We’re having such a lovely, wintery winter this year.
Getting an inch or two of snow most days over the past weeks has resulted in a healthy accumulation, smoothing the rough edges of our landscape and keeping things visually subdued, restful even.
Our home is nestled between the Worcester and Green mountain ranges. Once the sun rises high enough to clear the Worcester range behind us, it shines on the Greens to our west, making for a bright start to the day.
That means there are days when the sunrise or the sunset offer our only fleeting glimpse of color in a 24 hour period, made all the more vibrant by our muted surroundings.
The sky can be just as spectacular in the early evening
Never fear, there is always plenty of color in the studio. Lately I’ve been looking at specific palette combinations, aiming to grasp why it is they appeal to me at a gut level. I figure this is the best approach for leveraging what I then learn in order to create new palettes of my own.
Zorah on the Terrace, Henri Matisse, 1912. Years ago I began clipping an assortment of visual references, often color-centric, (deposits, if you will) to fill a visual bank of spiral sketchbooks that I return to time and again for inspiration.
Right now, M. Matisse leads the way.
One might think just looking is enough, but I’m learning so much more by isolating and then trying to recreate the colors of favorite paintings and from collected resource photos, using the paints and drawing tools I have on hand.
A hasty copy of Matisse’s Zorah on the Terrace using colored pencils and Neocolor II’s helps me to understand some of the nuances of his color choices.
Making color swatches solidifies my grasp of how this particular palette can be translated with my own mixes.
Playing around with mixtures or layering colors over each other to arrive at just the right hue helps me to more intimately know the colors I already own, while – bonus! – being a restful and meditative exercise unto itself.
It’s been very helpful to keep a devoted sketchbook for saving palette mixes as I go along. Not only can I reference what I learn from master painters, but it’s an easy way to retain the various mixes I discover from my own work, including color notations about specific locales (as shown in this post). This has been a game changer for narrowing down what colors to pack before a trip.
Spirit of SPA ©2025, Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitching on paper, 7-1/8″ x 7″. The palette of this latest piece was meant to reflect a mid-August afternoon, which was when I took the reference photo and had a delightful visit with my model. It’s all interwoven, isn’t it? Light affects color affects time affects light.
Working on this portrait last week, I was conscious of separating the colors so they could be seen as individual strokes and marks which come together in a palette that speaks to the specifics of the time I spent with my sitter. I still have plenty to learn in order to push this idea – but at least this offers a glimpse of what I’m aiming for.
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Find of the week:
Patty Hudak’s Mokuhanga prints…stunning!