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Posts Tagged ‘Barbara Hall Blumer’

My Annual September Song

Posted in Favorite Things, Music, Photography, tagged , , , on September 1, 2017| 2 Comments »

It’s the first of September and I let out a sigh of relief that August is behind me. I have confessed my dislike of August here in the past. For me, it’s usually a month of heat and anxiety, a month in which every bad thing seems to find me.

But this August was kinder and gentler and I am truly thankful. I know that this has not been the case for others across the country. Most notably, a storm of biblical proportions named Harvey that swept across the Gulf Coast of Texas and Louisiana. You know the story too well.

If you can, reach into your pocketbooks and send what you can to help them out in some way. It’s the right thing to do.

September always gets me a little melancholy but in a good way. More wistful and nostalgic than sad. It’s a feeling that seems more pronounced as I find myself actually in what could be the September of my life. When this time comes I feel like looking at black and white photos and listening to September Song, which, if you think about it, is a very black and white song.

I acme across this photo of my old studio which stands up the hill from my home and current studio. It is slowly being reclaimed by the forest around it and will someday no longer exist. I like that idea of impermanence for this studio. It was almost meant to be that way as an indicator of how small we are in the face of nature, as Harvey is currently showing us.

I have included an early blog entry from 2008 that describes it along with this year’s version of September Song, which is from Johnny Hartman, jazz vocalist that is probably unknown to most of you. I know that he was off my radar. But his voice is beautifully strong and smooth and this is a lovely, faithful version of the iconic song.

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  This is a photo from a book, In Their Studios: Artists & Their Environment  from the photographer, Barbara Hall Blumer.  It was a project that she carried out in 2007 documenting the studios of visual artists in the general area of the southern Finger Lakes, centering on Corning, NY, which has a vibrant artistic community.  The result was a beautiful book that gives insight into the work spaces and habits of many artists.  For me it was interesting to be able to peek into a bit of other artists’ lives.  I highly recommend the book for anyone interested in the process of art.

This is my first studio, one that I built in 1997 and worked in until January of this year [2008], when I moved into a much larger and slightly better appointed studio.  This first studio was located in the woods that above my home and gave me what I called the best commute around, a short walk each morning up the hill through dense and fairly young forest of mixed hardwoods and white pines.  Sometimes I would stop and wonder at my good fortune to have the luxury and pleasure of this walk each day.

It was a very rustic space without running water (and the facilities associated with running water!) or a lot of heat for that matter but it served me well for ten years and its setting had a presence in much of my work.  It was very tranquil and from its windows I had great views of the woods and wildlife–  deer, gray and red fox, coyotes, raccoons (who at one point made their way into my roof) and even a weasel chasing after a rabbit. In the winter it would be spectacular as the snow would cling to the white pine branches almost to the ground.

Again, I wondered how I was so lucky…

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Feeling the Fish

Posted in Biographical, Painting, tagged , , on November 16, 2010| 4 Comments »

I had an interesting conversation at the opening a week or so back at the Kada Gallery in Erie.  It was near the end of the night and John D’Angelo, the brother of Joe D’Angelo who owns the gallery along with wife Kathy, approached me.  John is in his 80’s but it is not an old 80’s.  He is vibrant and filled with energy.  He is also a very talented man.   After his retirement, John started carving full size carousel animals, copying the masters who crafted the beautiful creatures that adorned the merry-go-rounds of the late 1800’s and the early parts of the 1900’s.  His beautiful beasts were the subject of a show at the gallery that drew huge crowds and raves.

We talked for a short while about the paintings then I asked him more about his carvings.  He talked about  how he just couldn’t sell them.  Not because there was no demand.  On the contrary, he described how many people were upset that he wouldn’t put a price on them, wouldn’t part with them at the show.  He said he only gave them away to family members and held on to the rest.  He talked about the joy of carving the animals and how, after he was done, he would run his hands over the large smooth carvings and be filled with wonder as to how he had done this.  It seemed beyond him, more than he was capable of doing.  He asked if I ever finsihed a painting then ran my hands over it with that same feeling.

I immediately knew the feeling he described.  In fact, it brought back a memory of the piece shown above, Big Fish.  It is a large wide painting that is over 60″ wide in its frame and now spends its days in a very prestigious office in DC.  When it was still in my studio, I was part of a project for a book by photographer Barbara Hall Blumer where she would visit artists’ studios and chronicle them in their work environment.  On the day she visited my old studio, which was infinitely more rustic than my current one, she had me show her around and talk about my process as she snapped away.  At one point, I stood at one of my painting tables where this piece was resting, nearly complete.  As we talked, I absentmindedly ran my hands over the surface of the heavily textured painting, feeling the coolness of the paint on my skin.  Barbara noticed and commented as she took a shot of my hands on the painting, asking if that was something I did regularly.

I thought about it and said I guess I did. 

Thinking about it now, I was indeed doing that very thing that John D’Angelo had described.  I often look at my work after it is done and wonder where it came from, how something so graceful came from someone so often awkward.  About how it seemed more than me,  just as John had described.  I needed to feel it if only to verify that it was real, that it indeed existed outside of my mind.  It’s a strange feeling and one that I was pleased to share with John that night, comforted in knowing he knew that same feeling of surprise and wonder.

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Tom Buechner

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on June 15, 2010| 8 Comments »

Tom Buechner In His Studio-- Photo by Barbara Hall Blumer

Tom Buechner died Sunday, June 13, at his home in Corning  after a short time after being diagnosed with lymphoma.  He was 83 years old.   He is survived by his wife, Mary, and his three  children.

I don’t know how you would characterize Tom’s career, it being so multi-faceted.  He did so many things in so many areas, all at the highest levels.  He was a true man of accomplishment.

 He was well known in the museum world, having started the Corning Museum of Glass, which evolved into the world-class facility it is today,  before leaving to head the Brooklyn Museum throughout the 1960’s.  He was president of Steuben Glass, the company that produced some of the finest American crystal and art glass ever made.  He also was instrumental, serving as President for a decade,  in the formation of the Rockwell Museum in Corning, which has the largest collection of Western Art east of the Mississippi.

He was a leading glass scholar, being one of the biggest authorities on  the work of art glass pioneer Frederick Carder.  He wrote the glass section for the Encylopedia Brittanica.   He also wrote a best-selling book, Norman Rockwell: Artist and Illustrator, that  is one of the definitive works on the great American artist.

He is perhaps best known as a painter.  Trained as a young man at the Art Students League in NY and the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris, Tom maintained a passion for painting throughout his life.  His landscapes, still-lifes and  portraits are highly sought after in the many galleries throughout this country that represent his work and hang in many fine collections and museums, including the Metroplitan Museum and the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC.  His portrait of Alice Tully hangs in the hall named for her at Lincoln Center in NY.

In this area, he was also the biggest influence in our local art community.  Generations of artists benefitted from his talent and knowledge,  many taking his well-known classes in painting as well as painting with him on a more casual basis, in weekly get-togethers.  His influence on local painters was so strong that when I first started going to the West End Gallery, I would have to go from painting to painting to check the signatures because so many of the painters had adopted his style and palette from their time with him.   He was also a huge presence behind the scenes of many local organizations and events, something that probably went unnoticed by many.

That’s just a quick thumbnail version of one hell of a life in art.  There are so many other aspects to his talents that it could go on for many more paragraphs.

Now, I didn’t know Tom well at all.  We talked several times briefly in the gallery, usually about his work, which had a classical appearance.  Actually, I wasn’t sure he was even aware of my work until one evening when he showed up unexpectedly at one of the openings  for a show of mine at the West End.  As I was talking with a lady before a painting, he came up and asked if he could interrupt.  He then gave me several minutes of exuberant praise, telling me that he envied me for creating a body of work that had its own distinct look and feel, that was instantly recognizable as mine.  I think my mouth was hanging open in shock as he turned and was gone.  The lady  that had been speaking with me  gasped out, “Oh my god!  That was amazing!  You should have recorded that.”

I was giddy, trembly inside.  Even though I was well along and fairly well established in my career, I was shocked that these few words of praise meant so much to me, that they affected me so much.  I felt validated.  I felt changed in some way.  To me, Tom Buechner represented  the established art world and even though I never sought its acceptance, to be received so heartily made me feel very … well, I can’t even describe how it made me feel.  It remains one of the highlights of my career.

I think that says a lot about Tom Buechner’s magnitude, that a few brief, kind words given at an opening could make me feel completely different about my own work.  For that moment alone, I will always have a place in my heart for Tom Buechner. 

May his spirit live on…

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The photo of Tom from the top  of this post is from the book , In Their Studios: Artists & Their Environments, from photographer Barbara Hall Blumer.  Here are a couple of  pieces from Tom’s body of work,,,

Leslie-- Thomas Buechner

My Still Life– Thomas Buechner

 

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Inks

Posted in Technique/History, tagged , on September 1, 2009| Leave a Comment »

GCMyersInkBottlesBlumerSThis a photo that Barbara Hall Blumer took of ink bottles on the table where I paint a few years back for her book, In Their Studios, which documented artist studios in the Finger Lakes region. I’ve always liked this simple photo and am showing it to just talk for a bit about one of my favorite materials to use in my work, acrylic inks.

I started using acrylic inks about fifteen years back as an addition to the watercolors I was using at that time.  I had been told about Dr. Martin’s Hydrus inks and found them and some Daler Rowney FW Artists Inks at a local art supply.  I was immediately excited by the way the inks reacted in my work.  The colors were deep in intensity as the pigments were very finely ground and the transparent colors I chose mixed tremendously well.  I was also happy with their high level of light fastness which prevented the colors from fading from exposure as is the case with many watercolors.  I wanted to make my work as durable as possible.

Over the years, as my work evolved, several colors became staples in my paintbox, particularly those from Daler Rowney.  I was using several quarts a year of certain colors and they had become almost trademark colors in my work.  For instance, their Indian Yellow , which I use as a first layer of stain on my frames.  I was buying dozens of their 8 ounce bottles of ink every year.

I was thrown a curve last year when Daler Rowney, a British company, chose to stop selling the FW inks on which I so depended in large bottles, only selling one ounce bottles.  I panicked a bit, knowing I wouldn’t be able to keep up with my needs with the small bottles even if I could find them.  I started trying different brands of inks.  I was able to find comparable quality in certain colors but I couldn’t match other important colors.  I tried and tried, mixing different colors to try to achieve the same quality of color that I had become accustomed to with the Daler Rowney, but it always came up short and the inks reacted differently on the painting surface which altered how I painted.  It was discouraging and I felt that my work would change forever.

So earlier this year I contacted the Daler Rowney office in Britain,  desperately appealing for any help that could offer.  I really didn’t expect much in response but was surprised when they emailed back that they had a surplus quantity here in the States that they had made for a private firm and would gladly sell me whatever they could offer.  I was able to match colors with the help of their chemists and within a week I had 30 gallons of ink sitting in my studio.  Enough for several years.  At least long enough for my work to continue to evolve beyond the need for a single product.

I know I could have survived without the inks, necessity being the mother of invention that it is, but having the security of knowing that this paint will be available for a while eases a bit of the anxiety that would come from having to change immediately.  Now I can ease into it.

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Where I Work(ed)

Posted in Influences, Technique/History, tagged , on October 18, 2008| Leave a Comment »

  This is a photo from a book, In Their Studios: Artists & Their Environment  from the photographer, Barbara Hall Blumer.  It was a project that she carried out in 2007 documenting the studios of visual artists in the general area of the southern Finger Lakes, centering on Corning, NY, which has a vibrant artistic community.  The result was a beautiful book that gives insight into the workspaces and habits of many artists.  For me it was interesting to be able to peek into a bit of other artists’ lives.  I highly recommend the book for anyone interested in the process of art.

This is my first studio, one that I built in 1997 and worked in until January of this year, when I moved into a much larger and slightly better appointed studio.  This first studio was located in the woods that above my home and gave me what I called the best commute around, a short walk each morning up the hill through dense, fairly young forest.  Sometimes I would stop and wonder at my good fortune to have the luxury and pleasure of this walk each day.

It was a very rustic space without running water or a lot of heat for that matter but it served me well for ten years and its setting had a presence in much of my work.  It was very tranquil and from its windows I had great views of the woods and wildlife–  deer, gray and red fox, coyotes, raccoons (who at one point made their way into my roof) and even a weasel chasing after a rabbit. In the winter it would be spectacular as the snow would cling to the white pine branches almost to the ground.   Again, I wondered how I was so lucky…

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