Thistle

Wildflowers. Blue Thistle and Barcelona. Part 4.

Artist, ArtTravel, Uncategorized, Urban sketching

Still life and urban sketching — basically me trying to make inanimate objects and city blocks look more interesting than they actually are.

Yes, I carried my sketchbook here. No, I don’t regret it.

Barcelona has an indescribably magical atmosphere of a unique and endlessly creative city — you know, the kind of place that makes you wonder how it got so cool without trying. From Antonio Gaudí’s legendary masterpieces (that defy normal architectural rules) to today’s innovative artists still riding that creative wave, Barcelona basically wrote the book on how to be fabulous.

Barcelona said ‘be inspired.’ I said ‘hold my paintbrush.’

I’m continuing my flowers&cities series, and this time I’m obsessed with the blue thistle. Why Barcelona? Well, according to my imaginary painting logic, it matches perfectly! This post features some gloriously bright blue cultured thistles that will either inspire your next Mediterranean adventure or at least make you wonder why anyone bothers with ordinary purple flowers.

This thistle’s color palette? It’s got depth-of-sea blues, some moody olive tones, sprinkles of raspberry, and pineapple-y yellow hues — basically the Barcelona version of Casa Milà in flower form. You know, Gaudí’s stunning modern architectural masterpiece that looks like it melted in the sun and decided to stick around anyway.

Thistle: 1. My colour mixing skills: nervous.

Behold: another thistle! This one’s sporting petals of lilac and turquoise — colors that somehow perfectly capture Barcelona’s old historical centre, Ciutat Vella, with its Gothic Quarter that screams “Look how old and charming I am!” in the most photogenic way possible.

Gothic Quarter energy in flower form. Très dramatic.

Meet another thistle, this time decked out in azur and silver petals. In my professional artistic opinion (which I made up), this one represents Barcelona’s most Instagram-famous resident: La Sagrada Familia. I’m pretty sure Gaudí would have approved of my choice, or at least not sued me for it. :)

Gaudí approved. Probably. He was busy.

And here comes thistle number four (I’ve lost count) with colors of raisins, figs, and blue sea tones — basically screaming “I’m La Rambla!” at you through its petals. You know, that famous pedestrian walkway known for its historical architecture and the mild chaos of street performers who may or may not be actual statues.

La Rambla thistle. Watch out for the mimes.

This thistle’s rocking a combination of rose-salmon and pale-brown petals — tender, bright, and way more coordinated than your average wildflower. Question: Do you prefer “Barcelona” by the legendary Freddie Mercury, or perhaps the lovely “Barcelona” by Giulia y Los Tellarini from the movie “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”? Because this flower apparently has a soundtrack.

This one came with a Freddie Mercury soundtrack in my head.

Let’s talk about Antonio Gaudí y Cornet for a second — the man who literally devoted his entire existence to Barcelona and transformed it into the architectural wonderland we know today. He’s basically referred to as “genius loci” (fancy for “the genius of the place”), which is a lot of pressure but also kind of accurate. He shaped not just the look but the very soul of the city. No big deal.

All paintings belong to the author. Seriously, don’t copy them without permission. I mean it. No image theft, please.

Bon voyage! Until the next travel adventure :) Now go forth and stay healthy, you magnificent human.

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Wildflowers. Yellow Thistle and Paris. Part 3

Artist, ArtTravel, Uncategorized, Urban sketching

Still life and urban sketching — or as I like to call it, “procrastinating at tourist attractions with a sketchpad.”

Paris. The city of love, croissants, and inexplicably rude pigeons. Here’s the thing about Paris that nobody tells you: you don’t actually need to leave your hotel room to find beauty and inspiration. Just open the window and look around — you’ll find architecture that makes your apartment back home look like a cardboard box, monuments that have been standing longer than your entire family lineage, street names that sound like songs, memorial plaques commemorating people who actually did important things (unlike me, who’s mainly known for eating an entire wheel of Camembert while crying about climate change), restaurant signs in fonts that would make a graphic designer weep with envy, and murals that prove even walls have more artistic talent than most of us. Seriously, there’s something uniquely extraordinary to discover at every street corner. Paris doesn’t just hand you beauty — it ambushes you with it when you’re least expecting it, usually right after you’ve accidentally stepped in a puddle.

Paris: where even the streets are judging your outfit.

Do you ever think about cities as flowers? Or as colors? No? Just me? Cool, cool.

Thistle. A delightfully thorny wildflower featuring a magnificent display of eggplant and gold petals — nature’s way of saying, “I’m fancy and dangerous.” If the Luxembourg Gardens had a personality, this would be it. I’m convinced these flowers applied to art school and were accepted on their first try.

Thistle #1 — eggplant and gold. Fancy enough for the Luxembourg Gardens, too spiky for a hug.

Thistle, take two. This particular specimen features sunny petals in the colors of pumpkin, orange, and beetroot — basically, if fall and autumn had a very colorful, very spiky baby. Yummy, right? (I mean, I wouldn’t recommend eating it. Paris is basically the thistle of cities — beautiful, elegant, and ready to stab you if you’re not paying attention (both literally, with its spiky architecture, and figuratively, with its devastating charm).

Thistle #2 — pumpkin and beetroot. Autumn had a baby and it’s delicious (don’t eat it).

Thistle, round three (I promise this is getting somewhere). This wildflower rocks petals in canary yellow, spicy red, and burgundy — a color palette so sophisticated it makes the Pantone Institute nervous. It immediately evokes the Opera Garnier, one of the most aggressively elegant buildings in all of Paris.

Thistle #3 — canary yellow and burgundy. Opera Garnier called, it wants its colour palette back.

Thistle, the extended remix. This version features petals of amber and purple — a combination that somehow looks like what I imagine royalty smells like. And the flower buds? They range from massive to microscopic, rather like the museums scattered throughout Paris’s city center: Musée d’Orsay (the cool one everyone’s heard of), the Louvre (the one that gives you existential dread just trying to find the bathroom), Musée de l’Orangerie (deceptively small but absolutely packed with Monet’s fever dreams), Musée Marmottan Monet (for when you want MORE Monet, because apparently one museum wasn’t enough), Musée Jacquemart-André (where rich people kept their rich person collections), and Musée de Cluny (medieval vibes and the Unicorn Tapestries, which I definitely didn’t spend three hours staring at while taking blurry photos on my phone).

Thistle #4 — amber and purple. Smells like royalty, stings like a parking ticket.

Thistle number five: The Grand Finale. This specimen features a mustard-violet flower with thorns the color of, well, apple skin. Stylish as Parisian sweeping and majestic boulevards — which is to say, it looks like it went to finishing school in Switzerland and then casually conquered Europe while sipping espresso. The vibe is undeniably “I woke up like this but also spent four hours getting ready.”

Thistle #6 — apple thorns included. Looks elegant, will absolutely draw blood.

Thistle, the encore performance. Featuring peach-colored petals against a copper and amber background — basically what the Eiffel Tower looks like in the morning when you’ve woken up early because you couldn’t sleep (jet lag is romantic, apparently). This color combination is so warm and glowy that it makes you believe in magic, or at least in the possibility that Paris might actually be worth all the hype.

Thistle #7 — peach and copper. The Eiffel Tower at 6am. Romantic and deeply unreasonable.

Bon voyage! Until the next travel adventure :) Stay healthy, stay curious, and remember: life is too short to not travel, not sketch random flowers, and not pretend you understand French when someone speaks to you at a café (just nod and smile — it works 60% of the time, every time).

Bon voyage! Don’t forget your sketchpad. Or your beret. Actually, just the sketchpad.
Thistle #5 — mustard and violet. The boulevard of wildflowers.

All paintings belong to the author and are protected by the ancient artist code: look but don’t touch, admire but don’t copy, and definitely don’t use without permission or face the wrath of someone who takes their wildflowers very seriously.

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Wildflowers. Thistle in sepia and the city of Rome. Part 5.

Artist, ArtTravel, Uncategorized, Urban sketching

Still life and urban sketching—because thistles are basically nature’s way of saying ‘don’t get too close.’

Rome is basically an open-air museum that refuses to close. Ever. The streets are littered with buildings from every architectural era imaginable, as if someone dumped 2,000 years of interior design catalogs all in one place. It’s chaos. Beautiful, Instagram-worthy chaos.

Rome: where every corner looks like a movie set. No filter needed.

Thistle in watercolor with ink—featuring a delightful palette of pumpkin, turmeric, pineapple, and brick-colored stems because apparently I was hungry while painting. It supposedly represents Rome’s Pantheon: monumental, elegant, and totally not something you’d want to hug. The whole thing is basically an antique temple dedicated to gods who would probably be confused by modern WiFi.

Thistle #1: Painted while hungry. Named after an ancient temple. Sounds about right.

Here’s the truth about Rome: it doesn’t need color. Seriously. Just slap some sepia on it and a few ‘tender shades,’ and suddenly marble fountains and statues become artistically moody. It’s like Rome hired the world’s best Instagram filter and never turned it off.

Emperor Augustus once said: ‘I found Rome a city of bricks and left it a city of marble.’ Translation: ‘I showed up and flexed so hard that everything got an upgrade.’

Thistle number two: wildflower with avocado and cherry-colored petals because apparently I was on a mood board binge. The chaotic petals remind me of the Roman Forum’s ancient ruins—you know, ruins that used to be someone’s important government building but now just vibes there mysteriously. Every time you visit, you find something new. Mostly it’s tourists like you, but sometimes it’s actually history!

Thistle #2: Avocado meets cherry. The Roman Forum approves from its mysteriously crumbled remains.

Thistle number three, now in violaceous hues (fancy word alert!). It reminds me of Borromini’s architecture in Rome—all concave curves and convex swagger with sharp angles that would make a modern architect weep. Remember Gaudí’s Barcelona houses? Same energy. But here’s the thing: Borromini’s stuff is actually calm and airy despite looking like it wants to fight you. It’s strong, persistent, and stubborn—just like a thistle that refuses to die in a sidewalk crack. Basically, I’m convinced all great architects were just looking at plants and going ‘yeah, I’ll do that but in marble.’

Thistle #3: Violaceous vibes only. Borromini would definitely swipe right.

Thistle number four: cappuccino and watermelon colored petals (yes, that color combo is as weird as it sounds). Apparently it’s channeling Trevi Fountain vibes—you know, Rome’s most famous ‘throw money in the water and make wishes’ destination. It’s made from natural materials and definitely old, which means it’s had about 500 years to collect loose change and tourist dreams. Stand too close and you feel like you’re floating. Which is either the fountain’s magic or the overwhelming crowd of selfie sticks.

Thistle #4: Cappuccino + watermelon = chaos. Throw a coin in it anyway.

Thistle number five: fiery red, chocolate, and dark grapes (the color palette of a moody wine bar). It’s giving off major Castel Sant’Angelo energy—you know, that ancient Roman pedestrian bridge covered in Bernini’s Baroque sculptures. It’s stunning, it’s old, and like every tourist photo location in Rome, it’s probably swarming with people trying to get the perfect angle.

Thistle #5: Wine bar color palette. Bernini would’ve painted it too, but he was busy.

This is my final thistle post—the grand finale of my flower personality study. Here’s what I’ve learned: thistles are basically flowers with attitude problems. They represent strength, inflexibility, firmness, and they survive literally anywhere because they refuse to quit. Kind of like tourists in Rome during July. So I painted a whole series of these impossible little rebels to celebrate their survival skills and, oh yeah, they totally remind me of beautiful European architecture. Nature’s architecture is just better, fight me.

Rome: still standing after 2,000 years. Unlike my feet after day one.

All paintings belong to the author and are definitely not meant to be copied, traced, or vaguely ‘inspired by’—because yes, we’re watching you.

Bon voyage! Until the next travel adventure (and probably the next thistle obsession)! 🌍

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