tea

Open Italian anatomy book beside red flowers, paint palette, brushes, and cappuccino

Magic and beauty, red peonies, cappuccino and Leonardo’s Notebook. Part 3.

ArtTravel

Still life and urban sketching. Because apparently, I can’t sit still OR leave my house without a sketchpad.

So Leonardo da Vinci’s Notebook told me something rather inconvenient: artists need to constantly find new things to paint or draw. (Thanks a lot, Leonardo—no pressure!) Thus began my endless quest to think outside the box that I’m apparently always painting inside. This summer, I had a minor epiphany: watercolor graphic technique is NOT just fancy coloring books. Shocking, I know. It was a small discovery that spiraled into full-blown artistic obsession, and now here we are.

My still life muse? Bright reddish peonies, obviously. I arranged them artfully on my treasured Leonardo da Vinci book, added my glasses (for the intellectual look), threw in a cup of cappuccino (for the vibes), and created what I can only describe as a masterpiece of self-indulgence. Voilà! Another watercolor and ink painting in my beloved impressionist style was born.

Watercolor fantasy. Cappuccino and red peonies and a book

Just imagine it: a warm Mediterranean evening, you’re wandering charming cobblestone streets, and voila—red and pink peonies spill from a straw basket on some picturesque wood door or window. That’s watercolor and ink, my friend. That’s impressionism at its finest. That’s also my elaborate fantasy about our future travels to southern France, Italy, or possibly Greece (I’m not picky when it comes to vacation dreams). Who knows where wanderlust will take us? :)

Summer flower fantasy.

Shout-out to my daughter for the phenomenal gift: Leonardo’s Notebook. This book is basically the gift that keeps on giving—centuries-old wisdom from a guy who was basically good at everything. It’s like having a Renaissance master constantly looking over your shoulder with 500-year-old advice. Terrifying and inspiring in equal measure.

Bon voyage! Until the next adventure awaits! Stay healthy and hydrated (your skin will thank you when you’re sketching in the Mediterranean sun).

All paintings belong to the author. Seriously, don’t copy them. I mean it. My lawyer says I have to say that. Just go make your own masterpiece!

Tools used for my painting: Watercolors by Charvin and Van Gogh (because apparently only the best will do for this artist’s delusions). Pastels by GrayPas Expressionist (the feisty cousin of regular pastels). Derwent watercolor pencils and Faber Castell artist pens (because one type of pen is never enough). Paper: Strathmore Watercolor and Mixed Media albums in that perfect 15×20 cm (6×8 inch) size—not too big, not too small, just right for my control-freak tendencies.

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Lemons, tea, aromas and Italy. Still life and Urban sketching. Part 5.

ArtTravel

#lemon #art #travel #Italy (aka my holy trinity of happiness)

Yellow, sour, fragrant… and absolutely the diva of the citrus world. In tea with sugar? *Chef’s kiss.* It’s pleasant. Also full of vitamins (or so I tell myself between paintings). And its name is LEMON! Perhaps each of us, both adults and children, knows this bright, yellow citrus fruit—unless you’ve been living under a Mediterranean rock your whole life.

Still life. Still delicious. Still not edible.

It was in Italy (the land of carbs, art, and lemons galore) where my family dragged me around the Italian “boot” from top to toe several years ago. Because nothing says “family vacation” like touring every inch of a country! The painting happened in the south of Italy, in one of those charming little towns where time moves slower and espresso is cheaper than water. Naturally.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but this lemon was painted in one. (Lies. It took three.)

Our next stop was the north of Italy, literally the “top of the boot” (geography humor—I’m here all week). Lemon trees were EVERYWHERE on the Borromean islands, like someone’s obsessed Pinterest board came to life. The backdrop? Mountains. Swiss mountains. Beautiful, indifferent, Swiss mountains that made the lemons look even more golden and smug.

Lemon trees: nature’s way of saying ‘you’re in Italy now, calm down.’

The lemons were HUGE. Like, absurdly huge. And their aroma? Everywhere. It was less “fresh citrus scent” and more “olfactory assault in the best way possible.” I still remember the weight of those yellow orbs in my hand—fruit so heavy it could double as a gym weight. Nature’s dumbbell.

Shall we have tea with lemon now? Or should we just sit and contemplate the sheer absurdity of how a little yellow fruit has consumed my entire artistic existence?

Tea. Lemon. Existential peace. You know the vibe.

According to legend (and I’m not making this up, mythology nerds), the aromatic fruits the color of the sun were gifted to Hera’s wedding when she married Zeus. Because if Zeus’s new wife wanted to stay young and beautiful forever, obviously you give her lemons. Logic. The ancient Greeks apparently believed: “Its aroma amuses the mind, the peel and grains are good for the heart, the flesh is excellent food, and the juice quenches thirst.” Basically, lemons are fruit’s overachiever. They’re doing cardio, aesthetics therapy, AND hydration all at once.

All paintings belong to the author. Seriously, don’t copy them. I’m watching. (Jk, but also—don’t.)

Tools used for my paintings: Watercolour brands Van Gogh and Cotman (because why choose when you can be indecisive?). Derwent watercolour pencils for when I need surgical precision on my lemon chaos. Paper from Canson Mix Media albums (28×35 cm / 11×14 in.) and Canson Watercolour albums (25×35 cm / 11×15 in.)—basically, I invested in better paper than I invest in my actual life stability.

Bon voyage! Until the next travel adventure (hopefully with fewer lemons and more personal growth, but let’s be realistic). Stay healthy, stay hydrated, and may your tea always have the perfect squeeze of lemon.

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