I usually don't show anyone what a half-completed painting looks like, but then I thought it might actually be interesting for friends to see. Every painting I do goes through what I call "the ugly stage" and these pieces, each approximately 50% complete, have JUST come out the other side of that ugly stage. Admittedly, they ain't beauties yet but they're not as hideous looking as they were a few days ago (trust me on that). When these pieces are complete, I'll post side-by-side photos (in process / finished) if people are interested.
Oaks on the Water
"Oaks on the Water" (34" x 36")
This painting commission was an interesting assignment. About a month ago, I got a call from one of the owners of the art gallery in Charleston, SC that carries my work (Mitchell-Hill Gallery on King Street) and Michael Mitchell asked me about a commission based on two paintings I'd previously done. The photo Michael had sent me to use for inspiration was fused together in Photoshop, the upper half being two gnarled old oak trees and the lower half had a peaceful stream of still dark water (from a completely different piece). The original "oaks" painting was more of a summer scene, with green grass and a pathway or narrow road in the foreground, but I liked the idea of going to golds and more autumnal colors and I loved the idea of adding the stream. So I tackled the assignment with excitement.
Today, this painting is complete and will be packed up for shipment momentarily. I absolutely love taking an older painting and examining it again after some time and deciding to rework a new priced based on that original, tweaking it and "re-mixing it" so to speak. The process is a blast and the end result is usually well worth the effort.
Oak Tree by Bernard Shaw
I took an acorn and put it in a pot.
I then covered it with earth, not a lot.
Great pleasure was mine watching it grow.
The first budding green came ever so slow.
I watered my plant twice a week
I knew I would transplant it down by the creek.
One day it will be a giant oak,
To shield me from the sun a sheltering cloak.
Lovers will carve their initials in the bark,
An arrow through a heart they will leave their mark.
It will shelter those caught in a fine summers rain,
Under its leafy bows joy will be again.
Creatures of the wilds will claim it for their own,
Squirrels will reside here in their own home.
Birds will build nests and raise their young,
They will sing melodies a chorus well sung.
Under it’s branches grass will grow,
Here and there a wild flower it’s head will show.
My oak tree for hundreds of years will live.
Perhaps the most important thing I had to give.
Challenged to the Core
Usually, when I write these blogs, I think in terms of "what do I write about today? What might be the slightest bit interesting for some visitor to read?" Today is different. I am writing because I feel like if I don't, I'll burst.
Yesterday, a gentleman visited my art studio here in Asheville and was really engaging with my paintings and my technique. This afternoon, he called me and asked if I would consider a commission, the theme of which would be the holocaust, and would that be okay or would it offend me.
I'm shaking right now actually. I have tried to use my skills as an artist to depict beauty and "sacred spaces" -- places (real or imagined) that just feel special, places where you would want to just sit a while and "drink it in" so to speak. I want to depict beauty and sacred spaces because I think that too often, I am confronted with ugliness and "profane spaces" in this world, and this is my way of at least doing something -- my own personal thing -- to balance things out. My purpose with art is to speak peace into an not-so-peaceful world. That's what I want to do. But to use my art to depict the deplorable, the unspeakable? How do I do that?
And yet...
Spanish artist Francisco Goya did that. He clearly depicted the deplorable. I would never hang his painting "Saturn devouring his Son" above the couch in my living room but it is an unspeakably powerful painting. It's his way of saying to the establishment -- "Hey, you are supposed to be protecting the people but instead, you are devouring them and you remind me of THIS!" -- a father devouring his son. Unspeakable, but powerful.
I have no idea if this commission will actually happen but it has affected me already. Can I just be really vulnerable and honest for a moment? See, I love the Jewish people and their history and their God. He has become my God and my faith tradition demands I love and respect these people. The holocaust is a personal affront and it all happened under the noses of people of my own faith tradition. They just let it happen. What do I do with that? I mourn. I mourn. I mourn.
So I think that, yes. I would be honored to use my art and depict horror...and hope. There is beauty in hope as well, right? I hope I get this assignment.
Boats on the Water
One of the best things about having an art studio in Asheville's River Arts District is that I can paint mountains and trees and water (which I thoroughly enjoy), and every time I run out of subject matter to inspire a painting, I just go for a walk and I'm full of ideas agin. The only difficult thing here is that I don't get to regularly paint subject matter that is outside the typical "Blue Ridge Mountain" genre. Do NOT get me wrong. I absolutely love paintings these mountains, but sometimes, it's just really fun to paint something different.
A couple months ago, I was asked to paint a couple sea-sunset themed paintings and I had a blast. I guess my client was happy because they since asked me to paint a third piece for them. "Are you up for a challenge?" they asked. Undaunted, I of course accepted that challenge.
To be honest, when I was given the photo to be used for this commission, I was nervous. The main subject of the photo were two shrimp boats (I think that's what they were) but the photo was really dark and I could see very little detail in the boats. So the trick was to suggest the detail I saw in the photo (the detail you'd see as silhouetted against a blazing sunset) and leave it at that. And a new challenge for me: how to suggest all the ropes and lines you'd see on shrimp boats without getting too much into the detail of it. Understand, the goal is to LOOK detailed without BEING detailed. If this painting looks right to you, then I figured it out, so...let me know. :)
A Paumanok Picture
by Walt Whitman
TWO boats with nets lying off the sea-beach, quite still,
Ten fishermen waiting--they discover a thick school of mossbonkers--
they drop the join'd seine-ends in the water,
The boats separate and row off, each on its rounding course to the
beach, enclosing the mossbonkers,
The net is drawn in by a windlass by those who stop ashore,
Some of the fishermen lounge in their boats, others stand ankle-deep
in the water, pois'd on strong legs,
The boats partly drawn up, the water slapping against them,
Strew'd on the sand in heaps and windrows, well out from the water,
the green-back'd spotted mossbonkers.
Glacial Fractures
"Glacial Fractures" (45" x 70")
About a month ago ago, I was asked to work on a commission. They requested an abstract painting based on the general idea of some other abstracts I've done in the past but they (very helpfully) requested I use the colors in Degas' "The Green Dancer" (shown below).
The reason I loved this assignment was, well, there were two reasons...First, I didn't have to search for colors that would work and second, it was so much fun color matching one of Degas' most famous pieces.
So my River Arts District art studio has been full of this really large painting now for about a month. It is scheduled to get its first layer of resin in the next couple of days (as soon as I get the gold leaf on the edges), and then it ships to Chicago. Honestly, I am going to miss looking at this one.
I named this piece "Glacial Fractures" because it when I stand back and ask what it wanted to be called, the night time image of towering glaciers in Antarctica came to mind. Of course, the glaciers are lit from within (probably due to the aliens trapped in the ice). Ha ha. Don't you go rolling your eyes at me. I'm an X-Files geek. I can't help myself.
Winter in the Summer!
"Top of the Mountain" (18" x 22")
I have the tendency of being plagued with constant restlessness..."I'm too cold. I can't wait for summer"..."I'm too hot. I can't wait for winter". I have to remind myself to fully enjoy and appreciate where I am in the year, you know? I mean, each season has incredible beauty. I have learned two things living in a part of the country that gets four bonafide seasons:
1) Each season is a delight.
2) As an artist, winter always sells.
I have no idea why my second point is true. I would have thought a winter themed painting would be a "slow mover" when it comes to sales but my winter paintings are still selling in the summer so...being the keen entrepreneur that I am, I will continue to paint winter themes as longs as they sell. This painting in particular gives me great joy. It is called "Top of the Mountain" and features a stand of balsam trees heavily laden will snow. And as in most winter paintings, it is almost monochromatic. I think reducing a composition to nearly black and white (as you do in a winter scene) is really challenging and if pulled off right (hopefully!) is really dramatic.
So this summer, as you're about to enjoy a long weekend of inhaling bar-b-qued hot dogs, hamburgers and enjoying home made ice cream, remember...there are less than six months till Christmas.
Woods in Winter
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
When winter winds are piercing chill,
And through the hawthorn blows the gale,
With solemn feet I tread the hill,
That overbrows the lonely vale.
O'er the bare upland, and away
Through the long reach of desert woods,
The embracing sunbeams chastely play,
And gladden these deep solitudes.
Where, twisted round the barren oak,
The summer vine in beauty clung,
And summer winds the stillness broke,
The crystal icicle is hung.
Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs
Pour out the river's gradual tide,
Shrilly the skater's iron rings,
And voices fill the woodland side.
Alas! how changed from the fair scene,
When birds sang out their mellow lay,
And winds were soft, and woods were green,
And the song ceased not with the day!
But still wild music is abroad,
Pale, desert woods! within your crowd;
And gathering winds, in hoarse accord,
Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.
What's in a Compliment?
Back in the day (when art classes in school were viewed as crucial for a well-rounded education), our art teachers probably taught us about the color wheel and we learned that colors opposite to each other on the wheel looked especially good together. These "opposite" colors are called "complimentary" to each other. This is all pretty basic stuff, Art101, but there is an actual scientific explanation why complimentary colors (yellow with purple, red with green, orange with blue) look so good with each other. See, it turns out that complementary colors are BFF's because cells in your eyes perceive various colors differently. For you doubters, try staring at a sheet of orange paper for a few minutes, then, look at a white wall. What do you see? Well, I'll tell you -- you will see a blue afterimage—orange's opposite color. This is because the cells in your eyes became tired, and do not fully express the visual spectrum you’ve been staring at. What you see on the wall is the white spectrum of light, sans a bit of blue, which your brain processes as orange.
Science and anatomy aside, complimentary colors are used all the time by designers and artists to visually accent a color. If a painting is mostly green landscape, I will always figure out where to use some red. If the piece is a sunset with fiery oranges and yellows, I will use blue and violet in the shadows. That blue and violet will not only look nice with the warm colors in the sky, but will also make them look even more intense.
Second use of a compliment...
But a second way I use complimentary colors (literally all the time, every day I paint) is to gray down an intense color straight from the tube. Let me explain. I'm looking out my art studio window right now and I see trees. What color are trees? Green, of course. So we pull out our tube and Sap green or Viridian green and paint the trees, right? Wrong! When you look closer at the green trees, they are not just a single generic green. Some of the green is more yellow, some is more blue and cool, and some is more of a gray-green. So how would you gray down a green? Add black? NO! Sorry for yelling. Never use black. All you do is to add just a bit of the complimentary color (in the case of green, this would be red) and viola! It's perfect. No black. Truth be told, I never, ever use black.
So, the use of complimentary colors are to painting what making a basic brown sauce is to French cooking. It's really basic and by tweaking it, you can use it for so many different and wonderful applications.
Okay, back to painting...
Thoughts on a Mighty Failure
“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.” – Albert Einstein
For the last several months, I've been trying to figure out what to do with a material I love: Dichroic film. It's a vinyl film with an adhesive back and it's usually used on panels of clear plexiglas for interesting effects. I had a few pieces of clear plex and some of the film, so I applied the film to one side of the plex and experimented with applying paint to it, resin to it, ink to it...just to see what happened.
"What were you thinking you'd do with it?" you ask. Well, I was asking that same question. I had no idea what I wanted to do with it, I just really wanted to play with it. Then I came up with an legit experiment...which would not be cheap (dichroic film is seriously expensive) but I got the okay from Joy so...I ordered a couple yards of the material. What I ended up doing was creating two paintings the panels of which were built angled toward each other (not parallel to the wall) and I created my painting on that angled surface. I built it up with texture, covered the texture with Italian aluminum leaf, oil paint and resin. Then...I covered the surface with the dichroic film. Then I was outside with the pieces and it started to rain. When I got back into my studio, there were big rain drops all over the surface of my cool paintings. I thought they were ruined except now...who'd have guessed? The rain drops amplified the coloration of the dichroic film, creating little circular puddles of rainbow light everywhere they rested on the surface. So that effect was too cool to pass up playing with so...I dried off the surface of the panels and dropped bits of resin all over the surface of each panel. When the resin cured, I had permanent "rain drops" on the surface of my paintings. The effect was cool.
And then I posted photos on Facebook and waited for some opinions. Putting together the honest input of friends, I realized I was working with a material that was indeed cool and worth experimenting with, but that the way I was using it was entirely overkill. It's like someone getting all excited about inventing vanilla extract and then trying to convince you that it was amazing and you really need to take a big gulp of it. That would end in disaster, as did my art experiment. Vanilla extract (like dichroic film) is very, very potent. You only need a small bit to make a huge impact.
So it's back to the drawing board. I'm going to do something with this stuff. And I've got some ideas!
Winston Churchill once said, "“Success is the ability to go from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm.” Thank you Winston. I am undaunted.
Sunrise on the Mountain
This piece is a small one (8" x 10"). It's minuscule but it glows. I wanted to capture the few seconds of light just moments before the sun slipped behind the mountains. In that moment, magic happened. What an amazing idea: a sunset. What a truly awesome way to say good night.
Sundown
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The summer sun is sinking low;
Only the tree-tops redden and glow:
Only the weathercock on the spire
Of the neighboring church is a flame of fire;
All is in shadow below.
O beautiful, awful summer day,
What hast thou given, what taken away?
Life and death, and love and hate,
Homes made happy or desolate,
Hearts made sad or gay!
On the road of life one mile-stone more!
In the book of life one leaf turned o'er!
Like a red seal is the setting sun
On the good and the evil men have done,--
Naught can to-day restore!
The Last Sunset (is that dramatic or what?)
Lest anyone become weary of sunset paintings (is that even possible??), this one is the last sunset themed piece in the most recent grouping of paintings I've completed. In all seriousness, I feel like I've really grown from this. I usually do "daytime" paintings but was asked to work on two coastal sunset themed commissions about a month ago. Because I was in a sense forced to tackle a sunset, I took my time and applied what I've learned in the last couple years to both pieces. As it turns out, I had so much fun with those sunset paintings that I had to try more, working on a mountain (as opposed to coastal) setting.
I think I will be painting more sunsets (and maybe some sunrises too). They're just too much fun. You really can play with extreme dark and extreme light, and extreme contrast in the complimentary colors (i.e. the oranges and yellows in the sky playing against the blues and violets in the mountains). Everything is extreme. Too much fun!
The Blue Mountains
by Henry Lawson
Above the ashes straight and tall,
Through ferns with moisture dripping,
I climb beneath the sandstone wall,
My feet on mosses slipping.
Like ramparts round the valley's edge
The tinted cliffs are standing,
With many a broken wall and ledge,
And many a rocky landing.
And round about their rugged feet
Deep ferny dells are hidden
In shadowed depths, whence dust and heat
Are banished and forbidden.
The stream that, crooning to itself,
Comes down a tireless rover,
Flows calmly to the rocky shelf,
And there leaps bravely over.
Now pouring down, now lost in spray
When mountain breezes sally,
The water strikes the rock midway,
And leaps into the valley.
Now in the west the colours change,
The blue with crimson blending;
Behind the far Dividing Range,
The sun is fast descending.
And mellowed day comes o'er the place,
And softens ragged edges;
The rising moon's great placid face
Looks gravely o'er the ledges.
