In Classical Greece, Brauron was a school for girls, many of whom came from Athens. Several columns of its stoa are still standing, surrounded by a manicured lawn. At the far end of the site, I notice a gardener, just finishing his lunch under a tree, as he stands up to begin raking leaves.

After walking through the site once, I choose a place on the far side, looking back toward the entrance, set up my chair, and prepare to draw. This location is perfect, not only for its view of the ruins, but also because of the large shade tree. After baking in Delphi’s sun all day yesterday, a little shade sounds good.

Sounion, one of the more complete temples I’ve seen, is perched on a cliff overlooking the Aegean. I’d hoped I would be able to paint this ruin with the sea in the background, but I can find no angle to accomplish that. I find a spot with a traditional three-quarters view, sit on an ancient block of marble, and begin to draw. I’m tired from the day’s drive that, unbelievably, started in Delphi, so at this point, I’m just going through the motions. I need a break. I’m finding that being an artist on the road is not just about the drawing. I did a lot of driving today, and all my other energy resulted in only two paintings. Driving, not painting, took up most of the day. But drawing is now relaxing me, allowing my mind to slow down enough to soak up the surroundings. I’m in rhythm with the land once again, and I can smell the salty sea.

While it was difficult for me to believe that only a week had past while traveling around the mainland of Greece, It wasn’t hard to recognize how much fun I was having drawing and painting. My only regret was not having enough time to stay a night in Thebes as well as Sounion. Both cities looked interesting enough to spend a day exploring and finding places to draw and paint.

Upon arriving at the ruins of Ancient Delphi, we learn that two-thirds of the site is closed due to technical difficulties. Grrrrr! This is very disappointing. We walk back to the entrance and talk to a woman at the ticket office at the gate. She tells us they’ve recently had rocks fall down the mountain onto the upper portion of the site. It’s very dangerous up at the Temple of Apollo and beyond. Understanding the situation better, we both calm down and look around, analyzing our options. My dad suggests I draw another part of the site, the Temple of Athena Pronaia, just across the road and a short way down the hill.

Once I’m at the Temple of Athena, I walk around to determine what might occupy me for the rest of the day, and I see plenty. Before me stand the ruins of the Tholos, a circular building of the Doric order, the function of which is still a mystery to archeologists. I’ll have no problem drawing here. What a relief. I pull my chair from its bag, unfold it, and begin to draw.

After finishing my third painting of the Tholos at the Temple of Athena, I walk back up the hill towards the Temple of Apollo, set up just below it, and paint a quick watercolor. The finished painting is kind of quirky and too brightly painted, but as the path up to the Temple is still blocked because of falling rocks, I can’t find a better angle worth painting.

A tour group gathers nearby, and I overhear the tour guide talking about the Temple and its Oracle. The Oracle was a woman, chosen for her good character and virtue from among the peasants of the local community. When she became Apollo’s priestess, the Pythia, she prophesied the future by channelling the words of Apollo. She sat on a tripod above a fissure in the earth and answered pilgrims’ questions. A gas, probably ethylene, rose from this fissure causing a trance-like state and allowing her to channel the voice of the god. Her words, which came in poetic hexameters, were then transcribed by priests. Pilgrims came from all over the Greek world to consult the Oracle about everything from personal matters to the advent of war. Recently, geologists have discovered that two fault lines intersect just below the Oracle chamber, providing further evidence of the fissure and its gasses.

I move my gear to another structure just below the Temple of Apollo, the Treasury of the Athenians, and set up shop. This should be a good spot for painting, and it’s probably the last one I’ll have time for today. I pick up my packet of finished paintings and glance through them. It’s ironic that all the paintings look so tranquil, as if I were the only one there. In reality it’s quite the opposite, as hordes of people in tour groups continually pass by while I draw. This demonstrates one advantage of drawing over photography. Not far off, I notice a person drawing in a sketchbook, the first artist I’ve seen drawing so far. My first thought is to go say hello since I wouldn’t mind talking to another artist, but she looks shy, or at least shows a desire not to be bothered, so I leave her be.

With daylight now beginning to fade, I finish my last painting and walk back to the hotel.

To see my dad’s perspective on the day, check out The Pale Horse Blog

Standing outside Mycenae’s ancient ruins, hands in our pockets and our backs to the wind, we wait for the gate to open. The sky is clear this morning, but I fear the weather might be a nuisance while painting. I’m still tired too. Last night around midnight, a motorcycle raced up and down the street in front of the hotel, blaring its exhaust until I thought the sound would blow out the windows of the hotel. Then a car joined in the fun, and together they raced up and down the otherwise deserted and tranquil street. I was too tired to get up and look out into the darkness, and eventually, once the clatter stopped, I fell back asleep.

We pay our fee at Mycenae’s entrance and are immediately confronted with the magnificent stone entryway called the Lion Gate. It was built circa 1250 BC, a few decades before the Trojan War. Mycenae at that time was the kingdom of Agamemnon, the general who led the Greek forces against Troy. He sacrificed his daughter, Iphigeneia, to the goddess Artemis to get favorable winds to sail to Troy, and when he returned home, his wife, Klytemnestra, killed him for it. While he was at his bath, she wrapped him in royal robes and struck him three times with an ax.

At the entrance to Mycenae, two sandstone lions stand above the gate itself. Both lions are headless now, but in antiquity they stood face to face. I position my portable chair beside the walkway. The wind has calmed enough now that I’m ready to get started. I’m choosing to paint the Lion Gate because, with its headless lions, it’s the most legendary and distinguishing aspect of the site. I’m lucky to have brought my watercolor Moleskine sketchbook because its landscape format is perfect to capture both the gate and the walls forming this extended view. In this drawing, I shorten the wall to the right, fitting the whole scene onto the page, including the cypress tree. Tightening the drawing in this way will, I hope, render it visually stronger, and with the help of the tree, balance the weight of the Lion Gate on the left.

The red tile roofs of Delphi provide contrasting color to the yellows and greens of the Pleistos valley below. The ruins of ancient Delphi are about a quarter of a mile out of town. The weather is perfect today, and the air is fresh from recent rains.