Liz Welch Tirrell

click images for detail

<b>Orange Light</b>, 2017<br>Watercolor on paper, 8x8 inches<br>$1400
Orange Light

<b>American Sycamore</b>, 2015<br>Watercolor on paper, 9x9 image, 20x16 inches framed<br><i>sold</i>
American Sycamore

<b>Japanese Maple</b>, 2015<br>Watercolor on paper, 9x9, 20x16 inches framed<br><i>sold</i>
Japanese Maple

<b>Bird</b>, 2015<br>Watercolor on paper, 8x8 inches, 16x12 inches framed<br>$1400

<b>Dune Shadow</b>, 2015<br>Watercolor on paper, 8x8 inches, 16x12 inches framed<br><i>sold</i>
Dune Shadow

<b>Spring Wave Break</b>, 2015<br>Watercolor on paper, 8.5 x 8.5, 20 x 16 inches framed<br>$1400
Spring Wave Break

<b>Maine Sunset</b><br>Watercolor on paper, 7x7, 20x16 inches framed<br><i>sold</i>
Maine Sunset

<b>Balmorhea Cold Front</b>, 2015<br>Watercolor on paper, 7x7, 20x16 inches framed<br><i>sold</i>
Balmorhea Cold Front

<b>Muskoka Moonrise</b><br>Watercolor on paper, 7x5, 18x15 inches framed<br><i>sold</i>
Muskoka Moonrise

<b>The Monahans Sandhills</b><br>Watercolor on paper, 7.5x7.5, 20x16 inches framed<br>$1400
The Monahans Sandhills

LIZ WELCH TIRRELL grew up in Midland, Texas: a landscape void of bends, curves or irregularities and a 180° sky, yet I will always think of it and the high­deserts of West Texas as beautiful a place as the ocean. The openness and light of both desert and sea were a great visual influence and photography became a passion. Probably the most significant credit goes to my father, the architect Frank Welch, and his enthusiastic discernments on the world around us. Getting to sit at drafting tables as a girl on weekends at his office with the pre­CAD precision tools of design of those days left me happily occupied for hours.

I’ve always loved watercolor as a medium and usually had my little Winsor & Newton travel kit with me to paint postcards when out and about, and an old Leica 35mm; now the impressive Iphone 6Plus is my camera of choice. But it wasn’t until last spring after a visit to Marfa and then to La Baule in Brittany that something took hold. It started out photographically, and upon my return I began thinking of pulling all my visual interests together: camera work, painting, and tinkering, to build a simple yet precision device employing a technique that has been around for centuries: the neo lucida or camera obscura.

I often feel that nature is looking at me, rather than I at it; I like to think of my small paintings as nature’s selfies. It can be tedious work to produce­­to paraphrase Ginger Rogers’: ‘I do it backwards AND upside­down.’ Yet, like those childhood days playing with the instruments of the architect’s trade, it leaves me happily occupied for hours.

Liz Welch Tirrell