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Archive for the ‘Technique/History’ Category

Colors

I’ve been back in the studio for several days now after a period where I was engaged in doing some maintenance projects around here.  I have been progressively worse at compartmentalizing the tasks in my life so that when I work on something outside the studio I find it difficult to work for short periods in the studio on those days.  As a result, once I am back in the studio I sometimes fall out of rhythm and have to find ways to regain it.  For the first day or so, I seem to flounder around and everything seems just out of sync and flat.  Throw in a material failure like I mentioned in yesterday’s post and it gets to be frustrating.

Yesterday, I finally turned back to my old ally, color.  It seems that whenever I feel this creative frustration color is inevitably the answer for me.  I don’t worry about what I am creating, simply start creating blocks of colors.  Colors that are familiar to me and combinations that I haven’t used for a while.  I aim for bold and dark-edged color then begin manipulating the gradation of the block to create a contrast within it, flushing out the flatness of the last few days.

 It has to be intuitive for me, just grabbing colors and throwing them in.  I’ve never used a colorwheel , never really tried to understand them.  Whenever I have looked at them, the colors never made me want to see or use any of them.  To me, they seemed to take out all of the emotion of the colors and make it dry and tasteless.  I found that by using my own colors and taking the time I could find the emotion in the colors through this exercise.

It’s amazing how this simple exercise in color cleanses away the stifling feeling that had been there before and prods some hidden creative impulse.  Suddenly, momentum is born and begins to move forward.  Rhythm is nearly regained and I look forward to jumping back in today.

Here’s a little Sunday music with a title that fits this post.  It’s Colors from Amos Lee with an assist from Norah Jones.

 

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Other Failures

Back in March, I wrote a blog entry titled Failure where I discussed briefly how I deal with different aspects of failure as an artist.  One aspect I failed to mention was the possibility of failure due to things I have little control over.  For instance, the failure of materials that I use.

I mention this because of an incident in the last few days.  I was using a different type of panel due to my supplier being temporarily out of stock on my normal brand.  I treated it in the same way as I normally do all my surfaces that are to be painted, applying multiple layers of gesso over several days, giving each layer at least a day to dry before applying the next.  It has been a process that I have used for over a decade with little , if any problems. 

I took one of the newer panels that had been dry for well over a week and began painting.  I painted in my typically wet manner and worked for a little over an hour then set it aside to dry before diving back in.  I have been getting back into the swing and rhythm of my painting after the distractions of finishing several not-art related projects and this felt like a big step in the right direction.  It was vibrant and had edges that my mind was grabbing onto, setting off creative sparks.  The work is sometimes self-propelling.  However, when I came back to this panel, I noticed with some dismay that the surface had delaminated in several spots,  leaving large bubbles of paint, gesso and underlying paper.  It was something that I haven’t seen in years and I was a bit angry at the waste of my time and creative effort due to a material failure, not to mention the several other panels of the same material that I had already prepared that were waitng for me.  I realized that I probably couldn’t use them know, couldn’t trust that they would hold up to my painting process or beyond. 

There’s not much to be done in such situations and, in the bigger scheme of things, it’s not the end of the world.  Just irking to waste effort and lose newly gained momentum.

Another failure came many years ago when I was still painting in my house, before I had a studio of any sort.  I had taken on a project that would turn out to be pivotal to my career and was under a deadline to finish several pieces, all larger than I had attempted up to that point.  One was a large tryptych comprised of three panels.  I had all three panels laid out side-by-side and was working on them, nearing completion, when our cat jumped up on my table and ran across all three panels, leaving blue catprints on each from the paint that she had landed in on her jump to the table.  My heart and mind were immediately racing and I resisted the urge to send our little cat into a sub-orbital journey into space.

All I could see was lost effort, the lost potential.  I knew I could start over but I knew it would be hard to recreate the same rhythm and feel of this work.  Besides I didn’t have the time.  There had to be something that I could do.  I stepped back and just took it all in.  The catprints went completely across all three panels but there was something I saw.    They were all in the upper half of the pieces and had a dancing little rhythm to them.  Maybe they could be masked and incorporated into the piece.

Long story short, the tryptych ended up with several clouds that ran across them entire work, an addition that I think actually enhanced the work.   As with most failures, there were positives to be taken away from the experience.  The clouds were the first of that sort that I had painted into my work and have become regular parts of my vocabulary.   I also learned that there was often a creative  solution to any problems that might arise and that my reaction to such problems should be patient and measured.  Not a bad way to deal with all other problems as well.

Okay.  I could probably list dozens of other mistakes that I’ve faced over my time doing this.  Hell, probably hundreds.  But I have more mistakes to make right now and have to get to work.

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Last year on this blog, I talked about a piece that I was commissioned to paint translating the Greek myth of Baucis and Philemon, the couple that were spared by the Zeus because of the deep love they shared and the humility and generosity they displayed.  They lived on in eternity as a pair of trees growing from the same trunk.  I did not translate the piece literally but used my visual vocabulary to convey the qualities that I think make up the couple.  All in all, I think it was a very successful piece.

I was recently asked to paint another version based on this same myth after the person requesting it had seen my first take on it.  The result is shown here.  It has a more celebratory feel than the first version and has a real sense of optimism in its color and composition.  I think it has a very different overall feel than the first but really hits the mark. 

It’s not always easy when I am asked to produce a painting based on another painting of mine.  There are so many little variables that make a painting successful, sometimes things that I have no control over or an action of mine of which I might not even be aware. Sometimes even the time of the year makes a difference.  For instance, right now , it is cooler in the studio than earlier in the year.  As a result, the surfaces dry at different rates and sometimes there is a subtle difference in the way certain colors dry and adhere.  So a color painted in July may not turn out absolutely the same in October.  Fortunately, for this request the colors and format were different so it was not a matter of replicating the first version. 

I hope this painting serves its new owners well and well represents their own time together.  It’s been my pleasure to have folks like this use my work as a symbol for a part of their lives.

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This is a newer painting titled Raw Grace that recently went to the Principle Gallery.  It’s an 18″ by 26″ image on  paper that has been heavily textured with multiple layers of gesso.  The gesso is applied in several ways here– by brush, trowel and from a squeeze bottle that leaves the ropey strands that swirl through the piece.  When I was finally done the sheet weighed several pounds and had a definite sculptural feel, like a bas relief piece.

This was a case where I was so enamored of the prepared sheet that I hesitated for a very long time before starting on the painting itself.  I wanted to make sure that I was positive of my commitment to the piece before I jumped in.  Anything less than that could ruin all the prep that took place.

I knew that I desired that  the composition of the painting to be uncomplicated , even simple.  I wanted the chaotic feel of the texture underneath to be able to shine through and carry the weight of the piece’s message.  But, at the same time, the overpainting needed to be strong enough to not be overwhelmed by the underneath.  I felt that the  blowing red tree offered that strength as well as a reactive counterpoint to the fury of the sky.  It was painted as a dark silhouette to move it further to the front and create space behind, space that carries the emotional feel of this piece.

 I think the title captures what I see in this painting well.  There is definitely a rawness in the texture and the way the paint, especially the edges, covers the ridges and valleys.  Even the graceful flow of the tree in the wind has a sharp, raw edge that hints at its strength.  It all comes together well in this piece for me and I feel that I haven’t squandered the opportunity that I saw in those first layers of gesso.

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I was going through a pile of old work, mostly rougher  stuff from when I first started painting that had small glimpses of promise but lacked real spark or cohesiveness in the way they came together, when I came across this piece from 1994.  It’s about 12″ by 16″ on rough Arches watercolor paper and has the words Bradford County written in pencil at the  bottom corner of the paper. 

It’s a piece that I always found attractive but seeing it really brought me to a stop.  I so recognized that time when it was painted and could now see several potential directions where my work might have headed other than the one it eventually followed. 

This piece was very much in a more traditional watercolor style, with no treatment of the paper and the colors pure.  The colors had not yet come around to the palette that I later adopted.  For instance, the sky is a single uncomplicated shade of blue.  There are no other colors, not even other blues in it.  I had yet to make the move to more complex colors even though there is a hint of it in the foreground and the hills.

It also is a depiction of a real place, as denoted by the Bradford County.  Growing up, we lived on Wilawana Road just a few short miles from the NY/PA border and if you followed the road into PA you found yourself in Bradford County.  That part of the border is at the base of steep hills and is filled with rural valleys that I spent many hours exploring.  This scene was purely based on that place even though it is not any one location there.  I had not yet made the leap into creating my own landscape, forming the felt space rather than real space of Ralph Fasanella that I had mentioned in an earlier post.

To me, this is a time capsule that takes me back to the time when I painted it.  It suggests potentials that seem a million miles away from where I finally landed at the present.  It shows the possibility of staying strictly as a traditonal watercolorist or painting solely as painter of reality.  A depicter of the what is with the proper colors and forms.  I wonder how my work might look today, how it might differ,  if I had followed any of those other possible routes for the work? 

 I suppose many of us can look back at certain points in our lives and see times much like the one captured for me in this simple painting, times when we are at a junction in our lives and must decide which path to follow.  I’m sure some of us would look at such a time with a certain level of regret but for me, I am happy with my decisions made at and after the point of this painting so for me this is a warm memory, a reminder of the path I was about to follow.

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If someone had told me as a child that someday I would be in a museum in Cooperstown, I would have keeled over from the prospect of being enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame there.  Well, that isn’t happening but this is actually just as exciting, and unexpected, a prospect for the older me.  In 2012, the  renowned Fenimore Art Museum will host an exhibit of my work that will hang from August 17 until December 31, 2012.

The Fenimore Art Museum is a wonderful facility and houses several great collections including one of the largest and most extensive collections of American Folk Art , the  spectacular Thaw Collection of American Indian Art and a great group of Hudson River School paintings.  Current shows there include an exhibit of work by Edward Hopper and another featuring other American Modernists such as Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko.

So, needless to say, I am excited by this chance to show in such a prestigious facility.  If you have read this blog for a while, you will not be surprised when I say that with this excitement comes a certain level of anxiety.  But that is simply part of the deal,  a small price to pay for such a wonderful opportunity. 

There’s a part of me that is very satisfied with this, as a sort of reward for the consistency of my work through the years.  I also am really happy for those folks who have followed and collected my work over this time, seeing it as a validation of their belief in the work.  They have been very important to me as a source of inspiration and energy for many years and I see this as a small repayment on their trust in my work.

So, I guess I should get back to work.  Even though it’s over ayear away, there’s much to be done.

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I finished this painting yesterday, a 12″ by 36″ canvas called Moonlight Theatre.  I really enjoy working on these pieces.  They grow very organically, one bit leading to the next, and easily absorb my full attention making time fly by.  When I started I fully intended to work on a landscape, one with a few red-roofed houses.  I even started in the lower right corner with one of my typical windowless houses.  I started to put my brush to the canvas for another hosue when I stopped and began to sense that there was a cityscape here instead.  So it came to be.

I opted for windows and doors in this painting, something I only use on rare occasions.  I normally like the anonymity that comes from windowless structures in these paintings but here there is that same sense even with the windows.  They’re like the eyes and faces of a crowd of people crossing the street in a large city, aloof with little recognition of anything around them as they move.  If their eyes are like windows, they’re open but you can’t see in.  The same here.

I finished most of the painting before putting the M on the marquee of the theatre in the forefront of the piece.  I had already decided that the marquee was the focal point of the painting and wanted it to lead to or be influenced by the title.   I saw this as a city at night and felt that the word moonlight was in there somewhere.  That’s when I decided on the M for the marquee.  Moonlight Theatre.

Cheri came into the studio soon after I had finished and, after looking at it, asked  ” Is that M your initial?  Aren’t we a little self-centered?”

I hadn’t even considered that when I chose the M.  It was always for Moonlight but I could see how it could look that way.  I immediately thought of changing the M.  Maybe an O for Orpheum, which is a common name for theatres.  But I decided to hold off.  I liked the M and its angles in this piece– it just seemed to fit.   Besides, it was already Moonlight Theatre in my mind.

So it stays.  For now, M is for Moonlight.

 

 

 

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I try to have a few pieces in every show that are a bit out of my normal range, pieces that still carry the same momentum as the other work in the show but have a different look from my typical work.  This is one such piece from my next show, Now and Then, which opens at the Principle Gallery on June 10th.  This is an 11″ by 11″ painting on paper and is limited in its color with shades of brown and gray and bits of more vibrant colors.

I do these interior scenes once in a great while, usually employing a window or door as part of the composition.  I enjoy the contrast between the sharp angular geometry of the interior space and the more rolling curves and arcs of the outer landscape.  The window also provides a contrast in darkness and light for this piece, the darker tones of the interior making the lighter exterior scene pop in this composition.

Like my landscapes, I still try to keep details to a minimum.  The interior scene provides more opportunities to embellish, to add more points of interest such as the few things on the table, but I want the larger forms to be the expression in this piece.  I want the piece to still read easily from a distance.  This is similar to the way I felt about my earlier Archaeology series.  There was an area of great detail but I wanted that to be secondary to the whole scene, preferring that the viewer be drawn to the overall feel of the piece first then noticing the detail after.  Also like some of the Archaeology pieces, I’ve added bit of self reference here in the form of the painting on the wal, a small red tree. 

I always like these pieces if only for the difference they display from my other work and the fact that they feel more personal to me, as though the outer scene here is the one I regularly share with the larger world and the interior scene is the part that I don’t show, that part of the self I keep in reserve, hidden from the outer world.   Maybe that is the meaning here.  As for any other message,  I don’t know what they say to others. don’t know if that really matters in the case of these pieces.  Perhaps they are simply what they are, shades of brown and gray and bits of color…

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I’m in the final days of painting for my upcoming show at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria.  I’ve titled this show Now and Then and it opens June 10th.  This past weekend really was extremely productive in the studio, with several pieces finally finished and the overall feel of the show taking  shape.  I had struggled for some time to find real definition for this show, that key factor that hopefully makes  each show distinct.  The past few days has me thinking that this show has found its distinction.

I think that it is defined by a fairly large group of works on paper such as the one shown above,Call to Waking.  This is an 11″ by 11″ image that is a mix of black inks and a sort of sepiatone that is actually a mix of many colors.  As I have described before, my process involves putting a lot of paint on the surface then pulling much of it off, soaking it up with brushes then squeezing them out.  In my old studio, I often found myself squeezing this paint on to the floor which left a huge blackish stain on the flooring there.  I try to be a bit more careful in my newer studio and have made a habit of collecting this paint, which often results in the creation of a color like the sepia of this piece. 

 There are a number of pieces in this show that have either this sepia or black/gray as the base color.  I have shown a few at a time in the past but this will be a substantial group and will provide an interesting juxtaposition between this work and my prototypical work. filled as it is with strong colors.  Seeing the two differing styles side by side in the studio has really shown this contrast.

Many of these pieces have bits of color in them, a faintly red tree or an orangish sun/moon  that pops from the gray/sepia background, but this piece is devoid of color.  I felt that the sepiatone had a warmth in itself and the contrast of the light breaking through the sky provided its own pop.  I felt that  any more color, say with  red roofs, would actually be a distraction here, altering the ample mood that has been created.  I think it works well as it is.

Well, although I could say more, I have work to get to.

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This is a painting, a 24 ” by 36″ canvas,  that I thought was completed a few months back.  I say thought because I felt at that time that it was exactly where I thought it should be.  But there was something about it that kept me from putting it up on this site over the time since.  I kept looking at it and had very conflicting emotions about it.  On one hand, it stood up on its own and had its own momentum and fullness.  It seemed okay.  But on the other hand, there were parts of the painting that seemed a bit too dark and became distracting because there was a flatness in the darkness of the color.  It just created  a nagging doubt in my mind.

Finally, I knew I had to address those doubts and grudgingly put it back on the easel.  I inserted a lot more lightness into this piece,  focusing mainly on the lower third of the painting.  The blue of the foreground really pops now and the lowest blocks of green in the fields of the foreground emerge from darkness.  The changes created a greater sense of depth in the piece which really opens up the whole painting, bringing more  clarity to it.

Time allowed me to see something different in this painting, something beyond my intitial response to the color and composition.  It may have been complete before but now it feels as though that fullness is more visible for all to see.   Now there isn’t a doubt captured in a  darkness that makes me take my focus from what the painting is trying to say.  This lightness and clarity allows the painting to fully convey itself now.  And I think that makes this a better piece.

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