Thursday, September 30, 2010

Sevilla Continued

Posted by Maggie

Our second day in Sevilla—the first full day—was wonderful in spite of some local problems. There was a general strike, which meant that no buses or taxis would operate, and many businesses were closed. Initially we thought it might create some difficulty but it did not interfere with walking and looking, so we were fine.

In the morning we walked to the area of the Alcazar and the Catedral. We encountered demonstrators, marches and speeches en route but never could quite comprehend what the strike was about. We enjoyed looking at the architecture, though finding potential painting locations was not easy. I am not happy about the idea of setting up a dozen or more easels in crowded areas, but I had thought it might be possible near a particular fountain (above right). However it was far too crowded, and I decided it might be a place for sketching and photography, but not easels. We walked to the entrance of the Alcazar but did not go in; we plan to do that on Friday.

Our guide book had mentioned a park and botanical garden so that was our next destination. It was a wonderful place, definitely on the list for potential painting spots. No admission charge, and broad streets closed to all vehicles except horse-drawn carriages and rented pedal cars, it would be comfortable for painters to spread out. There are abundant fountains, small pools of water, a small lake, and at one end a beautiful building for those inclined to paint architecture. The area in front of that building is being remodeled so was full of equipment and workers, but it looked near enough to completion to think it might be done by next year when we return.

After hours of walking, we found a tapas bar for lunch. I could happily live on tapas. I enjoy having a small portion of several different things to create an interesting meal. We still weren't quite recovered from the trip and jet lag, so the Spanish custom of afternoon siesta seemed a very good idea. When we went out once more, the late afternoon light was incredibly beautiful. The buildings that had been a dull beige or orange earlier glowed in the sunlight, and I took dozens of photographs.

In the evening we met friends for dinner. We walked quite a way in search of a tapas bar with some specific menu items, and while we never did find exactly what we wanted, we had a nice meal. It was fully dark by the time we headed back towards our hotels, and the walk beside the river was great. Some buildings which had not been very noticeable by day were spectacular at night, with beautiful lights and reflections.

Now it is morning in Sevilla and we are heading out to meet our friends and take a river cruise to see even more of the city by water. It is sunny and beautiful, likely to be very warm once again, and likely to be another wonderful day in Sevilla.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Exploring Sevilla

Posted by Maggie

We arrived in Madrid this morning (though what they claimed was 7 a.m. felt like midnight to us) after a long journey. We had several hours to wait in the Madrid airport before we could get our flight to Sevilla, and we spent most of those hours trying to stay awake. Finally on the airplane, we were able to relax and sleep until our arrival in Sevilla. Our bags arrived as well, we were lucky to get a friendly, courteous and careful taxi driver, and we liked our hotel the minute we got here.

After a little time to recuperate from the trip, we headed out for a short walk to see what was nearby. Our purpose here is to see if Sevilla would be a good option for a painting day trip for next year's Spain workshop, and we have a specific list of destinations to check out tomorrow and the next day. But, in an effort to stay awake until evening local time, we walked for a while this afternoon.

We are staying near the river Guadalquivr, and walked along it and across an interesting bridge. The architecture was interesting as well, even though we did not get nearly as far as the Catedral, the Alcázar or any of the more dramatic and distinctive structures we will explore tomorrow and the next day. Bill commented on the frequent use of gold and yellow trim on the white buildings, different than in the Genal Valley where the roofs of the white buildings are almost always red. Like some of the other cities we visit during our workshop day trips, there is a definite Moorish influence in the architecture. 

I wasn't expecting palm trees here. Our workshop location is in the village of Júzcar, Málaga Province, in the mountains. So I hadn't really thought about the fact that Sevilla is a lower altitude and farther south, and thus a bit warmer year round. The palms are wonderful, though, and so are the abundant flowers. I found a number of places along the river where I could be happy painting.

Facilities are important when you're picking plein air painting locations for a group of people. There has to be room to set up easels out of the way of traffic and pedestrians. It's nice if there is shade. And of course, we always try to find places to paint with nearby bathrooms. The people in Spain are remarkably accommodating in that regard—any restaurant or bar will let you use the "servicios" without question, although they are always happier if you buy a bottle of water or a snack.

After a couple of hours of walking, along with a stop for ice cream to rest and to cool off, we headed back to our hotel to rest. It's a bit too soon to decide if this beautiful walkway along the river will be a possibility for next year's painting workshop in Spain, though we might try it out ourselves if we have time. There was certainly no shortage of subjects in today's exploration—but we're off to explore further tomorrow, and who knows what other, even more wonderful things we might find!

Pastel Society of America's 2010 Exhibition

Posted by Maggie

As I mentioned in a previous blog, Bill and I were in New York to attend the reception and banquet for the Pastel Society of America's 2010 exhibition. It's always exciting to see the paintings—the amazing and wonderful variety of style, subjects and techniques demonstrated by the artists whose work hangs in the exhibitions. And it's fun to see the award winners. Like all artists, I don't always agree with the judges' decisions, but this year I applauded their selection of Rae Smith's painting (left) for the grand prize of $5,000, given by Jack Richeson in memory of Flora Giffuni. Its moody, mystical feeling caught my attention as soon as I saw it, and well before I knew who the artist was.

Rae Smith (left) is the President of PSA, and she spoke about some of the things the society has been doing since last year. One important project is carrying on Flora Giffuni's plan to get pastel teachers into the public schools to teach pastel, since art programs are so often the first thing to go when schools cut budgets.

Rae also presented the PSA Hall of Fame award to Richard McKinley (left), who is well-known in the world of pastel for his teaching and his Pastel Pointers blogs on The Pastel Journal web site. Richard is the 34th artist to be awarded the Hall of Fame designation; the award has been given annually since 1978.

Hearing about PSA activities, seeing the art and watching the artists receive awards is great, but another reason to attend this event is to see artist friends. It seems there are some people that I only see at the PSA banquet or the IAPS convention—though I'd love to see them more often, it just doesn't work out. It was great to see so many friends this year, and enjoy visiting with them before, during and after the banquet. In the photo at left, Jimmy Wright (Treasurer of PSA and a long-time board member of PSA and recently of IAPS) and Richard McKinley and I are visiting in the entry hall of the National Arts Club.

In the photo at left is Jack Richeson, with Rae Smith on his left, taken during the banquet. The banquet is held in the hall where the paintings are hung, so it's possible to continue enjoying looking at the beautiful art while enjoying dinner.
A final event at the PSA banquet is the raffling of a number of paintings donated by artists to help raise money for the society. Bill and I buy tickets, though we are both quick to explain that we never win anything, and just purchase tickets to support PSA. This year, though, to our great surprise, Bill won the painting Juicy Apple by Sangita Phadke (left).

I guess this means that either I can't continue to say we never win anything, or it's the beginning of a change in our luck and we should start buying lottery tickets! I'm hoping it's the latter, although we still won't win the lottery if we continue to forget to buy tickets.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

A lesson in light

Posted by Maggie

Today we visited the museum of the Hispanic Society of America, having heard that the large paintings by Sorolla had been re-installed.

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida (1863-1923) was a Spanish painter whose work I have long admired for his handling of natural light on the subject. While I don't often paint the subjects he painted—figures, boats, etc.—I am inspired by the way he handles the light falling on and describing the subject. Part of my inspiration for my "sunlight and shadow" underpainting technique which I teach in workshops (and illustrated in my book, Painting with Pastels) came from observation of Sorolla's handling of light and shadow— that objects he painted in full sunlight tended to be warm yellows and oranges, while objects in shadow almost always contained some blue.

The large paintings at the Hispanic Society museum are stunning, and their placement lower on the wall since the remodel of the room in which they are displayed allows the viewer to more fully enjoy them. The fourteen large canvasses are about 12 feet tall, and range in width up to the largest one which fills an entire wall. Each painting deals with a specific region of Spain, and all but one were painted en plein air, despite their enormous size. Photographs taken on my camera cannot begin to do them justice; I hope you will find better images in books or on the Internet to enjoy them. But even with these poor images, you can see some of the wonderful color he used to describe light. In this photo at left (The Tuna Catch), the men on the far right are clearly dressed in white, but when you study the painting, you see that no white paint was used. The lights are described in pale yellows and oranges; the shadows are blues and lavenders, with bits of orange indicating reflected light. The only true white in this painting appeared to be the sparkles on the water.

A closer view of a detail of another painting further illustrates how he used colors to indicate light falling on a white object and his depiction of related shadow colors. There is so much to learn from studying these paintings, no matter what medium you work in. In this detail from the largest, most complex painting, what appears in the photograph to be white fabric is actually pale yellows. The shadows are exquisite blues and grays with wonderful bits of reflected light.

After we spent a considerable amount of time with these large works, we went upstairs to another gallery, and were pleased to find a few more paintings by Sorolla. One of these was his portrait of Louis Comfort Tiffany, painted in Tiffany's garden at his home. A little later, the curator of the gallery was preparing a presentation on a painting by Goya (which we attended and very much enjoyed) and, while waiting for the audience to arrive, he talked a little about the Sorollas. He pointed out that in this painting of Tiffany, there are only two areas of pure white paint: on the right sleeve of Tiffany's shirt, and on the edge of the sail in the harbor. All the other areas interpreted as white have color—Impressionistic color, he called it. 

After our visit to the Hispanic Society museum, we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a few hours. It was truly visual overload, and by late afternoon, I could not absorb any more. I love the Met, and took the time to visit my favorite paintings there—but I think I will dream of the Sorollas.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Leavin' on a jet plane

Posted by Maggie

Tomorrow we're off to New York for the reception at the Pastel Society of America exhibition, and then on to Spain a few days later for a plein air painting workshop.

Not surprisingly, we've spent a lot of time getting ready. In addition to the obvious packing part of the preparation, we had deadlines to meet, and the house to get ready for the people who will be staying here while we are gone.

The packing's the hard part. Dressy clothes for New York, painting clothes for Spain. All the art supplies needed for the two of us to paint and teach a workshop.

I have a good checklist of the things I need to take when traveling by car to teach a workshop, and another one for traveling by air. I much prefer the car. I like picking something up, saying "I might need this, so I'll take it," and tossing it in the car. With the airplane bag limits, everything has to be considered in terms of weight and size.

We take one carry-on bag each, with our pastels, paper, and absolute essentials for painting. If our checked bags are lost, we can buy clothes, but art supplies can be tough to replace, especially in the area of Spain (a small village in the Genal Valley, in the mountains of Andalucia) where we hold our workshop. The nearest art supply store is probably 6 hours away, and I doubt if they carry my favorite pastels. Carrying pastels on the plane means allowing extra time for TSA to scrutinize our bags. Sometimes it takes a long time; other times they don't open them. Sometimes we get pulled out for extra inspection. Maybe it's because of the art supplies, or maybe we just look suspicious.

We put the easels in the checked bag. I use the Sun-Eden set-up shown here, and Bill uses a lightweight, inexpensive Winsor & Newton easel. If they get lost, it won't be convenient, but it won't be the end of the world. Also in the checked bags are extra paper, bungee cords, sketchbooks, watercolors, pens, pencils, hats and jackets. We take as many changes of clothes as possible (there are no laundry facilities in the village of Júzcar), but art supplies come first.

It's hard to decide what to leave out. I opted not to take my umbrella, much as I wanted it, but everything else in the photo here is going. The bag that's hanging off the easel is my carry-on bag; in this photo, my Heilman backpacker-size pastel box is already in it. 

The moment of truth is when we weigh the bags to be checked. We did well this time; one was 47 lbs. and the other 37. I moved a few things from the heavy one to the lighter one just in case the airport scales aren't as accurate as mine.

So, we're all ready,  and will soon be on our way. I'll be posting to this blog as often as possible during the next few weeks, with images of plein air paintings, painters and places. Hope you enjoy it!

Monday, September 20, 2010

It's not easy being small

Posted by Maggie

I recently had the honor of jurying the Small Works Exhibition for the Pastel Society of New Mexico. This is a presentation of small paintings which is shown in conjunction with the organization's annual juried national exhibition. 

The paintings were amazing. All in pastel, of course, and all within the limit of 48 square inches, or, say 6x8.  That's pretty small.

But that got me to thinking about another show held here in New Mexico as part of the Masterworks exhibition—the miniature show, which has a size limit of 20 square inches. That would be 4x5 or some other proportion which added up to 20 or less.

When I paint with pastels, I think of 9x12 as small. My favorite sizes are 16x20 or 18x24. If glass wasn't so expensive and so heavy, I'd probably work even larger. I love the freedom of movement of a large surface, the expressive sweep of a stroke of pastel laid down swiftly and firmly.

But, having juried this show, I decided I'd try my hand at a really small painting, using the under 20 square inch limitation of the Masterworks miniatures. I used as reference an oil painting I'd done on location not long ago, which was 6x8. How hard could it be to reduce that to fit onto my little scrap of paper?

Very hard.

In case you haven't noticed, most pastel sticks are big. I particularly like the fat square Ludwig pastels, the really fat round Richeson handmade soft pastels, and quite a few others, none of which I'd noticed were not small. Until I tried to work in those little tiny areas of my painting.  The final painting, which will probably not go into a frame because I don't have any frames that small, is Arroyo on a Gray Day, 3.5x5.5 on Pastelmat, ©Maggie Price.

Now I'm going to go paint something big, like maybe 11x14.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Colorado Paintings, Part Three

Posted by Maggie

Our second full day of our mini-vacation in Colorado did not start out as planned. We went to one of the painting locations we'd selected the day before, but the light was very different and we weren't happy with it. We decided to go paint the pond we'd looked at the previous day, but on the way there, realized that the morning light would not give us the same reflections we'd seen the previous afternoon. So we took a drive up a mountain road to a trail head where we knew there was another pond, surrounded by tall pines, that often has beautiful reflections. The road isn't long, but you can only drive about 20 mph or even less, and you have to watch for deer and other critters.

We finally arrived only to find the pond covered with an unattractive brown scum, and no reflections whatsoever. We took the long drive back down the mountain, and decided to have lunch, go hiking and then return to the other pond with great afternoon reflections a little later.

It was worth the wait. The light was perfect, there was a slight breeze, and we were able to set up our easels right on the edge of the road. The reflection of the mountain, trees and grasses was stunningly beautiful.

I'm enjoying using Pastelmat for plein air paintings. The surface feels smooth to the touch, but you can put quite a few layers on it, and it grabs the pastel and doesn't let go. The ability to quickly cover the surface is a real advantage when you have to work fast in changing light. For this subject, I chose  dark gray (I think they call it anthacite) which gave me the dark value to start with. The hill in the background was covered with pine, but had lots of deep blue shadows. I concentrated on implying trees rather than describing each one, then moved quickly to the fun part, which was the reflections and the objects reflected in the water. I love painting water with reflections, but this was one of the first times I'd tried it on Pastelmat. (I usually use Richeson Premium Pastel Surface or Wallis Sanded Pastel Paper for this kind of subject.) You can't really do any blending on Pastelmat unless you practically fill the tooth, but I didn't need much blending anyway, so I was happy with it. Afternoon Reflections, 9.5x12, ©Maggie Price.

Although we were only a few feet apart, Bill chose a little different view, and concentrated mostly on the water. He worked on a 9x12 piece of white Richeson Premium Pastel Surface on Gatorfoam. In spite of beginning with white, he was able to quickly get the rich dark colors he wanted in the water. His subject is mostly about the water and reflections, so he moved the land mass up in the composition to emphasize the water. In comparing our two paintings, I think I like his composition better. Mine is divided a little too evenly between land and water. But that's the thing about plein air painting—especially when the light is changing fast, you have to make fast decisions and you might later wish you had done something differently. I really like the moody quality of this painting of Bill's, Roadside Attraction, 9x12, ©Bill Canright.

By the time we finished these, it was time to head back for dinner. We left for home the next morning, having enjoyed a brief, but rejuvenating, retreat to the southern Colorado mountains.

Colorado Paintings, Part Two

Posted by Maggie

Our second pastel painting session was under entirely different light conditions than the first session of the day (see Part One for the first session's paintings). Many clouds had moved on, although some that remained were as storm-threatening as the earlier ones. I had hoped to paint the river, but it was muddy brown from the previous day's rain, so we chose a spot along the road not far from the river. Both of us selected subjects involving buildings, though we were looking in opposite directions.

I never used to paint buildings. I didn't find them interesting, and when you're painting outdoors, the light changes so fast you can't spend a lot of time drawing. But once I started teaching workshops in Europe, I learned to love painting structures. They can add an interesting element to a painting. I also became comfortable with the understanding that my paintings done outdoors are field studies, and that means I'm looking for accurate color and value, and an understanding of the light and weather conditions and how they affect the way light and shadow describe form. So my drawing doesn't have to be perfect. It also helps that many of the buildings I end up painting in Europe are falling down.

This subject appealed to me because of the shape of the road, and the way the house is mostly hidden by the hillside in front of it. I felt it gave the building a little sense of mystery. And I didn't have to draw the whole thing! Most of what you see is roof and chimney, and the rest is implied. I also liked the shapes of the cloud formations, and blocked them in very quickly. They were soon gone, but I had enough information to complete them. Fall is just coming to this valley; there were touches of yellow and even orange in some trees, and the odd bushes in the right foreground were already yellow, rusty red and orange. I worked on a light gray piece of Pastelmat, almost exactly the local color of the gravel road. It was interesting how that neutral color worked for this late morning light. Left, River Road, 9.5x12, pastel on gray Pastelmat, ©Maggie Price.

Bill chose a subject in the opposite direction, with very different light. The tall trees almost obscured the buildings, giving them a mysterious, moody quality. He worked on a black surface (Colourfix), which really helped set the mood right from the beginning. Bill often works on black. He says his favorite part of the painting is putting in the highlights and on a dark surface he gets to do that right away. There's a bit of the dark surface showing here and there in the darkest areas, and it works really well. I really liked the bit of blue sky he put in the top left corner and how it complemented the rest of the composition. Left, Pump House, 12x 9.5, pastel on black Colourfix, ©Bill Canright.

By the time we finished our second session, the winds had picked up and were threatening to blow over our easels. The afternoon got windier still, so we spent some time taking photographs and picking out a painting spot for the next day, described in  Part Three.

Colorado Paintings, Part One

Posted by Maggie
August was an intense month. We had a long trip to the east coast in July, so Bill spent much of August catching up on all those things that pile up when you're away for weeks. For me, the month was computer-intensive, as I prepared files with convention information and registration for the International Association of Pastel Societies' Ninth Biennial Convention.

So we needed a break. We didn't have a lot of time to go far, so we went to southern Colorado, a lovely location southeast of Pagosa Springs. It's a place we go often and know well, so we can jump right into painting without having to spend a lot of time learning the landscape.

Our first painting day started with clouds—lots of clouds. They were moving fast, but not really threatening rain. We set up along the edge of a lightly-traveled road, looking over the valley, which is ringed by mountains on three sides. Our vista was of a fairly low range of mountains and hills, mostly covered with forest.

I've been experimenting with a relatively new surface, Pastelmat. It comes in a number of colors, but for this piece I worked on white. Normally I start a landscape painting by painting the sky, but for this subject I blocked in a light layer of color over the land mass first. While we were setting up, I'd noticed the occasional light hitting the trees and creating brilliant patches of lighter greens, and I hoped I'd see that happen again. Patience paid off, and when the light illuminated an area, I quickly laid it in. At the same time, I noted the breaks in the clouds with a sky-blue, then massed the clouds in as fast as I could. I particularly liked where the clouds drifted over the tops of the mountains, and put that in place the minute I saw it. The clouds moved and shifted before I could finish them, but I stayed with the composition and just looked at other cloud formations for color and value. In a little less than an hour, the light had changed too much to go any farther, so I stopped. Left, Fast-Moving Clouds, 9.5x12, ©Maggie Price.

Meanwhile, Bill began with a warm gray piece of Colourfix paper, and chose a vertical format. He concentrated on the clouds first, and since he was looking in a different direction, his clouds were a little more stormy and threatening. He mentioned that he's more used to working on the Richeson Premium Pastel Surface, and in fact had thought that's what he picked up, but the Colourfix has a little less tooth than the Richeson. However, it was sufficiently toothy for a quick field study. Once he had developed the cloud formations, he quickly blocked in the land masses and the foreground trees. Left, Storm Chaser, 9.25x10.25, ©Bill Canright.

We packed up our supplies, headed back to the cabin for a quick snack, and then moved down the hill to our next painting destination, described in the next blog, Colorado Paintings, Part Two.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Venice Revisited

Posted by Bill

Normally I avoid back-lit subjects because too much of the scene is nothing but silhouettes. However, Maggie took a photo in Venice a few years ago which caught my eye because of the wonderful sparkling water and the easily-interpreted action of the gondolas. Our guy in the foreground was clearly waiting for the others to get out of the way.

The reference photo was taken just following a rain so everything was clean and the air was clear. The photo had a few modern boats in the distance, but I liked the timeless quality achieved by leaving them out. The photo tried, as usual, to lead me astray—in this case, with a blue sky and turquoise water. I tried painting it that way, but it didn't work, as the sky and water seemed unrelated. So I put a little turquoise in the sky.

The photograph also had a solid, featureless shadow going from the gondola to the bottom of the frame. I thought this made sense as the vertical planes of the gondolas were solid silhouettes, but when I made the shadow solid, no matter how much I fiddled with it, it just didn't work. It finally dawned on me that the water was horizontal and that if had I been standing on the dock looking at it, I would have seen ripples even in the darker water. Changing that really worked.

The final painting, above left: The Patient Gondolier, 24x18, © Bill Canright.

In the photograph, there was also a weird thing poking out of the back of the boat that looked like a detached leg pointing at the sky. This definitely fit the rule: "If you don't know what it is, don't paint it." On the other hand, If I'd left it in I would have had a name for the painting. I could have called it A Leg Up.

If I'm ever in Venice again I am going to try to figure out what it was. Perhaps someone reading this can enlighten me.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

The Hat Dilemma

Posted by Maggie

I almost bought a new hat a couple of days ago. There was a really nice one on the clearance rack—white, with a nice large brim, and a fabric that would handle being stuffed in a suitcase to take on a painting trip. It was tempting.

I already have a few hats. I just don't like any of them.

Bill says you have to approach the subject of hats with the idea that all hats are stupid-looking. Then you just pick the least dorky one, plop it on your head and go. I'm not totally happy with knowing that I look dorky. Especially when we're painting in Europe, where I stand out far too much anyway, because of my un-dyed hair, my jeans, and my comfortable shoes.

So I thought about buying that new hat, but then I decided to come home and take a good look at the ones I already have. I pulled them out of their various hiding places.

When I don't take a hat on a trip, I end up buying one. That's how I got the white one from the Royal Botanic Gardens in Sydney, the blue one from Barbados, the straw hat with the colored bands from Mexico, and even the purple baseball-cap from Scotland. All the rest of them have been purchased in an attempt to find the perfect, comfortable, sun-blocking painting hat.

My current painting hat is the sage-green one on the right. It's lightweight, washable, can be packed without too much wrinkling, has a big brim to shade my eyes and a great long flap on the back that keeps the back of my neck from getting sunburned. But it's really, really dorky-looking.

So maybe I'll go buy a new one after all.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Bad photos

Posted by Maggie

I've said for a long time that painting from bad photos can be a good thing. When you have a bad photo, you know you have to make changes. It frees you from the temptation to copy your photo, and the resulting painting can move far beyond the photographic reference.

But there are bad photos, and then there are really bad photos.

Bill and I try to walk every morning. We know it's good for us. But some days, the only thing that gets me out the door is the scenery. We're lucky to have a wonderful walking trail that begins just across the street. We have a spectacular view of the Sandia Mountains from our front window, but it's even better on the trail.

As we approach fall (okay, it's already fall, but I'm in denial), the sun rises later each day. Consequently some days it's just coming up over the north end of the mountains as we start out. I never remember to take my camera, but I always have my phone in my pocket. (No one calls me at that hour, thank goodness, but I just can't go out the door without my phone.)

So I took these photos of the sunrise, and the resolution on my phone camera is, admittedly, bad. (I haven't upgraded to the iPhone 4 which supposedly has a better camera.) I printed them to paint from, and all the detail was gone. The color wasn't too bad, but then again, it wasn't too good. I wanted to combine elements from the two photos, and in the end, I also had to rely on memory.

I struggle to keep from putting in too much detail. With these photo references, it wasn't as hard as usual when I'm working from photos. I couldn't see any details.

I'm really happy with the mood, atmosphere and lack of detail in the finished painting. The combination of the two photos worked well, and I feel I managed to understate rather than overstate, for a change.

Maybe I won't upgrade my phone, and maybe I'll paint from phone photos more often!

Above left, Morning Walk, 7x9, pastel on Pastelmat, ©Maggie Price.