Black licorice, black lava salt, lava rock, obsidian, and dark, unobstructed skies. Black and white swans, sheep, and horses. White snow, milky lagoons, creamy skyr (Icleandic yogurt) and...are you sensing a pattern here?

I just returned from a spectacular tour of Iceland, and black and white is everywhere there.

I grew up in a golfing family. After dinner, we’d all go out to a few holes before the sun went down. The sound of cleats on gravel brings memories of sunny days spent on the course, chasing a little white ball around. Recently I overheard someone say, Well, plein air painting is the new golf... and I couldn’t agree more.

When I told friends I was taking a 3 week painting trip to Greece, most frowned and tried to talk me out of it. The news from Europe in general and Greece in particular has been lousy, but we plein air painters are used to adversity and while we seldom welcome danger, if there is a good painting to be had we generally go into serious denial.

I just returned from an exceptional art trip to Japan, meeting with calligraphers, gold leaf and wood block artists, ceramicists and mask designers. The country is an artist’s dream.

I have painted so many bad paintings. I know I am not alone. Ned Jacobs once admitted in a lecture to a packed audience of admiring artists and collectors that he probably only saved ONE in FIFTY paintings or sketches. The crowd gasped in horror.

I was teaching in my studio recently and glanced at the bulletin board that I’ve loaded with sketches, ideas and quotes. I had written down the 5 stages of grief at some point and laughed (yes, laughed) at how the same list applies to the work of an artist.

There are no starving artists in Cuba. One reason for this is that each person receives food from the government each month: one quarter of a chicken, 5 eggs and 5 pounds each of rice, black beans and sugar. (Sugar is cheap in Cuba and heath care is free to the rising numbers of diabetics.) Artists there make more money than doctors, lawyers or university professors.

By now you've probably heard about my recent painting trip to Chioggia, Italy. Plein Air magazine has published a great story about the trip, with lots of photos, and if you can't get on a plane in the near future, this might be a way to make the trip without leaving town! Hope you enjoy it--Ciao!

After my recent trip to Italy, where orange was the predominant color, I was struck by the contrast here: I loved the blues and greens of this part of our country and noted that the quality of light was cooler over all. So, with a cheeky nod to Picasso, I guess you could call this my Blue Period.

I'll admit, the life of a painter can be tough. Get up, have some strong coffee, an Italian pastry and a fresh peach. Go out and find a beautiful spot to set up and paint all morning. Stop for a delicious lunch of freshly grilled Branzini and pasta stuffed with ricotta and eggplant. Go back to the hotel for a nap.

I just returned from a painting trip to California with my friend, artist Joan LaRue. Since I seem to be obsessed with water this year, the coast was the place to spend a week and paint something with a little more action than water lilies in the pond at St. Philips Church.

In sports and music, students and professionals alike use the word practice to describe what they do to prepare for a big game or concert. For example, an athlete will go to soccer practice and a pianist will practice the piano. Even physicians study medicine in school and then, as professionals, practice medicine. I think as artists, this is a good way of looking at our daily work, too.

After a glorious, wildflower filled April and May, the desert heat has finally roared in and sent plein air painters into early morning shade and air conditioned studios. This photo was taken in the courtyard of Tucson's beautiful St. Philips Church, where I met painters Judy (in background) and Chuck (taking photo) for a few quick studies.