When Snow Falls

…we can’t help but stop and look, even if for a few seconds. The dance of snowflakes coming down silently and so softly is something of a miracle every time. For a moment, our attention is complete, suspended in time and awe.

May your Hollidays be filled with such moments of peace and joy, wherever you are. And may your time be slow so as to be with yourself and those you love.

Thank you for being on this page. Your curiosity and generous comments inspire me to bring you better content, every week.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hollidays!

I look forward to writing again on January 2nd.

Louise Jalbert, “Falling Snow”, Gouache on Paper, 2018, 9 x 12 inches

A Tapestry of Bark Paintings

During my 2017 solo show Le nez dans l’herbe, I put together a group of bark paintings on a wall.

I had been doing bark paintings, along with grass, foliage and water studies in the course of this series (Le nez dans l’herbe could translate as smelling the grass), and with each of those, I was fascinated by the endless variety of rhythm and color they inspired me.

The subtle and muted colors of bark take a significance when painted on a larger scale. Since the purpose of this series was to bring the visitor in contact with the sensorial aspect of nature, I thought putting up a wall of 22 x 30 inches bark watercolors would make a surrounding effect.

 

 

 

This is how it looked in my studio as I was preparing this ensemble.

 

 

 

 

 

I was pleased with the result (as you can see)
because this body of work brought me a step further in my ongoing research for expressing the sensorial aspect of nature.

 

 

Louise Jalbert, “Bark Tapestry”, 2017, Watercolor on paper, 5.6 x 10.2 feet

The Bareness of Bark

Once in a while, I like to get back to a feeling of bareness, of looking at what is essential, setting aside all the superfluous and complex and agitated in my life. Winter is a good time to do this, as nature itself is devoid of adornment.

For some reason, the bark of trees gives me the impression of bareness. Perhaps because I notice it more when the leaves have gone, or could it it be the restrained palette of browns and grays?

Yet, upon looking carefully at a single patch of bark, I see a whole world: intricate in patterns, complex in textures, with a great variety of nuances. Muted, certainly. But also rugged, strong, protective, and so discreetly appealing.

And so the humble bark conveys an invitation to see more in less.

Louise Jalbert, “Large Bark no 7”, Watercolor on Paper, 2017, 22 x 30 inches