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Wise Lake in the Studio

  Not all of the critters in the Congaree are as large and frankly intimidating as the wild pigs. If you take the walk to Wise Lake, my favorite spot in the park, you can sit on one of the cypress bordering the lake. And if you’re very still, you might see one of...

A Cathedral of Trees

Sims Trail, in Congaree National Park is beautiful any time of year, but in winter it’s a spare linear cathedral of tall loblolly pines, tupelos, and…

The Connection of Memory and Place

In my last post I talked about how a part of our visual and geographic sense of place and home comes from deep childhood connections, especially ones tied to play.

As I said, I didn’t connect my love Congaree National Park until I’d drawn and painted it for years, until I was actually the Artist-In-Residence back in 2014.

Minervaville, Winter Afternoon

Day 83 12 Squared: 144 Daily Paintings. With the sun way to the south, the shadows are long in winter even in early afternoon. Lighter cobalt blues and mauves feel cold, just like the air outside.

Minervaville, Winter

Minervaville – this time a winter afternoon – is one of my favorite places to paint. I pass through the area every day on that little rural road…

Fall Fields and Sky

"Summer passes into autumn in some unimaginable point of time, like the turning of a leaf." ~ Henry David Thoreau Fall is a golden time, one of warm days and cool nights filled with the scent of warm pine needles, the spice of fallen leaves, and faint wood smoke. In...

Fall Light, Wavering Place

Fall has reached the South with that beautiful golden light that saturates the landscape.

This past week I painted at Wavering Place in Lower Richland…

Winter Evening

It’s a chilly, cold winter evening here in the Deep South!

Just a few days ago it was warm and sunny, around 70 degrees, but today it’s (finally) raining…

Palmettos and Power Lines

Palmetto trees still line the roads of most of the beach communities in South Carolina.

When I was growing up, the second row only had a few houses.

Beach Road with Lines

Just as the sound of wind in the pines defines home in Columbia for me, the clicking of palmetto fronds in the ocean breeze defines home on Edisto Island.

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