Oliverea Spring
Late April into early May is my favorite time of year for landscape painting. Here in the Catskills, the springtime color is so beautiful, as I go about my day I feel like I’m moving through a painting. It’s a wonder I haven’t had a car accident, so intoxicating are the surroundings. The pastel textures of budding trees, with their tiny, weightless dots, look like the patient dabs of a pointillist brush. Just before they open, the buds are tinged with purple and rose, while the emerging new leaves light up in the sun in transparent yellows and greens. Every time it rains, these colors deepen and blush, becoming more vivid – and begging to be exaggerated even further. I’ve long admired the Post-Impressionists who did this, sometimes going so far as to cross over into fantastic interpretations – the “wild beasts” of color, as the Fauvists were known.
I’m constantly looking for places to stop and do a landscape. Finding such a place isn’t so easy, as it requires not only a place to park but a spot to sit safely and still see the view. In the mountains, lowering yourself enough just to sit on the ground can change the view significantly. Last week I found a beautiful view of two antique barns with willow and tamarack budding behind them – gorgeous! – but the only way I could paint them was by sitting inside my car – not ideal. Needless to say, I was limited to a small canvas.
The painting above was done as a house-warming gift several years ago. This is the view from the house where my friend spent his summers as a child, in the beautiful mountain valley known as Oliverea. How fortunate, to see these pristine mountains from one’s kitchen window! Nary a human presence is found thither, for this is state forest preserve, with only one hiking trail through it.
Along the stream in the foreground are tall, white-barked sycamores – a challenging subject to articulate against a complex background of overlapping colors. There was no avoiding the patient building up of textures that this painting required – that’s the nature of springtime landscape painting. It takes time.
Soon the pastel hues will give way to broad-leaved greens, and the brief season of ephemeral flowers will be over. That’s when I’ll be looking for deep teals and dark purples tinges in the shadows of the valleys. In full foliage, the forest looks like a huge bearskin, carpeting the contours of these ancient mountains. How can something so immense bear such delicate color?
Painting allows time for such pondering, which often leads to more ideas for paintings. It’s endless.
A good week to all!
D. Yael Bernhard
https://dyaelbernhard.com
Have you seen my other Substack, The Art of Health? In addition to being a visual artist, I’m also a certified integrative health & nutrition coach with a lifelong passion for natural food cooking and herbal medicine. Now in its second year, this illustrated newsletter explores cutting-edge concepts of nutrition. I strive to make relevant information clear and accessible, and to anchor essential health concepts in unique images. Check it out, and if you like it, please subscribe and help spread the word. Your support keeps my work going!