Design & Execution

I've tracked over 14 years my visual obsession with radially-oriented life forms. So when I sought new painting subjects, the cactus astrophytum, which resembles a green, bedazzled, peeled-but-still-contiguous orange, of course caught my eye. It looks as though an overdressed canteloupe attempted to transform into a star, but quit halfway. When it grows a flower, it appears to be wearing a fancy hat. Down the side of each of its orange slices is a neat row of buttons, which if unbuttoned, would draw back the curtain into another universe. I drew on three different photos for this acrylic wash, which you should have guessed. The astrophytum is charismatic enough that it does not want to sit in close proximity to others of its kind outside of my paintings.

There are really two reasons as to why the rainbow eucalyptus could look the way it does: The bark simply can't decide what color to be. The fruit of the tree is Skittles, which inevitably melt in the sun and rain. Whichever it is, I felt like attempting to pay homage to Jacob Magraw-Mickelson .  Media: acrylic wash on watercolor paper

A little over a year ago, two friends of mine purchased a house encircled by sumptuous Japanese landscaping. Cloud-pruned evergreens and spiritually-positioned rocks abounded. So when my friends decided they wanted a paved courtyard and a privacy fence in one portion of the yard, an exquisite specimen of a Japanese maple had to move. We're talking a lacy, 9-foot-wide cascading affair with, as it turned out, a surprisingly robust root system. I was recruited to assist with the transplant on the understanding that I would receive the tree after it had been removed. The reader is spared the expense of watching the moved tree through winter, March, and (painfully) April with no sign of leafing. I eventually admitted failure, though the maple retained an air of majesty with its tangled grey arms, refusing as they did to issue buds. By late April, I had despaired of running outside after work to stare at the branches and will them to bud, so I decided to represent them in paintings inste...

 A sketch of Victoria Street, an adorably elbow-shaped thoroughfare in Edinburgh. I enjoy when streets make me feel like I'm indoors. I feel like this one could swallow me permanently. There's always a bit of falsehood in sketching architecture in a locale one hasn't actually visited, so I'll have to remedy that someday and walk it.

Scientific name:  Clavicorona pyxidata , or the Coral Fungus, known for its boxy shape and crown-tipped branches. Drawn digitally in Photoshop with a Wacom Intuos tablet.

While sheltering at home, I've become fascinated with shade gardening. This lovely has not graced my backyard as yet, but there's time. Technically they're called "oyster mushrooms," and I don't think I need to explain why. Creature combo! Sketched in Photoshop with my Wacom and Kyle's Fountainia Soft brush.

One afternoon, Tucker and I were drinking percolator coffee and avoiding errands, when he suggested that we take a look at  his collection of photos from his academically-guided trip to Israel and other areas near the Red Sea. What followed was a Spielberg-like  tour through Petra  (a.k.a.  the end of  Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade ) in Jordan , and a kibbutz* in Israel on Tucker’s monitor. Amid the comedy, danger, and sand, this shot of the city of Jerusalem struck me.  It shows the eastern, or Arab side of Jerusalem, an area of relatively new development.   The buildings and their glinting windows and green mosque lights coat the side of the hill like bright scales. Urban landscapes appeal to me, especially ones where space seems so precious that every inch could be the subject of a possible dispute. This interest may be tied to my upbringing in Alaska, where the land is so plentiful, people get tired just looking at it, let alone deciding what...