Young Cedar in Snow

 

"Young Cedar in Snow" oil on birch panel 6x6 in.

26 December 2024 found me at our place in Bishops Mills on my 74th birthday, and my goal for the day was to accomplish another in the series of annual "birthday paintings." Last year this time, it was raining on the snow, and I was sheltering in a friend's car to paint a wetland scene with heavy sunset clouds. This year I was happy to be free to trudge out in the snow along the path "out back" at -7C with no precipitation, pulling a sled loaded with my painting gear and blankets, and reminiscing of the years when I boasted to Fred that any temperature above -20C was not cold enough for winter outdoor painting.  

I have learned over many years of painting "en plein air," that I lose much less body heat when wrapped in a blanket to sit on the snow, than I would, standing at an easel - no matter how many clothes I have on. This is the first time I've used our sturdy high-sided "Pelican" wood-hauling sled to sit in while painting. My plan was to line the bottom of the sled with a folded wool blanket, then sitting on a cushion, wrap the blanket over my lap and tuck a small duvet around my legs and boots.

I started out from the house at 15:00. The sky was depressingly overcast, and the snow, 15 cm deep on the ground and perched enchantingly on all the branches, was just as monochromatic as the sky. I would have to search for hints, divining the subtle snow colours from the air, and supporting them with a dark red underpainting which will allow the white to sparkle against it, and which will support the shadowy foliage and branches, providing a warm contrast to the cold darkness within the Cedars. 

By 16:00, after walking into the forest and back, comparing potential compositions and thinking about colour, I finally decided on a middle-distance scene in the clearing that we call the "Nutrient Depletion Glade." There, a young Cedar standing out from the dark mass of its elders, paused in a slow dance while balancing snow caps on its branches. I now had an hour and a half of precious late afternoon light, to capture as much as I could of that dance, before dusk darkened the scene.  

My arrangement for "sled as studio" worked perfectly - I was in the lap of luxury! The sides of the sled rise from the shallow front to about a foot high. Insulated by a cushion, my back was supported in perfect comfort, and my legs and feet, after the exertion of walking in the snow, were toasty warm under blanket and duvet. The temperature was seven degrees below freezing, but there was not a breath of a breeze, so I took my gloves off and didn't need to pull my painting cuff over my right hand. I even forgot to open the thermos of hot tea that I'd stuffed between the blankets, or to pull my hood up over my hat. So again I've proven, however cold the temperature, that shelter from wind is the most important consideration for keeping warm while painting outdoors. 

Settling myself in the sled with the painting caddy to one side, I tied my phone to the walking pole and set its camera to time-lapse, so I wouldn't have to bother taking progress shots. Fred came out to find me as the afternoon light began to fade, and took this photo. 

That evening I had moved my painting to the living room table, filling in the Cedars in the background, with reference to the photo I'd taken as I'd started. There is not much colour in that photo. I worked until bedtime and signed the painting... saying to Fred “I think this is all I can do, but I don’t like it”. 

I returned to the "finished" painting several times during the next couple of days, until I finally felt satisfied. This turns out to be one of those paintings that doesn’t really explain itself without a sufficient amount of detail. There have been a number of those recently, as I tend to choose middle-distance and close-up subjects - so hard to predict how long they’ll take!

Fred tells the history of our "Nutrient Depletion Glade":

“The brushy thin-soiled limestone barrens were rich hardwood forest before settlement, grazing, cultivation, and erosion. The first commodity taken from this land was likely mineral nutrients, potash, from the burning of forest trees. The soil now supports only a scant growth of short grasses, lichens, and sprawling Strawberries, and in patches is utterly bare. Clumps of Dogwood bushes and slow-growing Cedars reach down to ground water through cracks in the flat bedrock."
from https://ngtimes.ca/a-nutrient-gradient-grove-for-north-grenville/

Here is the little video I've made, using the time-lapse series taken from the beginning to the end of my painting on-site: https://youtu.be/DrE6Zsa3LJA 

 

My painting "Young Cedar in Snow" may be purchased for $350. If you are interested in owning it, or have any questions about my paintings or request for commissions, feel free to contact me by e-mail