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One of my favorite things about painting wildlife is that there's always something new to discover. Sometimes it's an unexpected adaptation, unusual color or anatomical detail, and sometimes it's simply a familiar animal seen from a different perspective. My recent watercolors have taken me in several different directions, but they all began with something that caught my attention.

The Eastern Box Turtle caught my eye with the intricate patterns of its shell and skin. Those beautiful markings aren't just decorative; they help break up the animal's outline among the leaves and shifting light of the forest floor.

The Okapi is another wonderful example of disruptive coloration. Its striped hindquarters are so distinctive that nearly every reference photograph seems to feature them! But I found myself drawn to the other end of the animal. Okapis have lovely, expressive faces, with enormous ears and delicate features.

The Great Sapphirewing Hummingbird female is all about attitude. Hummingbirds may be tiny, but they can be very territorial and aggressive, as anyone who has put out a feeder for them knows.

Siamese and Ladybug features a portrait of Mizu, whom I adopted from the Wake County SPCA earlier this year. Named after the protagonist of Blue Eye Samurai, she's happily not quite as feisty as her namesake. I was fascinated by the ruby-red reflections in her pupils. Most cats have a reflective layer behind the retina called the tapetum lucidum, which helps them see in dim light and produces their familiar green-gold eyeshine. In Siamese cats, the genetics responsible for their distinctive coloration also causes reduced pigmentation and differences in this reflective layer so it produces a reddish reflection instead. I gave her a matching red ladybug as companion (or target). 

The White-Lined Sphinx Moth might be my favorite example of how a change in perspective can transform a subject. Viewed head-on, with its enormous metallic eyes, feathery-looking scales, and plush facial features, it resembles some sort of alien teddy bear. 

These paintings don't make a particularly tidy collection, and that's part of the fun. Nature offers an endless assortment of colors, shapes, behaviors, and adaptations to explore. 

Some of my favorite studies in animal anatomy center around coloration. How animals are colored - for example, pigment versus structural coloration - can lead to “next questions” about why they are colored as they are. Two of my recent paintings highlight very different strategies in avian coloration.

The Nicobar pigeon is amazingly flashy. The head and neck are a soft blue-grey with long, tapered feathers, but the rest of the plumage ranges through metallic and iridescent greens, autumn tones, blues and violets. I assumed that Nicobar pigeons would be sexually dichromatic, as is common in birds, but the female’s coloration is only slightly more subdued. Both sexes wear essentially the same spectacular palette.

Nicobar Pigeon, watercolor on paper

The grey morph Eastern Screech Owl I painted represents a very different approach. Rufous, brown and grey morphs are all masters of camouflage. Their false “ears” are actually feather tufts that can be flattened against the head or erected when the bird assumes a vertical pose. Mottled plumage breaks up the owl’s outline, while the dark streaks on its chest can resemble fissures in tree bark.

Screech Owl Grey Morph, watercolor on paper

My assumption was that the different owl color morphs live in different environments or have very different lifestyles, but this proved to be a wonderfully nuanced subject. Researchers have investigated how the frequency of the different morphs changes with climate. In Eastern Screech Owls, the rufous morph is associated with warmer environments, including urban microclimates that are warmer than surrounding areas.

Both species were fun to paint, but both also raised interesting next questions. Why are Nicobar pigeons so flashy if males and females wear a similar color scheme? And research into screech owl color morphs introduced me to Gloger’s rule: the tendency for populations of some warm-blooded animals in warm, humid environments to be more heavily pigmented. Which, naturally, left me wondering: what other animals follow this pattern?

The recent Dino Academy event at the Museum of Life and Science was a perfect opportunity to create some new mixed-media textured dinosaur paintings. The series started in 2023, when the NC Museum of Natural Sciences invited me to participate in a Sensory Friendly Afternoon. The museum was closed to the general public, with limited attendance available through free advance tickets. Guests included individuals and groups from organizations such as the Governor Morehead School for the Blind.

I’d been using textural elements in my acrylic paintings since 2012, but workshops with Carol Nelson - an amazing painter and absolute mad scientist when it comes to mixed media - had inspired me to experiment with heavier textures. The Sensory Friendly event gave me a chance to explore just how far I could take the textural side of my work. I generally don’t need an excuse to paint dinosaurs, and in this case, they were an especially good subject.

The Triceratops I created incorporated modeling paste applied with stencils, “carved” with a Catalyst tool, and impressed with faux wood grain. Other areas included gel prints made with bubble wrap and scales created with embossing powder. I also made a tactile swatch board showing the different textures and encouraged visitors to “decode” the painting by matching each sample to the corresponding area of the dinosaur.

One of my favorite parts of the event was watching how deliberately some guests explored the painting. They would feel a swatch carefully, find the matching area on the Triceratops, and then compare the two. Texture wasn’t simply an added effect, it had become another way to read the artwork.

That experience has stayed with me, and this year’s Dino Academy gave me a chance to return to the idea with new paintings and new experiments. I love seeing what happens when artwork invites more than looking, especially for visitors who connect strongly through touch and sensory exploration.

And there’s something satisfying about making art where the instruction is the exact opposite of the usual museum rule: Please touch the dinosaur.

Recently I've been working on a series of gesture studies at Sylvan Heights Bird Park. It's a wonderful place for sketching not only because of its remarkable variety of species, but because visitors can get close enough to notice details that are easy to miss in photographs.

My latest close encounter was with a bird I’d never heard of before, the Abyssinian Ground Hornbill. My first impression was simply its size. Unlike the small hornbills I was familiar with, this species stands nearly a meter tall and spends much of its time on the ground. It is a carnivore adapted to hunting small prey on the open savanna. I can easily imagine what a terror it must be to the insects, small lizards and rodents that share its habitat!

Gesture drawing

As the bird stepped into the sunlight, I was struck by its coloration: black plumage with iridescent blue highlights, contrasting with vivid patches of cobalt blue skin. Males add even more drama with reddish and peach-colored accents on the face and throat.

At close range I could appreciate the textural differences of bill, casque and skin areas, but was most surprised by its lush long eyelashes. I had seen images of ostriches and secretary birds with eyelashes, but something about the hornbill’s contrast between heavy body, strong scaled legs and lethal looking beak combined with unexpectedly glamorous eyelashes was delightfully incongruous.

Gesture drawing

Later research revealed that the "eyelashes" aren't hairs at all, but specialized feather bristles. They likely protect the eyes from the thorny vegetation of African savanna and may help reduce glare from the intense sun.

I decided to make the eyelashes the focus of my painting, choosing a frontal view rather than the more familiar profile that emphasizes the bird's massive bill and distinctive casque. The face-to-face view also reinforces the intense, binocular gaze of a predator.

Final sketch on watercolor paper

I’m preparing for a dinosaur-themed event in late August at the Museum of Life and Science and will definitely be taking my new hornbill painting. Modern birds have become some of our best references for reconstructing dinosaur appearance; cassowaries in particular have been so influential that their bold coloration has almost become a paleoart trope. The Abyssinian Ground Hornbill offers a fresh perspective, and it leads me to a “next question”: if modern birds can surprise us with details like extravagant feather "eyelashes," what other unexpected features might some avian theropods have displayed?

Final painting

The idea for this series began in 2019 with an unexpected discovery. After purchasing a digital microscope, I started examining insects up close and was amazed by how alien—and how detailed—their faces are. Insects are often illustrated from above in perfectly symmetrical views, echoing the way specimens are displayed in museum collections. I wanted to look at them differently: as individual living animals with remarkable adaptations.

Common Eastern Bumble Bee painting, acrylic on canvas, 2019

This year's Pollinator Day at Durham's Museum of Life and Science provided the perfect opportunity to expand the project. The teams at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences' Naturalist Center and the Museum of Life and Science's Butterfly House generously allowed me to photograph specimens from their collections using my microscope. Those images revealed details that are almost impossible to appreciate with the naked eye and became invaluable references for the paintings.

Leaf Cutter Bee digital microscope photo

As I researched the subjects, I discovered that the story extends far beyond butterflies, hummingbirds and bees. While nectar and fruit feeders are familiar flower visitors, many other animals also transport pollen as they move through their habitats. Even the brilliant Shining Leaf Chafer beetle, better known as a leaf eater, can carry pollen from one plant to another simply through its daily activities.

Shining Leaf Chafer, watercolor on paper

Reptiles such as the colorful Gold Dust Day Gecko visit flowers, while mammals including fruit bats, honey possums and the striking Black-and-White Ruffed Lemur all play important roles in pollination. In Madagascar, the ruffed lemur is one of the primary pollinators of the iconic Traveler's Palm, carrying pollen on its face as it reaches deep into the flowers for nectar. As a prosimian, it is also our closest living relative known to serve this ecological role—a wonderful reminder that pollination is shared by a much broader range of animals than most of us realize.

Black-and-White Ruffed Lemur, watercolor on paper

One of the greatest joys of creating this series has been discovering just how one challenge evoked a range of evolutionary solutions. Every face tells a story. Whether it's the pollen-collecting hairs of a bumble bee, the elongated bill of a hummingbird, or the furry muzzle of a lemur dusted with pollen, each animal is uniquely equipped for its role. That's the idea behind Faces of Pollination—celebrating not just the process of pollination, but the extraordinary creatures whose faces, bodies and behaviors make it possible.

Pollinator Paintings detail montage

Big cats and sea turtles are some of my favorite subjects, so I was delighted to receive a commission request combining them in a single painting.

Since the final piece was to be 5" x 7" matted to 8" x 10", I didn't want to include the entire figure of each animal, choosing instead to focus on their faces. I created several loose composition sketches in pencil and ink, simplifying shapes carefully while still preserving the personality of each animal.

The client had suggested a green, gold/orange and purple color scheme which was a beautiful fit for these subjects. Not only are those colors attractive as the traditional secondary palette, but they could also be echoed across all three subjects. The tiger is predominantly gold/orange, with touches of purple shading. The snow leopard is low-saturation purple with green eyes, while the sea turtle is green with purple and orange accents. I made watercolor swatches to test how well the shades I'd picked related to each other.

Composition sketch and color swatches

Once approved, I made the final sketch on 300lb. watercolor paper. I prefer to preserve the energy and character of the original drawing by painting on it directly. Even my sketches for acrylic works are created on rice paper so the original drawing can be affixed directly to the canvas prior to painting.

The sketch highlights my drawing process - the form geometry with construction and symmetry lines is done first in light blue. The detail drawing is then done in graphite pencil.

Final sketch

In both watercolor and acrylic, I prefer building color through layered washes of pure tones rather than extensive palette mixing. This approach creates rich, luminous color while allowing subtle shifts between layers. On the tiger, for instance, the early washes were of Aussie Red Gold (similar to Quinacridone Nickel Azo Gold). Later layers of purple added shadow. The background of light washes of Payne's Grey and Indigo tied the subjects together into the final painting.

Commissioned paintings are always a special experience. Instead of developing a piece and receiving feedback once it's complete, I receive input from the client at the beginning and at several review stages, creating a fun collaboration. This piece was no exception — I thoroughly enjoyed the process from the initial concept through the creative color scheme to the final product.

Final painting

For my presentation at the Museum of Life and Science “Bird Bonanza” event, I chose the theme of bird nesting. I’ve done some paintings on this subject over the years and have enjoyed exploring texture effects using modeling paste and glazed colors, as shown in this completed painting.

Snow Goose, acrylic and textural elements on canvas

Detail 

For this year’s event, I wanted to learn more about bird nest construction and materials. I recently read The Hummingbird’s Gift: Wonder, Beauty, and Renewal on Wings by Sy Montgomery, which describes the rescue of hummingbirds and includes some interesting details on nest construction. In addition to other materials, hummingbirds collect spiderweb silk to help create a soft, expandable structure for the eggs and hatchlings. The process is not without risk, as they can become entangled in the web.

I made a trip to the Naturalist Center and found a ruby-throated hummingbird nest. According to the specimen label, it was collected in Wake County in August 2006 after the chicks had fledged. The outside is "shingled" with lichen and the inside is soft fiber.

Ruby-throated hummingbird nest, Naturalist Center

My research always seems to lead me to a “next question”—in this case, why don’t the eggs or hatchlings get wrapped up in the silk? I found that the silk isn’t used in the lining of the nest, which is made of feathers and plant down. Instead, the spiderweb’s elasticity and strength help tie the structural elements of the nest together. By stretching and embedding the fibers among plant down, moss, and lichen, the hummingbird transforms a potentially adhesive material into a soft, flexible, and safe cradle for her chicks. What seemed a risky material choice turns out to be an elegant structural solution!

Ruby-Throated Hummingbird on Nest, watercolor on paper

I’m currently working on similar paintings of an Eastern bluebird and an Eastern screech owl, and am looking forward to discovering what “next questions” arise as I learn more about their nesting habits.

I love to draw! Much of my professional work has centered around drawing in one form or another, from animation studies to medical illustration. I didn’t begin focusing on painting until around 2006, and while I enjoy its scope and complexity, I’ve never lost my attachment to line.

My more realistic acrylic paintings begin with a carefully observed drawing, developed from life, museum specimens, photos, or a combination of all three. Personally, I find that transferring or tracing a drawing can diminish some of its character, so I draw on rice paper and attach the original directly to the canvas.

Warthog drawing on kinwashi rice paper

Early on, I struggled with the idea that the immediacy of that drawing might be lost under layers of paint. I experimented with very transparent pigments but eventually began incorporating soluble pencils—and found that they offered some unique advantages within the painting process.

Here are a few ways I use them:

1. Mapping out values
Saturated color is compelling (and a little addictive), which can make it difficult to step back and evaluate a painting’s value structure. After attaching the drawing, I use soluble pencil to establish the background values, helping to direct attention toward the focal areas before committing to full color.

Bighorn Ram drawing in rice paper

2. Building texture
Used wet or dry, soluble pencils are excellent for developing texture. This detail, from a bison painting, began with light acrylic glazes over the original drawing. I then used soluble pencil to reinforce the fur patterns—sometimes blending them smoothly, and sometimes allowing the natural grain of the pigment to remain visible. I enjoy leaving areas like this less resolved, so the underlying structure of the piece remains part of the final image.

Bison fur detail, acrylic and soluble pencil on canvas

3. Adding neutral and semi-neutral tones
I’ll admit that building rich neutrals doesn’t come naturally to me. Simply adding gray or black can flatten a color, and even complements don’t always produce the effect I want. I’ve had success combining blue, brown, or black soluble pencils with rich transparent acrylic glazes—quinacridone nickel azo gold, phthalo turquoise, even dioxazine purple. Layering these combinations can produce complex, chromatic darks; I used this approach extensively in developing the fur of a juvenile bear cub.

Juvenile black bear detail, acrylic and soluble pencil on canvas

A quick note of caution: depending on the brand and how heavily the pencil is applied, pigments may reactivate under a liquid varnish. I recommend using a fixative before varnishing to stabilize the surface. If you’re interested in testing approaches, I’ve shared some experiments in my earlier post, “The ‘Archetypes’ Series: Testing Spectrafix Fixative and Varnish on Mixed Media.”

Even as my work has become more painterly, drawing remains at the core of how I think—and soluble pencils have become one of the most effective ways I’ve found to carry that line forward into the final painting.

Turtles are wonderful painting subjects, exhibiting many fascinating and sophisticated adaptations, as befits their long lineage. Every time I paint one, I discover a visual feature that invites a deeper look into the “why” behind it.

For the Museum of Life and Science’s Creek Week, I chose two native species: the yellow-bellied slider and the common snapping turtle. For each subject, I created an initial sketch from specimens at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences Naturalist Center. These studies became the foundation for both watercolor paintings and ink versions used as coloring pages for visitors. In developing the educational copy for the coloring pages, I discovered that “sliders” (often seen basking on logs) are named for their habit of sliding quickly into the water when threatened. Somehow, I’d never come across that explanation before.

Yellow-bellied Slider (coloring page)

Comparing the two species raised some interesting questions. One of the first differences I noticed was the snapping turtle’s much longer skull. At first, I assumed this might simply provide additional space for muscle attachment, but the reality is more nuanced. As a predator, the snapping turtle benefits from a long, wedge-shaped skull that increases strike reach, accommodates powerful jaw musculature, and helps channel the stresses of a forceful bite. In contrast, the slider’s skull is adapted for less forceful feeding, such as cropping vegetation.

Sketch of Common Snapping Turtle Skull and Lower Jaw

The second point of interest was that the eye coloration pattern differs noticeably. Turtle eyes vary widely in appearance. Some, like sea turtles, have eyes that appear almost gentle—and even eerily human. In my Creek Week subjects, the slider has a horizontal bar of darker color across the iris, while the snapping turtle’s eye includes both horizontal and vertical bars, creating a “crosshair” effect.

Detail of Yellow-bellied Slider and Snapping Turtle paintings

There are several hypotheses behind these patterns, and two in particular stood out to me.

One idea is that the snapping turtle’s “crosshairs” function as disruptive coloration, helping to obscure the eye and making it harder for prey to detect exactly where the turtle is looking. Predators such as tigers show somewhat similar strategies, with facial striping that breaks up the outline of the eyes and even “eyespots” on the backs of their ears.

Another hypothesis is that horizontal bars—seen in both species—may help reduce glare from the water’s surface and enhance contrast along the horizon. Interestingly, grazing mammals like horses and goats achieve a similar visual effect through horizontally elongated pupils, suggesting a comparable functional goal reached through a different anatomical solution.

I’m looking forward to exploring turtle morphology further—there always seems to be another layer of structure and function waiting just beneath the surface.

Snapping Turtle, watercolor

 In junior high, I read a book called “The Sorcerer” by Joseph Bato, which led me down a rabbit hole researching the cave paintings of Lascaux and the Cave of the Trois-Frères. I was struck by the simplicity and power of those images—created by artists who relied solely on direct observation of the animals they lived with and depended upon.

During college, I began a series of paintings inspired by these archetypal images, and I’ve revisited the idea several times as my style—and my range of materials—has evolved. While I’ve worked in oils, watercolor, and acrylic, I never found a paint that could produce a truly velvety black. Dry media like charcoal came close, but created problems during varnishing. Too often, the pigment would reactivate and spread or float to the surface. I remember finishing one test piece, applying varnish, and then watching over the next hour as black blobs slowly spread across the image—not fun!

I’d heard about Spectrafix casein spray fixative from several sources and finally decided to put it to the test. I prepared a series of swatch sheets using Derwent Inktense pencils and blocks, Charvin pastel painting sticks, and traditional willow charcoal. Portions of each swatch were blended with water, then allowed to dry before applying a light coat of Spectrafix.

Once the fixative had set, I was able to rub the surface quite firmly without lifting pigment—except in the heaviest charcoal areas, which remained slightly powdery. I then applied a layer of acrylic varnish. The results were impressive: no visible reactivation, and even the finest dry lines held their edges without bleeding.

Various media with layer of Spectrafix and varnish

After these promising results, I moved on to a canvas piece. I began with an acrylic underpainting on paper mounted to canvas, then used the Derwent and Charvin materials for the initial sketch. One thing I discovered was that applying gel medium to both sides of the paper made the surface somewhat slick; in later versions, I applied it only to the underside. 

One of the most striking aspects of these materials is how much pigment is released when activated with water. The charcoal produced beautifully deep blacks, and even the white showed surprising opacity even when applied lightly. 

The final piece incorporates additional layers of acrylic and metallic paint, while still preserving some of the grainy texture of the dry media. Even in those areas, a single coat of Spectrafix successfully stabilized the surface so the varnish could be applied without disturbing the underlying layers.

I’m excited to have added a new combination of materials to my toolkit and am continuing to explore it within my Archetypes series. You can view additional samples here: Stacy Lewis - Portfolio of Works: Archetypes