America is a land of rich diversity that extends throughout our landscapes, cities, and regions. I'd say that one of the most distinctive places we have is Cape Cod. Now, being a born-and-raised Southern girl, I have always romanticized the northern coasts and beaches because they always look so post-card perfect for idyllic summer getaways with their sandy beaches, tumbling beach grass, and towering lighthouses.

Over and over again I hear artists cooing about the thick richness of oil paints and its appealing spreadability, and yes, all of that is totally true. But artist Bev Jozwiak is giving oil a run for its money in terms of buttery appearance and saturated colors, and she’s doing it with watercolor.

I've been waiting all my life to have a red-carpet moment, but who knows when the Academy will get around to remembering my searing director's debut at the age of 14, when I put on a musical version of Hamlet to the theme song of The Beatles' "Obladi Oblada." (Maybe you had to be there.) So I've decided to take matters into my own hands—not to hog the limelight for myself, but to bestow accolades and acclaim to a few of the brightest and best resources in our Artist Daily store!

When I’m landscape painting I’m always drawn to the curious, in-between places where the outdoors and indoors meet. This could be an ivy-smothered barn that almost looks like it is disappearing into the landscape, or an ocean view from an open window. The places where architecture and the natural world collide make a composition eye-catching and compelling because they integrate elements that we usually think of as distinct and separate. Bringing them together creates a tension that some of the landscape paintings I like best have in common.

I remember the first time an artist invited me into his studio. It was truly a reflection of his personality and experiences—full of memorabilia from his travels in and around his childhood hometown in the Deep South, and neat as a pin, just like him. Organizing your studio space so that it fosters creativity and enables you to make the most of your time can be a challenge. Although the solutions will vary for each of us, there are a few savvy tips and interesting approaches—similar to those you'll find from practicing artists who have gone through the same process and are featured in our latest special issue of Studios—that I wanted to share with you.

It’s often the case that when you live somewhere, you don’t take full advantage of the opportunities that the place affords, and only after leaving do you realize how valuable those opportunities were. This can be true for artists, who, after moving, may regret not utilizing a strong local community of artists, not frequenting their former city’s art institutions, or not painting great parts of the local landscape as much as they would have liked. Because I have moved across the country several times in recent years, I’ve often felt this way. Recently, though, I was lucky to have a second chance to appreciate an artistic aspect of my life that I had once taken for granted.

America is a land of rich diversity that extends throughout our landscapes, cities, and regions. I'd say that one of the most distinctive places we have is Cape Cod. Now, being a born-and-raised Southern girl, I have always romanticized the northern coasts and beaches because they always look so post-card perfect for idyllic summer getaways with their sandy beaches, tumbling beach grass, and towering lighthouses.

Over and over again I hear artists cooing about the thick richness of oil paints and its appealing spreadability, and yes, all of that is totally true. But artist Bev Jozwiak is giving oil a run for its money in terms of buttery appearance and saturated colors, and she’s doing it with watercolor.

I've been waiting all my life to have a red-carpet moment, but who knows when the Academy will get around to remembering my searing director's debut at the age of 14, when I put on a musical version of Hamlet to the theme song of The Beatles' "Obladi Oblada." (Maybe you had to be there.) So I've decided to take matters into my own hands—not to hog the limelight for myself, but to bestow accolades and acclaim to a few of the brightest and best resources in our Artist Daily store!

When I’m landscape painting I’m always drawn to the curious, in-between places where the outdoors and indoors meet. This could be an ivy-smothered barn that almost looks like it is disappearing into the landscape, or an ocean view from an open window. The places where architecture and the natural world collide make a composition eye-catching and compelling because they integrate elements that we usually think of as distinct and separate. Bringing them together creates a tension that some of the landscape paintings I like best have in common.

I remember the first time an artist invited me into his studio. It was truly a reflection of his personality and experiences—full of memorabilia from his travels in and around his childhood hometown in the Deep South, and neat as a pin, just like him. Organizing your studio space so that it fosters creativity and enables you to make the most of your time can be a challenge. Although the solutions will vary for each of us, there are a few savvy tips and interesting approaches—similar to those you'll find from practicing artists who have gone through the same process and are featured in our latest special issue of Studios—that I wanted to share with you.

It’s often the case that when you live somewhere, you don’t take full advantage of the opportunities that the place affords, and only after leaving do you realize how valuable those opportunities were. This can be true for artists, who, after moving, may regret not utilizing a strong local community of artists, not frequenting their former city’s art institutions, or not painting great parts of the local landscape as much as they would have liked. Because I have moved across the country several times in recent years, I’ve often felt this way. Recently, though, I was lucky to have a second chance to appreciate an artistic aspect of my life that I had once taken for granted.