100 Paintings for Lung Cancer

It's that time of year again for my 100 painting project.  Last November, in honor of my dad, a portion of my sales was donated to the Lung Cancer Alliance

Kristina and her dad, Errol

I wrote how lung cancer has touched my life here.  In just 8 months, I lost both my mother-in-law and father to this terrible disease.  Lung cancer kills more people than breast, colon & prostate cancers combined.  Yet it has no early detection screening.  Yet it only receives a fraction of the research dollars as other cancers.  Yet it still has a terrible stigma because of its association with smoking.  Yet almost half of those newly diagnosed have never smoked or have been non-smokers for decades.  Read this powerful letter about the stigma of lung cancer.

November is lung cancer awareness month.  Once again, in honor of my dad, I will donate a portion of my sales to the Lung Cancer Alliance, a support and advocacy organization for those living with lung cancer.

The 3rd annual 100 Paintings for $100 or Less  sale is available online and in the Happy Camper Mobile Art Gallery through December 31, 2012.  Check back during the month of November as I will be adding more paintings daily until I reach my goal of 100.

If you're in the Keene area, please join me November 6th, 2012 for the Shine a Light on Lung Cancer Vigil on Central Square at 6pm.

Guest Blogger: artist Frances Clements Fawcett: Loons! Maine “Memory Mailbox” Continues to Deliver Delight

I'm pleased to welcome guest blogger Frances Clements Fawcett. Welcome, Frances!





Hooray it’s autumn! Brilliant reds, rich oranges and yellows, and sizzling gold are staging their annual fashion show on the trees here at Yes and Yay HQ.  Predictably, when I spot a particularly dazzling tree, I’ll smile and declare, “Oh my, this reminds me of Maine!”

I’ve blurted this phrase umpteen times to my patient husband and friends, when some image, scent or sound sparks a childhood memory. You see, I grew up spending my summers on Barker Pond, which is about an hour inland from Portland. Embraced by the forest, water and lots of family and kids, this magical time is lovingly stamped into my heart.

 
And these cherished memories continue to delight and inspire me. When they pop up into my head (or “FCF’s Memory Mailbox”, as I like to call my brain), it’s like receiving a surprise postcard from the past!

One of my all-time favorites was paddling our family’s blue canoe on the pond, hoping to spot a loon. Ah those enchanting loons!  As a kid I’d hear their haunting laughs and cries between claps of thunder on a muggy summer night, or in the early morning before other sounds competed with their songs.

Loons have popped into my art in colorful ways.  I never tire of interpreting their bold markings in my whimsical paintings and hand carved prints.

 Jeff and I even designed our wedding bands with entwining loons!

Today as I tap out these words, I’m spying on a petite and feisty Douglas squirrel that is dropping fir cones from the towering tree outside my studio window. After he collects a pile, he gathers them into golden pyramid-like mounds. I imagine that he’ll save the extra-special, plump cones to unpack and savor later this winter.


And like the squirrel, my treasured cache of Maine memories continues to delight and inspire my art-filled life. (Thanks Mom and Dad!)


What cherished childhood memories are squirreled away in your heart?


When they arrive in your Memory Mailbox how do you translate them into fresh stories and art?

Why not hit that reply button and share your favorite memory sparks with us?!



In Delight and Loon-Lovin’ Gratitude,

PS  - thanks Kristina for letting me share this post on your blog!

mountains, lupines & fiddleheads: 2 artists' love-affair with Maine

 

As you may know from my previous writings---I have long had a love-affair with the state of Maine.




beaver pond, oil on canvas, 12 x 18 inches. ©2007 Kristina Wentzell




From spending my childhood summers with my grandparents in the northwestern mountains to living as an adult along the rocky, wave tossed shores of the state-- I have always felt this beautiful place to be home.



going back to camp, oil on canvas, 24 x 18 inches. ©2009 Kristina Wentzell

The first time I put brush to canvas, scenes from Maine have been a seminal inspiration for my art.  Dusky blue mountains rising from jewel colored lakes, purple lupines covering every meadow & roadside, spring green curls of fiddleheads, dark conifer forests dotted with slender white birches--these are the images I draw from again and again.




lupine field, oil on canvas, 12 x 12 inches. ©2007 Kristina Wentzell

I happily make my home in the lovely Monadnock region of New Hampshire now (complete with its own set of unparalleled inspirations) but Maine will always have my heart.


So, when my friend and fellow artist, Frances Clements Fawcett agreed to guest post on my blog and asked if she could write about her own love affair with Maine--I was beyond thrilled.


Frances (AKA The Delight Detective) hails from the pacific northwest. Her blog, The Delight Detective's Universe of Yes and Yay, is a whimsical and wonderful place.  Filled with Frances' delightful fiber creations and her musings about life are just brimming with happiness and positivity. I encourage you to grab a cup of tea and stop over and spend a while.  A couple favorites are this post about Frances' belief in a friendly universe and this post about the unexpected delights that await us when we drop everything and just go.


In the meantime, stay tuned--on Tuesday Frances will be posting here about her own inspirations from Maine (including that very special & ethereal Maine water bird beloved by many--can you guess which kind?)





dead river evening, oil on canvas, 12 x 18 inches. ©2007 Kristina Wentzell



what to do in mud season

Early May in Rangeley, Maine is mud season.

The north country doesn’t really have spring like the rest of us…the long, cold winter up there sort of just segues into a season of fog, chilly raw days, and mud. Lots of mud.  It’s a bit early for fishing, much too cold to swim, all the locals get out of town to Florida for the month, and every restaurant in town closes down.

It’s real quiet.

On the drive in to town, in the last 50 miles or so we passed not one car on the state highway.

We did see 4 moose.

So, when my family went to Rangeley this week for a few days, our entertainment options were a bit limited.  There is one thing to do this time of year that is an annual rite of passage. 

Fiddleheading.

Fiddleheads are the curled fronds of a just emerging fern, harvested as a vegetable.  Nearly everyone in town has their secret fiddleheadin’ spot.  They tend to grow in wet areas along the rivers.

My grandfather took me fiddleheading when I was younger. He was a quintessential old Maine guide, tough and woods savvy.  He always knew of a good spot to find ‘em.  He picked fiddleheads by the gallon and stored them for the year.  He would eat them boiled, steamed, canned, fried, in pancakes and even pickled.  Some studies show that fiddleheads eaten in large quantities can be toxic but he lived to be 99 years old.

So, this week we went off to that same spot by the Dead River my grandfather took me to go fiddleheading. It was still a bit early and the fiddleheads were on the small side.  We were only able to scrounge a few.  My two little charges were skeptical, or shall we say, not as familiar with the delights of fiddleheads.  But that’s okay, they’ll get there...fiddleheads are a learned appreciation.

For those of you on my mailing list, you might have noticed the delicate, curled fronds on the back of every postcard.  Now you know the story.

the happy place

Kristina Wentzell, wild poppies, oil on cavas.  ©2011

Dear readers,

As part of my ongoing evolution as a working artist, I am making a commitment to improving my blog. 

I’d like this blog to be a lively, engaging place full of art, color, whimsy and lots of inspiration for you, dear reader.  To that end, I’ve enrolled in a blog class specifically for artists taught by Alyson Stanfield and Cynthia Morris.  Taught online over an intensive four-weeks, the class will cover many aspects of blogging. 


So, please read on and check back often and let me know how I’m doing!

Our first assignment: Set the intention with the basics.  Who am I writing for?

I am writing for art lovers of all kinds: collectors, appreciators, and fellow artists.  I’m also writing for folks who share similar interests besides art such as

• gardening
• birding
• nature
• backyard chickens
• travel
• writing that has a sense of place.

What do I want to get out of blogging?

I participate in about a half dozen outdoor art shows every summer around New England. 

Time and time again, someone will come into my booth, look around at my art and turn to me announcing “this is the happy booth”.

my booth at the Art on Bartlett Mall show, Newburyport

Creating art is a joyful thing and it is so gratifying when I hear people express these sentiments.

I want my blog to be a continuation of my booth—the happy place.  I’m eager to create a place where readers can learn about my art, the stories behind the pieces, and the artists that influence me.  I envision a place to celebrate all that is beautiful and inspiring, gardens, flowers, out of the way places of my neck of the woods, travels, and what it means to live an artists’ life.

I want to connect with more readers and get feedback and responses to what I’ve written.  I’d like my readers to be excited about coming to my blog and want to share it with their friends.


I want to be able to write clearly about my art in a way that is both truthful and meaningful and that resonates with my readers.


So, welcome! I hope you find this to be a happy place for at least a moment or two in your day.


To see more of my work, go here.

Kristina Wentzell, of independent hues, oil on canvas.  ©2012

on painting and poems

It all started a few years ago, when I finished a moody, woodsy landscape and went hunting for a title. Tired of my simple “woods’ path” or “through the trees” titles, I picked up a volume of poetry and scanned through it searching for inspiration.

After a few minutes, I opened the page to Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” and my eyes rested on the line “the woods are lovely, dark & deep”. Perfect.

Kristina Wentzell, lovely, dark & deep, oil on canvas, 16 x 12 inches. ©2009

a scene from Maine

Kristina Wentzell, Bigelow over Flagstaff Lake, oil on canvas, 12 x 16 inches. ©2011

Here is a new piece I painted recently as a gift for some family members. A scene from Maine--a place always very near and dear to me.

Bigelow Mountain sits in the lovely north western region of Maine. My now husband and I hiked it when we were first dating on a crisp Autumn day. Afterwards, I brought him to meet my grandparents who lived in nearby Rangeley. At the time my grandfather, then in his late 80s, was the sole caregiver for my ailing grandmother. We stopped in for lunch on our way back through town and were welcomed with a huge spread of roast chicken, potatoes, gravy and vegetables. No little sandwich to meet their granddaughter and her new fella.

We've hiked the mountain a couple of time since then but still when I think of that beautiful vista it always make me think of that cozy afternoon spent in my grandparents' kitchen.

my grandfather, about 8 years later with our daughter, his first great-grandchild

Hedwig at Hogwarts

As I mentioned in my last post...I painted a fun new piece for a special man in my life.

My little guy (age 9) is a budding naturalist...rocks, insects, birds, mammals, fish, you name it and he's interested in it. I promised to paint him a special painting last year and he chose a snowy owl for the subject. A few months ago, we also started reading the Harry Potter series. My goodness, what a hit that was.

So, I decided to make his snowy owl into Hedwig herself and put Hogwarts in the background. What fun! I based the castle on Neuschwanstein in Germany. I went there when I was 12 years old and I can't even begin to tell you what an impression that magical place had on me. A wonder for any creative soul!

The painting was a big hit and now hangs proudly in his bedroom. Hedwig keeping her benevolent watch over my sleeping charge.

Kristina Wentzell, Hedwig at Hogwarts, oil on canvas, 24 x 36 inches. ©2011

on painting in Monet's Gardens

Kristina Wentzell, eiffel tower, gouache.  ©1986

“Go and paint.  You have 2 hours to finish.” the instructor told us


I was standing in the middle of Giverny, Monet’s Gardens, next to the pond and the arched green bridge depicted in so many of his masterpieces.


I was eighteen years old, just out of high school, and away from home for the first time.  I was on a four week adventure studying painting and drawing in France with Parsons School of Design.

Kristina Wentzell, chartres, gouache.  ©1986

The weeks had been going by in a blur of intense work, the sights, smells, and sounds of the south of France, ancient cave art, crumbling castles, arid scrubby landscapes with the scent of lavender.  And then on to Paris where we spent the days riding in subways through the hectic, busy city, visiting all the grand museums, cathedrals, flea markets, the Seine, outdoor cafes and now to here.

Giverny.

I had been working hard and steadily the whole trip.  Making huge artistic progress and reveling in every moment. I had painted in the Louvre, in the countryside of the Dordogne, inside Notre Dame, at the Eiffel Tower, along the Seine, in French parks and along roadsides.

Kristina Wentzell, along the Seine, gouache.  ©1986

But here in these revered gardens I was frozen for the first time.  It didn’t help that we had just visited the L’Orangerie and had seen Monet’s water lilies up close. 

Painted near the end of his life when Monet was almost blind, the canvases were huge and covered with layer upon layer of thick, impasto brushwork.  Up close, they were completely abstract. Standing back, they came to life as watery landscapes dotted with lilies.  And they were impossibly beautiful.


And here I was looking at that same watery landscape.  I can do this.  I can do this, I tell myself.


I take a deep breath and pick up my paint brush.

water lilies by Claude Monet

the best beach?

While the two feet of snow on the ground has been slowly melting away here in southern New Hampshire, I've been dreaming and painting of far away beaches.

Kristina Wentzell, the best beach 5, oil on canvas, 8 x 8 inches. ©2011

A few years ago, my family had the opportunity of living in Australia for a short time when my husband received an international research fellowship from the National Science Foundation. We ended up in Western Australia, the little inhabited coast of that country, in September (springtime down under).

our first glimpse of the Indian Ocean

We started our stay with a family adventure by renting a camper van and driving a thousand miles up the largely uninhabited coast. Our first glimpse of the Indian Ocean on day one of our trip was magical...pure white sands, turquoise waters, and not a soul around for miles. We spent the days driving up the coast, through the desert, marveling at the amazing sunburned colors of the earth, spotting kangaroos, lizards and multitudes of jewel colored birds, and the nights camping on the beach gazing at the southern stars.

my two little charges at Shell Beach

Shell Beach, Monkey Mia

gifts of the sea

Coral Bay Beach

I painted these simple beach scenes with inspiration from my Australia days but also with the hope that they would bring back memories of your favorite beach.

The beaches of Western Australia rank up at the top for me, but I also have others, the coast of Maine (with its many beaches: Popham, Scarborough, Wells, Reid), or the lovely beaches of New Hampshire's short coastline where we now take our little charges in the summer, or a very special beach on a tiny island in the British Virgin Islands where we were married.



Where is your best beach?

Kristina Wentzell, the best beach 4, oil on canvas, 8 x 8 inches. ©2011

Kristina Wentzell, the best beach 3, oil on canvas, 8 x 8 inches. ©2011

Kristina Wentzell, the best beach 2, oil on canvas, 8 x 8 inches. ©2011

Kristina Wentzell, the best beach, oil on canvas, 6 x 12 inches. ©2011

These paintings are available through my 100 Paintings for $100 or Less Project.

Walking with Spring

Back in the early 90's, I was fresh out of college and eager for a bit of adventure. I had just met my now husband, Chris, in Portland, Maine. It was a moment of total serendipity, he was walking down the sidewalk, I was sitting on the curb for a bit of fresh air, and we just started talking. Both of us are shy folks, so this was not the norm.

We talked for hours and ended the night with a plan to hike the Appalachian Trail. What better way to start a new relationship than spending months in the close quarters of a tent with limited access to showers?

We set off on our adventure just a few months later in the early spring. We started in Georgia, heading north to Maine.

In the beginning, the days were cold, with bare trees and few signs of life. As the days wore on, spring started to emerge...first in the valleys with all the lovely colors of the season. Then up on the mountains as spring gradually crept her way up and soon the whole world was ablaze with a thousand different greens. The forest floor was covered with Spring Beauties, tiny white flowers that made the trail look like a ribbon through the snow.

Like in title of the memoir about Earl Shaffer, the first person to hike the AT in its entirety back in 1948, we were Walking with Spring. It's been many years but I'll never forget what a gift it was to have such an intimate experience witnessing the slow, unfurling of a season with nothing else in the world to do but be present.

Kristina Wentzell, walking with spring, oil on canvas, 8 x 8 inches. ©2011

Kristina Wentzell, walking with spring 2, oil on canvas, 8 x 8 inches. ©2011

Kristina Wentzell, walking with spring 3, oil on canvas, 8 x 8 inches. ©2011

Kristina Wentzell, walking with spring 4, oil on canvas, 8 x 8 inches. ©2011

These paintings are available in my 100 Paintings for $100 or Less project.

--

how I sold my first painting

I was standing behind the counter, bored--fresh out of art school and working at my parent’s shop for the summer, I stood there making motions of dusting, not paying attention to the few customers who were browsing in the back of the store.

the west branch of the Dead River

The shop was called Old Port Artisans and was in the vibrant Old Port of Portland, Maine.  We carried the work of over 70 regional fine craftsmen and fine artists. A lovely selection of pottery, woodworking, jewelry, prints, fiber arts, a bit of everything.

The couple from the back came to the counter carrying something to purchase and asked me “can you tell us anything about this artist”?

As they set the piece on the counter, I realized with a shock it was my painting--a little gouache landscape of birch trees and a river scene (a favorite spot where my grandfather took me fiddleheading as a girl). 

I had a placed a few of my paintings in the shop earlier in the summer but hadn’t thought much more about it.

The couple looked at me expectantly. I stammered something about the artist being me, my face turning red.  Miraculously, they didn’t change their mind or point at me shrieking “YOU’RE the artist!?”  They paid for the painting and left the store, happily chatting about where they were going to hang it.

Well, that certainly changed the flavor of my day.  I stood up straighter, finished my shift, and ran home to get back at my easel.

The Dead River and a good fiddleheading spot

Sadly, the painting in the story is lost to me…this happened before I learned the valuable lesson to photograph every painting before it leaves my studio.  Hey, maybe it’ll resurface…if you purchased a lovely, little gouache in 1991 in Portland—get in touch!

it all started with a giant steam roller

Or how I picked which art school to attend

 

By the time I was in high school, I was serious about art. 

I took every class offered at school, after school classes with private instructors, and in my last year the senior studies class at Massachusetts College of Art. 

me, circa 1985

Boston was about an hour from my home in southern New Hampshire and I managed to convince my parents that it would be a good idea for them to spend 6 Saturdays in a row trekking me and a girlfriend down there.

I don’t remember much about the classes. Other than that I really liked them, and that we tried a bit of everything—painting, drawing, printmaking; using lots of different materials from paints, chalk, inks, charcoal and even sculpture out of found objects.

 

What I do remember is the steam roller.

We were coming out of class on one Saturday and walked out onto a small side street adjacent to the school.  There was a bit of commotion so we stopped to check it out.

A bunch of art students were working on a giant printmaking project.  Some were laying out huge sheets of paper on the street, others were busy applying some kind of paint to large, textured surfaces.  After a bit, the two were layed on top of one another and the steam roller was fired up and driven over the whole concoction--the coolest printing process I'd ever witnessed.

Now, I’d taken advanced print making in high school, and even fancied myself as a bit cutting edge making fish prints from whole, dead fish I’d procured from the fish market. 

But this…THIS WAS SO COOL…this was so PUNK ROCK!  I was entranced.  The girls in their funky, black, art student clothes were actually driving a steam roller. They were allowed to do this! 

If this is how you got to spend a Saturday here at MassArt then this was the school for me.

welcome to the Monadnock region

"monadnock autumn"

oil on canvas ~ 8 x 10 inches

available

Well, we've made it to Keene. And this is our mountain, standing watch over this beautiful little city. I was commissioned to paint Mt Monadnock last December before we knew we were moving here. (my husband's career brought us to Keene) I enjoyed the subject so much that I painted two and now I expect, many more!

I've always loved this mountain and climbed it as a child growing up in Milford, NH. I'm looking forward to taking my own 2 little charges for many hikes in this beautiful region.

cooper island dreamin'

Here's a recent painting...I did manage a bit of studio time this hectic season. This was a gift for my hubby. The painting is a scene from Cooper Island Beach Club in the British Virgin Islands. As lovely and unspoiled a place as can be. We were married there ten years ago, right down on the beach in this scene.

"cooper island"

oil on canvas ~ 18 x 24 inches