each medium has its special charm

DSC_1236 (2) lower left of Distant Oak smaller file

When I see details like this I discover that I’m more of an abstract artist than I realize. But I love the visual incident of passages like this one, this detail of the painting Distant Oak.

I rarely — almost never — paint with acrylics now.  I’m an oil painter.  But I recall I did love the ways you could put layers over top each other quickly — and could with the addition of some white paint — recreate the bottom layer again and thus play rather easily with transparencies and texture.

This bit of abstraction appears on the lower left hand side of the painting.

Prosopagnosia

DSC_1251 (2) detail neighborhood girl smaller file

We know each other by our faces.  But how can you see the face of the past?  I didn’t know what prosopagnosia is when I painted this.  Sometimes instead you just heed your instincts and follow the forms as they appear.

Prosopagnosia (sometimes called face blindness) is a cognitive inability to recognize faces in someone with otherwise unimpaired vision.

Here it’s a visual metaphor for a distant past and the persons who lived in it, whose faces we cannot see clearly because they live in a perpetual realm of mystery and unknowingness.

DSC_1253 (2) neighborhood girl smaller file

I learned about prosopagnosia from reading various books by Oliver Sacks.

me and RD

I have loved Richard Diebenkorn’s work since whenever it was (a long time ago) that I first saw it.  Without knowing anything about him, just seeing one of his pictures on the cover of a magazine, I fell in love. His ideas have affected me since.

Here in the drawing from one of his little notebooks (above left) and the detail of my painting Distant Oak (below), I think the affinity shows.  I never met Mr. Diebenkorn (who was the same age as my mother).  But I still think of him as being one of my teachers.

DSC_1231 (3) Distant Oak smaller

abstraction of a summer’s day

 

detail of perfect summer dayAll art is abstract.  All you have to do to see the abstract is to get close enough.

All painting is composed of lines, colors, shapes.  All painting is composed of brushstrokes or layers or dabs or glazes — or all of the above.

This detail of the painting Perfect Summer Day shows what’s happening with the paint as paint.

DSC_1231 (3) Distant Oak smaller

strange correspondences

Lattice_with_fish_swimming

When photographs of pictures happen by chance to appear side by side, sometimes you discover relationships between images that you didn’t know were there.  And so it seems that the Little Collage has some sort of parallel relationship to the Lattice painting that I made many years ago.

little2bcollage

Maybe I’m crazy.  But I feel as though they share some inner logic, as though they are versions of the same thing.

taking chances

I used to be such a snob.

after Remington

I didn’t think Frederick Remington was a real artist because he painted cowboy themes.  I was that peculiarly annoying thing: an East Coast snob.  But I was young.  One must forgive the young for their annoying stances — especially when it’s your own young past self!

Anyway, I was at the Museum of American Art last weekend with an agenda: I wanted to make a drawing after Childe Hassam’s painting “Tanagra, The Builders” (which I posted recently).  While I was there I also did a certain amount of wandering around and encountered this tour de force by Remington.  It stopped me in my tracks.

Frederic_Remington_Fired_On_adj_1500_1038
Frederick Remington, “Fired On,” 1907, Smithsonian American Art Museum

 

In all humility I made a rapid sketch of the main horse, rapid because by that time I was supposed to meet some other people, and I only had a few minutes to spare.

I’m glad that I make these fast drawings these days.  I used to feel intimidated and it cost me some wonderful opportunities.  There’s nothing to lose and much to gain in simply drawing the world around you.

Distant Oak

DSC_1231 (3) Distant Oak smaller

The United States Arboretum has some very old trees.  The oak tree in this painting is very large and old.  Surrounded by crepe myrtles, the actual tree stands like a proud old man in a dense crowd.

I guess in my painting, though, it becomes a festive tree — almost the life of the vegetal party.  The trees are ready to riot for joy. All the trees clap their hands.  It’s a glad day.

And all the paths to lead to the big old tree.  The bright yellow light takes you right to it.

Cicada weather

Perfect Summer Day

The time of year when the air is warm and cicadas sing is precious to me.  My painting seeks to capture that sensibility, the feeling of the afternoon that seems endless.  A Perfect Summer’s Day is all the summers rolled together in memory, of all the years, of all the light and shadow, and generations of cicadas singing, a day when the air in the shadows is visibly humming.

color scheming

seashell red and yellow backgr 2

Sometimes I put the seashells into color environments that recall their ocean homes.  Sometimes I plunge them into a set up of bright colors that I favor.

Here the seashell is not ocean artifact — it is still life object, sitting on a tabletop covered by a yellow leaf and floral patterned cloth with brilliant red and bright violet backgrounds adjacent.  I realize now that some of my paintings record the evolution of still life table changes, that the different colored backgrounds feature a succession different objects as I cycled through various color and pattern choices, using them for various different objects.  Thus the same color scheme used for this seashell appears also with one of the flower pictures.

The still life table is like a theatre stage and the still life objects are actors that appear in different scenes of the drama.

finding the fish

100_9371 (2)

A close up view of the fish drawing is pure abstraction.  You can hardly tell there’s a fish there except for a bit contour — that along with being told — does vaguely produce a minimum of fishiness.  I am an abstract artist — in some respects.  Someone told me this, one of my insightful students.  I wasn’t even aware.

Why do I like the scrawl of the crayon more than the specific features of the fish itself?  Well, I only like them better in some pictures.  In other pictures I’d be quite content to imitate the look of a koi sliding through the water. But here the energy of crayon markings in bright colors has gotten the better of me.  The markings capture some of the alacrity of koi energy.

There’s still fish there.  And it matters too that they’re fish.

This detail occurs in the giant rehearsal drawing.  I reworked it based on some random lights and shadows that fell on the drawing when I was outdoors photographing it.  Here’s a picture of it indoors with the tool box and step stool to give a sense of its actual size.

drawing indoors