There’s only one thing worse than getting lost in cyberspace when I’m supposed to be writing: looking out the window of my art studio when I’m supposed to be painting. Assembled in front of my azaleas, feeders of all shapes and sizes attract a variety of birds. In fact, I had to buy a book to identify them all. I’ve seen male and female cardinals, blue jays, blackbirds, grackles, Carolina wrens, black capped chickadees, vireos, robins, flycatchers, sparrows, mourning doves, finches, mockingbirds, tufted titmouse, towhee, woodpecker, and warblers. And a few I can’t identify.
Of course, squirrels make a nuisance of themselves, but their antics are entertaining. They slide down feeder poles like drunken firemen, spin around on the hanging feeders like Tilt-a-Whirls, and chew peanuts upside-down from the mesh slots. Too often, I find myself fiddling with my zoom lens instead of painting.
A local art gallery association to which I belong challenged all of its members to shoot a photo of their studios and frame them. (“Egads,” I thought, surveying the stained rags, splattered floor, piles of boxes and paint cans, and dozens of portfolios vying for space in my studio. “What a mess! Who wants to look at this!”) Then, in the medium to which we artists are accustomed to working, create a piece inspired by our studios. It didn’t have to be something inside of the studio. Just inspired by it. The framed studio photos would hang next to the inspired pieces for an upcoming show.
Easy choice for me. My studio is completely banked by windows on the north. I feast my eyes upon azalea bushes, sassafras trees, pines, dogwoods and a redbud. I’ve collected a vast array of bird feeders, and to watch the birds feeding and flitting is a captivating retreat.
For this challenge, I wanted to paint as many bird species as possible, using a gold background of gingko leaves. (I planted a gingko tree in another part of the yard years ago; it’s still only three feet tall.) I knew that I wanted the design to take a circular motion, one that started with a cardinal smack in the middle and ended with something faint and tiny in the background.
Originally I’d named the painting “Birder Heaven,” but when my husband saw it, he exclaimed, “Oh, it’s an Angry Bird!” Well, that took care of that! “Angry Birds in the Garden” was a delight to paint, and as many paintings do, it evolved beyond what I’d foreseen. I can’t wait for the show to open.
In the meantime, I try to focus on my drawing board. It helps if it’s raining.