Alpine Falls- Rocky Mountain National Park

I had been to Rocky Mountain National Park numerous times over the years. Living in Florida I can appreciate the beauty of it’s mountainous landscapes. The day we set aside for the park was peak summer season and many of the parking lots were full, leading us to look for new spots to explore that were not so popular.

Exploring Alluvial Fan

It was near the end of the day and we’d seen friends at another spot and they mentioned the Alluvial Fan area. We had never gone and decided to try it. Our kids were the age where they loved climbing around on the large boulders. My husband and I were snapping photos enjoying the scenery, and telling the kids to stay close, be careful. Our wonder and awe quickly turned to terror and concern as my husband saw my son slide out of view and yell.

The Rockies are not Disney world, there are no guardrails, cell signal is spotty, access remote and missteps can have dire consequences. We both rushed to get to our son afraid of what we’d find. The water was cold and fast. Thankful our fear was short lived and we found our son, drenched, but unharmed. He had slid into a shallow wet rock bowl and couldn’t climb out himself, but was unharmed.

And that was the end of our sight seeing in the mountains. That summer we had spent 2 weeks exploring various national parks, climbing, hiking without incident. We were glad this happened at the end of our trip and not the beginning. Now we look back and chuckle about it, and yet we are reminded how we need a proper respect for the wildness of nature.

This is the second time (or should I say third that I painted the area.) I painted a panoramic triptych a few years back that found its forever home in a remote place in Montana. I was going through photos of our trip, wanting to paint some more mountain scenes and ran across the ones of the Alluvial Fan. I painted a vertical landscape of the spot in May. I was happy with how the painting turned out, but every time I looked at it I was imagining a horizontal panoramic piece. So I decided to add a second panel.

First painting of the area done in 2019.

Painting I finished in May.

I usually work using primarily one photograph for a painting, with possible other images to help get the details right. I don’t aim for photo realism , but find the longer I look at a photo, the more I see; colors and textures to paint. So for the second panel I didn’t have a photo of what was adjacent. I had some of the area in general, but there was a little more freedom to decide where rocks will go, colors in the water, how the sky would look. Usually that slows me down, but this time it seemed to work and I enjoyed placing things that were believable and yet with an eye on how the composition came together. With any multi panel piece I strive for both the painting over all and each panel to work.

Two panels together and complete. (Each piece is 30×40 inches)

Now the piece feels more complete to me, and I’m glad I made the change. This piece is available check it out here!

Find a Happy Place

As a child, at times I would get overly nervous, anxious. I was told to picture something peaceful, calming, a safe place. For some reason then I would picture the dog “Benji” (who was in a series of movies in the 70s-80s) lapping up water from a fountain.

In the movie “Finding Nemo” the starfish chants to itself to find a happy place when Darla the young girl is pounding on the glass.

When we took childbirth classes, it was much more than how to breathe, but they also talked about visualizing a place of calm and peace. (By that time Benji the dog had been replaced by picturing a few places I’d sketched and painted. )

Have you experienced watching a sunset, or taking in a grand scene before you and feeling your body relax, your thoughts slow and a sense of peace start to creep into your harried hurried life?

I have, and I seek to capture those moments with my paintings.

I seek to capture them because I believe beauty and how we respond to it points us to a deeper truth. That we long for perfection and beauty and getting glimpses of it provides hope that we will be able to eventually see more. We long for paradise.

The latest painting was inspired by a moment I experienced when my family had taken a vacation in Pigeon Forge over Thanksgiving. I had wanted to get away with a change of scenery and was hoping to see a little of the fall colors. It had been a long challenging year and I felt weary, spent. I love to explore and love the mountains. And so we went. There were some bright moments to our time when everyone was smiling and enjoying themselves. But some of the cracks and weary ness were still showing up. A child whose comfort zone was complaining instead of gratefulness. Crowds of others similarly seeking some peace in the mountains, making for slow traffic through twisting roads. Arriving past peak season when many trees were bare.

So rather than feeling refreshed, I found myself still seeking escape and my temper growing hotter and shorter.

It was a rainy day, we’d hiked the day before, so we slept in and figured we’d go into some shops. We stumbled onto the Old Mill District in the late afternoon. It was charming. I loved the unique shops and handmade items. I found some pottery to take home as a souvenir. We stepped outside, the rain had stopped, and sunset was nearing. The sky was an amazing mix as the clouds were an otherworldly color with corals and pinks contrasting to the blue of twilight. Lights were on the trees, and some of them still had some leaves left. This restaurant looked so quaint and inviting, something out of a fairytale with its multicolored bushes. The flagstone walkway was wet and reflecting the light of the sky. I quickly snapped a few pictures knowing that I’d want to paint it later.

Looking at the painting now brings back those memories and that feeling of peace. A place of respite from the troubles of the day.

Old Mill Pottery House Cafe and Grill
30×40″ Acrylic on Gallery Wrapped Canvas
Reproductions and original art available here.

Socializing Series

Winter Garden Florida has a small cute downtown area and has the West Orange Trail running through it that attracts many bicyclists. One hot summer day we packed our bicycles into the van, masks, water, sunscreen, and headed over to explore. To allow for more distancing, street parking had been limited on the main street of the town and instead, tables and umbrellas in roped off spaces had been added. (If you follow me you know how I love sidewalk cafe type scenes.) So I loved capturing some photos of the area. We went into a few shops, got some ice cream, and rode our bikes a short distance on the trail, wearing masks where needed and being respectful of others’ space.

It wasn’t ideal, there was some grumbling by the teens, but it was good to be outside and doing something together. Afterward, I went through my photos and picked out some to paint. Around that time an artist I follow and love released her new series. Included among the gorgeous florals were a few outdoor cafe scenes. Extra inspiration. While I almost always work from photographs, I wanted these to be a little looser in their details. So I took my photos into photoshop and tried some different filters on them. I liked how it simplified the photos and helped me to simplify the paintings.

This series is a reminder of how much we need to interact with other people in a time where it’s way too easy to feel isolated. In this case the vibrant colors chosen were also a reminder of what good mental health looks like, and how so much of that is tied to having meaningful connections to others.

Each piece is 20×20 inches on a gallery wrapped canvas. Originals and reproductions available for sale.

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Sunny Sunflowers

Sunflowers

Last spring a collector fell in love with and bought a triptych I’d made of a sunflower field. I saw the farm, Sledd’s u-pick in Mims Florida, was open again, sunflowers back in bloom. It was our first full family outing in weeks. The field was large and we stayed away from others. It was good to be outside, and being surrounded by these bright yellow flowers put a smile on all our faces. It wasn’t a trip to Disney, but being surrounded by beauty lifted our spirits, helped us joke around and have fun. Daughter taking polaroids. Posing with the flowers, myself taking lots of photos for future inspiration.We found a pair of sunglasses someone lost or left and wrapped them around a flower. Afterward I started a series of sunflower paintings. Lots of small ones, and a few bigger. Cheerful, happy, hopeful, an expression of faith that we’d survive in the midst of distancing and uncertainty. Seeing beauty in the natural world, in acts of kindness, in answered prayer, gives me hope. And I like reflecting that hope in my paintings.

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As always paintings are for sale.

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Finding Fellowship

As an artist, I am always looking for inspiration, new places, and scenes I want to paint. Over the past few years, I’ve done several outdoor cafe scenes. It started with empty tables, filled with interesting shapes and colors inviting diners to come and partake. Over time I started adding people into the scenes, moments in time of fellowship captured.

I’m drawn to these scenes as they really invite one to slow down, unwind, take time to enjoy a meal, friends, and the world around us at an unhurried pace.

I’ve been looking back and feel an irony coming out in these scenes. (A personal irony, that most times I was too busy rushing around photographing scenes for future use that I didn’t take the time to slow down at the moment and enjoy them first hand.) And a cultural irony, we were all so busy with our lives that often rest, refueling was put off. (The tables remained empty, as people were too busy to stop) And then 2020 hit. Plans canceled, events delayed, life forcing us to slow down, and yet now we find we have the time to take in a meal another obstacle prevents us from gathering.

So I find myself questioning how can we be intentional with connecting meaningfully with others regardless of circumstances?

Thoughts?

To see full images click and scroll through.

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Various Cafe scenes. Go to Heather-Nagy.pixels.com to see originals available as well as reproductions

The in-between

Routines, different for different people, love them or hate them. Weekly you will find me making a trip to the grocery store, doing laundry, taking time to exercise, making dinner, going to church, and many other things. There is also a routine for my work of being an artist.  Researching what I want to paint, gathering supplies, prepping, painting, painting, painting, evaluating, touch-ups, photographing, posting, varnish, marketing, and then repeat. 

I saw that I hadn’t posted since April. Back when we were just a few weeks into having our lives turned upside down from Covid-19. Back when we assumed that things would go back to normal in just a few weeks. Almost 5 months later and I feel weary and wonder when or if it will end. I read an article sometime in the past few months (time has blurred together in some ways) that spoke of what we have been experiencing is much like culture shock. Normal things in our routine like going to the grocery store are different, requiring more planning, and more brainpower. There are new rules and norms, some placed by authorities and others by social peer pressure. Meeting with friends, going out to different locations to explore, or shop have changed, stopped, or decreased. I miss some of the old routines and long for some of the disruptions to a routine like visiting family or a day trip.

The effects feel cumulative.

It feels harder to stay positive and grateful.

The losses adding up.

Cracks in our society widening, becoming more apparent, wreaking havoc.

I’m waiting. Waiting to visit my family. Waiting for things to open. Waiting for but God moments, where He shows up and redeems the time, the lacks.

I’ve continued to paint. Continue to create landscapes of the vibrancy of hopefulness. 

I made fall plans and watched them fall apart.

So I move forward in ways I can and wait for the green light in other areas.

Palm tree series

There are certain times of year I find myself nostalgic about where I grew up (Michigan) wishing I was there. While people are celebrating fall, leaves turning, bundling into sweaters because of cooler temps, and everything associated with the season, our air conditioner continues to run. My sweaters are still packed away. There are no apple orchards. No fall colors. I’ve lived in Florida for twenty years, and while I’m grateful for very mild winters I miss the changing of seasons.

Part of my journey as an artist in the last few years is embracing where I find myself. (And while I love the fresh inspiration from traveling, the majority of the time I am here in Florida.) This is home, and I need to be able to find inspiration right here. Life doesn’t always offer grand mountaintop vistas. So I’ve sought to intentionally look for beauty in my day to day world.

While I’d love to be taking in the fall colors of the Northeast, I’m here in the sunshine state. So I decided to paint some palm trees. They have naturally been part of landscapes and cityscapes I’ve painted in the past, but haven’t necessarily been the focal point. I started by painting some small 6×6 canvases I had available. I remember one night looking out our hotel window in St. Augustine, tall palms were backlit by these amazing clouds as sunset neared. So I focused on the clouds and the shape of the trees. It was an enjoyable exercise, and the small format let me stay loose and take risks.

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I was considering what to paint next and decided to branch out just a bit and focus more closely on the details- shapes, and colors of palm trees. A botanical study rather than a landscape.

The first stop I spent a little time looking at how others had captured palm trees in paintings. I created a Pinterest board of inspiration. Surrounding yourself with beauty both natural and man-made helps to inspire me. After looking a bit I thought I had something to contribute.

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The next step was getting some images to paint from. Now I can search through images I already have and find plenty of palm trees, but many were backlit or far away. The first thought was I’d go to a local botanical garden the next day. But then I decided let’s look around the neighborhood. So I hopped on my bike and rode around a bit. I was surprised at how many different types of palm trees and bushes they were just in my small neighborhood. I decided to start with three paintings each would focus on a different type of palm. I drew a few quick sketches thinking about the cropping of the subject matter and was ready to start. I love the interaction of positive and negative space you get with the spiky palm fronds. I wanted to capture shape and line and shadow and highlights. This was an opportunity to almost go into abstract territory because of the close focus on the subject. As always with my subject, I was exploring the use of color. Of course, there is a lot of green, but as I played with saturation and spent time studying the photos the range of greens grew from teals to light yellow-green and blues, and oranges also found a place. Trees I’ve walked past thousands of times, now suddenly holding potential.

As I was looking at these new pieces, close up views it reminded me of the importance of perspective in life. At times we need to ‘back up’ and look at the big picture, and not get to bogged down in the circumstance of the day that looms large. But other times we do need to focus in, to get close, to slow down so we can see certain aspects of life and figure out what to do with them.

I enjoyed this shift enough that I made a larger work, a triptych of three palms. I again biked around looking at the different groupings of trees nearby. I actually found myself going back a few different times to capture different lighting before starting.

While I still would love to take in the fall colors it’s been a pleasant reminder that I’ve not exhausted finding beauty where I live.

October 17-18 I will be part of the Las Olas Art Festival in Ft Lauderdale, Florida. I will features the pieces there. To look at what is available you can always visit my website or send me a message.

Beautiful Journey

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Beautiful Journey, Acrylic on Canvas, 36×48 inches

Unprecedented, worldwide, social distancing, flattening the curve, shortages, stay at home, distance learning, non-essential businesses closing. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions and new information, new normal the last few months as the world has struggled with how to best deal with the covid-19 pandemic.

Living in Florida, it feels reminiscent of preparing for a hurricane coming, and yet the path of this storm is worldwide, but not clearly visible on radar. We know about germs, and washing our hands, and yet we’ve become hyper aware of what we and countless others touch. The seriousness hit home as Disney and other theme parks announced they’d be closing not for a day or two but the foreseeable future.

Disaster movies, dystopian fiction have long been wildly popular, yet not something we want to personally experience. This pandemic causes us all to face how much of life is really out of our control. Microscopic germs have ushered in a whole new reality.

If I spend too much time watching the news I feel more anxiety. I purposely limit my intake amounts to be aware of any updates that affect me but not to marinate in what is out of my control. Hope rises in my chest as I hear reports of people helping one another, businesses looking for ways to assist.

My kids are at home, doing school online. My husband set up his work station in our dining room and has virtual meetings regularly. I normally work from home, so not a big change for me.

Since all this has happened a new activity has been a daily bike ride. My son has joined me many days, as his Physical Education class requires 30 minutes of exercise a day. Besides the much needed physical activity, these rides have been mentally restorative. I live on the edge of things, close enough to stores, yet there are still some country roads around us. I have loved the mental breathing space these rides give. As we ride along, the sun is shining, leaves gently move in the breeze, a snake slithers across the road and baby sandhill cranes walk alongside their parents. It’s quiet and peaceful. Nature reveals the glory and faithfulness of God, not the worries of man. 

I’ve been inspired to paint some of these scenes of nature I’ve encountered on my rides, and will continue. For me this painting reminds me to refocus not on all the unknowns, or all the things we cannot do but on the beauty that remains. I’ve read many stories of people that had gone through hardships and struggles and how it transformed their priorities and relationships. I hope that that is the case for myself and for the world when we emerge from this season.

Morning Meet-up

30×30
Acrylic on canvas

We arrived just a few minutes before 7am and parked. It was still dark, and a few other cars were also pulling into the parking lot. We walked up the trail, our footsteps growing slower as sand became deeper, shifting under our feet. We emerged through a tunnel of sea grape bushes onto the beach. The light was still dim, but growing slowly brighter. The waves crashed, fishermen set up their poles in the sand. And quietly the sky began to lighten more and more. Warm hues of yellows, oranges and pinks crept in. Still no sun. Its light proceeded it, signaling the beginning of a new day. Little sandpipers darted down the beach, their legs a blur, staying right at the edge of the water’s reach. The sky continued its light display, a subtle symphony, building to the crescendo as the sun finally appeared over the horizon. Light beaming through clouds that kissed the ocean. The shallow surf lapping up the beach, reflecting yellows, and the lightest blues, darkening the sand, smoothing, leaving foam and sea kelp behind.

Slow changes, peaceful, unhurried. Such a contrast to the last few days and weeks as we have seen a virus spread around the world, and leaders seeking solutions to stop the spread and best provide for their citizens. Another cancellation, more stories about toilet paper, extended spring break stay-cation. Washing hands, becoming more aware of how much I touch my face, and how many other hands touch things that I touch. Wondering both will the virus hit us, and others. Especially those more vulnerable. But also wondering about short term and long term financial implications. All this shouting every time I get on social media or look at the news.

Our lives, our normal is fragile, vulnerable. So easily disrupted. Widespread worldwide tremors felt. Emotions running high; fear, anger, frustration.

A reminder how out of control so much of life is. I can plan and work and yet a microscopic virus can derail months of planning.

How do you deal? What gives you hope?

For me? I find myself repeating, that God’s not surprised, this has not caught him unaware. He is still good and in control. He has the power wisdom and love to work all things for my good and His glory. I’d love to see successful events bringing art sales, yet I need for my hope to not be in my plans but in God, his power.

I call the painting Morning Meet-up, inspired by the birds who gathered peacefully, not ruffled by the latest doom and gloom news.

Detail of painting-close up of the birds.

Beach Scenes

While I love the mountains and the southwest I live in Florida with its wonderful beaches and amazing sunsets. The colors are vibrant and expressive but fleeting.

In preparation for an upcoming festival in Vero Beach on the coast, I did several small scenes. I discovered that South Beach in Miami has a number of vibrant quirky lifeguard stands. I incorporated several of them into small scenes done on wood panels.

The size of a canvas does have an impact on how I paint. I love my big statement pieces, however working small allows freedom, looseness, and immediacy that is refreshing. When at a festival I try to have a combination of statement pieces as well as smaller work that is more accessible to every budget.

Below are the two small collections that will be shown at the festival.

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South Beach Miami Lifeguard stands

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6×6 inch beach studies