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Overcoming Obstacles: the artistic journey in the garden

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Peter Crow, Rock Hall Summer, watercolor, graphite, 24″ x 19″ 9.7.25

In late spring, I emptied a bag of wildflower seeds into a mound of dirt I’d dug at the southeast corner of my house in rural Maryland. I raked the seeds into the soil, and it rained and rained. Green shoots began to come up, which eventually became zinnias, cosmos, marigolds, and even a lone poppy. The garden became a hive of activity. It attracted bumblebees, butterflies, humming birds, and goldfinches.

Though things were happening in the studio, the work was slow, and often tedious. I remembered the time I’d spent painting in my mother’s garden, and those experiences were now brought back to me with my own garden. Like many of my most important experiences, there was something serendipitous about this one, too. Though the garden had been planned, sort of, its blossoming into something vibrant, colorful, and alive hadn’t been.

There was another factor, my resistance. Art often needs a foil, and that was mine. If I gathered my materials and painted in the garden I’d be going against some unwritten, self-imposed rule.

Amazingly, my materials, watercolor tubes, brushes, watercolor blocks, enamel pans for palettes, an old aluminum easel, rag paper for stretching, boards to stretch the paper on, all the things I needed were in my studio. There was a straw hat and a long-sleeved shirt that I used to keep the sun off. Everything I needed to begin painting was waiting, as if for some unforeseen moment.

What are these about? They’re about what goes on in the artist’s head. They’re about thoughts and desires. They’re about taking a break from the studio. They’re about shortening the time between the thought and the action. It’s about being immersed in nature. They’re about desires and commitments. Maybe, they’re also about defiance, an artist insisting on freedom of expression even if it’s just found in painting a garden.

Peter Crow, Summer #2, gouache, cut and pasted paper, 31″ x 21.5″, 9.18.25
Peter Crow, Rock Hall Summer #3, watercolor, graphite, 24″ x 24″ 9.13.25

Below: Peter Crow, Rock Hall Summer #4, watercolor, graphite, 31′ x 21″, 9.22.25

Peter Crow, Rock Hall #5, watercolor, graphite, 36″ x 24′, 10.7.25

3 responses to “Overcoming Obstacles: the artistic journey in the garden”

  1. jasonpaulmurray Avatar
    jasonpaulmurray

    I like the shadow you’ve created in these compositions, Peter. For me, it adds a haunting presence as a result.

    Reply
    1. petercrowg Avatar
      petercrowg

      Jason,

      Thanks for your comment. The shadows were just another form in the thing I was looking at, they didn’t have any connotation beyond that. I was interested in how the shadows have all this variety of angular shapes that stretch out behind the verticality of the flowers. And the problem of how to paint them while keeping them behind everything that was in front. But that’s the thing about art, your interpretation and what you see is the important thing.

      Reply
  2. Jeffrey Kurland Avatar
    Jeffrey Kurland

    Peter

    It’s good to have an alternative art to refresh your creative energy. We are not often aware of our unwritten, self-imposed rules. I often have to give myself permission to step outside my art– my recognized aesthetic– to get to the real nitty-gritty.

    I was showing artwork in my studio, to old friends who were selecting paintings for the upcoming Sunset Park Open Studios weekend. I will be showing two older paintings (2020) in their gallery, Tabla Rasa, blocks from my old studio. One recent painting, a good one, was rejected because it didn’t look enough like other artwork I had. The thought stuck with me and I realized there was more to it–another half I hadn’t stretched (because I didn’t have a stretcher for it). So I took the painting off its stretcher and stretched the other half to photograph, which was then stitched together in Photoshop with the original, to make the full diptych. It looks right now, although I still need a second stretcher, if I ever want to show it.

    By some miracle, a painting from 2018 recently sold through 1st Dibs online. It went to Houston, which is all I know. It didn’t cover rent but bought a few supplies. I had taken it off the stretcher only a month before, to reuse the stretcher for a new painting. Luckily it was rolled up in my studio, and I knew where. So when I got word it had sold, I had to scramble to put the original painting back on the old stretcher to send out. Now the new painting is rolled up under my worktable. Stretchers are too damn expensive. Artists & Craftsmen art store opened across the street from my studio. Stretcher bars for a 55×60” painting would cost me over $100. Not exactly sustainable going forward.

    When I don’t have a canvas painting in progress, I turn to paper paintings. Alternatively, I have many rolls of paint on plastic sheeting, which I have been transferring to silkscreen mesh, to collage onto canvas. What is surprising is how many rolls I painted long ago (St. Felix street) then never used. It’s also surprising that I have forgotten making them– what where my intentions? Once transferred to silkscreen, I can use them freely to make new paintings.

    The other day I reused a small stretcher (about 30×44”) and stapled fresh muslin canvas on it, then coated with clear Aquazol. Muslin shrinks like crazy, but has a nice tight weave, and is taught like a drum. All ready to start, when I decide what goes on it.

    Today I’m home while the nor’easter dumps rain and wind on Brooklyn. At the end of the month I fly to Lost Vegas. I’ve learned that I have no peace of mind there and can’t make art, even though I always take a drawing pad and watercolors.

    Me for now.

    >

    Reply

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