Wildflowers. Red Thistle and Madrid. Still life and urban sketching. Part 2.

Artist, ArtTravel, Uncategorized, Urban sketching

Red thistle flower and my absolute favorite city in Spain, Madrid—basically my love letter in plant form. Because apparently when I want to express passion, strength, energy, and fearlessness, I paint spiky flowers. Revolutionary, I know.

Madrid called. I answered in watercolor.

Madrid. A city with more sides to it than a geometry textbook—aristocratic, bohemian, and commercial all rolled into one impossibly stylish package. The moment you land there, something magical happens: the city whispers, “Hey, you look like you belong here,” and suddenly you feel like you actually do. Your city. Your home. The place where you’re meant to thrive (or at least enjoy really good tapas while pretending you belong).

Naming just a handful of Madrid’s masterpieces would be like choosing a favorite child—borderline impossible and slightly offensive to everyone involved. But here goes: Plaza Mayor (where people-watching reaches Olympic standards), Puerto del Sol (it’s basically Grand Central Station but cooler), the Prado Museum (where you can contemplate art for hours and feel intellectually superior), the Royal Palace (proving that “bigger” sometimes actually is better), Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum of Art (for when the Prado wasn’t quite enough art for your art-hungry brain), and Retiro Park (nature’s masterpiece to balance out all the human-made masterpieces). We’ve been there more times than we’d like to admit, and it’s absolutely penciled in for our next rendezvous. Or three. :)

I got so inspired that I created an entire series of watercolor and ink paintings featuring vibrant red and warm peach-colored thistles, all dedicated to one of my favorite cities in Europe. Because nothing says “I love you, Madrid” quite like painting prickly flowers obsessively.

This particular thistle features petals in tomato and red cabbage tones, paired with an indigo background because apparently I’m all about dramatic color combinations and life choices.

Tomato red meets indigo. Fancy.

Here we have a thistle sporting pomegranate and scarlet petals against a lemon and coffee-colored backdrop—basically proving that flowers have better color sense than most interior designers I know.

Pomegranate. Scarlet. Basically a salad, but make it art.

A watercolor masterpiece featuring thistle with shades of raspberry and blueberry swirling together with dark blue, crowned with celery-green leaves. Bright, bold, and absolutely gorgeous. (I’m biased, but also right.)

Raspberry, blueberry, dark blue — someone was hungry while painting.

The sunny thistle: a wildflower sporting cocoa-colored petals with artistic flourishes of cognac and a moody bluish background—basically the sophisticated cousin of all the other thistles.

Cocoa and cognac. The only acceptable breakfast palette.

And finally, a thistle with amethyst and salmon-hued petals floating against creamy, tender-feeling colors. This one’s basically the introvert of the collection—softer, dreamier, and slightly less inclined to poke you.

Amethyst and salmon walk into a painting…

If you ask me, Madrid is the red color personified. The land of gazpacho, bullfighting, and flamenco basically *is* red. Passionate, vibrant, unapologetically bold. And I’m absolutely here for it. :)

Madrid in the wild. No filter needed (okay, maybe one).

All paintings belong to yours truly (aka me). No image shall be copied without permission, or the color-mixing gods will have words with you.

Bon voyage! Until our next travel adventure (and probably another painting series). Stay healthy, stay curious, and keep your eyes open for wildflowers. You never know when one might inspire your next masterpiece.

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5 reasons to visit Paris’ Luxembourg park in summer, or the top things to do in Luxemburg garden. Part 5

ArtTravel

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Step-by-Step Guide to Vibrant Sea Landscapes

Art workshops, Artist, ArtTravel, sea, Spain

For my artist colleagues. Workshops. Holidays spirit for creative community. Paint your world.

Three watercolor paint pans labeled Ultramarine, Transparent Orange, and Cobalt, shown from above with wet, glossy pigment. Below, a handwritten color mixing chart on watercolor paper showing combinations of Transparent Orange (Winsor), Yellow Ochre, and Cobalt Cotman, with painted swatches demonstrating each mix.

Step 3. Draft of boats

draft boats

Step 4. Soundtrack Inspiration

Step 5. Color of yacht

Step 6. The 1st layer of sea, foam and waves

Step 7. The 1st layer of sky and clouds

Step 8. The 2nd layer for sky, sea, foams and reflections

Step 9. Details for sea, yacht and birds

Step 10. Cool down

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Oranges and its trees, Spain, part 2.

ArtTravel

Urban sketching and Still life. Travel and Art.

Do you like the smell of oranges as I like it? Sweetish, light, slightly tart and such a sunny smell of orange peel.

Still life with oranges. The oranges were not harmed. The painting took forever.

Oranges remind me about the sunny summer days and New Year’s eve at the same time—which is a bit confusing if you think about it. My mom used to put these little bright balls on the Christmas trees as additional decorations. Later we ate the oranges (because what else would you do with fruit on a Christmas tree?), and the smell was the mixture of summer’s aroma and pine needles’ smell. It was like someone blended vacation and holidays into one delicious, contradictory scent. Such a holiday feeling from these fruits—honestly, oranges deserve a marketing team.

More oranges. Yes, there’s a theme.

This spring we are on hold for travelling (thanks for that, world). I continue “flying” through our family images via my paintings—which is a fancy way of saying I’ve become a professional procrastinator with a paintbrush. My paintings are the versions of some summer photos in Spain, because apparently traveling through a screen is the new normal. Spanish cities have whole alleys of orange trees. I mean, entire streets of them. It’s like someone took a nature documentary and just… paved over it.

Spain called. It smelled like citrus.

Orange paradises with the smell of flowering orange trees are in the cities and their gardens: Barcelona, Cordoba, Madrid, Seville… If you’re looking for a reason to visit Spain besides the architecture, paella, and charming people, well, here it is—an entire country that smells like a delightful citrus dream. Seriously, they should bottle this and sell it as an air freshener. “Spanish Orange Bliss: Guaranteed to make your commute more bearable.”

Painted in Spain. Eaten shortly after.
Cordoba: where the streets are paved with orange trees and good decisions.

There are many interesting legends associated with the orange. One of them claims that it was not an apple, but an orange, that was the forbidden fruit that served as the reason for the expulsion of our ancestors from paradise. Think about it—if Adam and Eve had just been offered an apple like the biblical told us, fine. But an orange? That’s oddly specific. And honestly? If I were Eve, I probably would have eaten it too. Have you tasted an orange? They’re incredible.

The forbidden fruit, allegedly. Worth every consequence.

According to the legend, Eve was succumbing to the temptation of the snake tempter and tasted the fruit of an orange from the tree of knowledge—because apparently tempters have taste. She offered it to Adam, and the archangels blew their trumpets and showered her head with the snow-white, fragrant flowers of an orange tree (orange blossom). It was a moment of divine appreciation, honestly—even the angels were like, “Yeah, okay, that orange move was pretty good, but here are the consequences anyway.” Classic biblical irony. After this delicious episode, Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden. So basically, we all owe our suffering to oranges. You’re welcome, humanity.

Orange still life
Last orange. For now. (It wasn’t the last orange.)


Bon voyage! Until the next travel :) if you find yourself in Spain, send me orange blossom perfume back, would you?)

Tools used for my painting: Watercolour brands Van Gogh and Cotman (because apparently orange fruit deserves fancy art supplies). Paper Canson Mix Media album 28×35 cm (11×14 in.) and Canson Watercolour album 25×35 cm (11×15 in.)—basically, I bought a lot of paper to paint the same fruit in different ways. It’s called commitment. Or obsession. Probably both.

All paintings belong to the author. No image is to be copied without permission. (Yes, I’m talking to you—put that orange painting down!).