Image of the Week: Orcas Island
All images © 2023 D. Yael Bernhard
Earlier this month I had the great pleasure of spending a week with my older daughter on beautiful Orcas Island, one of the San Juan Islands off the coast of Washington. Eve works on a goat farm in the tiny town of Olga, where I stayed in a little cottage within earshot of the 40+ Nigerian dwarf goats that provide milk for cheese, yogurt, and body care products produced on the farm. Every day we took beautiful walks along coastal trails through cathedral forests of Douglas fir and western cedar, carpeted with soft grass and arching ferns. While Eve was busy with farm chores – milking and feeding the goats, harvesting calendula, planting sunflowers, and tending the births of two baby kids – I was out sketching and painting. Pictured above is the view from a pier that sticks out into the ocean near the farm, where I spent hours trying to capture the panoramic view. The curved shoreline of deep greens and grassy golds; the movement of birds and boats across the changing seascape; the subtle shape of adjacent islands; and the distant view of the majestic Olympic mountains with their snow-capped peaks etched against the sky – all made this heaven for a landscape painter.
Time and luggage constraints allowed me to only bring a small watercolor pad and gouache paints with me, plus my sketchbook and pencils. The resulting drawings and paintings are only studies, hopefully to become larger, more fully fleshed-out works in the future. Certainly the subject matter merits a more robust treatment; I envision large, sensual landscapes, painted in oils on canvas.
My drawings began with a quick sketch of the ferry docked at Anacortes, which we boarded for the one-hour ride to Orcas:
Once on the island, I was inspired to paint the dark ridge of Mt. Entrance, which towers over the town of Olga and greets private boats coming toward the island. Painting conifer trees has always been a challenge for me. These were nearly black, with odd bald patches of bare rock protruding under a few low-hanging wisps of cloud.
Next I tried sketching the goats. This was exceedingly difficult, as they don't stay still for a minute! But they are endlessly entertaining and endearing, so I didn't mind.
The following morning I did my first sketch from the pier:
Later we hiked to Point Lawrence, where sea lions came to watch us as we picnicked on a grassy outcropping over the water. This was the view:
Curious about the native tribes of the region, we stopped at the Eastsound library to get two books of indigenous art. I perused these oversized art books for several days, impressed by the powerful shamanic spirits sculpted into ritual objects. Listening to recordings of eerie loon calls in the evening, I was inspired by one particular sculpture to create a loonish creature of my own.
Next we hiked Turtleback Mountain on the other side of the island, where the view to the east was even more spectacular.
Returning to the farm, I fell in love with a pink shed in the fruit orchard, and sat among fragrant rows of lavender to work on this small color study, just 6" high:
Finally on the last day, I returned to the pier and did this very spare line drawing. The islands breaking up the ocean currents made the water placid, and the air was sweet with salty aroma and the falling cries of seagulls. It takes numerous renderings of a rich or complex subject to finally arrive at this kind of simplicity, quiet as the little waves lapping up on shore. Fully expressing an idea enables it to thin out, bringing a physical sense of relief.
But my work isn't done, as these images of Orcas Island beg to be painted again in larger and more substantial form – ever my yearning as a landscape artist – and my precious time with my daughter passed far too quickly. After two years in this island paradise, Eve is moving back to the mainland next month, where I hope to visit her again in the not-too-distant future. In the meantime, I think of her in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with a smile, and sometimes a tear.
A good week to all –
D Yael Bernhard