November has ended and that means, whoo hoo!, another round-up of 10 nifty pastels I’ve chosen from the oh so many I’ve seen through the month. As always, a lot of stewing when it came down to the last 15 or so choices and this time, I even spent two days deliberating on how to get 11 selections down to 10. I had thought of slipping all 11 into the post and seeing if anyone would notice. But I didn’t – I stuck to my 10-only guns. (Okay, that’s a strange expression – curious about etymology? then click here.)

Let’s have a look at this month’s nifty pastels.

I discovered the work of Felicity House back in February. I wanted to include this piece by her but I didn’t know the size and as you will know by now, I’m a believer in the importance of knowing the size of a piece of art! (Have you read my blog, Size Matters?) I wrote to her but somehow, my email slipped through the cracks. Happily, a couple of weeks ago I heard from this India-travelling gal who gave me the info I needed and so here it is, in all its sensitive and confident glory. There’s such a feeling of light, and also heat from which we find relief in the shade of the tree and for sure, in the building itself. I love the mix of painterliness with the linear feel of a sketch. I also appreciate the architectural detail which is revealed with restraint and grace. And there’s humour too with the line up bicycles (also shown with such economy of line). This pastel gives you a real sense of this place in Rajasthan, India. See more of House’s work here.

Every time I look at this pastel, I’m transported to this corner of the earth where, on a sunny day, the breeze whips up whitecaps on the water, and the clouds scuttle along in an autumn sky but still, I’m protected from the chill wind by the dune which rises beside me. I love the way Heidi Amenda Marshall has taken the simplest of subjects (some sand, a few dune plants, shadows, water) and made such an evocative painting from it. Unity in the painting comes from the purple used throughout: in the distant land, in the clouds, in the dune shadows. The cool day is tempered by the warm colours of the dune grasses and the sunlit sand. Check out more of Marshall’s work on her website.

I’ve always been an admirer of Richard McKinley’s work (and of his generous nature). When I saw this demo pastel of trees by McKinley, I was stopped in my tracks. Such a nondescript subject, something you wouldn’t take a second glance at, made into a glorious celebration of nature. Three trees stand together and with spare and judicious strokes and colours, McKinley brings our undivided attention to their beauty. The winter sky is bright above, bare branches silhouetted against it while below, the tree trunks lead down to the chaos of dark undergrowth. McKinley’s sensitivity to the subject and delicacy of touch belie the confidence and experience behind the pastel marks. See more of McKinley’s work here.

Another stand of trees, this time given a very different interpretation. I was taken by both the rich colours and the mark-making in this piece. All the primaries and secondary colours are present yet in such a way as to create an exciting and harmonious expression. There is a sense of the warmth of autumn leaves and light but as we peer further into the woods, we are taken into the more mysterious, cooler, and dark depths. Cleverly, the more representational tree on the left sets us up to read the piece as a collection of trees. You can go to Rita Riekstins-Feeney’s Facebook page to see more work of her work.

I’ve been following Marlene Rye’s work for the last few months, many of her pieces making it onto my long-list of choices. So I’m delighted to share this pastel with you. Yet another stand of trees cloaked in autumn colours, this time our eyes rise upward, in awe of the trees’ height that reflecs our own insignificance in the face of such natural splendour. Rye herself wrote on Facebook about the experience of coming across this tree and I took the liberty of including it here:

“This tree has a story. The first time I went looking for the lost waterfall, I found a different part of the same woods. I spent a magical day with my dog exploring the incredible beauty of this new magical place. We walked through a forest that at first seemed wide open, as if she was opening her arms to us and welcoming us into her light. As we went deeper, the forest came closer giving us veils of green to look through. The forest was holding us close to her heart, unveiling beauty everywhere we turned. And then, when I didn’t think the day could get more magical we found this wonderful maple tree. It was there on the way into the forest, but we didn’t notice it then. We were’t ready yet. At the end of our walk, when our hearts were soaring with beauty, we found her. I had to lay down under it and experience it from the ground.”

Check out more of Rye’s work here.

Still on the autumn theme, we come to this detailed delight where yellow and red maple leaves compliment the cool of rocks and reflected blue sky. I am mesmerized by how the force of the reflections of the title contrasts with the reality of solid trees and ground. The reflections become a second and just as substantial reality as the scene reflected. The creek disappears in the distance and as our eyes follow it, we emerge into a sunlit meadow. But that wee bit of sunshine can’t hold our attention and we slip down the right side of the painting back into the cool of water and shade. Go to Ted Fuka’s website to see more of his work.

From the verisimilitude of the landscape we come to this stunning depiction of a draught horse. The detail is incredible from the feel of leather to the courseness of the mane, from  the suggestion of muscle and bone on the head to the tiny hairs surrounding the nose and mouth which in turn suggest the snort of air just exhaled and perhaps even a foot stomped. I’m also appreciative of the way Gary Carabio has gradated the grey colour from light to dark across the background. And what really appeals to me is the way our conviction that this is indeed a horse we are looking at (rather than an image of a horse) is shattered on the left hand side where the marks of the pastels become evident and thins to allow the paper to show through. A quiet reminder that this, as perfectly ‘real’ as it is, is only a representation of the real thing. Check out more of Carabio’s work here.

Now who could resist this chap?? From the detailed rendering of the horse above we move to this impressionistic and humourous capturing of this dog called Eddie. (And don’t you just love the painting’s title?) This portrait gives you an in-the-face cold wet nose and gentle eyes full of agreeable canine friendship. Eddie seems about to share some thought with us. The colours chosen, the bold strokes all combine to produce an emotionally warm reaction from us. With so little, Colson has us read the soft fur of the dog, the wobbly folds of skin under his neck, the texture of his nose, the courseness of the whiskers, and the looseness of his jowls. See more of Colson’s work here.

In keeping with the autumn feel of much of this post, here’s a self-portrait by Casey Klahn in colours inspired by the sunflower. Klahn has recently been producing a series of self-portraits in various iterations. For some reason, this one especially caught my eye. I’m always awed by work that says so much with so little and I find this to be oh so true with this painting. Take a look at how little modelling there is of eyes, nose, mouth, ear, and hair and yet we can see and understand each of these in the interpretation we make of line, stroke, value, and colour. And with so little, the character and personality of this person begins to be revealed. I like the way Klahn has chosen an elongated format that perfectly contains the full shape of the head, beard, and neck, leaving us no other clues as to who this person is. Check out more of these portrait’s on Klahn’s website.

And finally, this striking portrait of hands and feet that have seen many years of life. Who do they belong to? Without question, these parts have been depicted with respect and reverence: each winkle, each knuckle, each toe lovingly recorded and shared with us. The gentle touch of hands holding feet gives us a sense of this person as does the fact that though aged, there is flexibility enough to bend over to grasp the feet. And the marks on the floor – are these marks of history in the bedroom where one might expect to have bare feet and a moment to massage them? Perhaps this is a foot rub after a night of tango and romance. Who can say? Do we read this with joy and celebration or sweet sadness?

There is something about the nobility and power of this painting that brings to mind the sympathetic rendering of age by Rembrandt who celebrated in his paintings, the humanity and wisdom of old age. To see more of Hampton’s work, click here.

Okay, confession time. Two pastels here are by artists I have featured before in my monthly curation: Casey Klahn and Cameron Hampton. It’s the first time this had happened and I’ve been putting it off as long as possible but these two pieces you see here haunted me and I just had to include them!

Please leave a comment about how any of these nifty pastels affected you or anything else you’d like to share. I’d LOVE to hear from you! And feel free to share this post with anyone who you think would enjoy the collection.

Thank you for coming along for the ride!

Until next time,

~ Gail