I learned my color palette from a lineage of artists that traces its roots to Claude Monet. 

It was a thrill to see his actual palette on display at the Musee Monet Marmottan in Paris. (I found out photos were not permitted AFTER I took this one. Luckily my camera was not confiscated, and none of the museum attendants caught me photographing ALL the paintings downstairs.)

I could see the familiar hues of yellow, red and blue --  though their names have changed over time. But what thrilled me was the mixtures they created.  And what surprised me was the paint mixtures on the ages old palette seemed so untouched, uncleaned, and yet so fresh!

When I finish painting at the end of a day, I scrape my palette and save the pure colors and then I scrape up all the bits of color with a palette knife into new mixtures and save them for another day. Though I don't have anything particular in mind for them, I am always amazed at how the same limited number of colors I use can make so many different shades.

In today's batch alone, I came up with 7 different greens! When artists use the same consistent color paints, the finished painting has a color harmony. 

So when people say to me, "I love your color!" it's because it all comes from the same colors.

I wonder if Monet kept his palette scrapings?

Northern California weather has been extraordinarily mild and dry this winter. I know this is not a good thing for our snowpack water supply, but it has given me the opportunity to get outside and paint.

I joined a "Meet-Up" group of plein air painters on the last Sunday of January in Sonoma County and had a great experience. The group loosely convened about 1 p.m.and wandered off in many directions. We gathered back together late in the afternoon and showed each other what we had accomplished.

Here's a  photo of my finished painting "Marsh and Mountain" on the easel.  You can see my pencil sketch up in the corner. 

It's now ten days later, the paint is dry, the painting is framed and ready to be shown to prospective collectors at an event this weekend.

After a busy holiday season, it feels great to be back in front of my easel. I am now working on a large commission painting of golfers in the landscape. The first step is a pencil sketch, followed by a small color study for approval by the client. The image you see here is only 6" x 8" - just big enough to capture the mood and color notes. The final painting will be 30" x 40"!

I will never forget the feeling I had making this painting - my eyes, my hand and my brain were completely connected. It was the very first time I completed a painting in COLOR!

It was just a few years ago, and I am ever grateful for the lessons I learned. On this day when we offer thanks for the bounty and blessings in our lives, I want to add thanks to the people who enrich my life - by teaching, by encouraging, by appreciating and by supporting my endeavors in art.

I just discovered a new type of frame - called a floater frame. Instead of mounting a painting through the back of the frame, which hides the painting edges, you "float" the painting on a solid board and the edges show.

This is very effective with small paintings, and gives them a lot of presence on a wall.

I was able to secure this frame at a great price, so I am happy to pass along those savings. 

"Tennessee Valley" is a oil painting that measures just 6 x 6 inches, and is on sale for only $150 at Moss & Moss, in Mill Valley, California.

I came to touch the time-worn railings and floor, to smell the turpentine, to flick the brushes  and stare at the jars of pigments -- to walk and shop in the same art supply store as Cezanne and Picasso. This is Sennelier, housed on the Left Bank of the River Seine in Paris, directly across from the Louvre museum. 

My recent trip to France provided lots of visual inspiration - the flowers at Giverny, the countryside of Normandy, the seaside towns of Deauville, Trouville, Honfleur and Entretat. Everywhere I went, the beloved Impressionist artists had been before.

But visiting Sennelier, a family-owned business since 1887 - that was retail heaven!

MOSS & MOSS is a great "antiques & etcetera" shop in my hometown of Mill Valley, California, owned by a delightful couple with great talents. Larry plays the grand piano and Marjorie creates beautiful vignettes to display the merchandise. One Friday a month they have a jazz and wine reception, and it's a popular place to stop by on the way to dinner in any one of the great restaurants in town. I am very delighted that they have chosen to carry my paintings and prints. It's a treat for me to see how they are displayed, and very exciting to get the phone call saying, "Linda, we sold another one!" Visit MOSS & MOSS at 1 El Paseo, just off Sunnyside Avenue.

We spend a lot of time in the heart of our homes, gathering with family and friends and creating good food and memories. Kitchens are a natural place for art - and not just the masterpieces taped to the refrigerator! Still life paintings of fruit and vegetables are natural subjects for art in the kitchen, but have you ever considered a landscape? 
This beautiful gourmet kitchen in Washington state is the new home for my recent oil study of Mt. Tamalpais. The owner chose a warm cherry frame to complement the cabinetry, and the cool gray-blue color palette of the painting picks up tones in the slate backsplash and the skies of the Pacific Northwest.

When I spied these geraniums on my friend's back deck, I knew I had to paint them. It's a good size painting - 22" x 28" - that is dry and ready for a new home, so tonight I sent out an e-mail to my list announcing my first "Painting of the Month." 
Another idea I'm giving a try: a store on my Facebook page for smaller, unframed paintings.

As many of you know, my professional career has been in marketing communications. Now, I am working hard to divide my time between consulting for clients and painting. And on some days, like today, I am my own client!

Going back to the same spot to paint in different weather or different times of the day is a great exercise in painting what I see -- not what I know, or what I think I see. 

One dry afternoon, Mt. Tam looked clear and the grasses along the creek were hot orange. The result is a very warm painting.

On another day, the air had quite a bit of moisture and the mountain had a vague mist around it. The grasses were more uniformly green, and the water seemed more blue. It was a warm day, but the painting is cool.

I've been doing these smaller paintings outdoors ("en plein air" as termed by the Impressionists) as studies for a larger one. 

The same paint colors were on my palette each time, but the results are so different, I am tempted to go back to the scene again this week with fresh eyes and see what happens! What do you think?