Karstad Biodiversity Paintings: adventures in the colour of Canada

"Sydenham Sycamore"  oil on canvas 20 x 24 in. 20 September 2016 found me on the bank of the Sydenham River, 4.3 km southeast of Alvinston, Ontario, painting the joined double trunks of a huge Sycamore tree as Fred waded the shallows, searching for freshwater mussels.  This part of the Sydenham River flows through land that has recently been acquired for conservation by Ontario Nature, and we were there with staff and volunteers to survey the river for its general biodiversity and rare mussel species.   This spot was perfect for the first of two paintings that commissioned by Ontario Nature. I set up my easel as close to the edge of the clay bank as possible, fascinated by the big old leaning Sycamore, its roots undercut by the river, its leafy crown towering high above the other river-edge trees - and how the mottled bark of its younger trunk was as smooth as my arm, while the bark of its main trunk was dark and scaly. Down in the river there was much exc...

My new calendar is out! It has twelve of my favourite river and lake paintings. Some are recent, and some my friends and followers have never seen. I've heard the comment more than once, "This is your best calendar yet, we love it!" Actually, I think so too, because water, especially moving water, is my favourite subject to paint. You can see more information and preview the calendar pages by clicking on the image of the calendar in the upper right hand column of the blog, or simply order yours by hitting the blue button under the thumbnail image of the calendar to your right. You can see it listed with our recent books at The Library of One Thing And Another .

"Turkeys Crossing" by Aleta Karstad     oil on birch 4 x 4 in.  $112             26 December 2016 finds me parked on the bridge in Bishops Mills, sitting in the passenger seat to paint the creek as it comes down past the place where the dam and mill were built in the 1840's. A snow-covered fallen tree in the middle-distance makes me think of a dinosaur, and then two pairs of Wild Turkeys (real, modern, feathered dinosaurs!) come down to the open water, drink briefly, and then each spreads its broad, blunt wings to fly into the trees on the other side. I'm happily painting away, enjoying my annual birthday tradition en plein air -

"La Grande Chute" by Aleta Karstad oil on canv. 14x18 in  $1300 22 July 2016 found me on the east side of the Dumoine River, just below the Chemin Dumoine  bridge.  The Dumoine is The last undammed wild river in southern Quebec, and its drainage basin is the largest area of unfragmented southern boreal forest in Quebec. We were here as part of the Canadian Parks & Wilderness Society's surveys of the biodiversity of the Dumoine drainage. 

I bought a "Moleskine" blank-paged journal book just before leaving for our family reunion in Alberta and British Columbia, having decided to travel light and not take my oil paints, but work in ink and watercolour instead. It has been so long since I wrote one of my looseleaf journal pages that I thought I'd try something new... I mean old - returning to working in sewn-bound hard cover volumes, because the Moleskine is so charming, and of archival quality.

Oil on linen (6 x 6 in.)     $275       5 March 2016 finds me painting with Phil Chadwick on still-frozen Long Lake, near Outlet, south east of Lyndhurst, Ontario. We are facing the south west end of the lake, and facing the breeze as well, which chills our faces and fingers even though the temperature isn't much below freezing. Occasionally the sun gleams through the clouds, making golden sparkles on the distant edges of ice where the shallow end of the lake has begun to melt. Phil stands at his easel while I sit beside him on my painting caddy, holding my canvas, palette balanced on my knees.

oil on canvas 6 x 6 in.   $275 18 February 2016 found me finally out to paint en plein air in the snow! It was sunny and -7C after fresh snow. I went out on snowshoes from our back door, balancing tippily in the old deep path through the back yard, and then breaking 10 cm with each step into new snow, 'till I'd passed our "young" Sugar Maple and into an open spot where the dry flowerheads of Yarrow poked above the snow. The tracks of a small bird patterned the snow among the stiff brown stems, stopping at those it could reach and scattering a few chaffy flower bits. The sun was still above the cedars when I spread my extra jacket on top of the snowshoes