The Most Beautiful Book I Own

 One of my favorite gigs is writing nature book reviews for the Wall Street Journal. There is little I love better than getting a package in the mail from the editors there. It takes me absolutely FOREVER to read them, since I can't sit down during the day and only read at night, before I fall asleep, but I somehow manage to get it done. Then I get to say what I love about them. If I don't love a book, I won't review it, because to me, the point of a book review is to bring what's wonderful to more readers. And I have found something wonderful. It's called Finding Sanctuary. I asked Barry Van Dusen to prepare a guest blogpost about the first book he's both written and illustrated. Barry is a career natural history illustrator, and those of us who know his work have been literally slobbering, waiting for him to haul off and write his own book, illuminated by some of his gazillion field sketches and paintings he curates so meticulously in his western Massachusetts home. 

Skunknett River painting set-up 

This man sketches, draws and paints from LIFE. From moving, living birds and animals, plants, insects. Outside, plein air, making landscapes appear on paper. I look at this forest scene and shrink into a fetal position, thinking about what it would take to make a watercolor of it. But Barry's like Nike. He just DOES it. And his book is an absolute masterwork, given the most lavish and sensitive treatment possible by Mass Audubon and Puritan Press in Hollis, NH. You simply MUST have it. 

 I have great empathy for other authors who are launching books in these upside-down days. I had the grandest book tour planned for New England (see left sidebar), and none of those events are happening now. The months Houghton Mifflin Harcourt's wonderful publicist, Maria Mann and I spent logisticizing and putting it together, the dozens of emails confirming every detail with the organizers...all for naught in 2020, and I stayed home to love my kids, feed bluebirds and raise a song sparrow instead, and that is all FINE and as it should be. But oh, I would have loved to have the chance to stump for Saving Jemima.

  On one hand, maybe more people are interested and have time to read books--I'm hearing from lots of friends who are only just reading their copies of Saving Jemima, which came out in fall 2019. On the other, it's really hard to sell books when you can't give book talks. So in that spirit, I asked Barry to write a guest post about Finding Sanctuary, in the hope that you, my good readers, would consider adding a copy to your library, and maybe gifting a couple more. Here's Barry!

My work as a nature artist takes me in many directions—book illustration, lectures and teaching, studio painting and exhibitions—but the most engaging part of my job, and certainly the most fun, is outdoor drawing and painting. So when Amy Montague, director of Mass Audubon’s Museum of American Bird Art, approached me in 2014 with the idea of a Massachusetts statewide residency, I didn’t need much convincing.  I would visit, paint and draw at each one of Mass Audubon’s 61 wildlife sanctuaries around the state. In previous years, I had taken part in several residency projects around New England, but this would be the most ambitious one yet. I wanted to give each Mass Audubon sanctuary the attention it deserved, and insisted on a two-year working period. In the end, the residency work spanned more than four and a half years!

In our preliminary discussions, Amy and I decided that I should not feel the need to work toward any predetermined list of species or sanctuary “specialties”, though many of the subjects I painted would fit that description. Instead, my aim would be to seize on artistic opportunities as I encountered them. This approach granted me the expressive freedom to pursue whatever piqued my curiosity, admiration, or imagination. 

Incubating Piping Plover, Allens Pond, p.67

I live in central Massachusetts, and most of the sanctuaries are within reasonable driving distance, so I typically spent a full day at each location and returned home by nightfall.  Overnight trips to locations farther from home afforded me the opportunity to visit sites more than once, and to be afield at dawn and dusk—propitious times for wildlife.

Smaller Purple Fringed Orchid, West Mountain p.158

In some instances, I timed my visits to work with very specific subjects, like the yellow lady’s slippers at High Ledges or the purple-fringed orchids at West Mountain. For places like Marblehead Neck or Sampson’s Island, I made sure to visit at the most productive times of year (when birds were passing through in the first instance, and settled onto their nests in the second).  I took seasonal and weather-related factors into consideration for every visit, and studied the sanctuary maps ahead of time, hoping to maximize my time at each location.

American Redstart, Marblehead Neck p. 58

When I first started the project, I thought I might do all of the watercolor paintings on location. I fancied I would arrive at a new sanctuary, perhaps do some drawings, paint a watercolor, and then move on to the next location. What I hadn’t anticipated was the variety and abundance of subject matter that I wanted to depict. I am not the speediest field artist (nor the slowest), but the best I can hope for in a day’s work is three finished watercolors, and more often only one or two. I realized that to do justice to the diversity I encountered in the time available, I couldn’t limit myself exclusively to fieldwork. Moreover, I realized that some of my best ideas for pictures came to me after a visit, when I’d had the leisure to mull over my experiences and ponder on the imagery. Consequently, the work you see in the book is a result of both field and studio efforts.

The Horse Barn in a Spring Snowsquall, Wachusett Meadow pp. 138-139

            I painted many BIRDS for the residency, but also worked with landscapes (some featuring Mass Audubon buildings), flowers and plants, butterflies, dragonflies and other insects, mammals, salamanders, turtles, frogs and fish.  Looking at the entire body of work, I see an obvious bias toward certain subjects, and for this I make no apologies.  I tell my students:  Draw what you LOVE, and it will reflect in your work!

            Much of what I’ve learned about the specialized craft of field painting comes from my exposure to European artists. Painting nature subjects outdoors from life is not commonly practiced here in the United States, but it’s a popular pursuit among many artists in Europe. During projects sponsored by the Artists for Nature Foundation (Netherlands), I’ve had the opportunity to work alongside some of the world’s most talented field artists. They have shown me how to select, organize and carry materials and equipment, which types of optics are most effective, and methods for working in a variety of situations. Ultimately, every field artist formulates an approach best suited to their own unique aims and temperament, but my exposure to these other artists has greatly accelerated the process of finding what works best for me. 

Field Kit  p. 8

     Painting outdoors with watercolors comes with its own set of challenges, and you’ll encounter most of them in the pages of this book. On sunny days, light conditions change rapidly as the sun moves across the sky, especially in the morning and evening hours. While light conditions can be challenging, they can also become the driving force in a painting (e.g. Wings of Winter, below). 

     I could usually avoid rain through careful scrutiny of the forecasts, but New England weather doesn’t always play by the book. I’ve learned to carry a few sheets of plastic in my pack to quickly cover up paper and materials, and a rain jacket if the weather looks iffy. Despite these precautions, I had some frustrating sessions with rainy weather.

Osprey in the Rain, North Hill Marsh p. 74

    Cold could be mitigated by layering up properly, using warm gloves and neck gaiters, and carrying a few of those chemical hand- and foot-warmer packs. Wind joined the cold and added to the challenges at some locations. But winter conditions could also offer up rewards, like the ice storm just before my visit to Habitat, which allowed access to colorful, interesting twigs sheared from the treetops. 

     Humidity, both high and low, can be a serious issue for the watercolor painter. Too much moisture in the air (the more common condition in New England) slows the drying of washes and can bring progress to a standstill. Very dry conditions have the opposite effect, causing the paint to dry so quickly that there is no time to manipulate wet passages. 

     And then, there are the miscellaneous annoyances: biting insects and ticks, wet feet, and poisonous plants, to name a few. These are often the first memories that come to mind when I recall a particular day in the field!

Swallows Over Barnstable Great Marsh  p. 87

Some subjects lend themselves easily to location painting. It’s no accident that landscapes are the most popular subjects for outdoor painters: they stay in one place (thank you!), and offer endless variations of design and mood. All of the landscapes in this book were at least begun in the field, and many were completed on location. 

Botanical subjects offer the same luxury of working time as landscapes, and could be approached in a similar manner. One obvious difference is the shift in scale—the difference between macro and micro. With plants, I usually slow down and pay more attention to morphology and details. Glancing through these pages, you’ll notice that I enjoy the details of nature. I often feel that these are too important and interesting to generalize or suggest, and am driven to record them accurately.

Cinnamon Fern Fiddleheads, Nashoba Brook  p. 126

  

            In my opinion, studio work offers even greater opportunities for an artist’s creative side to take command. Removing myself from the fact of the subject can be liberating, allowing my imagination to take a freer hand. Studio work can also be more conceptual and carefully planned: I can combine and rearrange elements, manipulate scale, and fine-tune the balance of a composition in myriad ways.  

     In the studio, I can borrow freely from a variety of sources. I can refer to sketches made an hour ago or years ago. I can repaint unsuccessful field paintings, building on their strengths while avoiding faults made on the spot. I can use specimens of plants, rocks, and other natural materials, even weave in memories and associations from the past. Where field painting is intuitive, spontaneous, and improvisational, studio painting can be conceptual, cerebral, and imaginative.

Wings of Winter (snow buntings), Kettle Island  p. 57

            As an artist who wishes to portray natural subjects with fidelity, my aim is to celebrate and admire the complex beauty of nature. At the same time, I want to express my wonder and awe, and retain the excitement and emotions that accompany my field encounters. To that end, I may choose to exaggerate, embellish, invent, and even distort to achieve my expressive ends. As Picasso famously said, “Art is the lie that tells the truth.”  And so, I am forever seeking a balance—between field and studio, fact and expression, truth and feeling.  

Here ends Barry's guest post. Zick, back with you. 

 Heads up: It's not cheap, but ohhh, the quality in every page. Hardcover. The paper is like satin. The design was overseen by the artist himself, every single page. The color reproduction is impeccable (same deal--Barry was on press at Puritan in Hollis, NH with it). It's an art book, a visual and sensual delight. You will be delighted you treated yourself!  To order your copy of  Finding Sanctuay, click https://tinyurl.com/vandusenbook 

Times being what they are, Barry has had a virtual book launch. He and I recorded a half-hour interview on Zoom, where you can see us each sitting in our respective studios: me asking questions and Barry answering them. It's a lot of fun. David Sibley will also check in, and (late breaking news) so will Lars Jonsson! If you love bird art, this is a don't miss event. Here's a link to a recording of the book launch/interview:


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uX92I5DfMuI&feature=youtu.be

   

Family Fun

My sister Barbara. I was devastated when she left for college when I was six. We have since reconciled.

Now, she is once again my envy because she has fabulous grown children who have produced some miraculous beings for Barbara to play with.

Clara, most winsome of girllets, quiet as a dove and twice as sweet. Yet to get that first haircut...

Will, quick, brilliant and sweet as pumpkin pie.

  

Max, who has our Dad's big ol' mouth, pinstriped overalls and tendency to pull things apart and put them back together again, then tell you all about it. He and his brother Will are train guys. I like train guys, and have some experience with them.

Barb mounted an impromptu family reunion at her house, completely surprising me with a huge dose of baby magic, which I sorely needed. 

Nothing like a freshly-scrubbed toddler to set your world right.

We had Adoration of the Babies, which is pretty much how my family spends its time together--watching little kids do their thing.

My nephew Eric and his wife Tera are trying to sell their house while occupying a new one. There's this issue with the buyer of their prior house, who wants a tree on the neighbor's lot cut down before she'll close the deal. It is a story bordering on absurd, but typical of this buyer's home market. Eric and Tera were given a cake to welcome them to their new neighborhood, and brought it along. Barb, Karen and I customized it for them

to gales of laughter.

In Connecticut, I visited my mom, who was very surprised and happy to see me, and landed on sister Micky and her family. We went out running and I kept up, which is saying a whole lot if you know long, lean Micky. We spent Nigel Tufnel Day together, and at precisely 11:11 on 11/11/11, we put Micky's LP of Smell the Glove on the turntable and blasted "Big Bottom." That was good. I was struck by the fact that they have a working turntable; that record sides are amazingly short in this world of continuous music; that I was very thankful to be right there at that moment.

We spent part of a morning doing some handsaw surgery on a big lilac, which I'm sure will rebound well. I can safely say that my sister and her family have the biggest brushpile in Avon, legacy of the Halloween monster snowstorm and the nearly 9 days of power outage that followed.  That's a big brushpile. A foot of wet snow on still-green leaves: not good. They survived it in true pioneer style, living by the fireplace, burning wood they'd cut for the winter. I was really proud of them.

Other fun things: Staying overnight at the Visual Art Center's huge Victorian house with Cindy House. We were not spooked by the clanking radiator pipes, no not one bit. The next morning we went out searching for breakfast and saw this in the doorway of a restaurant:

 We noted the presence of a funeral parlor directly adjacent to the restaurant. We looked at each other and Cindy commented, "Wrong door!"

We were awful.

But the breakfast we found at Canton, Mass's Amber Road Cafe was not awful. It was spectacular.

Cindy opted for French toast smothered in fruit; I went for corned beef hash with garlic-rosemary toast. Mmmmmmm.

The whole trip was like that meal: colorful, fun, rich, delicious, satisfying, put together with love. I'm feeling very blessed to have my wonderful friends and family, and to know my new friends at the Visual Arts Center. Thanks to everyone for lighting up my life. Like The Terminator, I Will Be Baaack.

Mass Audubon's Visual Arts Center

 Believe it or don't, I was in Massachusetts to do other things than photograph gravestones and owls and twigs. I'd been invited by the Mass Audubon Visual Arts Center in Canton to come give a talk in honor of their retrospective of Robert Verity Clem's stunning art, now on display. Bob was a mentor to me; he steered me toward working from living birds (and those freshly dead, too). He showed me how the feathers lay and stack on their wings and taught me how to get it right. He even sent me a stack of watercolor paper when he found me working on junk.

So I spoke of that, and of what happened after that, of a life led among birds, taking care of them and helping them when I can.

And a whole bunch of my friends showed up.

 from left, back, VAC Curator Gigi Hopkins; field sketch artist and author Clare Walker Leslie; painter and museum exhibit creator Sean Murtha; hopeful collegian and linguist Emily Barth; former Mass Audubon Director of Natural History Services Jim Baird; artist, carver and writer Rob Braunfield.
  Front row, from left: Sculptor, carver, and painter Larry Barth; painter and field sketcher Barry Van Dusen; painter and newly minted Master Wildlife Artist Jim Coe; pastel painter Cindy House; painter and explorer Lucia de Leiris; and a very wide-angled and agog JZ.  Darn it, VAC Director Amy Montague shoulda been in this picture but she was taking it!

You would not want to drop a bomb on this room. The world of birds in art would never be the same.

I'm still amazed at the gathering that took place, and deeply grateful to Amy Montague and Cindy House for corralling a flighty aviary of artists into one place for such a joyful reunion. Most brought things to show and tell. It's so inspiring to see the beautiful work my friends are doing, and to be able to talk with them about it. These people are going out and painting in oils and watercolors and pastels en plein air; they're sketching birds and animals from life; they're living proof of the legacy Bob Clem left.

Amy took us downstairs to poke through some early work by Bob Clem. What a treat that was, to view his working drawings and early paintings close up!

A moody northern shrike watercolor.

As we gasped and exclaimed, we joked about which piece we'd like to slip under our jackets and walk home with...this page of falcon drawings was at the top of my heap.

The immediate recognition I felt upon viewing this fine, fine sharpshin was akin to looking out the window and seeing one fetched up in the birch, watching the feeders. Bob's work is so true to the bird that not for a second do you have to wonder if it's a sharpie or a Cooper's. Every stroke of the brush says sharpie. He knew his birds so very, very well. If you go see the show, don't miss the life studies of a perched Cooper's hawk in the stairwell. Another slip-under-the-jacket painting for me. 

The VAC show is awesome, and well worth a trip down to see this master artist's rarely-reproduced work firsthand. I'm a watercolorist and despite heavy-duty staring there were passages in his paintings I couldn't figure out; sunlight hitting off algae mats and that kind of thing. He had a patience and an ability to plan his paintings that I lack. Most of all, they're true, to light, to landscape, to bird, and I'm deeply grateful to Bob for imparting that all-important search for truth to me when I was a baby bird painter.

Read Connecticut painter Sean Murtha's blogpost about Bob Clem, and how he felt seeing this show, here.

I gave a talk at 2 on Saturday November 12, and another at 11 on Sunday the 13th. We had great attendance for both. There were so many people I knew in the room on Saturday that it truly felt like an episode of "This is Your Life." The combined expertise in art and ornithology in that room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I was nervous as a kingfisher right up until I grabbed the podium and launched, and then it went just fine. 

It sure helped to have family there.

And the dearest of friends. This is Rob Braunfield, who taught me everything about bluebirds and the art of seeing, too.

Boston Area Zick Alert!

This is a Zickefoose. Definitely not a Clem.  Here's Bob in his favorite spot, probably heading over to (or from) Monomoy Island on the elbow of Cape Cod. He was a shorebird himself. Or maybe a corvid. I miss him dearly.

There's a fabulous exhibit of the original art of Robert Verity Clem up right now at Massachusetts Audubon's Visual Arts Center in Canton.  Bob painted birds, true, but he painted them in context, as you'd see them, in all the right places and in all the most stunning light regimes. The last time I was in his studio, and it was long ago, he was painting corvids against the light. Crows and ravens, more crows and ravens, and each painting made me take my breath in. They were places you could be, slants of light you knew, and then there were the birds, doing things and flashing wings.

As part of the observances, I've been asked to give a couple of presentations at the VAC. Bob was a very important person in my development as a bird painter, giving guidance to my process and product in the 1980's and '90's. Of course I stared holes in the only widely published examples of his work, in Peter Mattheissen's Shorebirds of North America. But it was his hands-on critique of my stuff that really made an impression. He showed me how to go to the living bird to paint what is true. I'm so thankful to have fallen under his influence. It changed the course of my life.

Though I feel wholly unworthy of being called a protege of Bob's, I leapt at the chance to come to Massachusetts in November, and agreed to speak a bit about that influence and the arc of my work. I'll spend this week working on the illustrated talks, and I can't wait!

Here's the scoop:

The Bluebird Effect: Uncommon Bonds with Common Birds

Saturday, Nov 12, 2pm

Julie Zickefoose, artist and writer, was mentored by Bob Clem in the 1980s. She will talk about how that experience shaped her life with birds: studying, painting, healing them when they’re broken, and mothering them when they’re orphaned.

Painting Birds with Julie Zickefoose

Sunday, Nov 13, 11am

Have you ever wondered how an artist goes about gathering inspiration and reference for a painting? How a painting is done, from the first sketches to the final wash? How an artist manages to make a living drawing and painting natural history subjects? Widely-published artist Julie Zickefoose opens her sketchbooks, studio, and gallery for

a walk-through in this slide talk.

 To register for these programs, call the Mass Audubon Visual Arts Center,  at 781-821-8853  It's at 963 Washington Street, Canton, MA 02021. 

  Here's a link to its programs page for more information.

I am TOTALLY excited about this trip. All fluttery. How often do I get over to the East Coast? Like, nevah. God willing and the river don't rise and it don't snow two feet and the power stays on, there will be an aviary of terrific modern bird artists present at  these talks, any one of whom can paint rings around me. The discussion ought to be lively and fun. These are my best buddies.  So  give them a call and come on down, and tell the nice people at the VAC that I sent you. And don't forget to blurt "BLOG!" when we meet!