What is a Bluebell?

Bluebells are in the Asparagus family, their Latin name is Hyacinthoides non-scripta.  It’s no surprise that they’re relatives of the garden hyacinth, they share the same heady scent.

They are monocots; a division of plant that includes all the grasses, lilies, orchids, and tulips.  Shared characteristics include leaves with parallel veins, the distinct growth pattern of a seedling from a one-grained seed, fibrous roots, and flowers without differentiated sepals and petals.  These in-between structures are known as tepals.

Monocot plant variety with seedling in centre

Bluebell Hyacinthoides non-scripta

The native Bluebell can grow up to 30cm tall.

It has glossy green strap-like leaves which are 7 – 15mm wide, with a pointed tip.  They can be 45cm long and there tend to be 3 to 6 leaves per plant. These start erect, but may flop and twist as the plant grows.

Illustrating a Bluebell leaf

The flowers are all on one side of the stalk, which often curves and droops at the top.  When mature, individual flowers dangle; as buds they can be more erect, often flushed with green.

Sketchbook study of Bluebell flowers

The flower shape is bell-like, but with parallel sides, and only opening at the mouth of the flower.  Each flower has 6 tepals, and tepal tips are strongly recurved which gives the plants that distinct frilly appearance.  They tend to be a deeper, darker blue than other Bluebell species.

Bluebell flower Hyancinthoides non-scripta

Anthers and the pollen they produce is a pale cream.

This matters because there are other species of Bluebell which can be confusingly similar.

Spanish Bluebell Hyacinthoides hispanica

The Spanish bluebell has flowers that grow all around the stem, and which point upwards.  They are often a far paler blue than H. non-scripta.  At maturity they gape with a much wider mouth than the native species.  Anthers are dark blue.  Leaves are significantly wider, up to 35mm across.

Spanish bluebell Hyacinthoides hispanica

Hybrid Bluebell Hyacinthoides x massartiana

Recently botanists have come to the conclusion that most flowers sold, and grown in gardens, are not Spanish Bluebell at all, but various hybrids.  This is because there is so much H. non-scripta pollen in the air that cross-fertilization, and back cross-breeding is almost inevitable. (Cumbria Botany – Telling Bluebells apart)

Hybrid Bluebells have erect stems with flowers growing all around them.  The mature flowers may droop, but don’t dangle vertically down as with H. non-scripta.  

Flowering spikes of native Bluebell H. non-scripta vs  the Hybrid Bluebell H. x massartiana

The mouth opens wider than the native species, but less wide than H. hispanica.  Tepal tips don’t curve back on themselves as much as with H. non-scripta, and anthers and pollen vary in colour from blue to dark grey, to a dirty pale yellow.  The flowers have a far weaker scent than the native Bluebell.

Hybrid bluebell Hyacinthoides x massartiana

For more on this, check out these useful guides to telling Bluebell species apart: Webidguides, and Cumbria Botany.  My Telling bluebell species apart blog, may be useful, although readers should substitute “Hybrid Bluebell” for “Spanish Bluebell”.

Flowers of H. non-scripta and H. x massartiana

Other names for Bluebells

Bluebells and Bluebell woods have been a part of the landscape in Britain for hundreds, or thousands of years.  They have a vast array of alternative names including English harebell, Wild hyacinth, Cuckoo’s boots, Granfer griggles, Witches’ thimbles, Lady’s nightcap, Fairy flower, and Cra’tae (Crow’s toe).  In Welsh, it’s Clychau’r Gog which translates as “Cuckoo’s bells” and references the fact that Bluebell flower around the same time that the first cuckoos come in from over-wintering in Africa.  (It’s important to note that the true Harebell Campanula rotundiflora is in a totally different family, it’s not even a monocot!)

Ancient oak woodland with Bluebells

Folklore of Bluebells

These flowers have long been associated with fairies and folk lore.  It’s said that if you pick a Bluebell flower the fairies will lead you astray, and you will be lost forever.  If you hear a bluebell ring, a bad fairy will visit you and you’ll die soon after.

Native Bluebell H. non-scripta

On a happier note, in the language of flowers they represent humility, gratitude, and constant love.  If you can turn a Bluebell flower inside out without it tearing, you will capture the heart of your one true love.

Bluebell Hyacinthoides non-scripta in pencil

Finally, if you wear a wreath made of bluebells, you will be unable to lie.  Worth remembering.  (All these folklore facts come from the Woodland Trust’s website.)

Uses of Bluebell

Bluebells have been put to some unusual uses over the years.  In the Bronze age, arrow flights made of feather were glued on with Bluebell paste. Bookbinders used glue made from Bluebell stems.

Starch-rich Bluebell bulb

Elizabethan times saw enormous ruffs and collars which had to be starched.  Bluebell bulbs did the job perfectly.

Although Bluebells contain poisonous glycosides and can cause contact dermatitis, they have been used medicinally in the past.  They are diuretics, causing an increase in urination; and styptics too.  Styptics stop bleeding.

Pencil illustration of native Bluebell with specimen

The perfume industry sells perfumes claiming to be Bluebell scented, but the fragrance has proved too delicate and complex to reproduce commercially.  Bluebell perfumes are derived from their cousin, the hyacinth. (Premierpeu).

Bluebells and the law

When you walk through a woodland in April or May, it seems extraordinary that Bluebells need our protection.  But they do.

Bluebell wood with Redstart

Since the 1981 Wildlife and Countryside act, it has been illegal to dig up any bluebell bulbs in the UK.  It is also illegal to trade in H. non-scripta seeds and bulbs.  Although not against the law, it’s unnecessary and destructive to pick hand-fulls of the flowers.  Not only does this deprive insects like butterflies, bees and hoverflies from early spring sources of nectar, it also damages the leaves.  Once trampled, leaves struggle to recover and can no longer photosynthesize.  So tread with care!

Bluebells as indicators

The Bluebell is an indicator species, growing in areas which were once ancient woodland.  If you see native Bluebells growing in a field or by the side of a road, it’s proof that the area was once wooded with broadleaf species like Ash, Oak, Beech, and Birch.  They thrive in woodland over 400 years old, and are invaluable for ecologists trying to map habitats, and habitat loss.

Illustrating a Bluebell (bulb illustrated from 18th C engraving)

Kew gardens has been tracking the first opening of a Bluebell flower for 50 years, and use this data to help understand climate change.  Bluebells are opening 2 weeks earlier than they did 30 years ago.

Conclusion

Despite threats of habitat loss, climate change, and hybridization; Bluebells remain a firm fixture of the British countryside.  With over 50% of all native Bluebells growing in the UK, Bluebell woods are a visual treat to savour, and be proud of.

Bluebell Hyacinthoides non-scripta

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Moncots vs Eudicots

There are several main differences between these two enormous groups.  The leaves of a monocot mostly have veins running parallel to each other, not branching or netted as they are in Eudicots.  They often spring from the base of the plant.  Vascular tissue in monocots is arranged in bundles, not rings, and doesn’t form wood.  The seedlings differ – monocots grow from a grain (or bulb) while eudicots grow from a two-sided seed.  Each side is known as a cotyledon (hence the name).  Monocot roots are fibrous and lack a main tap-root.  Flowering parts of monocots tend to be in multiples of three, not of four, five, or sevens (eudicots).  For more on telling monocot and eudicot plants apart, click here.

Seedlings: germination

As well as the plants, a seedling from each group needed to be drawn.  Amazingly, there’s very little good reference online to show the vital differences between Monocot and Eudicot seedlings.  Most of the images are so diagrammatical as to be meaningless, and photo references were blurry and unclear.

Only one thing to do.  Germinate my own.  So I put a pea and a maize grain on blotting paper to germinate, and indeed that’s what they did.  The maize grain seedling emerges from the grain, and sends out roots.  Its leaves are elongate and green with parallel veins

Germinating Maize grain

The Eudicot, the pea, looks very different.  it is perhaps more what one thinks of as a “typical seedling”.  there are two leaves, emerging opposite each other.  The seed is composed of two sides or cotelydons.  Again, roots grow away from the plant (unfortunately I’ve lost my photo of this).  With eudicots, there’s far more branching on the initial roots.

In both cases the roots grew sideways which I had to take into account at drawing.  This lateral growth was simply cause they were growing on wet paper on a solid surface, so were unable to send roots downwards.

Seedlings

Once the pencil drawings had been tweaked and given the go-ahead, I added colour.  Seedlings are a very specific bright shade of green.  Capturing this was difficult, but I think they came out ok.

Eudicot and monocot seedling comparison

Monocot variety

The commissioner gave me a list of different monocot plants I could choose from to include in the piece.  We agreed we wanted a grass species, a sedge, and a rush. (Of course I agreed, you know about my obsession with Grasses sedges and rushes!)

Sweet vernal grass sketch Anthoxanthum odoratum

One of the great things about working with the grasses and sedges is that you can manipulate their form a little more freely than with many plants.  For the composition, I needed three plants either side of the central portrait of a seedling.  The curve of the stem of the Mountain sedge was the perfect tool to frame the left side.

Mountain or soft leaved sedge sketch Carex montana

And finally, a rush.  The habit of this plant is less flexible, so I stuck it out on the end of the composition.

Wood rush sketch Luzula sylvatica

We also wanted to add a dash of colour.  The Bluebell and an Orchid would provide this.

Bluebell sketch Hyacinthoides non-scripta

The bluebell also has a drooping and curved flowering head.  Perfect for framing the other side of the monocot seedling.

Fragrant orchid sketch Gymnadenia conopsea

Balancing the colour of the composition

As well as thinking about how the composition would frame the seedling, I also had to be sure that the colour flowed across the page.  The locally abundant monocot Autumn crocus was brilliant for this.  it echoed the pink of the orchid.

Autumn crocus or meadow saffron sketch Colchium autumnale

Other monocots which don’t grow wild in Brecknockshire include tulips, palms, lilies, and iris.

The completed monocot variety illustration looks like this:

Brecknockshire flora: Variety of monocots with seedling

But it’s not just an illustration of monocot variety.  It needs to be Monocot and Eudicot variety!

Eudicot variety

The variety of eudicots in astonishing.  It was really tough deciding what species to include.  We needed to show ones which are locally important, and also pretty ones.  We also wanted to suggest the variety, as we did with the monocots.  I angled to include some of my favourites, and the client put forward his.  Eventually we whittled it down to six.  Then came the difficulty of making the composition work.  Again, I needed the seedling framed by other plants, within a circle in the middle of the composition.

Eudicot plant variety with eudicot seedling

Individual Eudicots

There was the same issue of balancing the colours.  I was able to have yellow flowers flanking the composition on either end, and blueish flowers surrounding the seedling.

The Globe flower used to be abundant across the area, less so as a result of new farming practices.  It is rarely fully open, so this needed a tweak between initial pencil rough and final illustration, to close the petals around the stamens.

Globe flower sketch Trollius europaeus

Meadow saxifrage is another locally important wild flower.  I’ve seen it growing wild, and it’s very pretty.  Including white flowers at such a small scale was difficult so I left them outlined lightly in graphite (for more on painting white flowers check out my blog).

Meadow saxifrage sketch Saxifraga granulata

The next flower, Ivy-leaved Bellflower, was a gift.  Not only is it really important for Brecknockshire, but it also has little leaves and a sprawling habit or growth.  this allowed me to play with the leaves and to manafacture a frame of sorts on the left side of the seedling.  It’s a tricky blue to mix as there’s plenty of purple in it, but I was so pleased to include it as I have it growing in my garden.

Ivy-leaved Bellflower sketch Wahlenbergia hederacea

Other side of the seedling and we find a vetch.  This ends up forming the right hand side of the seedling’s frame, but it feels a touch artificial to me.  The botany is correct, but I feel I played a little too much with the lie of the leaves.  I did, however, love popping in the distinct white hairs where they overlap the shaded parts of the leaves.

Wood or Upright Bitter-vetch sketch Vicia orobus

The Welsh poppy was on both of our lists.  A Welsh species, a pretty flower, and it also has fabulous curved buds.  Including it was a no-brainer.  It also echoed the yellow of the Globe flower.

The last flower had to be a member of the dandelion family.  I can’t tell them apart, but luckily the guy who commissioned this illustration for the Brecknockshire flora, can.  He settled on one of the Hawkweeds and gave me plenty of pointers and ref to ensure I illustrated it correctly.

Hawkweed sketch Hieracium

Conclusion

So you can see that just within these two simple illustrations there’s a world of variety.  The format, long and thin, was pre-set and a bit challenging.  Seedlings had to be grown.  The species had to be whittled down.  Monocot and dicot variety needed be shown.  But the eventual result is a couple of illustrations I’m really pleased with.  And I also learned loads as I completed the images – perfect!

The post Monocot and Eudicot variety: Illustrations appeared first on Lizzie Harper.

Illustrating Lilac Syringa vulgaris

First using watercolours

When I first used watercolour, I used my Mum’s paint-box.  She was a fine artist, so had lots of posh art equipment which she always encouraged us children to use.  Her paints (a selection of browns, greys, and ochres as her subject matter tended to be broken industrial landscapes and cemeteries) were Winsor and Newton.

My first paint-box, was bought by my parents for my 10th birthday.  It was a lovely tin full of Winsor and Newton pans and half pans.  I used this until 2015, topping it up and switching in new pans.

My current watercolour paint-box

Finally the white enamel cracked from the palette.  The tiny paint flakes kept getting mixed in with my colours.  I had to replace the box itself, and I really struggled.  The mixing palettes are lovely, deep, and what I was used to!  Eventually I found a stockist of the empty tins, Green and Stone.  My quest was over.

My current paint-box (not in any way cleaned for its photo-op, I’m afraid)

As you can tell from the photo, it’s very much a working tool and is quite often shamefully grubby.  This is important, and should be avoided.  Having dirty pans of colour will effect the colours you paint with.  It’s an ongoing fight to try and keep my yellows clean.  I mostly lose.

Illustrating a Bryony leaf Bryonia dioica for Jersey Post

Watercolour pans

Watercolour comes in tubes or in pans.  I like the pans; it’s so quick to open the box and start painting. Pans come in  full, or half sizes.  When the pans become empty, I fill them up with paint from tubes.  This is frowned on, someone told me the paint is a different composition and the two shouldn’t be mixed.  It’s never been a problem for me, but I am willing to listen to reasons why it’s inadvisable.

Paints in pans from my back-up watercolours box.  Most are Winsor and Newton, many used.

The paint in the pans is dry, and this is a clear difference between the tubes and the pans.  However, the colours seem to be identical.

The main trick with paint mixing is to make notes of the colour mixes that you use, so you can re-create them later.  You can do this as a swatch (as on the side of the painting on the illustration below) or in written form.

Illustrating a rose

Watercolour tubes

I have lots of these tubes.  I tend to buy them up when I’m in an art shop and see them on sale, so have lots of duplicates and different sizes.

Equipment: paints: My watercolour tubes, which nominally fit into an old cigar box (they don’t fit).

Sometimes I’ll use a blob of pure watercolour and paint from it, this is mostly if I’m tackling the sky of a big landscape (Cobalt blue is good for skies).  In general, though, I simply use the tubes to top up the pans in my paint-box.

The brand I favour is Winsor and Newton.  I tend to use their professional watercolours, but their Cotman range is good too.  They’re clean, strong colours, and don’t go grainy.  Some of my W&N tubes date back 30 years or more, and the colours seem as true as the newly purchased tubes.

Some of my Winsor and Netwon tube watercolours

Sometimes I’ll put a spot of tube paint on one of the paint-box dishes, I’ve recently started doing this with Daniel Smith’s Spring Green which is a good base for mixing up realistic green hues.

The ones I use most of are the yellows.  Cadmium yellows, Naples yellow, and Yellow ochre.  This is because these get mixed up into every single green I use, and as they’re weaker colours than the blues and greens in the mix, I need to use proportionally more of them.

Illustrating Mongolian stonecrop Phedimus hybridus . You can see the heavy use of yellows, and that blob of Spring Green in the top right of the palette.

Learning your paints and your paint-box

Sometimes I make the error of filling up a half empty pan with a rather different hue, and this isn’t a great idea.  Topping up a yellowish Sap green with a very blue Phthalo green was a memorable error.  Saying that, it actually made for rather a handy colour, the two worked well together.

I tend to mix, and go on mixing until it looks right.

You learn your way around your paint box.  As the years go by you end up knowing what different colours look like, both in your paint-box and fresh from the pan or tube.

Why I can be vague on my colour mixes…

This somewhat slap-dash approach to my paints is why I sometimes find it difficult to give precise answers if asked what colours I use for a specific illustration.  Often the labels on the pans have rubbed off or are illegible.  Remembering what colour I topped up with a few months ago is often beyond me.  Sometimes (especially if I don’t to take notes) I simply forget.

Long tailed tits in progress.

I am aware this lackadaisical approach might horrify some professional and amateur botanical illustrators, and that’s totally understandable.  But I do think that sometimes people get tangled up in the details of brands and colours when they’re starting out.  Knowing more or less what each colour looks like, and how it mixes is great.  But if choosing the correct exact named hues becomes an obsession, or a barrier to just getting out some paints and experimenting, then I’m not sure how useful it is.  Perhaps I’m speaking from the luxurious position of someone whose been lucky enough to have the time to learn her paint-box and colours inside out; with less time available knowing names and brands could be more important?

Other Brands of Watercolour paint

Alongside Winsor and Newton, I use other brands of paint.  After hearing lots of recommendations, I purchased some Daniel Smith “dot cards”.  I figured they’d be a good way to test the different colours without committing to a whole (pricey) tube of paint.  I ended up painting from them, until I wore through the paper the dots were on, alongside my normal paint-box.  I wish I’d taken a photo of the used cards, they were rather pretty.

Eventually, I decided to buy a few tubes, which I use a lot. My most used is the Spring green.  It’s a brutal colour fresh from the tube, but mixed with purples, ochres, blues and yellows; it makes for a beautiful and adaptable hue.

Daniel Smith tubes

I also use Daler Rowney on occasion, and have become extremely attached to Doctor Martin’s Hydrus inks.  these transparent colours are almost violent in their vividness, and are incredibly useful.  I mix them in with my watercolours and they give an extra punch that helps emulate the bright colours of nature.  The colour I use most is their Quniacridone magenta, perfect for mixing up to capture pink flowers.

Doctor Martin’s inks – perfect for the pink of a cyclamen

Other brands of watercolour paint I’ve heard about from other botanical illustrators include: Sennelier, St. Petersburg White nights, Talens: Rembrandt, Shinhan, Holbein, Schminke, and Old Holland.  I’d love it if anyone who uses and adores these ranges felt like giving a bit of a review in the comments section.

Pink flowers and Opera pink watercolour

When it comes to pink flowers,  along with the Dr. Martin’s magenta, I use plenty of Opera rose.  Now, although this is a fabulous colour, it is notoriously awkward as it’s known to fade.  Artists have tested it’s lightfastness, with varying results (Jane Blundell, and an interesting post on whether or not watercolour paints DO fade from Lee Angold.)

Lots of pigments fade with time, and watercolours are prone to become paler.  Some pigments fade more than others.  The pinks and purples and reds are most fugitive (prone to fading).  You can avoid this by having framed work behind conservation glass (or museum glass), and by keeping original watercolours away from direct sunlight.  It can be a problem though.  I once painted a Purple emperor butterfly, and put it in the window of a gallery.  Within 6 weeks the butterfly had faded to a tawdry (and entirely un-saleable) brown colour.

Greater willowherb Epibolium hirsutum

This is less problematic is you’re creating work for reproduction rather than for exhibition, but it’s worth remembering.  I bought up a batch of Opera rose from different companies recently;  I’m interested to know which brand I end up liking most.  I’m not alone in this. There’s a lot of online chat about opera rose, including rather a nice comparison of different brands video on Youtube.

Opera rose paints from Jackson’s, Winsor and Newton, Holbein, and the W&N in pan form.

One more paint…and it’s Gouache!

This last paint is for fixing mistakes.  I avoid using it on work I plan to sell, but for work that’s going to be reproduced, it can be a life saver.  Permanent white gouache.  You mix it to a thick consistency, then paint over smudges and mistakes.  It’s easy to blend in with the white of the paper.  Avoid touching it until it’s dry, it’ll clump and lift the colour from underneath.  Actually, don’t touch it when it IS dry either, the grease on your hands may dull the white.  It’s also really useful for adding delicate white hairs against a dark leaf, and it’s an important part of my tool kit.

In the plate below, done for HarperCollins Flower Guide, you can see how white gouache was used to remove the upper leaves of the Dune gentian.  This adapted plate went to repro with no quibbles.  (For more on mixing mistakes in watercolour, check out my earlier blog).

Gentian plate with alterations circled in red

I use this paint quite thick, and it’s important to thoroughly rinse the paint-box and brush when you’re finished with it or it’ll make all your watercolours paler and chalky.

Common comfrey Symphytum officinale with hairs on the stem picked out with white gouache

Conclusion

If you’re looking for comparisons of different brands of watercolour paint, there’s a whole lot of really interesting blogs and youtube videos online.  For me, my lifelong relationship with Winsor and Newton continues unabated.  They’re easy to come by, good strong colours, not prohibitively expensive, comparatively lightfast, and I love them.

…and you can easily take a paint-box into a bluebell wood!

Most of the materials and paints mentioned in this blog are readily available from art stores.  I try to shop local, but if that’s not possible, then I buy from UK suppliers such as Jackson’s, Cass Art, London Graphics Centre, and Ken Bromley.  I try to avoid the big online sellers even though they’re sometimes cheaper; it’s my (tiny) way of supporting the art stores that support me.  In the US, I believe Dick Blick is a good shop, and sells online.

The post Equipment: Paints appeared first on Lizzie Harper.

May is a really wonderful month for botanical illustration; all the spring flowers are in bloom and there’s almost too many subjects to illustrate!  I always like to visit our local bluebell woods at this time of year, and thought it might be an idea to write a blog on how you can tell the difference between a native bluebellHyacinthoides non-scripta and a Spanish or garden variety Hyacinthoides hispanica (or a hybrid of the two!)

Native bluebell Hyacinthoides non-scripta

Threats to the Native bluebells from Spanish Bluebell

The iconic British bluebell wood, carpeted with deep purple-blue flowers, is one of the most beautiful sights of the British countryside.  However, these flowers are under threat from a variety of sources; climate change, habitat loss, and the presence of the Spanish bluebell.  These pretty flowers are more vigorous than our native population, and readily hybridise with them, making a species known as Hyacinthoidesx massartiana.  They escape from gardens, and are common across the countryside, and are already firmly established in many bluebell woods.  There are fears they may out-compete the native Bluebell.   For more on why these Spanish relatives are problematic, please check out the Woodland Trust’s blog.

Illustration of a Redstart in a blubell wood in Wales

It’s a good idea to be able to tell these two species apart.  However, this can be tricky, especially with the hybrids.  Below are a few pointers, gleaned from experts such as Plantlife, the Woodland Trust, Grantham Ecology, and the Wildlife Trusts.

Since writing this blog, the botanist Richard Collingridge has left a helpful comment which is worth looking at before plunging into my species distinctions: “I’m afraid the botany has moved on – your “Spanish” bluebells are in fact hybrids – the hybrid (Hyacinthoides x massartiana) is very variable. The pure Spanish bluebell (H hispanica) may not even occur in the UK at all. Yours are towards the Spanish end of the hybrid’s variability though.

Have a look at this page which summarises the situation very well – it’s written for Cumbria, but I think it applies just as well throughout the UK.”   Thanks for the input, Richard.

Leaves

First up, look at the leaves.  Both plants have linear, glossy leaves; but the leaves of the Spanish bluebell are markedly broader than those of the native Bluebell.  Grantham Ecology suggests a 50 pence test: lay a 50p coin across the leaf.  If the coin is broader than the leaf, it’s likely to be a native Bluebell.  If the 50p is thinner than the leaf, it’s probably a Spanish bluebell (a 10p coin, also about 1.5cm across, is equally useful).  Bear in mind, there’s lots of variation between leaves, even in an individual plant.

Spanish bluebell (on the left) vs Native bluebell (on the right) and the “coin test”

Smell

Next, take a sniff.  Although many say that the Spanish Bluebell doesn’t have a scent, I find this a little misleading as many of the hybrids do, although it may be quite delicate.  The native Bluebell does have a stronger perfume, which seems more pronounced in the evenings.

Sketchbook and paintbox out as I studied bluebells in Rook Wood, Hay on Wye

Growth pattern and stems

Moving onto the flowering stems, or racemes, there’s a clear difference.  The Spanish bluebells are borne on stouter stems, and these tend to be held upright.  Individual flowers appear on both sides of the stem, and don’t tend to droop.

Pencil drawing of a Spanish bluebell, showing the characteristic upright habit and flowers all around the flowering spike

With the native Bluebell, the flowers tend to be on one side of the raceme, with a slender stem, and a markedly drooping habit or growth pattern.  These flowering spikes can look very delicate and elegant, and the stems seem to be thinner than the Spanish or hybrid bluebells.

Flowering racemes; the native blubell is the drooping one on the left; the erect one (on the right) with flowers on all sides and less drooping is the Spanish blubell

Hybrids may also bear flowers on a drooping stem, but in general these seem to grown all around the stem, not just on one side.  They’re frequently paler than the native bluebell.

Individual flowers

Look at one flower in detail.  First, there’s the colour to consider.  The native bluebell is a dark purplish blue, paler toward the petal tips, and with a deeper purplish area at the centre of each petal.  In the centre of this region, the native bluebell shows a very thin line of a greener blue which runs to the tip of each petal.

In shape it’s a tight tube with parallel sides.

Each flower comprises six fused petals, and the tips of these curve strongly back on themselves (they are recurved).  These curled petals are very pronounced, and will often make a full circle, touching the corolla tube or base of the petal tip.

Hybrids rarely have such tightly curved petal tips, and the sides of the corolla tube tend to flare out to make a wider bell-shape than the native flowers do.

Sketchbook page with studies showing the colour and strongly recurved petals of the native bluebell

The Spanish bluebell tends to be a far paler blue, with a less purple hue.  They also come in white and pink (do be aware that the native Bluebell does occasionally put up white forms; these can be told by other diagnostic features rather than by colour).  Spanish and hybrids also have six curved petals, but these are far less recurved than the native species.

Sketchbook page showing Spanish bluebell flowers which are wider and less recurved

Seeing the two flowers together, it’s clear how different they look.  However, when they’re not side by side, and when hybrids abound, it can be tricky to untangle these differences.  Hybrids tend to show a variety of characteristics from both species.  The flowers below are from Spanish (on the right) and native Bluebells (on the left), and are not hybrids.

Comparison of the native bluebell (on the left) and Spanish bluebell (on the right)

Stamens

Another difference between the two is the stamen colour (well, the colour of the pollen the stamens produce).  In the native bluebell the anthers are a creamy yellow, or white.  In the Spanish bluebell they are blueish, dark blue, or greenish.  However, be aware of the hybrids; I’ve often seen plants that seem to tick all the boxes for the Spanish bluebell characteristics, but which have pale anthers.

Anthers of the native bluebell (on the left) are pale cream; the Spanish blubell flower (on the right) has dark blue or greenish anthers.

Conclusion

Telling the Spanish and the native bluebell apart is pretty straight forward.  A quick look at leaf width, growth form, flower colour and shape and stamens will give you a secure identification.

The trickier part is telling the difference between the Spanish/Native hybrid Hyacinthoidesx massartiana and the native plant.  Berks, Bucks and Oxon Wildlife Trust have a good rule of thumb.  If you can see ANY of the diagnostic features associated with the Spanish bluebell in your plant, then you’ve got a hybrid on your hands.  Simple.

Now get out into your local woods and see how many of those plants are native, and how many are hybrids.  Our local bluebell wood has plenty of both; it’s useful to be able to tell them apart.

Below is a film of me creating my bluebell sketch in Rook Wood, near Hay on Wye.

The post Telling Bluebell species apart appeared first on Lizzie Harper.

I had a wonderful comission recently; to do a natural history illustration of a stag beetle to accompany a poem by Chris Meredith.

Starting the job

I began by reading the poem carefully (I’ve transcribed it at the end of this article) to get the atmosphere right, and to list what species I’d be needing to illustrate.  These included ones named in the poem, but also making sure there was enough of a variety of other plants and animals in there so the image would be full of life, and the colours wouldn’t be isolated within the composition.

Next step is a very swift set of thumbnail sketches, these are just different ideas on how to include all the elements into a composition that will work and lead the eye into and through the painting.  Below is the one I settled on.

Gathering reference

Then reference for all the species needs to be collated.  I have sketchbooks of botanical studies, and have assembled loads of ring binders crammed with my photos and notes, all organized alphabetically and by type of organism.  I also refer to google images for a broad spectrum of views of one animal or plant, and increasingly find myself using my own earlier illustrations for reference.

Piecing together the background of a rough takes a while; this one is loosely based in Cwm Byddog, a beautiful nature reserve run by Radnorshire Wildlife Trust, near my home.

Drawing up the rough

I leave the foreground until later, but it’s important to block in where the animals and plants will be so that you can construct the scene around them.

Next, I spend time on the animals, the focus of the illustration.  If these aren’t drawn correctly the entire illustration will fall apart, so it’s an exacting business and calls for consulting lots of reference and always, if possible, an actual specimen.

With both background and the animals plotted in, I can construct the flora and habitat around them, remembering to lose size and definition as the image goes towards the background; and trying to ensure the eye moves easily across the illustration.

Painting in the background

Once I’m satisfied with the rough, it’s time to get the paints out.  Over the years, I’ve found that the more disciplined I am, and the paler I keep the farthest areas of the painting, the more depth I get.  So I start with the most distant features in a very pale, blue-ish palette.

Next comes a little more detail, and as I paint further to the front of the image there is more contrast and depth of colour.  I work very hard at not getting the middle distance too muddy or dark; with watercolour you can always come back and work into it later, but it’s far too easy to swallow up the light and thus flatten the illustration.  I paint the background around the more detailed elements in the foreground, and it’ll be the prime point of focus (in this case the stag beetle) that gets painted last of all.

Adding Detail to the Background

I work more detail into the background, and put some very pale washes over the leaves of the trees.  Then it’s time to work on the flowers, which is lovely.  I use a tiny brush (winsor and newton series 7, size 0 or 00) and make sure the colours at the back are really pale.  This means mixing in reverse; you mix the colour you’ll need for the flowers in the foreground, dilute it enormously, then work from the furthest background forward, adding minute drops of the colour as you progress.  Sharp detail as well as intensity of colour and contrast bring things into the foreground, so I’ll keep detail to a minimum until you’re right at the front of the illustration.

I paint in the details of the flowers, and work further towards the front of the painting; we’re approaching the point where it’s all looking coherent except for the white cut-out spaces where the animals are going to be.

Once I’ve blocked in the flower shapes, and “drawn” them with their correct colours, I work into them with washes and then with overlying shadows.  Again, it’s vital not to swamp the details by making the washes too heavy or dark; white areas in a watercolour are what keep the painting fresh.

Painting the Stag beetle and other animals

Finally, I get to work on the animals, my favourite part.  I block in the darkest areas first and then work into them, up towards the lighter areas.  With the butterfly it’s important to keep the venation clear as it gives the insect some real structure.  I unify the details of the animals with a series of washes.  Sometimes at this stage I panic and think I’ve ruined it all, but it’s normally a minor or easily salvageable mistake.

Finishing up

The last step is to take a quick tea break then come back and consider the painting as a whole.  Does anything need tweaking or sharpening up?  Do any elements stand out more than they should?  Are the shadows clear enough, and coherent in terms of the light source?  Is there enough detail in the mid ground, and enough colour in the foreground?  Once these final questions have been dealt with, and adjustments have been made, it’s time to scan the final artwork (at 300 plus dpi) and send a copy to the client to see what they think.  In this case, I’m elated to say, the client was really pleased.  A lovely job to do, for a happy client.  That’s my idea of a dream job.

I have made a short youtube video of this painting process:

Under the Shadow of the Tree by Chris Meredith

Under the shadow of the tree

We are cool in each other’s company

The breeze gently moving your hair

A piece of sunlight highlighting your eyes

Under the shadow of the tree

Our love secretly takes shape

Beneath the wind and the willows

Our shadows sleep

Under the shadow of the tree

Raindrops lightly dust the moss

I place a buttercup under your chin

You blow a dandelion to the wind

Under the shadow of the tree

A stag beetle challenges us to a fight

Our laughter downgrades the threat

As well it might

For more poems by Chris Meredith please look at his Chris Meredith website.

The post Natural History Illustration: A Stag Beetle in Woodland appeared first on Lizzie Harper.