MsAdventures

Saturday, March 09, 2019

Pears

Okay, okay...

I haven't been too good about posting things. I keep trying to remind myself but... (sigh.) Life just gets in the way. I felt really badly about it until I read an email from an artist acquaintance of mine who has also been on hiatus due to her mother's death and she literally had to force herself to set up her easel and try to accomplish something. So here, I am as well.

In this instance, I more or less just tricked myself into doing some work. I told myself that it was just going to be a "practice" piece to get myself started again.

So, here it is -- my Pears.

Pears
© 2019 R. Andrea Vaccaro

Sometimes, I surprise even myself.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Reflections

I have (finally!) finished a pastel that has been on one of my boards for a very, very long time. There just always seemed to be something much more important to do. But now, finally, it's done.

Reflections
©2016, Scotti Vaccaro
(signed A. Vaccaro)

Sunday, January 03, 2016

My Ancestral Lands

Finally, this post will finish up the trip that I took that hit a lot of the northern European cities. The end of my journey took me to my ancestral lands... Hard to say exactly which, because my parents' families came from a variety of places... No, not completely true. I know that my father's family was nearly 100% from Wales. But my mother's side was mostly Celt and from Alsace-Lorraine (France), Ireland and Scotland. It is the Scots connection that caused my childhood best friend to anoint me with the "Scotti" nickname.

Republic of Ireland

Ireland was just the way everyone describes it. Beautiful, green -- very green -- and romantic. It also had the most changeable weather that you can imagine. It was cool, then warm, then absolutely cold. The wind was still, then breezy and later, powerful. It was foggy, sunny and then the mist began which turned into rain.

Glendalough, Republic of Ireland
©2016, Scotti Vaccaro

Glendalough is the site of an historical ruin dating from the 6th Century. Irish: Gleann Dá Loch, meaning "Valley of two lakes") is a glacial valley in County Wicklow, Ireland, renowned for an Early Medieval monastic settlement founded in the 6th century by St Kevin. (Citations to Wikipedia.)

St. Kevin was a descendant of one of the more prominent families from Leinster. He began to study under several monks and later went to Glendalough with a small group of monks to found a monastery, which attracted numerous followers. Glendalough as a religious center was in continuous existence until the 15th or 16th century although the ruins that remain on the site probably date to the era around the 11th century.

At the base of the hill beyond the building is what is known as the "lower lake." The entire site is stunningly beautiful.

Scotland

Greenock, Scotland
©2016, Scotti Vaccaro

I was very excited to get the opportunity to visit Scotland, from which my childhood friend had taken my nickname. We had quite the drive through the countryside -- at first coastal, then moorland, then lake lands and then mountains. If Ireland surprised with the weather, Scotland surprised with the terrain.

When we reached the highlands, I could easily understand why the Scots were considered wild and untamed through much of history -- their national reputation was a display of the terrain in which they lived. There were portions, a place called Rest and Be Thankful comes to mind, that were awe-inspiring, which is why it came to be called "Rest and Be Thankful." The day I stood on that mountain and looked down into the valley there was a very cold wind with ice crystals -- in August -- and a very heavy fog lying in the valley below.

Northern Ireland

Northern Ireland Coastline

Belfast was a city of drama. At the time that I was there, you could tell whether you were in an area where the Catholics were predominant or where the Protestants were in the majority simply by looking at the huge murals on the walls of buildings. In the Catholic areas, the murals consisted of masked gunmen wielding submachine guns; in Protestant areas, there were alternate images of innocents being gunned down.

My guide said that the images were largely a product of under- or un- employed youths that kept the resentments festering just under the surface, even though both the British and Irish governments were working toward a peaceful settlement of the "problems." They referred to them as "The Troubles." Indeed.

We left on our drive and eventually hit the northern coastline. Wow. The Irish coast simply drops straight down into the water as depicted, above. Here and there, someone has built houses at the base of the cliffs, as in the painting and access their homes with a steep lane down into the small cove.

Homeward Bound

Finally, we boarded our ship for the 5 day journey home. All in all, it was a spectacular trip and I spent the days at sea collecting my thoughts and putting the final touches on various sketches. It was a very satisfying way to spend the voyage.

Homeward Bound
©2016, Scotti Vaccaro

Monday, August 31, 2015

Bruges, Belgium; Amsterdam, The Netherlands; and Normandy, France

Bruges, Belgium

Bruges is a lovely little city. It has beautiful little canals and bridges across them; touring by canal boat is a fun little adventure that takes you into the heart of the residential section.

Many of its medieval buildings are notable, including the Church of Our Lady, whose brick spire reaches 122.3 m (401.25 ft), making it one of the world's highest brick towers/buildings. The sculpture Madonna and Child, which can be seen in the transept, is believed to be Michelangelo's only sculpture to have left Italy within his lifetime.

Although it probably had its biggest moment in the 12th century as an important center of the textile trade between the northern European areas and the Mediterranean, the era ended when the inlet upon which it was situated silted over. In the 15th century, it became famous once again for its magnificent lace, made by hand both then and now by Belgian women.

Bruges Canal, Bruges,, Belgium

from Wandering Western Europe,

sketchbook journal entry dated 8/19/05

I did purchase a small piece of handcrafted lace while I was there -- very expensive -- for a small 15" diameter doily, U.S. $75.00, but I was certain to avoid the cheaper, tourist traps where they sold lace made in China under the name "Brussels Lace." This now happens all over Europe. Local handcrafts have made-in-China knock-offs sold at bargain prices.

By the way, the interesting shape of the tree on the right is the result of serious pruning... I did not make that up!

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

My visit to Amsterdam happened as they were in the second week of a garbage haulers strike, so it was, uh, rather odorous. Every corner was piled with plastic garbage bags as high as the citizens could throw them on the pile, with more than a few torn open by scavenging animals. Putting it mildly, it was a real mess.

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

from Wandering Western Europe,

sketchbook journal entry dated 8/22/05

The canals were very, very nice; it was a beautiful summer day and that part of the trip was absolutely lovely. It's quite striking: The houses are shades of grey, brown and taupe and the boats and cars are the brightest colors the Dutch can find! All along the canals, literally throughout the entire city are houseboats tied alongside. Our local guide told us that at one point, it was because finding an economical place to live was difficult and property taxes were very high, but now the financial advantage has been diminished by governments trying to add revenues. The houses are tall and slender because real property taxes used to be levied based upon how wide your property was, but not how tall!

The house in which Anne Frank hid is similar to the dark brown one in the center.

Normandy, France

The Seine River, Normandy, France

from Wandering Western Europe,

sketchbook journal entry dated 8/24/05

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a love affair going with France. In this particular instance, I opted out of the general tour activity to do what some of my artistic idols -- Monet, Manet, Pisarro, Hassan, Cortés and others have done: Find a spot alongside the Seine and paint the countryside.

There is a major highway, that runs on the side of the mountain in the background for the entire length that is the main route to go to Paris from the port of Le Havre and from which you can hear the constant hum of traffic.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Reminder...

Just a little entry to remind everyone that I am currently posting all of the older sketches that I never got around to posting before. Be patient, folks! Next, I will be posting more recent things...

Sunday, May 17, 2015

London, England

I arrived at London Heathrow Airport brutally tired. I was supposed to be on a 6:10 PM flight to London, but the ground crew discovered a crack in the cockpit windshield, so our flight was held until after midnight until it was replaced. That added 5 hours onto an already long flight. Once I cleared customs and immigration, all I wanted to do was go to sleep.

The next morning, it was raining. Okay, I know. Yes, it was London and yes, it rains. A lot.

So, other than a tour around the city on the Big Red Bus, that was it. Well, no... I had purchased tickets online before I left on my trip to go to a West End theater to see the original cast of Phantom of the Opera performing on their "home" stage. But as far as sightseeing, The Big Red Bus was it.

It was sunny the day I wanted to sleep and it was sunny the next day when I boarded a bus to go to the port of Southampton to embark on my northern European cruise. Go figure.

That is why my biggest memory of London is just The Big Red Bus.

Big Red Bus, London, UK

from Wandering Western Europe,

sketchbook journal entry dated 8/18/05

A Little Note

On the trip I took with my fellow artists, Irene and I stayed in Paris on our arrival for a few days and again before our departure. So, even though there are a few watercolor sketches of Paris, I am going to hold them back to be included in an entire group of sketches of Paris from various trips.

You could convince me to go to Paris just about anytime for any length of time! (Well, maybe a long weekend might be stretching it because I hate the flight, but otherwise, I would be willing!) Paris is the ultimate destination for an artist -- there is simply something about the ambiance, the attitudes of the French, the sheer encouragement that you are given that make you want to paint, even if you aren't really in the mood!

I love Paris so much, it should have an entire section devoted to it. And so, that is what I will do... But first, I will present to you a little bit of other places in Europe!

Friday, May 15, 2015

At Uschi's House

We woke up to a grey, rainy day. After the group tramped down the stairs to the breakfast room, Uschi and her husband, Marsh, transported us in 3 carloads to their home.

When Uschi was teaching an art class in Washington, DC, one of her students came to class and offered to sell an apartment that she owned in France. Uschi bought it on the spot; then she went home and told Marsh! Later, they purchased a stable on the corner of a farm near the village of Cropigny and had spent several years renovating it, bit by bit. When we were there, the downstairs was completed and Marsh was plastering the walls upstairs as we painted. Uschi and Marsh spend 6 months in France during the summers and 6 months in the US.

It should be noted that the 6 months spent in France is during the hot, humid months we live with in Hilton Head; the 6 months they spend in Hilton Head are the "cold" months in France. That is my idea of heaven... and I would do the same thing in a heartbeat.

At Uschi's, Cropigny, FR

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/18/04

So, we had all 20 of us, French and American artists, inside Uschi's house for our last day of painting together and each of us trying our best to find something to inspire us. The windows across the front of the house, looking across the garden and fields had artists side by side. In retrospect, I could have painted a scene of painters. But, I was attracted to the doorway to the second floor and more interested in my conversation (her little bit of English and my little bit of French) with Ramonde. Somehow, she and I had formed some sort of bond over the course of time.

At lunchtime, we rigged a table for 22 out of some supports and boards. Uschi and a few of the other women had created a wonderful luncheon for all of us. We lingered over lunch because all of us knew what would come next: our goodbyes. Finally, the French artists formed one line and the American artists formed a second line just like sports teams do at the end and one by one, we passed each other and gave hugs and kisses. Then, with a few tears on cheeks, they filed out the door to their cars.

All in all, it was an absolutely remarkable trip.

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Canal de Nivernais

We spent the entire day painting at the Canal de Nivernais, at Pazy. Renting a boat on the Canal is apparently a favorite holiday for the Brits and just about every boat that floated by while we were painting was a canal boat, similar to the one I have depicted here filled with Brits laughing and calling over to us on shore.

Canal de Nivernais, Pazy, FR

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/17/04

The canal has a series of locks that slow the transit down, so it is not a holiday for anyone in a hurry to go anywhere.

Friday, May 08, 2015

Chateau Lantilly

We were staying in a little town in Burgundy, Corbigny, that had about 2000 residents within the actual town boundaries and quite a few more in the surrounding countryside. The little hotel that we were staying in had 14 rooms. Our little group occupied 10 of them, which gave the entire stay a sense of being in a family gathering. In the morning we would gather in the tiny breakfast room for our croissants and/or baguette and whatever specialty bread they were offering that morning and some very good coffee. Good coffee is a rarity in France, but the hotel had some.

Certain days, we elected to remain close to "home" and on this day, particularly after such a long drive the day before, we decided to pay a visit to Chateau Lantilly. It was still in private hands and not open to the general public, but with our French cohort, we were able to obtain permission.

Chateau Lantilly moat, Corbigny, FR

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/16/04

Here is a classic case of a less-than-successful attempt. It is true to what I saw and is a very accurate depiction. That is the crux of the problem... I most likely should have used artistic license and toned it down a bit. See the dark slanted bit on the moat's bridge? That is an actual shadow being cast by the building itself. See the golden and green reflections in the water? That is an actual reflection from the building and the trees in the background. See the dark -- very dark -- shadows cast by the arches under the moat bridge? I checked the value, i.e., the "darkness", a half dozen times before I painted it. Bottom line: I should have "prettied up" the scene by merely suggesting it, not painting it precisely as it was. Lesson learned.

Oh, and look! I painted another doorway!

Chateau Lantilly, Corbigny, FR

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/16/04

Since we were in our home area we had extra time to spend here... I decided to do the painter-paints-another-painter-painting thing, so I moved my stool closer to Uschi and painted her while she painted the fountain and garden inside the garden walls. Uschi works in oils, so I knew she wouldn't move before I finished!

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Apremont

The gardens of Apremont were quite some distance away from our tiny village in Burgundy; we left very early and took what seemed to be hours in a little minivan. We went though Nevers and across the Loire River and finally arrived at a botanical garden.

When I first arrived, I wasn't too enthused. Yes, it was lovely and there were some nice views, but I tend to favor man-made structures --architecture, bridges, sculptures, fountains and that sort of thing over a simple landscape. There was a Japanese style arched bridge over a stream, but my attitude was, "Why would I paint a Japanese bridge in France?"

Botanical Garden, Apremont

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/15/04

So I left our little group to find something more to my liking and settled for the caretaker's cottage, instead. Certain things show up in my paintings again and again. I love repeating angles such as the repeat in the stairway wall and the roofline. And yes, there's that mysterious dark doorway, this time balanced by a white door.

We had a lovely do-it-yourself picnic lunch from a few loaves of crusty baguettes and assorted meats, cheese and condiments plus of course a few hearty jugs of Burgundy that we brought along. No, I am not kidding! We literally had jugs of some of the finest Burgundy wine I have ever had and we purchased it for a few euros apiece at the convenience store across the street from our little hotel. The old saying is true: They keep the best wine for themselves.

After our lunch break, we decided to do an afternoon session. I wandered off in search of another subject, but nothing captured my interest. Finally, I spotted some roses beginning to bloom. Please note that I had to "borrow" a bloom here and a bud there to paint this. No one part of the rose bush contained all of the parts.

Capa Magna Rose, Apremont, France

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/15/04

Finally, today is my birthday! I received a dozen red and white roses from my husband, so it is only fitting that my post today would include a rose!

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Mme. Berrier's Jardin

Not to be outdone by Madame Widemann, Madame Berrier invited us to paint in her garden. She had the advantage of having a day when the sun was shining; at Mme. Widemann's house it was drizzling nearly the entire morning. Mme. Berrier took advantage of the fact and spent most of the morning out in the courtyard with us where she sat at a patio table with her companion, Pierre, and chatted with those close to her.

Madame Berrier's Jardin

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/14/04

In this particular instance, I was fascinated by the deep doorway of a barn-like building at the back of the garden and the huge millstone leaning against it. There was a watering trough next to that which Madame Berrier had filled with soil and had planted asters. Just about everywhere you gazed there were vines or espaliered trees against the buildings or there were pots filled with flowers.

Since I finished earlier than the others, I moved closer toward Mme. Berrier (Josette) so I could at least overhear the conversation. While I sat there, I painted a clematis that was clinging to a trellis on the garage wall.

Madame Berrier's Garden - Clematis

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/14/04

Later, after we had all finished, Madame Berrier invited all of us into her salon where she gave details of various artpieces located on the walls and furniture tops. It turned out that Mme. Berrier was once the mistress to one of France's foreign ministers and had lived in Paris, where she collected most of the pieces.

Le Jardin de Mme. Widemann

Madame Widemann's Garden

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/13/04

One of the nicest things about painting in France is the sort of opportunities that arise. It seems that all of France is in love with art and artists.

Compare: Every time I enter Quebec, the border guards ask me my occupation. If I say "artist" they are quick to say, "Are you aware that it is against the law to produce, sell or cause to be sold any form of artwork in Quebec?" In France, if you tell the guard that you are an artist and that you have come to paint, he or she will practically hug you. "Bonne chance! Enjoy your painting! I hope you have perfect weather!"

Madame Widemann is an example of the sort of opportunity that I am describing. When she discovered that a troupe of American artists were visiting her little village in Burgundy, she was very insistent that we spend a morning painting behind her home in her garden. By French standards, her house was huge and really rather ancient. The buckle in the roof that I painted is there in reality. The French are also masters of "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." I don't have any idea of how long that buckled section has been there but it adds a certain character to the building, don't you think?

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Sojourn in Burgundy, France

More than a few years ago, I travelled to France with a small group of South Carolina artists for the sole purpose of spending about a month painting in the French countryside. My companion from Hilton Head Island was Irene, but we met up in Paris with 7 others from various areas around the state and 2 friends of friends from Wisconsin. Then, we connected with a group of French artists we joined forces with in Burgundy.

That trip would ultimately become one that I frequently wish I could experience one more time. Prior to that, I had always considered art to be a solitary pursuit; after, I longed for the camaraderie of kindred spirits.

French Farm Cart at Uschi's House

from Tours de France,

sketchbook journal entry dated 7/12/04

France can be rainy quite often, so we found ways to cope with a rainy day here and there, although we lucked into quite a bit of sunshine. On this particular day, we sought refuge at another artist's home near the foothills of the Morvan mountains. The farm cart is an antique hay wagon that Uschi had outside her house. She has recently informed me that it finally fell apart and is no more.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Apologies...

To the folks who have subscribed: I owe you an apology. More importantly, I owe myself an apology.

Over the past few years, I have allowed some sort of malaise to settle upon me. The artist circles that I used to frequent have dramatically shifted into directions I wasn't going during the past 2 or 3 years and I have found myself adrift in uncharted waters. But, be patient: I think I may have found my compass.

In the days to come, I am going to post the work from my older journals -- a task in itself since posting and scanning is time-consuming; but it is what I think I have to do before I post more up-to-date items as I move forward.

Putting it another way:

"It is never too late to be who you might have been."
~George Eliot, English Novelist (1819 - 1880)

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Milano

from Mon Journal de Montréal

sketchbook journal entry dated 6/11/12

Milano is another one of those places that I am drawn to as if magnetized. From the street, it is an unpretentious urban grocery storefront. It is only after you open the door and walk inside that you realize that you have entered an Italian food paradise.

Inside that front door, the first hint of what awaits you are baskets and shelves filled with every conceivable shape and size of pasta -- more than a you could imagine if you are not Italian and maybe even more than the average Italian knows about. We have gotten so accustomed to the same ol' that we don't even know what we don't know.

But that is just the start. The bread nook has long loaves, skinny loaves, breadsticks, soft loaves, fat crusty loaves, round crusty loaves, and multi-grain loaves ... and not a single one of them wrapped in a plastic bag wrapper, but in open ended paper bags like from a bakery, which of course, they are. The cheese area has every cheese known to mankind and then a few that are mysterious. The meat section contains beef, veal, pork, lamb, chicken, various forms of seafood, yes. But how about duck, pheasant or rabbit, too? There is an olive oil section. That's not an exaggeration; there are more types than I've ever seen in one place. There is a table or two of containers of nuts -- nearly any that you can name -- including chestnuts, raw, roasted, and ground into flour, as well. When was the last time that you can recall seeing them at all, other than at Christmas?

Of course, I love to cook and I love to explore new-to-me foods. I also deplore the chain grocery store "this is all we have in stock" mentality and the everything prepackaged sameness. Milano is the way I imagine it has always been. That makes Milano a very special place, indeed.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?” --Marianne Williamson

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Marché Jean-Talon

from Mon Journal de Montréal

sketchbook journal entry dated 2/20/12

I love to venture to several particular places in Montréal. I enjoy the Old City, Complexe Desjardins and Atwater Market. But of all of the places I go when I am there, possibly my most favorite places are Marché Jean-Talon and an Italian grocery called Milano.

Marché Jean-Talon is in a class by itself, though.

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am a country girl at heart. One of the things I enjoy is the look, smell and feel of vegetables that have just been brought in from the field. I love the whole idea of fresh, wholesome crops just harvested -- the more dirt still clinging to the root vegetable, the happier I am! So, I can usually tell you where the nearest farmer's market is located. When I was in France, I loved market day in the village where I was staying.

It may not be France -- no live bunnies hopping in cages waiting to become dinner and no chickens waiting for the same fate -- Marché Jean Talon banned on-site butchering in the 1960's. But in the fresh fruits and vegetables category, as well as herb plants and garden flowers in season, Jean-Talon is A+.

“You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.” -- Robin Williams

Friday, January 20, 2012

Out with the Old...

from Every Day Matters

sketchbook journal entry dated 1/20/2012

And in with the new...

Once upon a time, a very long time ago (14 years plus or minus a few months), I began to work in watercolors. Some of you know that my main interest is in pastels, but I didn't start there. I began with watercolors.

Like any newbie, I made newbie mistakes. I bought a profusion of tubes of watercolors; Maimeri had a post-Christmas special at one of the big art supply places online and, since I didn't have a preference, I bought the entire set, many of which are still sitting in their pristine, unopened state. (Two hundred years from now, archaeologists are going to wonder, "What's that all about?")

Over time, of course, I learned. There are some that I can't live without, particularly what I call the "mud colors"-- raw sienna, burnt sienna, raw umber, burnt umber -- because they really are (were) made from the earth dug up around Sienna and Umbria in Italy. My palette will probably always contain Ultramarine blue and Cobalt blue, because I don't know anything better to depict warm and cool skies, respectively. Then, there are the remainder and these are more-or-less expendable.

So, as I began to contemplate the New Year, I made a big decision. After 14 years of paying my penance, I was going to allow myself to let go and do something really, truly wild: I was going to change my brand of watercolors and I was going to change the shades and tints I used. I know. It makes you gasp, doesn't it?

Oh, alright. Glib comments aside, I decided that I was going to reach for a different, more mellow look to my watercolor sketches... just to see what the overall effect might be. Same old pen and ink sketches (Uniball Vision, fine point, black) ... just new watercolors, this time from Da Vinci, which is a California company, instead of from Italy.

So, let the New Year begin!*

"Marriage allows you to annoy one special person for the rest of your life."

*In case you wonder: I have had the bulk of this post prepared for quite some time. I have been sitting here waiting for 3 backordered tubes of watercolor from DaVinci to be able to finish. Stay tuned! I have been working on a few other things while I waited and will post them soon.

Friday, December 16, 2011

My Little Christmas Wish...

from Every Day Matters,

sketchbook journal entry dated 12/16/2011

Friday, December 09, 2011

The Loft

It has been 2 years this week since I first walked in the door to the loft in the Old City of Montréal... Everything about it was perfect. The location was perfect. The gate and the walk to the exterior door were perfect. As hostess, there to meet and greet me, Ginger was perfect. And the loft was absolutely perfect...

from Mon Journal de Montréal

sketchbook journal entry dated 12/09/11

It had a superbly outfitted kitchen, was decorated with just the right country chic touches and had both a working fireplace and a tin pail full of firewood. Mother Nature cooperated by giving me just enough cold and snow flurries to give me an excuse to have a fire. Nothing could have been better than what the Universe delivered!

Never attribute to malice what can adequately be explained by stupidity.