I met Leslie on my birthday, in July of 2020. I became aware of her paintings and her plein air project just before her show at Julius Caesar. I loved the idea of the project, which seemed like a perfect way to have a socially distanced outdoor experience, and I loved her paintings, which had a very unique vocabulary of shape and color as she dealt with botanical subjects. She graciously allowed me to pick a few paintings before the install, and we figured out a day to arrange a delivery of my new little collection. As we talked, it occurred to me that I was living in a perfect setting for a plein air-painting excursion. My home outside of Chicago had a field of native wildflowers, and the purple coneflowers were putting on quite a show.
Leslie showed up with her portable painting tables and pallets of Japanese watercolors and we spent the afternoon painting with my sister Natalie. Leslie made a number of beautiful paintings, while I muddled through various attempts to put something on paper that wasn’t immediately offensive. She was a gracious teacher and encouraging painting partner. It’s nice to spend time working alongside somebody that has a very developed practice. The paintings weren’t overly precious, and she worked with an ease and confidence that made it fun. She had a nice repertoire of encouraging comments to keep you moving: “It’s just paper.” Or “You can start another painting if you don’t like that one.” Leslie’s paintings were abstract but rooted in the situation. She pulled elements like the color of the coneflowers, or the shape of a bush, or the bending of a trunk, and synthesized them into imaginary landscapes that were fantastic, but familiar. I don’t think she could have made the same painting sitting anywhere else, they seemed very specific to the time and place. I didn’t end up with any paintings that I liked, and I don’t think I’ve touched my watercolors since, but it did give me a refreshed appreciation for my immediate environment, the beauty of the flowers and the grasses, and the power of concentrated observation to transform your connection to a place.
I’ve spent the past few months of this elongated isolation dealing with a number of white oak trees that have died. I hired a guy to come out with a portable sawmill and we spent a few days sawing up boards and slabs and beams. I’ve been learning to work with the wood and have been making some initial attempts at sculpture and direct carving. I like to think that my day painting in the field was a little bit of encouragement to make something beautiful out of our immediate surroundings.