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In the Company of Red

Chasing Color No. 1

Chasing Color is a new series of miniature paintings that explores how a single hue can influence mood, memory, and meaning. Each piece centers around one dominant color, building a world from fruits, florals, porcelain, and wildlife. The technique is classical, inspired by Dutch Golden Age still life, but the stories are personal—drawn from my life, home, and history.

This first painting is a meditation on red: bold, passionate, and deeply rooted in memory.

A Cardinal’s Comfort

The cardinal has always meant “home” to me. Growing up in the Midwest, they were a familiar flash of color in winter trees, and even now, seeing one feels like a kind of homecoming. In this painting, the bird perches on a porcelain bowl inspired by an 18th-century Chinese piece from The Met. Its deep Sang de Boeuf glaze mirrors the cardinal’s feathers and also nods to my former life as a mountmaker at the Seattle Art Museum, where I spent 14 years working with pieces like this.

From My Garden

The other elements are more grounded—literally. Every fruit and flower came from my own garden. The cherries were from my tree’s final season; it died not long after, but not before gifting me the biggest harvest I’d ever had. I took dozens of reference photos (and baked two pies!) from that one harvest. Since cherries are often symbols of paradise, maybe it’s time I plant another.

A painted lady butterfly, emblem of transformation, rests on a leaf. We’ve raised and released three rounds of these butterflies from tiny caterpillars—it’s a magical process, and one I love sharing with my kids. The strawberries? Let’s just say I believe every garden should have them. Homegrown strawberries taste like a completely different fruit than the store bought variety.

Generational Threads

And then there’s the poppy. My grandfather, who emigrated from Romania in the 1920s, loved poppies. My dad grew them in remembrance of him, and now I grow them for my dad. It’s a small tradition, but a meaningful one—and one that made its way into this painting.

It’s incredible how much can be packed into a 5 x 5″ space. Even a single strawberry can carry a story.

This piece, In the Company of Red, is now on its way to its new home in San Francisco. I hope it brings a little warmth, a little memory, and maybe a spark of connection to its new home.

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Pomegranates, Walnuts, and a Birding Swallowtail: Finishing My Swallowtail Butterfly Painting Series

oil on copper, 4.5 x 5.5

Making oil paintings is slow, thoughtful work. Before my brush ever touches a copper panel, the process involves weeks of gathering inspiration, researching, photographing references, creating digital mock-ups, and preparing my surface.

In an age of instant AI-generated artwork, I see the value in slowing down. Painters have faced similar upheavals since the invention of photography—and yet painting endures. I believe there’s a reason: nothing replaces the depth and intimacy of handmade art.

pomegranate walnuts and butterfly still life oil painting by Rebecca Luncan in progress

A Series Two Years in the Making

This month marks a milestone: the twelfth and final piece in my Swallowtail Butterfly Painting Series. Over the past two years, my “monthly” miniatures have been more “bi-monthly” miniatures as I navigate life with a new member of the family. Even with all the chaos of going through pregenancy and having a demanding infant I’m the primary caregiver for, I’ve somehow completed one painting after another, each pairing a swallowtail species with unique botanical elements. This final work celebrates not just the butterfly but the joy of slow, intentional living.

Slow Food, Slow Art

To highlight that theme, I included two of my favorite “slow foods”: pomegranates and walnuts. Sure, you can buy them prepped and packaged. But if you’ve ever cracked a walnut or dug out the seeds from a pomegranate, you know the quiet satisfaction that comes from doing it yourself.

The same can be said for painting. My work takes time—and that time adds flavor.

Featuring the Rajah Brooke’s Birdwing

still life oill painitng pomegranate walnuts and birdwing swallowtail butterfly framed by Rebecca Luncan

This painting features a male Rajah Brooke’s Birdwing butterfly, part of the Papilionidae family (which includes all swallowtails). These dazzling creatures are native to rainforests across Southeast Asia and have a wingspan of up to 6.5 inches. Their vivid green-and-black coloring makes them look like flying stained glass. In fact, they’re so large they’re often mistaken for birds—hence the name “birdwing.”

What Comes After the Swallowtails?

The past year brought big changes—especially having a one-year-old at home. Time for painting has been more limited, and I’ve learned to be gentle with myself and realistic with my goals.

So instead of monthly miniatures, my next project will ofically unfold as bi-monthly miniature paintings throughout 2025 and 2026. I’ve been deep in the planning stage—sketching, researching, and refining ideas—and I’m almost ready to begin.

Thank you for following along on this journey. I hope you’ll continue with me as the next series takes flight.

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Dragonfly, Butterfly, and Columbine

As November’s chill settles in and the leaves skitter around outside, I’m bringing a little warmth to the season with a new monthly miniature painting—a composition drawn from memories of summer in the garden.

Sixteen years ago, I transformed our quarter-acre lawn into a terraced garden. It’s become a haven for life— fruit trees, hundreds of flowers, a vegetable patch, dragonflies from nearby Lake Stickney, and a revolving door of pollinators and birds. On any sunny day, it feels like stepping into a living still life.

With such abundance to choose from, selecting elements for this painting was like plucking gems from a tree. I take hundreds of flower photos each season, and my husband and I photograph insects and birds whenever we can. But combining them into a single harmonious composition isn’t always as simple as it sounds.

This painting had been on my mind since May. I sketched dozens of versions—none of them quite right. But as often happens in the creative process, the pieces churned quietly in the background until, months later, everything finally clicked. It’s always a little mysterious—and always a surprise when it happens that way.

in progress still life painting of dragondly butterfly and columbine by Rebecca Luncan

A Conversation with the Past

If you’re a fan of art history, you might see echoes of Jan van Kessel in this piece. His jewel-like insect, shell, and flower studies have long inspired me. There’s even a tiny beetle in my painting copied directly from one of his works. He painted that little fellow more than once, and placing him among my own subjects feels like a quiet conversation across centuries. Art has a beautiful way of collapsing time like that.

The composition may feel like a snapshot of spring, but it’s arriving in November, as I hunker down in my chilly carport-turned-studio, space heater blazing, dreaming of radiant blooms and buzzing wings. One day we’ll get around to insulating the concrete floor. Till then, I have dreams of warmth and one very hot left leg.

As we head into the holidays, I hope this piece brings a little color and warmth your way. May you find joy in small things and inspiration in unexpected places.

Wishing you a cozy Thanksgiving.

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Pears and the Emerald Swallowtail

This month’s monthly miniature marks the welcome return of my pear harvest—and the chance to feature one of my favorite fruits in a painting once again. For years, our tree produced more pears than we knew what to do with, sometimes into the thousands. But after several seasons of low yields, I was thrilled to gather around 200 this fall. It felt like reconnecting with an old friend.

I originally planned to paint a western tiger swallowtail I spotted on a fallen pear in the garden, but as I started working on the composition, I swapped it for an emerald swallowtail. The striking green tones of the emerald suited the palette I had in mind, allowing for a nearly monochromatic background with subtle hits of red and orange. Though the butterfly is native to Southeast Asia, but it’s a popular species in butterfly houses around the world so you may have seen them anywhere you call home.

A Shift in Mood

The creative process behind this piece took an unusual turn for me. I began with a pale cream background—an approach more reminiscent of the sparse still lifes of Jan van Kessel. But halfway through painting, I realized it wasn’t offering the mood I was after. So, I made a rare decision to change direction. I repainted the background dark and added a stone table inspired directly by one of Adriaen Coorte’s compositions. The result is a richer, moodier setting that feels more grounded and contemplative.

This kind of mid-course correction is rare in my practice—because my paintings are so detailed, I typically finalize the composition before I begin painting. But in this case, the shift felt essential.

In progress, Pears and Peacock Swallowtail Butterfly still life fruit oil painting by Rebecca Luncan

From the Studio

Getting this piece finished in time was no small feat. My youngest is starting to walk, we just wrapped up my show at Harris Harvey Gallery, and our home is in full project mode. Life feels full to the brim—but I wouldn’t have it any other way. 💚

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The Cuban Cattlehearts and the Mum

After a nearly yearlong hiatus, I’m thrilled to return to my Monthly Miniature tradition! Not coincidentally, my son just celebrated his first birthday. Over the past year, my limited studio time has been devoted to commissions and preparing a body of work for exhibition at Harris Harvey Gallery (open now — more on that soon).

Even while busy, I’ve deeply missed the Monthly Miniature series. It’s been a creative anchor for me — a way to share new ideas and connect with you. Having that regular rhythm to shape and develop my work is something I’m grateful to have again.

Revisiting an Idea with New Perspective

This month’s miniature, “Cuban Cattlehearts and the Mum,” builds on a painting I created last year, “Common Rose Swallowtail and the Mum” (see below). Though the compositions and subjects are similar, the mood of each piece is quite different.

Following my ongoing study of historical still life painting, I drew inspiration for this work from:

In this piece, I wanted to intentionally explore the effect of background color — trading the darker background for a lighter one. Though it’s a simple shift, this kind of experimentation helps me better understand how mood, meaning, and composition work together in my paintings. Interestingly, having a few elements well defined actually gives me more freedom to respond to all the unexpected decisions that arise while creating.

Looking Ahead

Usually, I have a list of ideas waiting in the wings for the next miniature. Right now, I’m embracing the unknown — taking some quiet moments to reflect on the new work at the gallery and imagine where this journey might lead next.

I hope this post finds you well, and that you enjoy the new painting! Fingers crossed you’ll hear from me again soon. Until then, enjoy the last of the warm weather if you can, and take time to notice the small wonders outdoors.

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Back in the Studio

After a brief hiatus to welcome our newest family member, I’m thrilled to be painting again. I had optimistically hoped for pockets of studio time during those first three months with Elliot, but between the sleepless nights and an unfinished kitchen remodel, painting just wasn’t in the cards. These days, I paint when the baby nap and I’m reminded how good it feels to be back at the easel.

A Remarkable Discovery

This new piece features the Fiji Papilio swallowtail, a butterfly with a story as striking as its wings. Native to the island of Vanua Levu, this brilliantly patterned butterfly somehow managed to escape scientific recognition until just a few years ago—a fact that still astonishes researchers.

The butterfly was first photographed in 2017 by ornithologist Gregg Kerr, who was in Fiji as an instructor with Operation Wallacea, a foundation that supports student-led scientific expeditions. Though birds were his focus, Kerr noticed and documented a butterfly so unusual that when he shared the images, some experts suspected a hoax.

Naming the Natewa Swallowtail

The mystery caught the attention of the Swallowtail and Birdwing Butterfly Trust, which dispatched entomologists John Tennent and Richard Markham to investigate. Their fieldwork led to the formal identification and classification of the new species, which they named the Natewa Swallowtail.

Though Tennent has described over 100 new species and subspecies of butterflies in his career, he called this one “easily the most spectacular.” As he put it, “For such an unusual and large new butterfly to be discovered somewhere we thought was so well known is remarkable.”

Fiji Papilio swallowtail still life painting with plums and raspberries by Rebecca Luncan

Painting the Wonder

It’s always a privilege to paint something with such natural beauty—and even more so when its backstory is filled with wonder. This swallowtail is a reminder of how there are still remarkable discoveries to be made, waiting just off the path.

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Emperor of India, Painting of a Butterfly

Emperor of India

When I started my monthly miniature Swallowtail series, I warned you that they come in many sizes and shapes, but this one is quite exceptional. The Teinopalpus imperialis is a rare species which can be found fluttering in patches across the Himalayas, through Nepal and north India all the way east to north Vietnam. That’s far from home for me, but part of the fun of this series is to use all of the many tools available to me to stretch my imagination across the globe, even if visiting the Himalayas physically is impossible for me right now.

My Emperor of India is portrayed as more of a natural history specimen than as a creature that just settled down for a nibble or a rest. He is also displayed in verso, with his tummy face up (see his little feet?) so that the most vibrant coloration of his wings are in full view. I went for a full-on manuscript-inspired composition with the addition of a golden arch around this butterfly. My inspiration was Joris Hoefnagel, one of the early pioneers in still life paintings and the study of insects. It’s easy to see how still life paintings caught on with such fervor when viewing his iconic masterpieces created in the 1500’s. 

I love how my monthly miniature series gives me so much freedom to experiment while staying within the boundaries of just a few simple ideas. Within the concept of “swallowtail butterflies,” I experiment with compositional ideas within the same general theme and format. Looking back over all the paintings I completed over the year, I get ideas and inspiration for the next series of paintings. I also get ideas for works I exhibit in galleries. 

On a personal note…

Hope you’re doing well and I please wish me luck for the next couple of weeks! Baby is due in a week and we don’t have anything ready! We almost have a countertop in the kitchen so fingers crossed it’s not still a complete madhouse when the baby gets here. As you can imagine, I’m exhausted! I have a set up to put my feet up while I’m painting, which means studio-time is also “resting-time”. I’ve thankfully been able to get a little painting done and I’m saving most of the the kitchen construction for my wonderful husband, friends and family.

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Forget Me Not: Honoring Still Life Traditions in a Miniature

Forget Me Not, oil on copper, 4.5″ x 5.5″, is the newest addition to my Swallowtail Series—a body of miniature still life paintings inspired by centuries of natural observation and artistic devotion.

This piece is an homage to two 17th-century painters I admire deeply: Jan van Kessel the Elder and Margaretha de Heer. Though I’ve long been a fan of van Kessel’s work, I only recently discovered de Heer. This painting is a celebration of their shared legacy—and a reflection on the way artists learn through looking, studying, and paying tribute.

Two Artists, One Era: Shared Roots in Still Life

Jan van Kessel and Margaretha de Heer were born roughly 20 years apart and just a few hundred miles from each other—van Kessel in Antwerp, Belgium, and de Heer in Friesland, in what is now the Netherlands. Both were born into artist families, and both became known for their vivid depictions of the natural world.

While each created genre scenes and other subjects, it’s their still life work that has most captivated me. Their paintings, often categorized as nature studies, depict insects, flowers, fruits, and other organic forms with striking clarity.

Stylistic Differences: Density vs. Balance

Van Kessel’s work bursts with detail—his compositions packed edge-to-edge with butterflies, beetles, shells, and blossoms. The perspective often shifts, with elements floating freely or perched on undefined surfaces. You get the sense that couldn’t bear to leave any space unused. There’s a beauty in the chaos, and despite the density, his compositions achieve a remarkable balance. The irregular perspectives feel surprisingly contemporary, not disruptive—just part of the visual rhythm.

De Heer’s paintings, while similar in subject matter, evoke a different tone. Her compositions are more spacious and deliberate. She embraces negative space, organizing her elements with a grounded sense of perspective and a graceful visual flow. Her approach feels more lyrical than scientific—a quiet reflection on the beauty of nature rather than a full catalogue of it.

The Butterfly: A Marvel from Central Africa

The butterfly in Forget Me Not is a Blue-banded Swallowtail (Papilio nireus), a striking species native to central and southern Africa. With velvet-black wings and bold, iridescent blue bands, this butterfly commands attention. Though it lacks the tail streamers typical of many swallowtails, it does belong to the Papilionidae (often refered to as Swallowtail) family and is admired for its swift flight and elegance.

in progress Forget Me Not miniature painting, still life representational oil painting with butterfly, grasshopper and bee by Rebecca Luncan

Finding My Place in the Tradition

One of the great joys of working in the still life tradition is learning from the artists who came before me. By studying and incorporating their approaches, I find new ways to think about composition, subject matter, and symbolism. Forget Me Not is undeniably informed by van Kessel and de Heer, but it’s also undeniably mine. It’s a meditation on legacy, observation, and the quiet power of paying attention.

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Botanical Painting with Swallowtail Butterflies

Asian Swallowtails

For the month of April, I have made a botanical painting with swallowtail butterflies. The two lovely butterflies in my new painting look like completely different species, but they are in fact both Papilio lowis (Asian Swallowtails). The great difference in appearance is present in the male and the female of this species, which is called sexual dimorphism. Often the male has brighter colors to attract the females’ attention, like this dark butterfly with iridescent blue/green scales; the males are also smaller.

Scientists attribute this to differing pressures on the sexes, but the reasons for dimorphism seem to be as diverse as the species themselves! In the case of this pair, the females mimic a type of poisonous butterfly, discouraging predators. The males meanwhile kept their brilliant iridescent colors, which apparently the females find quite attractive. 

Asian Swallowtial oil painting still life by Rebecca Luncan

Inspiration from Art History

The inspiration for the composition on my botanical painting and the background goes back to my 14 years installing artwork for the Seattle Art Museum. I installed countless Chinese and Japanese scroll paintings, and even went to Japan a few times as a courier to oversee the installation of various asian masterpieces for the exhibition, “Luminous Jewels”. One of my favorite scroll paintings in that exhibition was, “Sixty-Four Butterflies and Moths”. The mass of insects flutter evenly throughout the painting, each with its own label. While this painting didn’t directly influence the composition for my painting, the delicate rendering of the butterflies always stuck with me. Thinking of this painting helped set the direction of how this painting would develop. 

I hope you’re enjoy this month’s painting, and I hope you’re beginning to enjoy some warmer weather. I’m looking forward to the season when I see more butterflies outside the studio than inside it! Follow my newsletter to see the new monthly miniature and for exhibition updates.

work in progress still life floral botanical painting asian Swallowtail by Rebecca Luncan
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Common Rose Swallowtail and the Mum a Floral Oil Painting

The inspiration for this month’s floral oil painting took me on a twisting but fruitful path. It all started with a recent class I took at the Kirkland Arts Center, Acid-Free Intaglio. I’ve been wanting to take an etching class for years, and I was thrilled to see that it was finally offered in a location near me. And even better, the instructor, Brad Taylor, teaches a way to etch with electricity instead of toxic acids (I highly recommend this class!).

Once I signed up for the class, I had to figure out what I wanted to make! And as I often do, I turned to art history for inspiration. I stumbled upon a plethora of woodblock prints made by Japanese artist Keika Hyakugiku, “100 Chrysanthemums from Keika”. You can see a few of them on the Smithsonian Libraries and Archives page. I love the contrast between the simple compositions and the complicated forms.

Letting Inspiration Lead You

in progress Common rose swallowtail butterfly on mum floral oil painting by Rebecca Luncan

I immediately began making sketches, one of which became this months painting. Three others, I plan to I plan to make paintings from in future (two larger works and another miniature). Funnily enough, none of these sketches was destined to become an etching!

To let inspiration take its own winding path means I have to let go of some amount of control. Part of creating art is to always be receptive to new ideas and accept that, like most things in life, ideas can change. I’m really excited about this new painting. I feel like I’m finally getting the hang of painting flowers! I hope you enjoy it, too.

The swallowtail in this month’s oil painting is a Common Rose. This red-bodied butterfly inhabits much of Asia, including Japan. Happily, this species is extremely abundant. The bright colouration and pattern of the wings are meant to indicate to predators (birds and lizards) that this butterfly is inedible. As a larvae, they feed on creepers and climbers of the genus “Aristolochia”, and they retain the toxic acids they get from these plants in their butterfly form. The colors are a symbol of danger to some creatures, but they’re dazzling to my eyes!

To see more of the paitning in this series, please visit my Monthly Miniature page! And sign up for the newsletter for a chance be among the first for an opportunity to purchase the newest paitning in the series.

Swallowtail butterfly and Mum oil painting still life by Rebecca Luncan