In the summer of 2024, I spent two sunny days exploring Huế – the place holding memories of a bygone era: Nguyễn dynasty. It was the final medieval dynasty before Vietnam became a colony of France and experienced warfare to the extreme in WW1, 2 and the Cold War.
Despite bombings and destruction, Huế and the Imperial City still maintained a variety of structures and monuments with their intricate details.
I had been longing to visit Huế for a long time and finally I got to enjoy this little peaceful city.
Nhật Thành Lâu Cổng Ngọ Môn
It was a sunny and hot day, and there were swarms of people visiting the citadel: foreigners, local people, Vietnamese travelers. The entrance (Cổng Ngọ Môn) was the most crowded spot, afterwards, people started wandering to different areas. It was understandable, because the entrance was built to impress anyone coming, foreshadowing normal people to pay respect to the king. My little painting can’t capture all the details of the entrance, many decorative elements were made by skilled craftsmen from all across Vietnam.
Phước Thọ Am Lầu Tịnh Minh
These two places (Phước Thọ Am, Lầu Tịnh Minh) were built much later, reflecting the changes coming from the outer world. Lầu Tịnh Minh was built in 1927, featuring a higher ceiling, a larger balcony and many other elements from Western, particularly French architecture; but still keeping the traditional roof and decorative tiles of Vietnam.
Vườn Thiệu PhươngLăng Minh Mạng
There are many places that I haven’t painted and I’m still excited to paint them, even after a year. There are still so many things I want to learn about Hue architecture and history.
You can use some of my images below to paint if you are interested in Vietnamese medieval architecture! Share with me if you can.
This is just a post to share all the mess behind polished paintings. You can see the underpainting, the half-done paintings, brushes thrown randomly on the desk, the palette almost falling off the desk.
Sometimes, the process means more to me rather than the final result. I enjoy painting fast and playing with colors, so the moment the painting is finished or rather I see that I can’t do anything more. It feels like waking up from a dream and I’ll need to wait until next night for another dream.
I have always wanted to join the Plein Air Challenge held by the Warrior Painters, but never found the time in the past years.
This year, I had more free time due to a sudden decline in commission requests, possibly due to the introduction of AI to Fiverr. Instead of jumping into a new course, I decided it’s time to join the challenge, or just tried to see how far I could go.
The challenge was a good distraction in this transitional period. Fiverr has “encouraged” creatives to allow AI to create free or cheaper artworks for users, which forced me to accept how sloppy my art career is. While I still managed to work with long-term clients or projects to support myself in this period, I felt an existential crisis slowly burning myself out. On some days, when waking up, I was hit by questions such as “What am I doing here? Are my goals realistic or achievable enough? Am I feeling and doing like this forever? …”. The challenge helped me refocus my attention, simply speaking, I know today I need to finish by #13 painting because today is 13th.
The challenge also introduced me to a few more talented background, concept and landscape painters. Some are Giacomo Sardelli , Lex , Ferrari Duanghathai, and more; it ignites a bit of hope in me about posting arts online. I have always struggled to stick to a regular schedule of posting; and now that I’ve accepted it, I just post whatever I’m ready to. I also got featured on Warrior Painters page and story a few times, which helps my audience grows a bit.
This challenge also motivates me to appreciate small things, both physically and mentally. A quiet morning, a few hours focus in a distracted day, a tree coming up with new leaves, a cool summer breeze, a small commission, a regular client ordering little comics. In the days that I’m haunted by big questions about career and life, these little things keep me grounded. I tried to simplify everything, from declutter my art corner to relationships in my life.
I tried to simplify my tools as well, I used the same set of brushes and only four main colors: red, yellow, blue and white. I use a portable palette recycled from a plastic package of some electronic devices, which already has some grayish and brownish paints left. They help create the neutral gray parts of all paintings.
My original plan was to use this to motivate me to go out of my neighborhood, but in the end, I painted mostly houses in my area. I already have a collection of references taken by me during my weekly run. Painting from photo references taken on my own doesn’t lure me into copying the image, because I know the limits of my own photos and already have my own impression of the place.
And in the end, I have a lot of works to share and talk about, 29 paintings. I realize I have worked much faster, since my landscape sketchbook has only about 10 pages left and I began it 2 years ago. Along with reading about Mary Cassatt, I found more hope in myself and an art career, motivation to stay resilient and patient. Of course, I’m still at loss visualizing what kind of career I truly want, but there’s one thing I know for sure: I want to draw and paint everyday.
Copying old masters is a practicing method that always sparks controversy.
Selling copies of old masters used to a profitable niche in art. In England, early eighteenth century, a number of artists used to work as professional copyist. Francis Harding is an artist famous for copying Italian painter Giovanni Paolo Panini.
Back then till today, copying old masters’ artworks is still a recognized way to practice in European academies. Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, which today is known for his painting La Grande Odalisque, learned by copying the prints available in his family. In Chinese, copying works from previous artist is the sixth principle in the list of principles introduced by Xie He in his book “Classified Record of Painters of Former Times”, which later become standards for artist training and critic.
Today, many museums organize copying sessions for artist to copy paintings to improve their techniques or to pay homage to the masters. Some famous names include Lourve: copying has been allowed since 1793 and Met with their Copyist Program.
From a personal view point, I believe copying is simply a tool which can be use for both right and wrong purposes.
1. Copying is a relaxed yet effective method to practice
I have found copying is a good warm up exercise before getting to work on commissions and professional works.
Study of Rembrandt’s and Botticelli’s
Copying as a warm-up exercise should focus on one purpose only: composition or anatomy or color, etc. These studies can be quickly done in 30 minutes to 1 hour. The exercise is relaxing since the masters has already figured out what and how to paint the focus, lighting setup and color. It’s similar to doing an experiment or research, with all other conditions controlled, focus on one element to understand how to work it out.
2. Copying simultaneously from tutorials
Tutorials are great sources to learn, particularly if you find an artist you admire and want to get inspired. Some artists can explain cohesively their progress in terms of both techniques and ideas; but some not. When watching how their hands hold, move their brush and trying to mimic them at the same time, I feel a lot of my questions and difficulties get cleared up.
Study from Nathan FowkesStudy from Nathan Fowkes
Above are copies I did when I studies a paid course from Nathan Fowkes, but there are a lot of free tutorials on Youtube: James Gurney , Matthew White , etc.
3. Copying also helps with rendering and brushstrokes
Study of “Taking a Walk on the Cliffs of Sainte-Adresse” by Claude Monet Study of “Off the coast near Yalta by moonlight” by Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky
One important element affecting how an audience views a painting is the brushstrokes. Some artists, namely the Impressionists, kept their canvas textured while others, Vermeer for example, preferred a smooth painting. Both types will require specific technical skills. Observing closely the old masters’ pieces or watching tutorials/ live sessions helps me understand how an artist move their brush, their hand and what techniques I need to use to get a specific texture.
4 . When things get wrong
That being said, copying too much or without a purpose could harm an artist’s personal style. The reason why many format art teachers don’t like students copying manga or anime style because they feared of over-copying.
Especially in the age of social media, many inexperienced artists try to copy others with more followers. It’s not their fault entirely, especially social media can appear to help artists live on their passion.
Study of “The Laundress” by Jean Baptiste
Conclusion
In the end, copying old masters is a double-edged sword. When done with clear intent—whether to study composition, color, or technique—it can be an invaluable learning tool. However, over-reliance on copying without personal exploration may hinder artistic growth. As Austin Kleon wrote in Steal Like an Artist, “All creative work builds on what came before.”; being artists, we should learn from the past while continuously developing our own unique voices.
2024 saw me going up and down with painting, beginning with an intensive period of doing portraits and then a loose period of painting random things to find out: what do I want to paint? Some context: for the past 2-3 years, I have been allocating my efforts on the technical side rather than idea sites; since I often stuck by techniques. Sometimes, it was confusion while mixing colors, other times, it was problems about anatomy, perspective, etc.
My belief is that I would perfect my techniques or style to some point before thinking about what I want to express with my works. Well, it turns out that arts doesn’t work like that, and I get annoyed by endless practice and studying sessions.
But let the story begin with the first few months. I was into learning about colors (again) and portraits. Portrait paintings were to recall my anatomical knowledge and to boost my color skills. Mixing skin tones is still something I need to work on.
This is my favorite portrait of the whole year.
One big shift in my color usage is towards a brighter palette with bolder color choice. It possibly coincided with my switch to Holbein acrylic gouache, but also my slight change from just painting from dark to light or reverse to painting from the boldest color to neutral tones. It’s not an intentional thing, it’s more about keeping my palette organized so that I can avoid over mixing.
One thing I have been thinking about is how to add “life” into my paintings, or to be more specific, movement. My paintings use to have a nostalgia vibe, because I mostly painted the places I visited, the places that I met someone and talked with someone. The later paintings of 2024 has something else with bolder and brighter colors.
My summer trip to Quang Binh (Phong Nha), Hue, Da Nang (Hoi An) deepened my interest in painting traditional architecture. My only regret is that I should have taken many more reference images.
In the last months of 2024, I turned to painting nature, flowers and gardens in particular, as a method to relax. It’s also under the influence of writing about female artists, Rachel Ruysch, Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, etc who use flowers as a subject and a recurring symbol of femininity. They allows me to work quickly with not-so-bad results, work freely wihout a reference image and can be used as gifts in rushed events.
Looking back, 2024 was a year of shifting perspectives—from focusing solely on technique to questioning how I want to express my ideas. While I haven’t found all the answers, I’ve discovered new directions, from bold color choices to the love for life and nature in my paintings.
One of the perks of being an illustrator working with small authors is that I get to read many interesting stories and visualize it with my ideas. Every illustration has a story behind, but below are some of the most significant projects of mine in terms of storytelling.
A series for a personal story from childhood to adulthood.
A story of two teenagers with Sherlock Holmes inspiration
A classroom story
Two illustrations in a poetry book about a female growth after relationships
Over the past few years, I have received numerous requests for couple illustrations for a variety of purposes—weddings, anniversaries, personal gifts, and even editorial use. The style preferences vary widely, from cartoony and humorous to deeply emotional, as well as partially colored sketches to fully painted pieces.
Here are some illustrations are allowed to publish for my personal promotions.
Above are a few monochrome drawings in a series of illustrations for a poetry book about love.
A couple married with two daughtersAn old couple, commissioned by their granddaughter
Here are some illustrations that I’m allowed to share for personal promotion. One of the biggest challenges in depicting love and affection is avoiding clichés. The most common pose—standing close with hands around each other’s waists—is often requested, so I strive to add a unique touch to each piece. Personalization is key: incorporating meaningful details from a couple’s memories, such as a special place, a significant object, or a shared symbol, can add layers of meaning that only they can truly appreciate.
An illustration to show the family’s hobby timeAn editorial illustration
A doodle design for a wedding invitation, all the drawings are based on the couple’s memoriesA couple commission for a coming child with Easter theme
Couple illustrations are one of the most challenging commissions I take on. They require not only technical skills but also strong communication and an in-depth creative process—analyzing details, categorizing ideas, and translating emotions into visual elements.
Despite the challenges, creating couple illustrations is always a special experience. It’s rewarding to see how these artworks hold special meaning for each couple. I hope these illustrations bring joy and lasting memories to those who receive them.
It all started when I watched videos by James Gurney. I was amazed by how much fun it looked to explore the world through an artist’s eyes, and how urban sketching could really improve my art skills. James went into detail about his process, from choosing materials to picking subjects and actually painting. His videos inspired me – a homebody by nature – to get outside and work on my observation and on-the-spot painting skills, instead of always sticking to my desk.
I grew up in Hanoi, where the streets are full of houses from all kinds of different eras. They’re old and diverse, definitely not your typical urban design, but perfect for painting.
I thought I knew all about these houses until I started sketching them. That’s when I began noticing details I’d never paid attention to before. Questions started popping up in my mind: Why does this window look strange? Is it uncomfortable living in these houses? And so on.
My Medium: Watercolor vs Gouache
I started with watercolor because it was the most convenient and readily available option. I could use pans or different sizes of boxes depending on where I was painting. It reminded me of the old-school watercolor techniques I admired.
Gouache, on the other hand, was messier for me at first. I had bought a set of bottles, which weren’t as portable as tubes for outdoor painting. It might sound like a small detail, but the difference in storage was significant—paints in tubes are far more convenient. Since paint tubes were first introduced in the early 19th century, around 1841, by American artist John G. Rand; it has got easier for artists to travel and work en plein air (outdoors), which became especially important during the rise of Impressionism.
Once I switched my gouache to tubes, it became my favorite medium. I enjoy painting opaquely, except when I have a specific idea that requires transparency. Gouache is more forgiving than watercolor, and it’s easier to define both large areas and fine details.
I started by painting my own neighborhood since I was already familiar with it from my daily life. It felt like a chance to rediscover my surroundings in a new way. I’m especially drawn to houses with plants, those that have a nostalgic vibe, or those that clearly show signs of someone’s life lived there.
For watercolor, there’s a wide range of pans available, which allows me to create a personalized palette. With the help of adhesive putty, I can make my own compact watercolor box to carry around. My favorite brush is the waterbrush, as it has a reservoir for water built into the handle, making it super convenient. Travel brushes are also great, though I’ve found that investing in good-quality brushes and a durable case is more worthwhile in the long run.
Hanoi’s streets stand out from other cities due to the rich history shaped by major influences from nations such as China, France, and the US. Tourist areas often showcase French architecture, which can be explored further in my blog about Hanoi, including detailed sketches of house facades.
Before the French Revolution, the architecture in Northern Vietnam was deeply influenced by Chinese culture. Buildings often featured intricate decorations, from the roof to the walls, with wooden, symmetric designs. This style can still be seen today in temples and other historical structures.
Hanoi’s vibrant coffee culture also provides ample opportunities for me to do studies. Many coffee shops are renovated from traditional architecture, while others embrace modern styles with clean lines and ambient lighting. Coffee shops in Hanoi serve as a melting pot for conversations, offering a perfect setting to observe and study people in real life.
To sum up
In wrapping up my journey of urban sketching in Hanoi, I’ve realized how much this experience has enriched my view of the city. Sketching outdoors has helped me capture the lively streets, stunning architecture, and everyday moments that often go unnoticed.
I encourage others to grab a sketchbook and explore their own surroundings. There are so many stories and details in our daily lives waiting to be captured. Each sketch not only reflects a scene but also our personal growth as artists. So, let’s keep sketching, observing, and enjoying the world around us!
I use daily life as my resource for sketching, naturally, Vietnamese culture is a recurring topic. Keep scrolling to be excited by my culture!
“ Áo Dài” (loosly translated to English: Long Dress) is the Vietnamese traditional attire now, in fact, it’s the result of an evolving history of costumes. The version of the Áo Dài commonly seen on Vietnamese streets today is a modern adaptation from the 20th century. Vietnamese traditional costumes are an extensive and fascinating topic, one that I’d love to explore in greater depth later.
Male versions: Left: A medieval soldier; Right: A groom
Female versions: Left: áo ngũ thân tay chẽn (a predecessor to Ao Dai); Right: Ao Dai (popular for daily wear in 20th century)
These little sketches were painted after I attended an event celebrating the history of Áo Dài in Hanoi, in which multiple versions were showcased.
Tết holiday (Lunar New Year) is the time to watch bustling streets, enjoy traditional cuisine and appreciate the beginning of a new year. Not every Asian country celebrate Lunar New Year the same way and equally important. Simply explained, Tết holiday for Vietnamese is on the same level of importance as Christmas holiday for Westerners, Chuseok for Korean, Songkran for Thais, Diwali for Indians or Ramadan for Muslims.
Bánh Chưng (sticky rice, pork, mung beans wrapped in Dong leaves) in green; Mứt (Candied Fruits) organized in traditional boxes; traditional calligraphy; Hoa Đào – Hoa Mai – Quất (3 types of essential plants for Tết)
Joss paper models of boots and fishesA full plant Quất
Mid-Fall festival or Moon Festival (Tết Trung Thu/ Tết Trông Trăng) is another major holiday for Vietnamese. It takes place on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month, typically around September or October. Children are especially excited during this festival, as they carry colorful lanterns, traditional toys and participate in fun parades. Mooncakes, filled with lotus seed paste or red bean, are shared among family members and friends as a symbol of unity and prosperity.
As I think about the colorful and lively culture of Vietnam, I’m reminded of how our traditions come to life through art, festivals, and our clothing. The Áo Dài, with its deep history, isn’t just a beautiful outfit—it’s a link to our past. Festivals like Tết and the Mid-Fall Festival bring us together, sharing happiness, food, and a sense of community. Every sketch and note I make is a way to celebrate these special moments.
Blue is a primary color that often goes unnoticed in its significance. Yet, historically, it was one of the most expensive and revered hues. Ultramarine blue, in particular, was as valuable as gold because it was derived from finely ground lapis lazuli stones, sourced primarily from Afghanistan and transported to Europe. Its use can be traced back to the Indus Valley Civilization and then to the creation of the funeral mask of Tutankhamun.
For me, ultramarine blue is my favourite, though I rarely use it straight from the tube. A touch of blue in a mix lowers the value of colors without losing their vibrancy. It’s also my go-to for creating shadow tones. In this series, you’ll see paintings dominated by blue (both ultramarine and azure). From blue skies and seas to nocturnal scenes, portraits, and still life, this color is the centre.
A study from a master painting by Kalmykov Grigory Odysseevich – a Russian master in painting sea scenes
Egyptian blue, the first blue ever made, was produced in the third millennium BC in ancient Egypt. It was synthesized from silica, lime, copper and an alkali. Its blue color comes from a substance that is identical to a rare, naturally occurring mineral made of copper and silicate.
A painting of Hồ Gươm – a famous lake in Hanoi
Until 1700s, blue was mainly made from lapis lazuli and the related mineral ultramarine. In 1709, a big discovery happened when German chemist Johann Jacob Diesbach created Prussian blue. He accidentally made it while experimenting with dried blood and iron sulphides. At first, it was called Berliner Blau. By 1710, the French painter Antoine Watteau started using it, and later his student Nicolas Lancret did too. It quickly became popular for making wallpaper, and in the 1800s, French Impressionist artists also loved using it in their paintings.
Blue has a special meaning in many cultures around the world. In some places, it’s seen as a symbol of peace and calm, while in others, it represents strength and protection. Blue was chosen for the army in many countries, in fact the term ‘navy blue’ comes from Royal Navy adoption of blue informs for its officers. In the Torah, Israelites were instructed to add a blue thread, called tekhelet, to the fringes of their garments, made from dye extracted from a Mediterranean snail. This blue was seen as a symbol of God’s Glory, and meditating on it was believed to help connect with the divine, representing purity and the Throne of God.
A portrait using ultramarine blue as the main color
During the Dutch Golden Age, artists like Johannes Vermeer used blue to add depth and realism to their paintings, as seen in his famous “Girl with a Pearl Earring,” where the blue attire of the subject stands out beautifully against the background. Blue became an essential color for capturing both beauty and spirituality in art.
In the above portrait, I realized that blue can sometimes appear warmer than the skin tone, particularly when it’s saturated.
Above is a quick break-down of my digital painting of a night working in my dream studio. A tip I have learned is that you can use a warm underpainting to keep the blue “warm”. This is also true in real life observations: outside light often has a cool tone while interior objects, made of wood, are “warm”.
I use blue as the shadow here – it’s a real phenomenon in sunny days with clear blue sky
Soft blue often appears on the sky in sunny days due to a phenomenon called Rayleigh scattering. When sunlight enters Earth’s atmosphere, it is made up of different colors of light, each with a different wavelength. Blue light has shorter wavelengths and is scattered in all directions by the gases and particles in the air.
When painting blue sky in a sunny day, I often lay down a soft yellow first and use the same blue to create shadows. This shadow can be seen most clearly with a bright object such as white walls.
Similarly, the sea appears blue due to the way light interacts with water. Water absorbs colors with longer wavelengths, like red, orange, and yellow, more easily, while blue light with shorter wavelengths is scattered and reflected back to our eyes. This makes the sea look blue, especially when the water is deep.
Painting skies or seas is a chance to observe how different tones of blue go with each other to create movement and life.
I hope this collection helps you discover something new and exciting about this color!
I’m pretty sure you have seen her works somewhere, the blooming flowers painting with a brownish tone background. If you tried searching her name on any search engine, tons of flower paintings will show up – don’t be surprised, because she actually left a legacy of about 250 still life paintings.
Family background: A genius born in a supportive environment
Rachel Ruysch, born in Amsterdam, is the daughter of Antony Fredericus, Professor of Anatomy, and Maria, daughter of an architect Pieter Post. Her talent was discovered from early age and her father let her study under Willem van Aelst, a talented painter of flowers in Delft. She quickly surpassed her teacher, and her talent became known in the highest circles. She was invited to German Courts before she was of middle age. She became the first female artist to enter artist society in The Hague in 1701.
In her personal life: she got married with Juriaen Pool (1666-1745), an excellent painter of portraits and a colleague in the Court Paintership of the Elector Palatine in 1693. She must have a happy marriage with him, since they had ten kids together and she was fully supported by her husband to keep painting with her maiden name.
While we can’t deny her talent and hard work, it’s important to note that her success is powered by other males in a patriarchy: her father and her husband. Her father is a renowned scientist specializing in anatomy and botany, and also an amateur painter. His cabinet, a huge collection of anatomical collection, attracted visitors from all over Europe, including Tsar Peter the Great. His collection was one of the earliest fluid-preserved specimens, making he himself an interest subject to study from the point of view of a scientist as well. He himself was featured in painting by Jan van Neck. (Dam, n.d)
Van Neck, J. (1683). The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Frederik Ruysch [Oil on canvas].
As an artistic person, Frederick Ruysch added a touch of decorative to his preservation, making his specimens an art collection to an extent. He was obsessed with the concept of ‘vanitas’ – the transcience of life and death. ‘Vanitas’ – Latin for ‘vanity’, means pointlessness and futility of pleasure, ambition and all worldly desires (Dam, n.d). This topic is explored by artists during Baroque period, belonging to allegorical art (arts representing a higher ideal). Frederick probably passed on his interest to Rachel while she helped him with his collection; not to mention, she had access to the greatest library of reference for flowers, plants and insects. In addition, she has other family members interested in arts: her grandfather was an architect, his brother and uncle also drew and painted well. Less is known about her husband, Juriaen Pool; however, his love and support for her can be seen in his painting of the family. He is a court painter, a portraitist and a printmaker.
Pool, J., & Ruysch, R. (1716). Family portrait with flower still life in the making [Painting].
The only version from online resources is monochrome, but it’s obvious on the left of the painting is a bouquet of flowers, a familiar subject in Rachel’s artworks. She was ‘in the spotlight’ of the painting, indicating his admiration for her. She also used her maiden name through her whole career and her husband was likely to support instead of eclipse her talent.
In 1750, the state honored Ruysch with the publication of Dichtlovers voor de uitmuntende schilderessen Mejufvrouwe Rachel Ruisch (‘Poems for the Excellent Painter Mistress Rachel Ruysch’) (The Art Story,n.d). This anthology, the first of its kind for a Dutch artist, featured poems by eleven contemporary poets and scholars who celebrated her life and work. Rachel Ruysch passed away later that year at the age of 85.
Analysis on her style: highly detailed and scientific based botanical painting
A still life with flowers, butterflies and a lizard in a dell: PD.87-1973 (The Fitzwilliam Museum, 2025). An early work.
One important detail is that the bouquets Rachel painted never existed, but an assortment of fruits, flowers and insects from the artist’s imagination. That showcases her adept understanding of nature, especially botany and anatomy of insects as well as compositional skills of arranging the details to attract the viewers. She put together flowers from different seasons as well as from overseas, which, somehow reflected the development of Dutch horticultural industry as well as international trade, not to mention the “Tulip Mania” – the first recorded economic bubbles (Smarthistory (n.d.) One more thing to notice is that she used asymmetrical composition, emphasizing the natural bloom and droop of the flower – this was an ‘informal’ choice compared to other contemporary painters.
Her process often started with main lines of a composition, then she rendered details with the goal of being as true-to-life as possible. Different texture, from the soft silky petals to the rough leaves, were accurately painted. Arts writer Alexxa Gotthardt highlights that Ruysch “swiftly gained a reputation across Amsterdam for the enchanting realism of the plants and insects in her paintings. Her works weren’t merely idealized depictions but subtly alluded to themes of mortality and the life cycle.” (The Art Story,n.d)
In early works, she often painted woodland scenes “sottobosco” (forest floor), being inspired from Otto Marseus van Schrieck, Abraham Mignon, and her teacher, Willem van Aelst (The Art Story,n.d). A special technique she learned from her master, Willem van Aelst, was imprinting. She sometimes used real moss and real butterfly wings as imprints in her early painting. The scenes were often dramatically lit – one feature that stayed consistent in all her paintings. Later, her style reflected more of Baroque art style – a movement against Mannerist style, an intricate and formulaic approach. She often painted a bouquet, depicting flowers at various stages of life, capturing their journey from vibrant bloom to graceful decay. They were paired with a wide range of insects and animals – she created an ecosystem in her painting.
A vase of flowers (The Fitzwilliam Museum, 2025)
As she grew older, her compositions feature more open, expansive arrangements that fill the frame, evoking a rich sense of atmosphere and subtle humidity. She used bold diagonals and fluid curves to guide the viewer’s eye effortlessly across the composition. The central group of flowers were often the lightest and brightest, insects were arranged unexpectedly evoking a sense of curiosity in viewers.
Her paintings were often termed with ‘vanitas’ or ‘memento mori’ (Latin for ‘remember you must die’) since it was her father’s obsession. It’s a popular genre in Dutch during the seventeenth century, using still-life form to provoke thoughts about the fleeting life (Hibbitt, 2020). It’s the most common idea associated with her flowers painting, that all beauty fades and that all life, in the end, must die while celebrating the beauty of nature. Her painting may serve as a moral value to live thoughfully, prioritizing what truly matters over transient worldly matters.
References
Dam, A. (n.d). Death re-enlightened: Conservation of Frederik Ruysch’s wet anatomical preparations—The Rembrandts of fluid-preserved specimens [PDF]. ResearchGate. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/376812311
Welcome to my little collection of green colors. Green is hard to get it ‘right’ because the fresh paint from the tube always feel artificial. Green is often used to paint nature, especially trees. Trees, bushes, plants are not solid objects, they don’t have distinguished planes that we know for sure light is hitting on. They are made of thousands of leaves, each reflecting light in a different direction.
If nature is just a factor in the painting, I can rely on the texture of the paper to do the trick and just put a few layers for wide range of green tones.
Sometimes I try painting green in weird combinations. In this painting below, I try a combination of burnt sienna, green and purple – it turned out not good, but it was a fun experiment.
In this painting below, I actually use yellow and white more than green. Titanium white mixed yellow can create a cooler yellow suitable for the background.
In this sketch below, I use a few green paint (permanent green, leaf green) mixing with yellow, red, blue or brown sienna to create a wide range of tones so that I can imply that there are multiple types of plants.
This is a fun experiment with green lighting over different objects. The green Russian doll and the white paint package have the most range of colors since they are made of reflective material. In contrast, the flower and banana tend to lose their saturation and doesn’t reflect as much.
In the painting below, I added ultramarine blue when I mixed the dark tones for the trees, so that the oranges can stand out more. I also add horizon blue to the background trees to differentiate the main one.
This one is to play with the green in the shadow and in highlight. The yellow house and the red roof made the process simpler with just three main basic color: yellow, blue, red.
Here are a few pieces painting digitally. Apart from the highlight created by sunlight, other parts of the fruits have some blue since they are in the middle of branches and leaves.
I try to think of the trees as made of multiple balls and add scattered highlights to show the texture of the tree.
As we wrap up this collection of green-themed paintings, I hope you’ve enjoyed exploring the shades of green with me. There’s still room to explore with green in particular and expressing nature for me, see you again in another collection in the future!
Painting a full scene always feels overwhelming at first. When I lay out a big blank piece of paper or set up a canvas, I often imagine something is look back at me. Particularly when I was a beginner, I made the mistake of buying A3 paper stack to save and it was a bad choice. Some of my watercolor papers become buckled due to humidity and I had to get another stack.
It turned out that I overate myself and the simple solution is painting on a smaller size.
The case for a small painting
Starting with multiple thumbnail sketches actually saves much more time rather than going directly onto a big canvas. It helps capturing the idea at the rawest stage, then allowing me to explore different compositions, details and ideas. It works the same way as the outline for a book: you need to have a rough image of the end before starting with each chapter.
It also reduces the guilt of commitment: an idea may sound brilliant when it first comes into our head, but maybe not so when it is laid out on paper. It’s easier to give up a small sketch than a big painting. It doesn’t have to ‘good’, ‘excellent’ or ‘the masterpiece’; it can be anything attracting your attention.
Small size sketchbooks work better when you try to paint outside as well. Pairing with watercolor, it becomes my essential kit whenever I go outside.
The mini sketchbook and mini palette I often carry around
One page from the above sketchbook
The size of the above sketch of my sauce bottle is 13 x 8cm. You can see a bit of the process here.
You don’t even need to use color for a thumbnail sketch: you can start with painting value scale first and then color later. When I started painting outdoors, I mostly painted in grayscale with black and white only. The above two are of the same view, with a 2-year gap in between.
Tips to work with small sketches
1. Experiment with the size
You can still buy a big paper stack, just cut them into different sizes to see how it feels to you. A6 size is my favorite size, it looks like a postcard and it fits with my A6 planner. I can just shove them in between the pages and I’m ready to go anytime anywhere.
2. Experiment with the tools
I found ink, dark pencils (6B – 8B) and watercolor more suitable for sketching small. But many artists prefer soft pencils, gouache and digital painting better.
3. Focus on the mass and perspective first
I layout a simple perspective and opt to the biggest mass in the composition. If you struggle with background and landscape illustration, learning to be comfortable with perspective first and trying to see the world in grid is my advice.
4. Break down process and have fun
It’s challenging to complete a full illustration, particularly a landscape one. That’s why I often divide it in parts. Of course, when the surge of excitement comes, just go with it ; but it’s unrealistic to be ecstatic everyday. I often have a few projects running over the same time to switch when I’m bored.
A painting capturing closely how waves crash with the rocks
A painting of a view from my apartment
Above are some the largest painting I have ever done, roughly A4 size. It’s tough to paint big, but the joy of completing one big illustration is too great to miss!
Jeanne Lolness 