Blog

I am seldom inclined to paint subjects that are beautiful.  It seems to me that their natural beauty cannot by surpassed, so what's the point?  Instead, I like to take homely objects and try to make a beautiful painting from them.  In this painting, I grouped a random set of objects to see if they could be cohesive.  Sort of like introducing strangers, and seeing if they will become friends.  Lots of challenges here--I hope to experiment with this sort of random grouping more often.

Today I write about the process of naming a painting when it is finished.  Some painters are marvelously gifted at coming up with clever, pun-like names for their works.  Carol Marine, a prolific daily painter, has some of my favorite titles.  Occasionally I have a fun or particularly descriptive title come quickly to mind.   For example, my painting "Til the Cows Come Home", practically named itself.  But more often I struggle.  Some people believe that a title of a painting should not "tell" or disclose anything that the painting doesn't tell.  Umberto Eco writes that the title of a book "must muddle the reader's ideas, not regiment them."   Hmmm.  As for the recent painting pictured here, "Red Napkin and Brown Bag" just doesn't seem to cut it.  "Brown Bagging It" sounds too much like what we used to do in the dark ages before liquor by the drink was legalized in NC.  I am open to suggestions!

OK, these are actually French radishes, not Christmas radishes.  But as I set this painting out for display at the Holiday Open House, the red and green colors spoke to me of Christmas, so "Christmas radishes" they are for now!  I painted a series of different varieties of radishes and beets this summer.  It was a challenge to work with all the different reds, but I enjoyed the process and the results. 

On a recent trip to Paris, I was inspired by seeing the works of other artists, both living and dead.  I was particularly taken by the works of some of the Nabis--a post-Impressionist group who used simple shapes and bright colors.  Vuillard and Bonnard are among this group.  There is something intrinsically appealing to me about these works.  Perhaps it is true that if you are drawn to the work of another artist, it means that you have a seed of the same approach within you.  I decided to give myself the freedom to paint a few "Nabis-inspired" paintings of Paris.  This was one of my efforts.

This is a large (24 inch x 30 inch) painting that I just completed in my studio.  I worked from a small plein air canvas that I painted last month on location, as well as a reference photo and a sketch.  The plein air painting was done in the late afternoon in Venice, standing on the edge of the Guidecca Canal.  I went there with a plan in mind, aiming to paint the Salute Chuch on the opposite side of the canal.  However, when I arrived at my painting location and looked around, I saw this lovely vista on my right.  I loved the sweep of the water and the curve of the canal, and the way it drew the eye to the church dome at the end of the stretch.  So...my original plan went right out the window, and I painted the scene you see here.  I have learned that when something sparks your interest like this, you should go with it!

I have recently returned from a trip to Italy.  I have learned to pack VERY lightly with respect to clothing items, in order to make way for my painting apparatus.  The handy half-French easel you see in this shot folds up to fit in my suitcase.  The tubes of paint don't take up too much room, but as all traveling painters know, they are very heavy.  I usually run up against the weight limits for checked luggage before I run out of room in the suitcase!  But it is all worth it for the thrill of painting on location, in front of vistas I have never seen before.  In this shot, I am painting a small fishing village that drops precipitously down to the sea.  I was drawn to the shadows at this time of day.  They seemed to angle downward, just like the village houses angled downward to the shore. 

Recently I blogged about painting a still life in my new studio, under a combination of artifical and natural light.  I promised an update when I painted a similar subject using only natural light--and here it is.  I composed the set up for this painting in the morning, on a table top next to my big west-facing window.  The illumination was exclusively frm the indirect morning sunlight.  The overall color palette in this painting is much cooler than in the painting using artifical (incandescent bulb) light.  I like the fact that I could see more colors in the shadow areas using natural light than I could under stronger artifical light.  This may become my preferred method of illumination for still life paintings!  

Someone (whose name I cannot remember at the moment) famously said the following about plein air painters: "A good painter decides first what he wants to paint.  A great painter decides first where he wants to stand."  I am not a "great", but I must say that I am quite often more satisfied with my paintings when I have chosen a comfortable place to stand.  Perhaps physical comfort frees up the brain to focus on the creative work, rather than on the basic necessities of dealing with the heat, mosquitoes, sun, etc.  This little painting was done on location in the village of Beze, France.  I had spent the morning sweating and suffering in a hot, glary location--because I was drawn to a certain motif that could not be captured from a better spot.  Thie morning painting was not a success.  In the afternoon I gave in to my desire for comfort, and found a shady spot, protected from the wind, where I could see this scene.  I was much more satisfied with the afternoon's effort than with the morning effort.  Lesson Learned.  

O brave new world, going to a new studio every day!  This photo shows the working end of the space.  As you can see, there is a huge west-facing window, which gives me great light.  I am working with draperies and shutters to filter the light and make it work to its best advantage.  I am loving having such great natural light and so much space to spread out, especially since I have been working on a series of larger canvases.  There is definitely an adjustment phase, however.  It will take a while to reach the level of familiarity that I had in my home studio, where I could put my hands on any tool I needed without even looking up!  But it is a thrilling new adventure, and I am feeling  inspired by the new susrroundings. 

I have just faced the daunting task of a dramatic change in scale.  I have spent the past month painting large scale canvases, like this painting of "Riverside Reflections".  Now I am starting to work on a small still life series.  Yikes!  I am finding it a real challenge to switch gears from working on a 3 feet by 2 feet canvas, to a 5 inch by 7 inch one.  In the past two days I have wiped off three different paintings, frustrated that they were not meeting my standards.  Today I finally seemed to start to get back in the groove.  Stay posted for news of how things progress.