Painting The Colors Of Spring 2015.

Spring finally seems to have settled in just as the Barnes Arboretum opened its gates for the season, this past weekend.

When I'd taken the Barnes classes many years ago, Violette de Mazia used the word "effulgent" to describe eleven Van Gogh paintings she'd lined up to make a point about lush and luminous color. I was immediately drawn to these trees for those very sames reasons, on Saturday. (watercolor)

In the afternoon I painted this back-lit beauty, intertwined in an arbor that leads into the formal gardens.
I plan to have accumulated enough paintings done at the Barnes Arboretum in the next few months to have an exhibition at a nearby gallery, in the fall. I'll let you know where and when. (watercolor)

This watercolor is actually the first done this spring, of crocus making their presence known along the path and stream in nearby Merion Park.

And here is the first tree to show color in the park.

I've been wanting to paint this old guy, who continues to arch precariously over the stream, for so many years. I finally did this watercolor of him last week, at mid-day. The light was wonderful.

My daily walk takes me along the stream. I love how the root systems of of trees demand their bit of space in the old stone retaining walls. It all makes for wonderful shapes to paint.  For starters, it really is all about the shapes. One of my instructors told me years ago, "Ternay, if you get the "SHAPES" right, then you'll get the "THINGS" right.  Words of wisdom I pass on to my students, daily.

Now that warmer weather has finally arrived, I'll once again linger after my Thursday morning class in South Jersey, to paint. So many  subjects; too little time.






    

The Art Of Living A Very Full Life.

When he was just a mere lad, my father, "Buddy" Ternay, was told by his 7th grade teacher that he
would not be going into the 8th grade unless he completed a report about the country of China.

 Having been raised by a tough and very independent Irish mother who didn't take crap from anybody, my father told the teacher, " I am going to be a farmer and I can't see how knowing anything about China will make me a better farmer." Pop walked out of the Olivet School on that day and never looked back. It was the end of his formal education.



My father was a very dapper young man.
He got his nickname because his good
looks reminded many of the then popular
movie star, Charles "Buddy" Rogers.

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My dad met my  mom, Helen Mason,
at a "Speakeasy" in Vineland, New Jersey. They soon eloped to Elkton, Maryland, to get married. It seems running off to Elkton in the heat of passion was what young couples did, kinda' like another fad of the times, marathon dancing.
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Their passion soon spawned three sons; William T. Jr., (with the gun) Frank, and Robert.

Bud and Helen were married for sixty-four years.

In addition to being farmers, they put in long hours in their country store.For over 31 years it was the social hub of the local farming community. The store also got raided every month or so because of the poker games played in the back room, late into the night.

My dad was famous for his "Subs," and at Thanksgiving, for his delicious Pumpkin pies.

When he finally retired, he had the dilapidated store moved to the field behind his house, nestled
into the hedgerow.  It was his visual "touchstone" to an enjoyable part of his past.

At 2: 34 p.m. on the 16th of May 2014, our father died, very peacefully, in his house and on the land he had
farmed and loved for over sixty years. A week before he passed he said "If you own farmland, you've got to grow something on it."  This is the last drawing I did of my father.

Although he was very much an Agnostic, I like to think that Pop's spirit will forever be linked to the fields he cultivated, plowed, nourished, and harvested, on his little piece of South Jersey.
He will be missed by many.