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What happens when your grandfather’s painted plates start falling off the wall? You keep drawing them. 😂 I’ve now recreated 12 of my grandpa’s acrylic original artworks in soft pastels (see Part 1 and Part 2 in the blog!), and along the way, his art has literally taken me places, from the Hillsboro Inlet Lighthouse to Juno Beach, West Palm Beach, and my first live online session.  Part 3: Re-creating Robert George Etienne's original acrylic painted plates in soft pastels, by Jackie Morreale Honoring Grandpa, Robert George Etienne, by Re-Creating his Art (Part 3): Going Places By Jackie Morreale (00:00) Hi there. My name is Jackie Morreale, and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. Apparently I have not finished recreating my grandpa's art. I really didn't expect to do a part two. I definitely didn't expect to do a part three. But here we are. Once again, happy 100th heavenly birthday to my grandpa, Robert George Etienne. I moved the installation of Grandpa's painted plates out of my podcast recording studio, to a more permanent location. As I was reinstalling this very tall six by nine-foot-ish installation, plates started falling. Every night, there would be another plate on the floor. Fortunately, they're plastic. First:
I started thinking: Maybe I'm using really cheap tape? Or maybe, I'm meant to keep going with this project?  Morreale, J. (2026, August) Hillsboro Inlet Lighthouse [Pastels on paper]. RE-CREATION 1: STRIPED LIGHTHOUSE The first piece that I created was this lighthouse. I decided to venture to Broward County, and find the Hillsborough Inlet Lighthouse. I found a park across the water with an incredible view, and this amazing two-tone lighthouse. Grandpa's lighthouse had a red and white striped pattern, but this actual lighthouse has this beautiful architectural structure, black in the upper portion and white below, with its cylindrical middle and these supports that come together toward the top. I had my ruler out because there were so many angles and structural lines. I spent more than an hour drawing it. The water on the park side was incredibly peaceful. People were snorkeling. There was beauty above the water and underneath it. It was just one of those perfect days. Then I went back to my car, there was a $45 parking ticket on the front windshield. Apparently there was an art tax for creating this particular drawing. The more you know.  Morreale, J. (2026, August) West Palm Beach Park with waterski lodge [Pastels on paper]. RE-CREATION 2: GAZEBO This second painting brought me back to a park in West Palm Beach that I really love. Grandpa's painting has this beautiful garden and gazebo surrounded by flowers and layers of foliage. I saw this elevated structure beside the lake where people watch waterskiing. I thought it looked reminiscent of this beautiful gazebo that he had done. It's not exactly the same scene as grandpa's. His is more, I think, fantastical, more spring-like. More ornate. Mine had a lake, reflections of palm trees, wildflowers growing right along the water, and layer upon layer of trees. I noticed something that I hadn't noticed or thought about before. The trees don't all look the same in this park, they all have different leaves, different shapes. The shadows were dancing across the path. Very different interpretation from grandpa's painting, but somehow I was able to find magic in both. I think that's one of the things I'm learning through this whole project. We don't have to recreate someone's world exactly. We can take what they loved and find it in our own.  Morreale, J. (2026, August) White Pelican [Pastels on paper]. RE-CREATION 3: PELICAN The third painting was a little bit scarier because I did it live. It was my first live drawing session as part of my new 'Wisdom Wednesdays' live series. Grandpa's Pelican painting is incredibly simple. It's basically a black background with a white pelican. beak and feet are this beautiful yellow-orange. That's almost it. But I found the contrast absolutely genius. The more I drew it, the more I appreciated it. The proportions of the wing, the belly, the head.The curve of the beak, the webbed feet, even the way the individual feathers were suggested on the wing. There was so much going on in such a simple composition. He didn't need a lot, he just needed the right things... and suddenly you have this incredibly striking image. I also think it's funny that I'm so drawn to animals. The same kind of visual simplicity. Maybe some things really do get passed down.  Morreale, J. (2026, August) Sheldon the Loggerhead Sea Turtle in Juno Beach [Pastels on paper]. RE-CREATION 4: SCUBA DIVER & TURTLE Finally, the turtle. This is especially fun because I had a reference of my own. Last year I had seen a loggerhead sea turtle at Loggerhead Marine Life Center. He would come right up to the window and greet people. When I was thinking about how to recreate grandpa's scuba diver and turtle painting, I thought, 'Why not just draw Sheldon?' I drove up to Juno Beach, and drew my own version of Grandpa's sea turtle painting. I had my little Loggerhead turtle stuffed animal with me. It was such a sweet experience. I talked with some of the volunteers. They told me how much they missed Sheldon. He had just gotten released last week! There were other beautiful sea turtles there too. What I really love about this place is that It's a rehabilitation facility. The goal is to care for those animals and then return them back to the ocean. Sitting there drawing a turtle that I've seen in this environment, that was released back into the ocean, made the whole thing feel very connected.  Morreale, J. (2026, August) West Palm Beach Park and Waterski Lodge closeup [Pastels on paper]. ART WILL TAKE YOU PLACES By this point, I started thinking: People say things to kids all the time, like: 'Your sport is going to take you places.' 'Your brains are going to take you places.' Grandpa's art has literally taken me places. This project has taken me to the Hillsboro Inlet Lighthouse. This project has taken me to Juno Beach. This project has also taken me live, completely out of my normal routine. It's gotten me into parks, onto beaches, and into my own imagination. I remembered something else: Grandpa used his art to take himself places, too. He spoke some German after serving in World War II. He would travel to Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. He would sit on a train and look out the window and paint. He told me what he would actually use to mix his paints... his own spit... which might sound disgusting, but also kind of hilarious. He was practical, adventurous, creative, a little quirky, and completely willing to make his own way through the world. So, Grandpa, thank you for leaving behind enough pieces of yourself for us to keep discovering you. Happy heavenly 100th birthday, for the third time. I'll see you when the next plate falls off the wall.  Jackie Morreale with White Pelican in soft pastels and Grandpa Robert George Etienne's original White Pelican acrylic painted plate.  Morreale, J. (2026, August) Sheldon the Loggerhead Sea Turtle in Juno Beach closeup [Pastels on paper].
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On Plein Air Sketching Video Blog Transcript By Jackie Morreale PART I: DRAWING AL FRESCO What if your office was outside? What if instead of sitting at a desk, or sitting on the sidelines of an activity, you could simply draw whatever you see in front of you. That's what plein air sketching has become for me. What's funny is, I never set out to become a landscape artist. In fact, when I started doing this, I wasn't even in Palm Beach County. I was in Austria.  Jackie Morreale with her Austrian Alps sketch in soft pastel, June 2026 SKETCH 1: AUSTRIAN ALPS I was traveling through the Alps, away from my studio. I wanted to make something as a gift for family. I remember looking out at this incredible postcard-like view, the mountains, the folds of terrain, the grass, the trees. The light was disappearing, and it was getting darker and darker by the minute. I had until about nine o'clock before it was going to be pitch black. I remember thinking, 'I don't know how to draw landscapes.' 'It's been so long.' 'I'm probably not very good at this.' But all the stores were closed. It was a Sunday. It was family dinner. I wanted to leave my family with something unique, from me. I thought, 'You know what? I'm just going to draw what I see. No matter how good or bad it is.' That's really where this whole thing started. I stopped worrying about whether I was good at landscapes. I just started looking, layer by layer, top of the sheet to bottom, farthest away to closest to me.
Shapes that could be blocked by colors, where the natural lines are composed on the page. I cared about making something beautiful for the people that I love. Somewhere during that drawing, I realized maybe this way of making art actually works. Maybe I don't have to know exactly what I'm doing. Maybe I just have to pay attention. I've carried that lesson into every plein air sketch that I have done since. When I came back home to Palm Beach County, plein air sketching became something completely different. It became my favorite kind of office. I worked from home now for almost 10 years, and sometimes, I just need a change of scenery. With plein air sketching, my office is outside. I never know what I'm going to find when I get there. I always come home feeling better. Feels like art therapy.  Morreale, J. (2026, June) Sunlight through the Pine Trees [Pastels on paper]. SKETCH 2: LIGHT THROUGH THE PINE TREES The first plein air art sketch that I did back here in Palm Beach County happened while I was with my daughter, at swim practice. I was going to be sitting there for an hour and a half, so I thought, 'Why not take my pastels and my sketchpad and find something to draw?' I walked around the pool looking for a table and something interesting to draw. I found these palm trees, pine trees, and pine cones scattered across the ground next to a table. Nothing particularly extraordinary except for the light. There was this beautiful sunlight coming through the trees that just illuminated the entire scene. It almost felt divine. I sat down and I started drawing. I worked from the front to the back. This is why I love plein air sketching, because all of a sudden in Florida it could be raining when you start doing a speech outside. Let me take this inside... --- PART II: BACK IN THE STUDIO Inside. Out of the rain, talking about plein air sketching. Back to my story. I sat down and started drawing, layers of trees, the bark, the pine cones in the soft green grasses, and that beautiful light coming through everything. That's when I really started to understand something about plein air. You don't have to find an extraordinary place to make an extraordinary experience. You just have to look closely at an ordinary place, like some trees at a park next to a swimming pool.  Morreale, J. (2026, July) Mango Tree with Ripe Mangoes [Pastels on paper]. SKETCH 3: MANGO TREE We have this little mango tree that just started producing fruit. That in itself feels special. My daughter loves to cook. She loves making mango salsa. I wanted to capture the mangoes while they were ripe and ready to eat. I love drawing fruit because it gives your eyes something to focus on. I'll admit I did take one of the mangoes and put it on the ground, because I wanted the painting to communicate: They're ready to pick, they're ready to eat. Of course, after I drew them, we harvested them and made mango salsa. That drawing became part of an actual family experience. Literally tree to table. That's another thing I love about plein air sketching. The drawing isn't just the finished piece, it's the memory attached to it. While I was drawing, ducks came swimming over, my dog was sitting next to me. Family was all around. Suddenly this little mango tree became an entire story, an entire experience.  Morreale, J. (2026, July) Everglades with water lilies and butterflies [Pastels on paper]. SKETCH 4: EVERGLADES Let's talk about the Everglades. This one was hot. There are some days in Florida where you step outside and there is absolutely no breeze. This was one of those days. I found this swampy grassland area with a little boardwalk bridge and a bench next to it and just started looking. The more I looked, the more I saw. Layers upon layers of grasses, different colors and kinds of trees, different shades of green throughout. Then the water lilies right there on the surface, white water lilies. And butterflies, these tiny orange butterflies, everywhere right next to my feet. I probably wouldn't have noticed all those things if I hadn't been sitting there trying to draw the landscape. That is one of my favorite things about making plein air art. It forces you to pay attention. The landscape didn't necessarily change. I changed because I was looking at it differently with the intention of capturing the beauty of it.  Morreale, J. (2026, July) Jupiter Lighthouse [Pastels on paper]. SKETCH 5: JUPITER LIGHTHOUSE I wanted to draw an iconic Florida landmark, the Jupiter Lighthouse. This is one of my favorite places in Palm Beach County. As I sat down to draw that lighthouse, I had one thought running through my head: 'Don't mess it up!' because this time the focal point is super obvious. The lighthouse is rising right out of the trees and bushes. There were boats in the water too. Boats are interesting because they don't wait for you to draw them. You really have to look, and you have to draw quickly. Nature doesn't pause for you while you're drawing it.  Morreale, J. (2026, July) Worth Avenue Clock Tower [Pastels on paper]. SKETCH 6: WORTH AVENUE CLOCK TOWER, PALM BEACH Then it came to another iconic Palm Beach landmark, the Worth Avenue Clock Tower. I went early because this is one of those places where there's almost always somebody taking pictures. Graduations, tourists, families, people just trying to capture this beautiful view that is the Worth Avenue Clock Tower. The ocean behind the clock tower looks like a postcard. I sat down next to the clock tower with my sketchpad on my lap and started working. Again, 'Don't mess this up!' because everybody knows what this landmark looks like. I focused on the light reflecting off the architecture, the foliage around the tower. While I was drawing, people started stopping. Stopped to look. Asked what I was drawing. That's one of the unexpected gifts of drawing in public. You think you're going to sit alone and quickly and quietly make art, but people become part of the experience.  Morreale, J. (2026, July) Lake Worth Beach by the Pier [Pastels on paper]. SKETCH 7: LAKE WORTH PIER Then there's Lake Worth Pier and Beach. There's always something happening. I couldn't find a place to sit except under a covered area next to a group. I thought, 'Okay, This is where I'm drawing today.' What happened next was so much fun. Even though I had my headphones on and my head very much down, almost everyone in the group came over to talk to me. They wanted to see what I was doing, they wanted to see what I was making. They told me about family members who were artists. They asked me questions. Suddenly, this very quiet, antisocial activity of drawing became incredibly social. It's probably not the most detailed drawing that I've ever done, but that's okay because that really wasn't the point. The point was the experience.  Morreale, J. (2026, July 18) Boynton Beach Everglades with Bird [Pastels on paper]. Part III: ON PLEIN AIR SKETCHING After doing all of these plein air sketches, I realized that I am not trying to make photographs. I don't want my drawings to look exactly like the scene in front of me. They're more like time stamps. Just like my blog posts, just like my interviews, they are a record of that particular moment in time or my interpretation of it. Where I was, what I saw, what caught my attention. Maybe most importantly how I felt in that moment. That is what makes each drawing different. The Everglades drawing isn't just the Everglades. It's butterflies and water lilies. The mango tree isn't just the mango tree. It's my daughter's mango salsa. The lighthouse isn't just a lighthouse. It's a place my family loves. This Worth Avenue clock tower isn't just a clock tower. It's runners, it's workers, and it's people taking pictures. There's another lesson in all of this. I've been sharing my artwork publicly and that has been its own exercise in bravery. For a long time I worried, 'What if people look over my shoulder?' 'What if they don't think I'm good enough?' But the funny thing is, people do not seem to care about whether or not it's perfect. In my experience, they just want to see what you're making. They want to tell you about their own artists and the places that they love. And sometimes they just say, 'That's beautiful.' Because the whole experience is pretty beautiful.  Morreale, J. (2026, July 5) Lake Worth Bryant Park intercoastal view with tropical dart frog, inspired by Grandpa's original acrylic art [Pastels on paper]. ART CHALLENGE: So if you have ever said, 'Somebody I know likes to draw.' Or maybe you've thought, 'I'd love to try that.' Here is my challenge: Next time you go somewhere beautiful or even somewhere completely ordinary, take a pencil, take some crayons, or that old camera, or even an app on your phone that lets you draw. Just draw what you see. You don't have to be good. You don't even have to finish. And you don't have to show it to anybody. I drew for a very long time without showing it to anybody. Just look, really look. It gets you out of your own head. It gets you outside. Most importantly, it gets you to notice the beauty that is around you. That is what plein air sketching has done for me. It started in the Alps, because I needed to make a family gift, and somehow it became one of my favorite things to do. So now my office is outside. I never know what I'm going to see. I never know who I'm going to meet. I never know what little detail is going to catch my eye. Maybe even the beauty of rain. I can't think of a better day at the office. I'm Jackie Morreale, host of Wisdom for Wannabes. This is not only wisdom that I have learned, but this is my little love letter to plein air sketching. Thank you for coming along. Can't wait to see what you make.
Celebrating the Life and Art of Robert George Etienne with his Creativity, Re-Imagined (Part 2)8/17/2026 For my grandfather Robert George Etienne's 100th heavenly birthday, I began recreating his original acrylic paintings on decorative plates using my own medium: soft pastels. After completing Part 1, I realized our family had almost 100 more of Grandpa's painted plates to choose from. So I asked my family to pick some of their favorites, and created four more. But this time, I took his artwork outdoors. Each recreation became a plein air conversation between Grandpa's imagination and mine. Through recreating his work, I've learned more about my grandfather not only as an artist, but as someone who knew how to see. I've learned about composition, color, observation, and most importantly, imagination. We don't have to create the same way. We can take what someone gave us and make it our own. Love you, Grandpa. ❤️ After all these years, you're still teaching me how to stretch my imagination. 🎨 Original artwork: Robert George Etienne 🖍️ Pastel recreations: Jackie Morreale Transcript By Jackie Morreale Hi there, my name is Jackie Morreale, and I am the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. I've completed part two of my art honoring project for my grandfather, Robert George Etienne. For his 100th heavenly birthday, I recreated four of his original acrylic paintings using soft pastels. Then I realized I had almost a hundred more. I asked my family to pick our favorites from among the plates that you see behind came up with four more drawings, all of which were drawn plein air art style.
1: TROPICAL FROG This first piece in part two started with a tropical dart frog. Grandpa focused on this little frog sitting on a leaf. I was sitting outside looking at a completely different kind of scene. I was drawing a beautiful view of the intercoastal in Palm Beach County, Lake Worth, surrounded by trees, grass, reflections, and all the layers of green that you find in a Florida landscape. I decided to put grandpa's frog into the landscape, beneath a palm tree. A little piece of grandpa hiding right there inside of the picture. It made me think about how differently we see things. Grandpa could take an idea, a frog, on a leaf, and create an entire world around it. So I took his idea and put it into mine, and I kind of love the result.
2: CHERUBS The second painting was one of my favorites because it's so different from everything else in grandpa's collection. It feels celestial, spiritual, almost otherworldly. Two hearts connected by this flowing white ribbon or piece of fabric that seems to move behind them almost like a parachute. The background is filled with sparkling blues, reds, whites, and stars, and with this dark area in the center of the ribbon. My kids called it the black hole picture. Honestly, I love that interpretation too. This painting pushed me somewhere completely different. I had to imagine figures that weren't really there, other than in his reference. This one was much more loose, much more intuitive. I was letting myself wonder. And that was really fun.
3: LAKE & BIRDS The third painting brought me back to something Grandpa loved to paint again and again: water. His original artwork shows what appears to be a seascape with seagulls perched on dark rocks, greenery, blue water, and a beautiful blue sky. I went to one of my favorite lakes. I've been seeing this huge flock of Egyptian geese sitting there along the water, soaking up the sun. So I drew the lake. I drew the reflections of the trees. And instead of grandpa's seagulls on rocks, I added the Egyptian geese. I realized, we can take what they loved and find it in our own.
4: THE BEACH Then came the one I knew I had to do: the beach. Jupiter Beach is one of my favorite beaches. You walk through this little path that almost feels like jungle before arriving to the sand. Then suddenly you reach the beach. It's just you, the water, and the sky. It reminded me immediately of Grandpa. I love the simplicity of this one. Blue sky, blue water, clouds reflected almost perfectly on the surface, and a sandy beach. This incredible sense of peace. I quickly realized that water is hard to draw. For about 20 minutes, I watched the water change. At first, it was this beautiful tropical green reflecting the sky. Then it became deeper blue. A pelican flew by. My phone was so hot it couldn't even record the drawing. It was ninety-six degrees F. I was covered in pastel dust. So when I finished the drawing, I did the only reasonable thing I could think of: I hopped into the water. I literally took a dip in whatever I was wearing, covered in pastel, and it was beautiful. The water was so clear, so calm. I floated there and looked up at the sky. Everything was completely still. Just water, sky, and the sound of the waves. I wouldn't trade that morning for anything.  IMAGINATION EXERCISE
Let's take an imagination journey through grandpa's art. Imagine you're walking through a tropical landscape. You see small creatures hiding beneath palm trees. Just stop and notice them. Then look up. The trees begin to open into a beautiful celestial sky. The sky stretches endlessly above you. The water is almost perfectly still. You walk into the ocean. You submerge yourself and you float. Look up. The sky is above you. The water is beneath you. There's nothing else. You hear the waves. Maybe you hear the shells gently tapping against one another as the water moves them across the sand. Somewhere in that moment you feel connected to someone you whose influence is still with you. CLOSING That's what this project has given me. A way to pause, a way to remember, a way to feel connected across time. My grandfather, Robert George Etienne, passed away in 2024, two years ago, but his creativity... It lives on in the paintings he left behind. I've learned so much from recreating his work; about composition, color, observation, and most importantly, imagination. That's the beauty of creativity. We don't have to create the same way. We can take what someone gave us and make it our own. So, Grandpa, thank you. Thank you for the inspiration. After all these years, you're still teaching me how to stretch my imagination. Love you, grandpa. Thank you. |
Jackie MorrealeJackie writes from her own experiences and reflections on her journey in seeking wisdom, creativity, spirituality, and life in general. This is "putting thyself out there" at its finest. 
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