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I've been letting this past weekend settle before trying to put it into words.

 

Cowgirl Up! at the Sigler Western Museum opened with a preview evening for artists and sponsors—a rare and intimate first look before the exhibition opened to the public. Walking into the museum, I was immediately struck by the presence of the work. Not just the scale of the exhibition, but the depth of it. These women paint with experience, with history, with something hard-earned.

 

It’s the kind of show that asks you to slow down.

And, if you’re an artist in it, to measure yourself honestly.

 

As I moved through the galleries, I felt that quiet, familiar voice begin to surface—the one that wonders if your work holds its place. Surrounded by paintings that felt so resolved, so confident, I found myself questioning.

Was my work strong enough?

Did it belong here?

 

I walked through room after room, taking everything in.

And for a moment, I wondered—what if I don’t find my work at all?

It’s not a rational thought, but it’s a real one. That vulnerable space where you’ve given something of yourself, and now it lives among others you deeply respect.

 

Then finally, toward the back, I found my paintings.

And there it was.

 

Gathering Light.

With a beautiful plaque beside it.

First Place in 2D.

 

 

 

I stood there for a moment, not quite able to process what I was seeing. In a room filled with artists I have admired for years, the judge had chosen this piece—not just to be included, but to be recognized.

 

That shift—from doubt to quiet confirmation—is not something I take lightly.

It wasn’t loud or triumphant. It was still. Grounding.

A reminder that the work we question most deeply is often the work that resonates most clearly beyond us.

 

Not long after, something else caught my eye.

A small red sticker next to Grace in the Reins.

Simple. Easy to overlook. But meaningful.

A red sticker means the work has sold.

 

Except… the exhibition hadn’t even opened yet.

 

That’s when I learned the museum, a Smithsonian affiliated museum, had acquired it for their permanent collection.

 

 

There’s something profoundly humbling about that kind of recognition. A piece chosen early—before the public arrives, before the noise and attention. A quiet decision to preserve the work as part of something larger, something lasting.

I didn’t have a polished response to that moment.

 

I just cried.

Not out of shock alone, but out of the weight of it—the years, the work, the persistence, the uncertainty that always seems to accompany the creative process. It all felt present at once.

 

The following day brought a different kind of richness.

I reconnected with one of my closest friends from high school—someone who knew me before any of this felt possible. There was something grounding in that, a reminder of where this path began. 

 

 

Later, I met with a cousin I hadn’t seen since childhood. It felt like looking into a reflection of the past and present at the same time.

Moments like those have a way of softening everything, placing recognition back into the context of relationship and time.

 

And then came the Quick Draw.

Ninety minutes.

A blank surface.

The porch of the museum filled with people watching, asking questions, leaning in.

 

 

 

There’s no overthinking in a moment like that. Only instinct, trust, and movement. I chose to pour—leaning fully into the process that has shaped so much of my work. The paint moved, settled, shifted in ways both expected and surprising.

 

Before the final bell rang, we had to frame the work and placed it on display.

 

 

Then came the auction.

Each artist stepping forward. Each piece finding its moment.

And mine—created in that brief window of time—found a home that same day.

 

There’s something deeply meaningful about that exchange. A collector witnessing the creation of a piece and choosing to carry it forward into their life. From first mark to final placement, all in a matter of hours.

It’s immediate. Honest.

And in its own way, incredibly intimate.

 

Now I’m back in the studio.

The energy of the weekend hasn’t left me—it’s shifted into something quieter, but just as present. A sense of clarity. A renewed commitment to the work. A deeper understanding of what it means to trust the process, even in moments of doubt.

 

Because the truth is, those moments don’t go away.

But neither does the possibility that something meaningful can come from them.

 

For those who follow my work, who collect it, who live with it—this weekend is part of that story too. These experiences shape the work that comes next. They deepen it. Refine it. Ask more of it.

 

And if there’s something you’ve been drawn to—some piece that has stayed with you—there’s a quiet knowing in that worth paying attention to.

 

The right work has a way of finding the right home.

 

And I’m grateful, always, to be part of that connection.

 

 

 

I recently had the incredible opportunity to be featured on Art School Live with Eric Rhoads, and I can honestly say—it was a thrilling experience from start to finish.

 

Going into the live show, I’ll admit I was a little nervous. But once the conversation began, those nerves quickly melted away. Eric was gracious, curious, and genuinely interested in my process, which made the entire experience feel more like an engaging studio conversation than a formal demo. It flowed far more smoothly than I had hoped, and I walked away feeling energized, grateful, and deeply affirmed.

 

During the episode, I shared my poured watercolor technique, focusing on how I use masking fluid to preserve the white of the paper and create luminous layers of color. We talked about something I’m often asked about: the difference between washes and pours, and how each approach creates a very different visual and emotional result.

 

To illustrate this, I shared two finished zebra paintings—painted from the same subject, but using two entirely different methods.

 

The Wash Zebra: Control

The first zebra was painted using wet-in-wet watercolor washes. In this approach, the paper is damp and the pigment is guided carefully with the brush. While the water is active, I maintain control over where the color travels, how edges soften, and how form is shaped. Washes are about intention, precision, and deliberate decision-making. They allow me to sculpt the painting thoughtfully, one brushstroke at a time.

 

The Poured Zebra: Glow

The second zebra was created using poured watercolor. This method relies heavily on gravity, timing, and trust in the process. I build the painting in layers—pouring pigment, allowing it to dry, applying masking fluid, and then pouring again. The result is a natural glow, soft transitions, and organic movement that simply can’t be replicated with a brush alone. In poured watercolor, the water becomes a collaborator, and the painting often surprises me in the best possible ways.

 

Seeing these two zebras side by side made the lesson clear:
washes are about control, and pours are about glow.

 
Neither approach is better than the other—they simply offer different energy, mood, and possibilities.

 

I’ve been so touched by the response to this episode. Hearing from artists who felt inspired or encouraged to try something new is exactly why I love teaching and sharing my process. Opportunities like this remind me how powerful it can be to talk openly about technique, experimentation, and trusting your own artistic voice.

 

I’m incredibly grateful to Eric Rhoads and the Art School Live community for such a warm welcome, and I hope everyone who watches the replay finds something that sparks curiosity and joy in their own watercolor journey.

 

If you haven’t seen the episode yet, the recording is available—and I truly hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed being part of it.

 

You can view the recording at https://www.youtube.com/live/uga7e0LRRzo?si=2U3TbaVdtUsi7_6u

 

 

Happy painting,
Leslie

 

Zimbabwe • Part 3

Victoria Falls, Zambezi Magic, and the Sweetest Goodbyes

 

 

Our final days in Zimbabwe were a beautiful blend of wonder, adventure, community, reflection, and a few unexpected gifts from the universe — the kind that stay with you long after you’ve returned home.

 

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A Morning at Victoria Falls

We began with a visit to Victoria Falls, one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. Known locally as Mosi-oa-Tunya, “The Smoke That Thunders,” the falls stretch nearly a mile wide and plunge over 350 feet into the gorge below.

 

 

Because we visited at the end of the dry season, the falls weren’t at their fullest — and that turned out to be ideal. In high-water season, the mist is so thick you can’t see the falls at all. But during our visit, everything was perfectly clear: the drop, the rock face, the rainbows, and the thunder of the water.

 

 

The people made it even more special. Locals stopped us to say hello, hug us, welcome us to their country, and ask for photos together. Their warmth left such an impression on all of us.

 

After several hours exploring the viewpoints, we had lunch overlooking the gorge before heading back to prepare for the evening’s adventure.

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The Sunset Cruise I Didn’t Want… Until I Loved It

 

I’ll be honest — I didn’t want to go on the sunset cruise. It had been jokingly nicknamed the “booze cruise,” and after a long, hot day, I wasn’t feeling very festive.

 

When we boarded, the only available seats were in full sun, and I took the very hottest spot so my students wouldn’t have to. None of us were particularly excited.

 

But as the boat began to move, everything changed.

 

Those “bad seats” turned out to be the best seats on the entire cruise. From my position, I had the closest view of every wildlife sighting along the river — especially the hippos, which I had been hoping to see all trip. And we didn’t just see them… they were active and beautifully lit by the golden evening sun.

 

We also saw crocodiles and stunning birds gliding past as the Zambezi turned shades of orange and fire red. By sunset, I felt like a queen in my front-row seat, grateful for the perfect reminder to trust the moment — even the ones I resist.

 

 

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Finishing the Mural & Finding Market Treasures

 

The next morning, we returned to Lesedi School to finish the mural we had started earlier in the week. Although it was Sunday, the headmistress opened the gates for us, and a few students showed up to help — one boy even walked over 30 minutes just to be part of it.

 

Together, we completed the underwater scene, and stepping back to see the finished wall filled all of us with pride and joy.

Afterward, we explored the local markets, famous for Zimbabwe’s hand-carved artwork. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, and we all found treasures to bring home.

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One Last Adventure — The Canopy Tour

 

With only a few hours left in the day, several of us decided we needed one more burst of excitement. We signed up for the Victoria Falls Canopy Tour — a series of nine ziplines stretching across the gorge.

 

 

 

It was exhilarating, breathtaking, and full of camaraderie. Seeing the falls and canyon from that vantage point was unforgettable — a perfect finale to our time in Victoria Falls.

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Love For Africa & A Farewell Filled With Heart

On our final morning, before heading to the airport, Love For Africa gave us a special tour of their community impact projects. We visited:

 

• Small businesses supported by micro-loans

• A gym and youth shelter providing housing and life skills for homeless teens

• A technical school offering job training for young adults

Seeing the work they do firsthand was deeply inspiring.

 

At the airport, we said goodbye to our guide and driver, Ndaba — who had become like family. There were tears as we hugged him one last time. My students flew to Johannesburg, while my sisters and I boarded a small flight back to Harare.

 

 

Because the plane was filled with a large group of primary school children, we were moved to the very front for balance, and I ended up sitting backwards in a flight attendant seat. Surprisingly, it was delightful — it allowed me to meet several passengers, including a new friend named MoreBlessing, who has stayed in touch and insists I visit her on my next trip.

 

As we exited the plane, the adults walked out first while the children waited patiently. But on our way past them, every single child held up their hand for a high-five. One by one, tiny hands reached toward us — smiling, giggling, and sending us off with joy. It was the sweetest farewell.

 

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A Perfect Ending to an Extraordinary Journey

 

Zimbabwe gave us breathtaking wildlife, adventure, and scenery…
but it also gave us community, humility, laughter, and connection.

 

These final days tied everything together — and left me changed in the best possible way.

 

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Join Me in Zimbabwe — June 2027

This journey touched me more deeply than I ever expected, and I know I’m not done with Zimbabwe — not even close. The landscapes, the wildlife, the people, the connections, the art… it all left a mark on my soul. That’s why I’m thrilled to share that I’ll be returning in June 2027 with another group of students and travelers who want to experience this extraordinary place through creativity, curiosity, heart, and art.

 

If this adventure has stirred something in you — if Africa has always been a dream, if you long for beauty and discovery, or if you want to paint, learn, and explore with me — consider this your invitation.

 

More details will come, but for now…
save the date, hold the dream, and imagine yourself beneath the African sky.

 

Lesedi School — Service, Connection, and a Day I Will Never Forget

 

 

When I envisioned this trip to Zimbabwe, I knew I wanted more than breathtaking landscapes and incredible wildlife encounters. I wanted to connect with the people — not just through curated tourist moments, but in a meaningful, human way. I wanted to learn, to serve, and to leave something behind that reflected gratitude for the beauty we were receiving from Africa.

 

After conversations with our guide, Courtney, we decided that painting a mural at a local school would be the perfect way to blend artistry with service. Through the help of Love For Africa, arrangements were made for us to spend the day at Lesedi Secondary School, just outside Victoria Falls.

 

Before I continue, it’s important to share who this school is and what it represents.

According to their mission:

“Lesedi offers quality education and practical skills to vulnerable children and youth in rural Zimbabwe, empowering them to rise from poverty and build sustainable futures through knowledge, character development, and opportunity.”
(Source: lesedizim.org)

From the moment we learned about their mission, we knew this was exactly the kind of experience we hoped for.

 

 

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“This is Africa” — and everything that phrase holds

Our day began with what became one of the most endearing running jokes of the entire trip. We were delayed… and delayed… and delayed. We needed to pick up paint, and we needed to wait for the paint, and we needed to wait a little more.

Every time we asked for an update, we heard the same phrase, said with warmth and humor:

“This is Africa.”

We ended up adopting that phrase for the rest of the trip — a reminder to breathe, let go, and move at the pace of the place you’re in.

 

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Painting an Ocean Scene in the Heart of Zimbabwe

When we finally arrived at the school, we assessed the long exterior wall that would become our canvas. We chose to paint the ocean — an underwater world — because many of these children may never have the opportunity to see the sea. In fact, despite living not far from Victoria Falls, many of the students have never even visited the falls.

 

 

The sun was relentless, and the paint dried almost instantly. We painted as fast as we could, laying in flowing shapes of water, fish, corals, and marine life. Our hope was to give the kids a window into a different world — one that belonged to them just as much as to anyone else.

 

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Lunch with future leaders

 

 

In the mid-afternoon heat, we paused for lunch — and it wasn’t just a meal. It was an experience.

 

Students in the Food Technology and Hospitality program prepared and served it themselves. The food was delicious, and the professionalism, confidence, and pride from the students were undeniable. These programs give young people a path to employment — a livelihood — in a region where opportunities are limited. Watching them shine was deeply moving.

 

 

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Painting with curious minds

 

After lunch we returned to the mural, hoping to finish as much as we could before closing time. Some of the students joined in — shy at first, then braver. They asked questions about animals and art, how to draw, how to paint, how colors work together. Their faces lit up as the wall transformed.

 

Even those who didn’t paint hovered nearby, watching every stroke.

The awe in their eyes will stay with me forever.

 

Though we made tremendous progress, time eventually ran out. The school grounds were closing, and we had to leave before we completed the mural. It was hard to walk away, knowing the ocean scene still had room to grow — but we also left knowing that we would be back on Sunday and something bright and beautiful was now theirs.

 

It felt like planting a seed.

 

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A night of dancing and celebration

 

From the school we went straight to a traditional Boma dinner, and this one was much more lively than the first. There were a lot of people — locals, guests, staff — all joined in song and dance. A colorful cloth was tied across our shoulders as part of the welcome, and we were ushered into the dining hall with drums shaking the air.

 

The food was plentiful — meats, vegetables, spices, and flavors rich with tradition.

 

And then came the mopane worm challenge.

My sister, naturally competitive, decided she needed the certificate that proves you ate one. She convinced me to try too — and I wasn’t even remotely tempted until they offered me the smallest worm they could find. She ate a rather large one… so I figured I could swallow the tiny one.

 

So yes — I did it. And I earned the certificate.

(I’m not sure if I’m proud or mildly horrified, but I did it. 😂)

 

The night ended with drumming and dancing, and we all found ourselves on the dance floor — moving to the heartbeat of Africa, laughing, losing track of time and self and everything else.

 

 

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A day of meaning

Of all the extraordinary things we experienced in Zimbabwe — lions, elephants, leopards, sunsets, safaris — this day at Lesedi School may have meant the most.

We came hoping to give something.

Instead, we received so much more:

• Connection

• Curiosity

• Laughter

• Gratitude

• Hope

These students are the future of Zimbabwe.

To witness their talent, dignity, joy, and determination was a privilege.

 

I will never forget them.

 

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Part 3 — An Adventure at the Victoria Falls — is coming soon.

Thank you for traveling through these stories with me.
This experience isn’t just living in my memories — it’s already shaping the artwork waiting to be painted.

 

With a full heart,
Leslie

 

Safari, Sisterhood & a Whole New World of Inspiration

I’ve been trying to find the right words to describe the beginning of this trip… and the truth is, I don’t think any combination of words can fully hold it. But I’ll try — because so many of you walk alongside me on this creative journey, and I want to take you with me into the heart of this experience.

After months of planning and packing, the adventure finally began with a long journey to Johannesburg and then on to Harare, where my sisters and I stayed with a dear friend. Starting this trip in a home — not a hotel — grounded us in warmth, conversation, and laughter before everything turned into full-throttle safari mode.

 

 

From Harare, we flew to Victoria Falls and met the rest of our group — the incredible humans and artists who would share this journey with us. With art supplies tucked into our luggage and wide-open hearts, we headed to Hwange National Park.

Our safari guide met the bus at the Painted Dog Conservatory and gave us what was meant to be a simple transfer to the lodge… but a “simple transfer” in Zimbabwe means animals everywhere. We hadn’t even checked in yet, and we were already stunned.

 

 

We were originally booked to stay at Robins Camp, but were unexpectedly upgraded to Sable Valley#mce_temp_url#. The moment we stepped onto the deck, everything stopped. A lush green valley stretched before us — affectionately nicknamed “the golf course” because herds of animals wander across it the way golfers move across fairways. We could have sat on that deck for days and watched wildlife without ever leaving.

 

 

 

A safari that felt like stepping into another world

One of the things we learned right away: the rains came early this year.
And that changed everything.

Early rains meant:

• more water in watering holes

• more food for the herds

• more babies being born — and visible

• and yes… more bugs

The bugs were definitely a nuisance — constantly reminding us of where we were — but we all agreed that if more insects meant more life on the landscape, then we were grateful for every tiny wing that buzzed near us. Anything that allowed more animal families to thrive was a gift.

And we saw the results immediately.

Our very first full day began with a moment that left us speechless:
a lioness with her kill. Powerful. Honest. Humbling.

 

 

 

 

Not long after, we saw something most safari-goers never witness — a leopard sitting high in a tree, calm, regal, surveying everything below. We just stared, knowing how rare that sighting was.

 

 

Later that morning, my sister had a hilarious and magical exchange with a yellow-billed hornbill (think Zazu from The Lion King). He flew right up to her, stood just a few feet away, tilted his head, squawked in different pitches, and acted as if he were having a full conversation with her. We laughed so hard, and it felt like the wilderness wanted to personally welcome us.

 

 

 

As the days continued, the magic didn’t slow down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not all encounters were gentle. One afternoon, a mother elephant gave us a false charge to warn us away from her calf. It happened in seconds — trunk up, ears out, the deep warning rumble. Terrifying and breathtaking all at once. A reminder that we were guests, not spectators. I did post this encounter on my Instagram which can be seen here.#mce_temp_url#

 

One evening we drove through the forest in the golden light and suddenly found ourselves surrounded by zebras, which are typically skittish. The dappled sunlight across their stripes made them look unreal — like mythical creatures. For a moment we all sat in silence, absorbing it. It truly felt like being in a dream.

 

 

 

But nothing — absolutely nothing — compared to our last morning.

 

The moment I’ll remember for the rest of my life

We spent that final morning at the bunker — a grounded hide right at eye level with the watering hole. As the sun rose, a family of elephants approached. Not cautiously, not nervously… but with intention.

 

They walked so close we could feel the earth shift beneath us.

 

They looked at us. Truly looked.

 
And then — one by one — they nodded before turning to walk away.

 

No one spoke. None of us even breathed for a moment.

It felt like a goodbye… or a blessing… or both.

 

There was something spiritual in that silence — something I will carry with me forever.

 

(You can view this encounter by going to my Instagram here#mce_temp_url#)

 

Trying to paint — in the middle of the most beautiful distraction on Earth

 

We did try to paint!
I shared a quick lesson on:

• using a water brush for fast washes

• sketching pen lines over watercolor

• painting shadows first to build structure

But when lions, leopards, elephants, buffalo, zebras, giraffes, and hornbills show up around every corner — it turns out painting can wait.

And that felt perfect.
There are seasons for painting — and there are seasons for filling the soul so there is something new to paint later.

This trip was very much the latter.

These first days in Zimbabwe were full of awe, adrenaline, tenderness, laughter, curiosity, and meaning.
And as unbelievable as they were… they weren’t even the true highlight of the trip.

What came next — our day at Lesedi School — changed us in a deeper way.

 

Part 2 is coming soon.

Thank you for walking with me, whether through my art, my words, or my heart.

This journey is already shaping the paintings to come — I can feel it.

 

 

 

 

 

During the first weekend in October, I had the honor of participating in Fashion Week at the Fort Worth Stockyards, and it was an experience I will never forget.

 

Travel began on Thursday, when a friend joined me for the journey. We drove to Salt Lake City in the morning, then flew to Dallas/Fort Worth that afternoon, staying nearby with a few fellow artists. On Friday, I set up my space at PH Barn Door, displaying three original poured watercolor paintings and several limited-edition prints.

 

 

The day was already special when my brother and sister-in-law drove up from San Antonio to take me to lunch. Later, I reconnected with a dear friend I hadn’t seen in nearly two decades—someone whose boys I had watched when they were small. Reuniting and hearing about her family’s journey was truly heartwarming.

 

Throughout the weekend, I met art lovers from across the country and had the chance to connect with many of the Cowgirl Artists of America members in person for the first time. Sharing meals and conversations with these talented women felt like finding my creative family.

 

One of the biggest surprises of the event came when I learned that of the 115 artists who applied, only 15 were chosen to participate. Out of those, I was awarded Honorable Mention, essentially second place since the only other prizes were Best of Show and People’s Choice. As part of this recognition, I was invited to demonstrate my poured watercolor process during the Saturday night fashion show, right next to the runway. Hearing my name announced to the crowd and being introduced as one of the featured artists was an exhilarating moment.

 

The weekend continued with more demonstrations, art sales, and even a local magazine interview alongside the Best of Show winner. By the time Sunday wrapped up, I felt both humbled and inspired by the support of friends, family, fellow artists, and the wonderful people of Fort Worth.

 

This event will forever hold a special place in my memory—not just because of the honor I received, but because of the community, connections, and encouragement that surrounded me. I am already looking forward to the possibility of returning next year.

 

This August, I’m honored to have my painting The Great Escape featured in the Women’s Work exhibition at the A.R. Mitchell Museum of Western Art. This 30x40” poured watercolor piece is more than a painting—it's the result of an unforgettable day spent at 6X Ranch in Mackay, Idaho, with ranch manager Tayler Teichert.

 

The story behind the painting began with an unexpected and sobering moment. Shortly after I arrived, Tayler and one of her ranch hands saved the life of a mother cow who had lost her calf. The ranch hand had found her in distress and brought her to the corral, where he and Tayler addressed a prolapse and carefully sewed her up. It was a raw, unfiltered glimpse into the compassion and toughness required in ranch life. While I chose not to paint that scene for this exhibit, I haven’t ruled it out for the future—it’s a story that deserves to be told.

 

The rest of the day was filled with beauty and awe. Tayler gave me a full tour of the ranch, nestled between two stunning mountain ranges. It was unusually warm for March, and the landscape teemed with life—grazing cattle, newborn calves, elk, deer, even a bald eagle and cranes soaring overhead. The peace of the land contrasted with the grit of the work, and that balance stayed with me.

 

Later, Tayler brought me to the corrals and the alleyway where branding takes place. As I photographed her at work—calm, focused, rope in hand—I knew this was the story I wanted to paint. Tayler is a skilled roper and rodeo competitor, and I wanted to show her doing what she does best. One calf, kicking up dust in a burst of defiance, became the focal point of the scene.

 

What made this collaboration even more meaningful is that Tayler is the great-granddaughter of one of my favorite Western artists—Minerva Teichert. Minerva, a fiercely independent and prolific painter, often depicted scenes of pioneer life, scripture, and the American West at a time when few women were recognized for such work. She once famously said, “I must paint.” It gave me chills to think I was painting her great-granddaughter, continuing that legacy of storytelling through Western art and strong women.

 

After composing the image using multiple photos, I painted (or rather, poured) a smaller study to explore my color choices and test the placement of values. This gave me confidence and clarity before committing to the large final piece.

 

Then I transferred the full composition onto a 30x40” sheet of watercolor paper from a roll. I painted the sky first with a brush, allowing soft, shifting clouds to form over the peaks—and then began the process of pouring color. Pouring is a patient, layered process that builds depth and vibrancy over time. With each pour and masking stage, the story came more and more to life.

 

After the final pour and the big reveal, I used a brush to refine details—especially Tayler’s face—and bring harmony and cohesion to the painting.

 

For those who are paid members of my Patreon#mce_temp_url#, I’ve included photos showing the progression of the work—from the initial drawing, to the early pours, to the smaller study and final painting. It’s a visual record of a process that is both methodical and full of wild surprises, much like the ranch life it aims to honor.

 

The Great Escape captures a fleeting moment during spring branding—a young calf making a break for it, Tayler in pursuit, and the rugged Idaho mountains standing witness. But more than that, it celebrates the strength, skill, and grace of women whose work is essential to the fabric of the West.

 

I hope you’ll join me in celebrating this piece and the incredible women behind it when the Women’s Work exhibition opens this August at the A.R. Mitchell Museum.

 

To join my Patreon and get access to the images and more, please click here. #mce_temp_url#

I’m honored to share that my painting Tougher Than The Rest is featured in the latest article from The Art World Post#mce_temp_url# . Titled “Leslie Lambert: Painting the Grit and Grace of the American West,” the piece takes a closer look at how I use poured watercolor to capture the strength and resilience of women in ranching communities.

 

Tougher Than The Rest was inspired by a branding I attended in Eastern Oregon, where I spent time photographing and sketching women working cattle. Their movements had a rhythm—focused, capable, and powerful. Through layers of watercolor pours, I aimed to honor that quiet toughness and the deep connection between women and the land.

 

This painting was part of last year’s Women’s Work exhibition, hosted by Cowgirl Artists of America at the A.R. Mitchell Museum in Colorado. I’m thrilled to be returning to the show this year with new work that continues to celebrate the stories and landscapes of the American West.

 

The Women’s Work exhibition highlights the essential role of women in shaping Western life and culture, both historically and today. I’m proud to be a member of Cowgirl Artists of America and part of this growing movement of women artists painting with honesty, courage, and connection.

 

You can read the full article from The Art World Post here.

 

Thank you for following along with my work and for supporting the stories I share through watercolor.

 

 

A few months ago, I received an email that completely made my day—The Art of Watercolour magazine wanted to feature my poured watercolor paintings in an upcoming issue! As an artist, this publication has long been a source of inspiration for me, so the opportunity to share my work and process with a wider audience was both an honor and a thrill.

After an in-depth interview where I shared my journey with watercolor, my passion for pouring paint, and the inspiration behind my work, the anticipation began. And now, after months of waiting, I’m so excited to finally see the article in print!

  

The Magic of Poured Watercolor

For those unfamiliar with my process, poured watercolor is a technique that allows colors to flow and blend in unexpected, luminous ways. It requires patience, multiple layers, and a willingness to embrace the unpredictability of water and pigment. My paintings, often inspired by not only landscapes but still lifes as well, reflect both the controlled and spontaneous aspects of this method. Seeing my approach highlighted in The Art of Watercolour magazine is truly special.

 

 

A Dream Come True

Having my work featured in such a respected publication is not only a personal milestone but also a testament to the beauty and uniqueness of poured watercolor. I hope this article inspires other artists to explore this technique and embrace the magic of allowing water to lead the way.

The article can be found in the latest issue of The Art of Watercolour magazine. Thank you to everyone who has supported my artistic journey—this moment is one I’ll cherish!

 

       

 

 

 

 

In each issue of Western Art& Architecture, there an article called Illuminations. In this article different artists are spotlighted with a bit of information about them and their work.

 

I received an email back in July requesting an interview with the author for this article. I was just tickled and I have been holding onto this news since then.

 

It is exciting that I now get to share it with you!

 

The magazine is a beautiful collection of art and is one of those that you definitely display on your coffee table. Personally, I am trying not to drool all over it. The work is stunning and the houses are divine. I have envisioned myself living and painting in a few of them.

The interview with the author, Norman Kolpas was to last 45 minutes since the article is not very long. However, our time together was more like 90 minutes as he asked so many questions and we discussed art on many levels. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

 

I was also very pleased with the write up, as was my Mama. She is always my biggest supporter and as the article implies, the reason I became an artist.

 

So here it is:

 

To better read the full article, go to https://westernartandarchitecture.com/october-november-2024/artist-spotlights-leslie-lambert