A shadow I thought was gray reveals itself as blue. The edge of a feather dissolves into light. An animal’s expression shifts by something too small to name, yet the whole painting feels different. These moments remind me why I am drawn to to realism. Beyond the challenge of rendering something faithfully lies the quieter work: learning to see without letting familiarity decide for me. We recognize a bird, a tree, a face – and stop looking. But recognition is only a beginning. The longer I look, what seemed simple becomes particular: this bird, in this light, holding its body in this way.

Realism asks me to stay long enough to notice the difference.

This is where patience becomes more than the hours a painting asks of me. It becomes a willingness to be corrected by what I see. I may love a passage of color and still need to change it. A detail painted with care may pull too much attention, disturbing the quiet of the whole. Sometimes the most honest act is to soften something I worked hard to define.

There is humility in that. Effort does not make a mark true – attention does. So I keep looking.

Nature offers the same invitation. The longer I watch an animal, the less it resembles a fixed idea. A resting bird stays alert. A delicate wing carries strength. Stillness holds the possibility of movement. What looks like contradiction becomes, with attention, a fuller understanding. The painting works the same way. A light passage depends on the darkness around it. A small detail gains meaning from the space beside it. Nothing stands entirely on its own.

For me, truth in realism is faithfulness to the encounter – the weight of an animal’s body, the quality of light, a living presence beyond my understanding. Some things ask to be described carefully. Others need room to remain unresolved. Perhaps this is realism’s gentlest lesson: seeing is not a skill to master but a relationship to keep. The world does not become less mysterious as I learn to paint it. It becomes more deserving of my attention.

And patience lets me stay a little longer – looking, then looking again.

Among the works on view, I was awarded the In Memory of James V. & Charles E. Stagg Award, presented by Suzanne Stagg. Receiving one of the exhibition’s top honors is deeply humbling.

I would like to express my sincere gratitude to the exhibition organizers, the juror, and especially to Suzanne Stagg and the Stagg family for their generous sponsorship of this award. Support from dedicated enthusiasts and patrons plays such a vital role in keeping wildlife art and environmental stewardship alive, and I am truly grateful for their generosity and commitment.

Thank you, as always, to everyone who continues to support my studio journey and share in a deep appreciation for the natural world.

16th Biennial Kentucky National Wildlife Art Exhibit is on display through Nov. 14 at the Preston Arts Center in Henderson, KY

I am pleased to share that a recent piece, Weathered Perch – Blue Jay, has been selected for the Philadelphia Water Color Society’s 126th International Exhibition of Works on Paper.

Blue jays are so often remembered for their bold, sudden energy, but I have also observed them in a quiet curiosity and stillness of the moment. Placing him in a setting of an old, weathered log, the soft autumn light and damp atmosphere brought out the subtle geometry of his feathers against the rich, muted grain of the worn perch.

Painting this piece was a study in patience – balancing delicate washes of transparent watercolor with fine, opaque details to capture both the bird’s light, living presence and the gentle weight of its surroundings.

It is a true privilege to have Weathered Perch included in this year’s international exhibition alongside the work of so many fine artists. Thank you to the organizers, jurors, and hosts for the opportunity to be a part of this amazing exhibition.

For those of you near Pennsylvania or traveling through the area this fall, the exhibition will be on view at the Wayne Art Center from October 14 through November 14, 2026.

As always, thank you for your support and following along with my work.

Before setting pigment to panel, spending time observing my subject is where a piece truly begins. These sketchbook pages are exercises in study – a way to build deep familiarity with the red fox, train the eye, and understand the subtle, living dynamics of the species before translating them into finished studio works. Experiencing these animals firsthand in the wild reveals details that no reference photo can fully capture. Working through anatomical studies allows me to practice translating those live encounters into expressive, fluid line work, whether I’m recording a quiet upward gaze tracking movement in the high canopy, capturing the gentle weight of a vixen carrying her pup, or mapping out the buoyant, tumbling energy of young kits exploring outside the den. This process of close observational drawing is how I familiarize myself with a subject’s form and spirit, recalling memories of close observations, ensuring that when I approach a major studio work, the true character of the animal is already deeply understood.

Have you ever had the opportunity to observe red foxes or young litters in the wild? I would be glad to hear about your own field encounters and observations.

When I paint, I try to hold that light – not only the literal glow on feathers or leaves but the warmth of the moment itself. Each brushstroke becomes an act of noticing: the curve of a petal, the glint of life in an animal’s glance, the harmony of color that nature arranges effortlessly. Through painting, I rediscover that beauty isn’t rare; it’s everywhere, waiting to be seen.

Nature has a quiet way of teaching this. The more time I spend outdoors, the more I realize how much life depends on small things – soft rain nurturing roots, light renewing color, a pause allowing reflection. In art, that same attentiveness gives meaning to every tone. Even the simplest shapes can shine when filled with care and intent, much like sunlight making a humble twig sparkle.

What moves me most is how consistently wonder returns, even in familiar places. The forest I’ve walked a hundred times still surprises me when light touches it differently. That awareness – the joy of seeing anew – keeps painting alive for me. It’s a reminder that beauty isn’t about perfection or novelty but presence.

In the end, finding wonder is about slowing down long enough to notice the gift already in front of us. Light and life are always offering connection, quietly, without asking for attention. Through painting, I hope to share that gentleness – that moment when the world feels still for just long enough that we realize we’re part of something luminous, something endlessly alive.

There is a quiet wonder that comes with watching wild lives go about their days – the playful camaraderie of young siblings tucked safely into the safety of a tree hollow, or the tender, unspoken bond holding a pack together under a soft summer light.

Holding onto those moments is why I paint.

I am so deeply honored that two of my paintings have been accepted into the 2026 Kentucky National Wildlife Art Exhibit, the 16th Biennial, on exhibit Sept-Nov at the Preston Arts Center in Henderson, KY :

• Woodland Hollow – Raccoon Trio (11×14″, opaque & transparent watercolor on museum board) A playful, intimate look at three young raccoons peering out from the safety of their forest home.
• Golden Solace – Wolf Family (20×24″, opaque & transparent watercolor on museum board) A larger narrative study focused on the quiet strength, warmth, and connection within a wolf pack.

Working layer by thin layer on museum board allows me to build the soft, living depth of fur and atmospheric light while preserving that fluid, luminous quality unique to watercolor.

To be a part of an exhibition that celebrates the wild world is a true privilege. My heartfelt thanks to the juror, the exhibition organizers, and everyone who takes time to pause, reflect, and share in a love for these incredible creatures.

If you are visiting the exhibition this Autumn, I hope these pieces bring you a quiet moment of connection to the wild.

When light touches the natural world, it brings a quiet kind of energy, one that doesn’t shout but whispers through color and form. Early morning glow on feathers, the shimmer of a stream at dusk – these moments remind me that beauty often hides in softness. To paint such scenes, I focus on how light nurtures life, wrapping subjects in warmth that feels tender and real.

Stillness, I’ve learned, isn’t about stopping; it’s about balance. Even in the calmest setting, something is always breathing, shifting, growing. When I work, I let that truth guide my brush. A fine line or a subtle glaze can suggest the faint movement of air, the unseen pulse of the living world. I want viewers to sense that quiet heartbeat – the one that exists both in the painting and in themselves.

Watercolor, with its luminosity, allows this relationship between stillness and vitality to unfold naturally. I let the medium flow, allowing light to travel through transparency just as sunlight passes through mist or petals. Each wash becomes a conversation between control and surrender – a mirror of how peace in nature coexists with life’s constant, gentle motion.

In the end, what moves me most in painting calm scenes is their quiet optimism. Nature shows us that even in stillness, life continues to shimmer and renew. Through soft light and patient brushwork, I hope to share that feeling: that within every moment of quiet lies a world awake and full of wonder – a living reminder that peace itself is alive.

When I spend time in the studio, the act of painting becomes a form of meditation. Each brushstroke asks for presence. I find that when I slow down enough to really study a subject – a reflection on still water, the shimmer of feathers catching morning light – I begin to sense not just what it looks like, but what it feels like. That space of listening, where perception meets emotion, is where the heart of a painting truly lives.

Living with art nurtures that same awareness. A piece you’ve seen every day can surprise you with something new – a subtle detail, a mood you hadn’t noticed before, a small invitation to feel differently. That’s the quiet conversation between viewer and artwork. It doesn’t shout for attention; it simply waits for it.

In time, this way of seeing extends beyond the walls where art hangs. You start to notice the world differently – the patience of clouds, the shifting tone of a winter sky, the tiny interplay of light on wings in flight. Art trains the soul to be attentive, to see the extraordinary within the ordinary. Every glance becomes more meaningful because you’ve learned to carry that vision with you.

Seeing deeply is an act of gratitude. It opens the door to connection – with nature, with others, and with yourself. Art becomes the teacher that reminds us to pause, breathe, and receive the quiet beauty that exists all around.

When we allow art to guide how we see, life itself begins to unfold with greater tenderness and clarity. What once felt fleeting becomes vivid, suspended in a luminous stillness. In noticing more fully, we begin living more fully too.

There is a serene stillness that settles over the high peaks when the air turns crisp and cool. That elevated quiet is the heart behind my watercolor, Spruce Summit – American Kestrel – capturing a solitary moment as this small, vibrant falcon perches among the evergreen needles, watching over the wild landscape below.

I am so deeply honored that Spruce Summit has been selected for the Georgia Watercolor Society (GWS) 2026 Juried Member Exhibition. The show will be hosted in the Main Gallery of the Oconee Cultural Arts Foundation (OCAF) in Watkinsville, Georgia, running from September 25 through November 6, 2026.

Spruce Summit – American Kestrel, 14×11″, opaque & transparent watercolor on museum board, Rebecca Latham

To render the kestrel’s delicate plumage against the soft lighting of the tree and sky, I built up transparent glazes layer by subtle layer on museum board. Exhibiting alongside such a talented community of watercolorists is a true privilege, and I am profoundly grateful to the GWS jury, the team at OCAF, and everyone who supports nature and wildlife in art.

If you are in the area this autumn, I hope you’ll drop by the gallery to take in the show and spend a quiet moment with Spruce Summit.

Thank you, as always, for sharing in this love for wild places and the creatures that inhabit them.

– Rebecca