in trees. But I ignore the glitter late one afternoon when I choose a sight to paint: one of the falling-water channels beside a pavilion. It is growing dark, again, and I work fast. I draw with pencil and whip out orange and green watercolors to establish basic color fields. Then the night lights come on and the night turns black. I must finish this painting later.

Capturing the Essence of the World with Watercolors

Design is the essence of how I see the world.  All nature sparkles with jewels of color and, as a plein air painter, I capture sparkling lights with pigment. I am a natural oil painter. I like the opaque quality of oil paints so I can change a composition with many layers of paint.

Mrs. Foster’s Garden V. 6.5” x 6.5,” $30.

Sometimes, though, I experiment with watercolor paint. In oils and watercolor, the same pigments are used. The difference is that water makes the pigments thinner and transparent. So, I am less comfortable with watercolor. I make mistakes.  That is why my challenge is to master watercolors.

On my travels, I am learning to use watercolors which are less cumbersome. I can use a small palette box of pigments which opens up to allow room on its inner lid to mix the colors into water which I pour from a small jar. I scrub color into a soft sable brush and apply it on a block of watercolor paper. Both fit into a small purse. I try to do watercolors without an easel, which is heavy to carry.

Rain Forest (Honolulu). 7” x 10,” $30.

My dilemma is to do under drawing in pencil or pen when I balance the pad of paper on my lap or hold it in mid-air as I view my subject. I use watercolor blocks of Cold Pressed, 140-pound watercolor paper.  I also struggle with watercolors to lay in the sunlight and shadows. I am a tonal painter, dealing with values of darks and lights. Bright-colored watercolors are hard to tone down.  Watercolorists don’t expect to copy colors in nature; the idea is to make them brighter and richer.

Once I watched a Japanese Sumi-e painter apply thick and thin lines of black ink. Her hand moved fast. One of my teachers often talked about line becoming form and shape.  I like my watercolor to run into negative spaces, leaving the positive forms- like trees -as blank white forms. These look like stained-glass windows, a subject with which I have some emotional attachment. 

Oranges Falling (Villa Landriana). 5”x6,” $60.

Working with line and color was mastered by Matisse. He talked about line as a separate element, so that line and color work together and apart, but add up to a whole painting. 
I am always learning new ways to paint with watercolor. When I talk with other artists, I ask,   “What you know about watercolors?"

For my trip this year to Cyprus, Beirut, Damascus, and cities in Turkey, my graduate art professor recommended I carry Prismalo and Carfan D’Ache, two brands of super, highly saturated watercolor pencils, in pigments of Terre Verte, Yellow Ochre, two blues with temperature change, two or three reds, and a dark raw umber. I have traveled to Santa Fe and Honolulu with my palette box of 24 watercolors.

On my next trip, to gardens in India, I will continue to explore the beauty of color in watercolor. This time, though, I will take more equipment, including an easel, so I can draw more exact shapes of domes and gardens. I am hoping for more happy surprises in my quest for beauty in form and color.

Visiting Villas in Pompeii

Casa di Poeta Tragico (Pompeii), 6” x 8”, $575

The Tragic Poet: I paint many villas at Pompeii. One morning I go to Casa di Poeta Tragico (House of the Tragic Poet). I have already sketched a view of its family shrine located in a small peristyle garden (garden surrounded by covered walkways).  Huge columns catch beams of sunlight. This casa is popular and is crowded by a steady stream of tour groups. Especially famous is a floor mosaic of a dog at the front entrance, and beneath the dog in Latin reads: “Beware of the Dog.” I discover a back entrance which is opened into the small peristyle garden. Visitors flow through the garden. They pass me hiding in a corner cubbyhole near the ancient kitchen and toilets. The sun is raking across the huge columns, so I am happy with the obscured view. In my hiding place, I can barely see colors of pigment to load on my brushes. But each pigment has its assignment place on my palette so I scoop up by rote rather than sight. Only later, when I review my work in my hotel room, do I happily discover that this blindly painted canvas turns out to be one of my best.

Casa di Apollo (Pompeii), 6” x 8”, $550

Apollo: I ask a guard to take me next to Casa di Apollo. There the guard latches the iron gate behind me as I wander inside the cool retreat. Several trees offer plenty of shade as I tiptoe in search of Apollo whose image I find at the far corner of the garden in a small temple. I climb steps onto a low porch and walk inside where I discover badly damaged frescoes. I have trouble seeing the figures, but I assume they tell stories of Apollo’s feats of bravery. The handsome sun god wears a crown of laurel and carries a lyre in one hand and a bow in the other. More important to me, he is god of Arcadia, the Greek garden of paradise.

I make charcoal sketches of the exterior of the temple. Small columns surround the porch so that the temple has an intimacy which seems to come alive. The sun glances on the columns and spreads across the low green hedges and onto a high Roman wall behind the temple. After drawing from several angles, I select the best site from under a shade tree and draw in the temple and garden on a small canvas. I also draw in the shapes of sunlight and shadows. I have been there two hours and the light has changed. The Apollo shrine is cast in deep shadow.  I feel a chill from the soft breezes: Apollo must be astir. But I must complete the painting, so carefully I darken some of the colors on the temple.
I complete this painting by 6 p.m. I pack the canvas in my carrying case and crumple the paper palette soaked with wet paint which I will throw into a street trash can. I leave the lovely little garden with no trace of my presence and arrive at the gate as the guard arrives. He locks the gate behind us.

Casa di Sallustio (Pompeii), 6” x 8”, $575

Sallustio:  Orange light and deep blue shadows cover Pompeii. I am tired, but I duck into the nearby Villa Sallustio (Sallust) where I am charmed by the rounded shapes of hedges against the deep shadows on the peristyle. The hedges throw long round shadows like horseshoes. I believe I have only 40 minutes left of light, so I set up my easel and quickly concentrate on a painting of the intimate garden hugging up against the cavernous building.

I can’t judge the success of my work on location. Only later, when I line up my work of that day, am I able to see the shapes of hedges, light raking over the ruins, and the deep shadows on each painting I have done today. They are tiny cave paintings -dark, encrusted marble, cement and brick – so many textures which I can only suggest in quick plein air painting. I emphasize chiaroscuro (dark-to-light contrast) which differs from French Impressionists. (Pissarro and Monet made use of temperature changes – warm yellows and oranges contrasted with cool blues and violets to create a sense of sun-filled landscapes. They added white to most of their colors.)  I describe these ruins in earth colors of umbers, greens, and blues in contrast to mid-ranges of yellow ochre, burnt Sienna, greens, and reds.
I use no white so my lightest pigment is Chrome Yellow, a rich warm pigment.

Anfiteatro (Pompeii), 6” x 8”, $525

Anfiteatro and Necropoli: Sounds of mumblings tour guides and kids whining to their parents may mimic ancient Pompeii when crowds cheered in unison as the gladiators competed in life-and-death bouts at the Anfiteatro (amphitheater).  I visit the inside arena and grandstands which are remarkably preserved. I walk through the covered corridors for shade from the intense sun out in the arena. I am looking for a view to paint, but I find nothing that satisfies me. I believe the real beauty of this drum-shaped building is outside where arched windows form dark notes into an otherwise bleached stone exterior. A long ramp slithers like a snake outside the Anfiteatro up to the top tier; I recognize this distinguishing feature which appears in ancient frescoes. Today, tired families limp up the incline – just to see what is inside. Sightseeing can be hard work and I prefer to sit under a lovely group of umbrella pines which line the avenue outside the big round building. Long shadows from umbrella pines play like musical notes on the theater and sandy road. My cool spot on a ledge encircling the Palestra Grande (athletic field) across from the amphitheatre is pleasant as I spread paint onto a small canvas.

Neocropoli di Porta Nocera, 6” x 8”, $575

After I place my wet painting in a carrying case and throw away the used paper palette, I still have an hour left to paint. So I wander to the right of the amphitheatre to a steep hill blocked by wire fences. From atop the hill I can see below Necropoli di Porta Nocera (cemetery) and a path winding through large mausoleums and pines. So, I lift my painting equipment through a small opening, and kneel and squeeze through. As I climb down the rocky ledge, I look out for security guards who might find my antics lawless.

Down in the Necropoli, I admire the lovely shrines aged in earthen colors. The shrines line up like small houses with doors or iron gates and red-tiled roofs. I walk along the path looking for a view which may never have been painted before.  The late afternoon sun changes direction of shadows. Colors seem to disappear by the minute, so I work quickly and in 30 minutes, I have completed my work. This is, indeed, a painting of a first impression.

The sun falls below the horizon. I am tired, dusty, and ready for dinner. But to get back to my hotel, I have to climb back up the hill, through the fence, and past the Anfiteatro in order to reach the exit at Porta Marina.