Touches of Nature in our Daily Lives

Nature, in the form of winter weather, seems to have loomed over-large in many people's lives in recent weeks, whether in North America or even in normally sun-filled Palma de Mallorca. Two weeks there of often rather chilly weather left me indoors more than I would wish, but all is relative! It meant that I began to think about other aspects of nature that show up in our daily lives.

The world of art and design is still amazingly dependent on inspiration from nature. I was reminded of this as I looked at illustrations of products on display at the current International Gift and Jewellry fair, IFEMA (Semana Internacional del Regalo, Joyería y Bisutería), being held this week in Madrid. The articles covering the show in El País newspaper were full of photos of jewellry, furnishings, wallpaper, ornaments or clothing inspired by flowers, leaves, animals and birds. Perhaps as the world grows more urban, we all need more reminders of the nature we are forsaking and often destroying?

I started looking at touches of nature that show up on buildings in terms of adornment. Think, for instance, of Antonio Gaudi's Sagrada Familia full of concrete evocations of the natural world, an amazing ensemble still rising in Barcelona. Look at a turtle holds up a column at the Sagrada Familia.

Sagrada Familia Turtle column base

Look up inside in the Sagrada Familia nave at wonderful columns that evoke sunflowers, daisies, whatever.

Detail of the roof in the nave. Gaudí designed the columns to mirror trees and branches. Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

Even the wonderful soaring new El Prat airport in Barcelona, a magnificently quiet and well-conceived building, is made more restful and welcoming by its subtle evocation of sea and serenity; a foam green/aquamarine glass is used throughout the building inside and out.

Inside Barcelona airport

Some of the most enduringly successful furnishings that have come down the centuries in France and elsewhere are full of evocations of elegant pastoral scenes, birds, animals and flowers.

Fabrics and wallpapers with such scenes abound -

Bamboo Indigo Katagami Fabric

19th century Katagrami-inspired carpetting

William Morris-inspired wallpaper

Silver objects frequently evoke nature, in their stylised shapes on teapots, urns, trays, dishes. This is just one example, a wonderful George IV English silver urn, full of echoes of nature.

A George IV silver Tea Urn , 1823 , United Kingdom

Furniture, too, has long hinted at animals' feet in the legs and finials of tables, chairs and other pieces. Marquetery has long evoked flowers in great richness. Inlaid stone tables have been an Italian speciality that can be wondered at in the Prado or V & A Museums, for instance.

Charles Cressent (French, Amiens 1685–1768 Paris), Commode, ca. 1745–49 (Image courtesy of Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York)

(Image courtesy of The Wallace Collection, London)

An Italian scagliola table top, Florentine, second half 17th century.

The Japanese, Koreans and Chinese have always been famed for their extraordinary evocations of nature in the objects with which they have surrounded themselves in daily life. Kimonos and netsuke, lacquer objects painted and carved, basketry and furniture, ceramics - the list is endless, but eloquent of the respect in which Nature has been traditionally held. The same can be said for most cultures and countries around the world.

Flowers and Grasses with a Praying Mantis, attributed to Ryūsa (Japanese, active late 18th century), Edo period (1615–1868), late 18th century

Sadly, most of us are so often busy and preoccupied that we don't notice many of the beauties of nature that are present in our world, in art and architecture, jewellry, furnishing, adornments or whatever. I am often fascinated to watch people walking - say, in an airport like Atlanta - on the beautiful granite polished slabs that now form the floors in many of the concourses. Most people never even really look at this marvellous touch of nature underfoot.

As an artist, I keep trying to remind myself simply to keep my eyes open and registering. Since I love to try to depict things in the natural world, I tend to gravitate to the touches of nature I find in my daily life. I find them uplifting and serene-making in many instances, and at the least, interesting, because they are also, often, interpretations of how other people have perceived that aspect of nature. Always fun, many times inspiring and enhancing.

"Art – in every lane"

It is always fascinating to discover the wellspring of artists' sources and inspiration. John Constable once remarked, "My limited and abstracted art is to be found under every hedge and in every lane, and therefore nobody thinks it worth picking up."

Plants by a Wall, 1825, John Constable  - Not even "under a hedge"!

It is somewhat amazing to realise that he described his art as "limited and abstracted". If you look at a wide array of his paintings in oil and watercolour and his drawings, on a site such as John Constable.org , the overwhelming impression is his close, detailed attention to the flat, wide world of East Anglia and even beyond to the sea when he was staying at Brighton.  His studies, when working en plein air, are wonderful in their atmospheric evocation and detailed information.

Seascape Study with Rain Cloud, 1824, John Constable

Barges on the Stour, with Dedham Church in the Distance, 1811, John Constable

Suffolk, where he was born and mostly lived, is open to the blustery winds off the North Sea, with clouds banks shadowing the wide fields, tree-lined lanes and stretches of water (such as the Water Meadows near Salisbury). Constable never forgot his rural surroundings, but he certainly did not show them to be limited. Abstracted, maybe, but not in the sense we tend to use "abstraction" today.

Water-meadows near Salisbury, Oil painting, 1820 or 1829 (Image courtesy of the V & A Museum, London)

I find that it is indeed rewarding to go for a walk in our quiet neighbourhood along the riverside and by the marshes. Here too, there are always sources of ideas for drawings and paintings, and even though I know the area very well, the changes of season and light make everything fresh each time. And whilst it may be something that no one else notices, I find myself getting all excited about different things and views.

Along our sandy lane is an endless fascination for me: the remains of a cedar tree, clearly once a mighty seer, but now sinews and lace that become a myriad abstractions.

Cedar Remains, silverpoint, Jeannine Cook artist

I keep drawing different portions of it in silverpoint . At left is one version of my "art – in the lane" abstraction, "Cedar Remains". Below is a smaller drawing I have done from the same cedar skeleton of "Cedar Lace", also in silverpoint which I am donating to the Newhall Art Collection, at Murray Edwards College, Cambridge, England, for their fund-raising auction in February-March. It should be up on their website in February.

Cedar Lace, silverpoint, Jeannine Cook artist

Constable was indeed wise when he went seeking his art "under every hedge and in every lane". We have all benefited ever since.

Island Art-making

Last weekend, bright and early, I set off by boat to a friend's island for a day of art with my artist friend,  Marjett Schille. As we stepped onto the dock and walked along the deliciously distinctive boardwalk to the high ground, it was like entering a magic kingdom. Islands always have a strange allure - it is as though time is somehow suspended, and the routines of daily life slip away. Everything becomes possible, fresh and beckoning. In other words, the most wonderful place imaginable to visit as an artist.

We spent a golden, sun-filled day in an incredibly ancient and sacred-feeling place, a vast Indian shell mound dating back thousands of years. All the bleached oysters have created the perfect soil environment for red cedars to grow, with live oaks a little further away from the salt water marsh line.

A Grasp on the Marshes, watercolour and sanguine ink, Jeannine Cook artist

These trees are huge, gnarled, contorted - each one is a total personality. One could spend years simply doing "portraits" of these trees, survivors of storms, droughts, gales and other adversities.

The Cedar Seer, silverpoint, Jeannine Cook artist

We worked hard - if you can call it work - as it is always such a privilege and joy to be able to visit this island. Time means nothing. The sun moves around, the tide comes swiftly back to lap at the roots of the cedars and the herons sit silently far above in the tree tops. Only the diminutive pigs, rooting in the dry leaves, make any sound.

The Marshes of McIntosh, graphite, Jeannine Cook artist, Private collection

Before we could comprehend, the sun was slanting far to the west and it was time to head back to the house to join our wonderful hosts. Soon, in the luminous twilight, we coasted gently home on a full tide to "the hill", the mainland, as the bright moon rose and Venus glowed far above our peaceful boat.

Island art-making is indeed a special affair.

Plein air painting large scale

When the weather improved (i.e. less humidity and heat) as hurricane Earl went north far off the Georgia coast, it was the first opportunity of the summer to go outside to paint. Bliss!

I had been looking at a scene out over the marshes and water, and felt it required a full sheet of watercolour, 30 x 22 inches. That is about the maximum size I can cope with outdoors as otherwise the board and paper become a sail as soon as it is windy. Since I sit and don't use an easel, I also find that my arm needs to "lengthen" to reach the top of the painting. There is another consideration too - because of the size, the painting tends to take much longer to do. This usually means returning to the same spot several times to catch the same light conditions on different days, always a gamble with our changeable weather.

Indeed, I am now into week two of trying to complete the painting, which makes me listen carefully to weather forecasts. But as I was painting, I remembered back to the famous story about Claude Monet when he decided, in 1866, to execute a large canvas outdoors in preparation for the juried Salon. He was in a rented house in Ville D'Avray, a Parisian suburb, living with his model-mistress, Camille. Since he chose to paint this huge canvas, over 8 ft. high by nearly 7 ft wide (2.55 x2.05 metres), he dug a deep trench into which to lower the canvas so he could reach the top whilst remaining at the same vantage point. He also rigged up a pulley system to raise and lower the canvas. Monet was intent on depicting light and shade, air movement and the sense of outdoors, although the ostensible subject was the four women (modelled by Camille). Femmes au Jardin or Women in the Garden was a huge undertaking; apparently Monet was rigorous about being faithful to the light, even to the point that he refused to paint the leaves on the trees if the light was "wrong".

Claude Monet (1840-1926),Femmes au jardin, Vers 1866,Huile sur toile H. 255 ; L. 205 cm (Image courtesy of  Musée d'Orsay, Paris)

His friend, the journalist/writer, Emile Zola, was witness to this herculean effort and remarked that Money had a "very exacting eye for contemporary life". The final irony of this whole effort was that Femmes au Jardin was refused by the Salon. However, in 1921, Monet had the satisfaction of seeing it acquired by the French Government for a goodly price (and it is now on view at the Muséed'Orsay). So much for his most ambitious plein air painting venture.

At least I am not into trenches and pulley for my latest painting! But I still need to get on and finish it before the scene changes completely with autumn coming.

"Forgetting about Art"

John Constable, the consummate English Romantic observer of nature and artist of magnificent landscapes, once observed: "when I sit down to make a sketch from nature, the first thing I try to do is to forget that I have ever seen a picture."

I was thinking about this remark of Constable as I settle into my newly furnished studio in Spain and decided I wanted to inaugurate it by painting whatever my eye lit upon as I looked out of the windows. It was an interesting exercise, as in truth, there was a lot of beauty, but nothing that especially spoke to me as potential subject matter. Too many leaves, too much tumbling brilliance of bougainvilleas - in short a jumble of shapes. But I decided I would press on. The result was this small watercolour. I deliberately tried to keep my mind blank and just work by reaciton.

From my New Studio Window, watercolour,  Jeannine Cook artist

Another remark Constable made was equally relevant to this watercolour exercise. Only someone who has worked a lot plein air could have such accurate insights. He said, "No two days are alike, nor even two hours; neither were there ever two leaves of a tree alike since the creation of all the world; and the genuine productions of art, like those of nature, are all distinct from each other."

He was right about the fig tree having a wonderful diversity of leaf forms. He was equally so about the every-changing light, the fugitive shadows, the change in intensity of flower colour... But it was fun to do this study - in a brand new and lovely studio.

Patterns that have implications

Well! I blogged about patterns yesterday, but nature is supplying the basis for some patterns that I - and countless other air travellers - could do without. The Icelandic volcano with the unpronounceable name is supplying Spain with its own art form of patterns.

Icelandic volcano eruption, (Image courtesy of Imgur: The magic of the Internet)

How about tomorrow's predictions, courtesy of the British Met Office's Volcano Ash Advisory Centres? The airports are juggling flights, and I have already had one flight to Spain cancelled, so the patterns made by volcanic ash drifting who knows where are of considerable interest! El Pais, the Spanish daily newspaper, is full of lovely designs, none of which bring much comfort. Perhaps I had better find another type of subject about which to write in the art world. I seem to have been inviting the fates with the choice of patterns as a topic!

Rewards of "Look Closely, Look Often" for Artists

Every artist who works from real life intuitively knows that familiarity with a subject brings rewards. A wonderful plein air artist from California, Marcia Burtt, written about in a June 2010 American Artist article, made a remark which really resonated with me about this. When talking about working on location, she said, "choosing a location is based on many variables. If I haven't been painting much, I can spend whole days driving around looking for a subject. If I've been painting regularly, everything looks beautiful. That's the reward for spending hours intensely observing nature - you start seeing beauty everywhere." (my emphasis)

There is a quiet and insistent alchemy at work when one is involved in depicting natural objects in the studio or painting plein air. The more one observes, the more one sees. The light changes the forms, the colours, the sense of space. The world seems to become quieter, more intense. And the more you paint or draw, it is true, beauty appears at every turn. It is as if nature becomes generous with her bounty, allowing the artist to slip on another set of eyes that are keener in perceiving beauty in all its definitions. Perhaps we know the subject matter better in all its complexities after working intensely, but it does often seem that such familiarity allows the brain to relax and see beauty more and more.

I found this generosity of nature at work recently as I started painting and drawing the wonderful Southern Azaleas (A. indica) that have been blooming on our area. I started by a large watercolour triptych, but then found the azaleas' beautiful shapes and purity kept "talking" to me. So I did another smaller watercolour. Finally, before the azaleas disappeared for the season after their brief burst of glory, I turned to silverpoint to depict their beauty again, combining it with other issues I wanted to address.

Azalea indica, silver-copperpoint, Jeannine Cook artist

It was as if the azaleas were rewarding me for my close attention to them, as I studied the intricacies of their flower forms, the play of light that described each petal, the individual quirks of each flower and leaf.

This generosity of nature is consistently available to every artist, I believe. If we can spend enough time becoming immersed in nature, in whatever way we chose to depict its aspects, the rewards of beauty and inspiration, of delight and fascination, of awe and a sense of the marvellous are all there for us if we wish. Our role, our quid pro quo with nature, is to share with others this beauty through our art, to become ambassadors and passionate advocates on behalf of nature. Not such a bad exchange!

Ways of Protecting Nature

Yesterday, the golden spring light invited us to visit the Harris Neck National Wild Life Refuge in McIntosh County. This small and diverse refuge has been protected since 1962, and it evolved from being a World War II airfield, with long tarred runways. Now it is a fascinating area of ponds which are home to many species of herons, egrets, wood storks, ducks, coots, turtles and alligators large and small. Beyond are areas of maritime forest, and an amazing area of tarred runways now crazed with cracks through which cacti, grasses and trees are inexorably forcing their way as nature reclaims dominance.

Wood Storks ,Mycteria americana, Building Nests Rookery, Harris Neck National Wildlife Refuge NWR, McIntosh County GA (Image courtesy of Brian Brown)

To me, as an artist who tries frequently to direct my energies to creating art that makes people aware of nature's complex beauties and importance, Harris Neck is the perfect example of undoing man's abuse (justified or not) on nature. Cicero said in his Second Philippic speech in 44 B.C. that "Destroyers of the forest are enemies of the public weal". For the last century and more, we have witnessed at an ever-increasing rate the destruction of forest and the environment in general. This assault on "the forest" makes federal, state and local protected areas all the more important for everyone.

Woody Pond Habitat with Palm Tree Harris Neck NWR McIntosh County, GA (Image courtesy of Brian Brown, photographer)

The efforts of artists of all stripes to help people understand and appreciate the magical beauty of such areas and their value to society are important. Drawing, painting photography and film, music, sculpture temporary and permanent, poetry and writing : all these disciplines are vital in this never-ending need to alert people that we must all, throughout the world, push back the "destroyers of the forest" and protect nature. The "public weal" demands nothing less, and I for one, as a visual artist, think it is a privilege to depict aspects of coastal Georgia's natural beauty. Harris Neck's magic reinforced my feelings as we visited it yesterday.

Nurturing the Inner Artist

Hope does spring eternal. I assumed that once I was back at home from my hospital stay, I would soon be able to get back to creating art. Not quite so, I discover! An arm sling and other medical "accoutrements", plus a good dose of rummaged-around nerves and muscles don't yet make it easy to pick up pencil, silver stylus or paint brush.

Nonetheless, one does not just turn off the artist's eye. As I first walk into our house, the golden, crystalline late afternoon light floods across the marshes and water in front of us, and I marvel. Still waters reflect a heron's white body catching the rose-orange glow of setting sun as it flies across the creek. At early sunrise, the next morning, the eastern sky's brilliance allowed enough light to sparkle rings of water in the creek below us: the otters were fishing for breakfast. At each of these marvellous moments, I find myself trying to remember, to store up the images so that later, they can, somehow, show up in my art, so that I can share these wonders with others.

Late afternoon view from our home in coastal Georgia

Another view from our home in coastal Georgia

Within the house, I look afresh at things I have not seen for ten days. Shapes of orchid petals, shadowed into sculpture, tillandsia flowers which have fully opened in my absence into elegant rhythms amid their undulating tendrils of ephiphyte energy, shadows of ornaments lengthened in the morning sun. These are all aspects of life that can be woven into art-making, I hope.

Tillandsia recurvata  Flowers, silverpoint and white gouache highlights, Jeannine Cook artist

As I delight in the beautiful natural world in which I am so fortunate to live, I am also reminded of the diversity of optics that artists have on the very concept of making art. Catching up on the March issue of ARTNews, I found a remark which resonated : "Duchamp made it quite clear a long time ago, and so did Warhol, that art isn't an inherent form but a lens and a set of tools to interpret the world around us". (my emphasis). This was a remark made by Nato Thompson, chief curator of the non-profit public arts organisation, Creative Time, in rebuttal against questions and criticisms about whether works about community or social change are art. Carly Berwick was examining "A Different Way to make a Difference" in public art, methods that are poles away from my personal approach to art, but which are meeting the needs for socially engaged art, particularly in urban settings. The article reminded me forcefully that we are all very diverse as artists, with reactions and concepts that vary enormously, not only because of our surroundings but because of the stage in our individual life experience. So it is normal, and indeed vital, that each of us, as an artist, speak in our own voice, because society needs our diversity of inspiration and creation to help interpret and celebrate the world.

Silverpoint and graphite drawings from Sapelo

It is interesting how a beautiful place like Sapelo Island inspires one to do so many different types of art. Now that I have been able to look again at the work I produced last weekend on the Island as Artist-in-Residence, I realise that I managed to produce some very different pieces, ranging all over the place in subject matter and in approach.

Long after the Storm, silverpoint, Jeannine Cook artist

It reminds me how one responds to places and situations in such varied ways. There seems, certainly in my case, to be some unspoken dialogue that goes on subliminally between what one's eyes are seeing and what one instinctively senses could become a drawing or a painting. It is almost beyond cogent thought. You just "know" that that will be a subject worth trying to tackle. It usually ends up humbling one, resulting in a somewhat different result that one visualised... in essence, the subject dictates the whole process. Scouting for possible subject matter is always initially instinctive. Only after one has decided that there is something there to be explored does one try to analyse what exact medium to use and how to go about actually physically doing the artwork. Often this whole process is rapid, because when working plein air, you know that the whole thing is fleeting. Light will change, the tide will alter, the birds will fly off, people might come along to fill the empty scene or whatever.

In any case, I found so many things of fascination to try and draw or paint. These three drawings I am posting are just examples. The Cedar Tree posted above, in silverpoint, was the crown of a huge old tree that had been blown down many years ago and was lying, burnished and reduced to its core, in deep marsh grasses.

Sapelo Dunes was an early morning silverpoint study of the different parts of the dunes facing the restless waves that aided the wind to shape these dunes. Holding the sand against these forces, the sea oats cling tenaciously, their roots amazingly long and lying exposed at the eroded face of the dunes.

Sapelo Dunes, silverpoint, Jeannine Cook artist

The third drawing is a graphite drawing done as the sun was setting on the wide sweep of low-tide beach, the light glinting on the marvellous ridges left in the sand by the water's motion. I was racing the light and only had a very short time before darkness fell. No time for thought, just a fascination to try and make something of nature's marvellous complexity in Low Tide Tracery.

Low Tide Tracery, graphite, Jeannine Cook artist