Final stretch

This painting, Lanaika Point, is about finished as of today.  I will let it sit for a few days and actually move on to other things, and have a fresh look at it on Friday or Saturday to se how it impacts me.

Lanikai Point

As I’ve mentioned, my goal, to capture the freshness and color of this place in a small painting (11 x 14″) is pretty much realized, I could only continue to add nuances that are, at this point, rather unlikely to enhance the effect.

I had proposed to add a figure for scale, but discarded the idea this morning.
Layin lanikai

Here’s where I was with this painting a little over a week ago, the initial lay in. It’s fun to look back and see how things have developed.  I have about six more such paintings in development for my show hanging at the end of this month.

Here’s another, a rather subdued tonal painting that I’m enjoying…I feel it may be too austere for some, but it has an appealing and emotional feel for me.dusk, kailua

Dusk, Kailua 11 x 14″  oil on panel

Remembering Taryn Wright

Taryn Wright was an art student, model, and friend whose life ended on Friday, September 3, 2010 in a tragic accident. For those familiar with my blog, you may recognize her from past postings.

I knew her originally as a model who appeared on the scene almost two years ago, ironically as a replacement for a man who had to cancel at the last minute. I was mistakenly expecting a 40 year old named Karen to arrive as model for my class at the Honolulu Academy, and in pops this fresh young lady, (half the anticipated  age) named Taryn. We fumbled around with that for a few seconds, and then got to work building a professional relationship and friendship  that lasted up until this week.

Taryn

Taryn, portrait study, oil on linen, completed in August 2010

All of us, myself and students, enjoyed her…I think it’s safe to say that she quickly disarmed all of the men and women in my classes, almost all of whom were older than she.

Taryn made it rather easy to recall being 20; she was often out of breath upon arrival because she was running a bit behind, hadn’t eaten much (or had forgotten to eat altogether), or was planning on cutting/changing her hair color yet again. For we mature folks, more established in life and identity, it was fun to be around someone in the place she was in. Her presence transported  us back to that time in our own lives, the time of being a bit on the edge, struggling, searching, and choosing.

Taryn had plans on becoming an artist, and I believe that with appropriate training and guidance she would have done well. Her student efforts were more than impressive, she had a natural gift of draftsmanship, as well as a talent for value and shape relationships, which are key components.  I liked grabbing other students and instructors and having Taryn show them her work, building up her confidence and getting her used to putting her work out for comment. Our last conversation was about her future (into which I always tediously inserted my own two-cents-worth) and I promised that once we got classes going in September that she would be busy working for me again. As we now realize, it was not to be.

I’m grateful for Taryn’s gifts to myself and my students.  Her life has been cut short, and I see no other recourse but to remember her in our prayers, and recall her presence with fondness and affection, which is so easy for those of us who knew her.  The lesson I take from all of this is an old one; to remember, always, to let those around us know in no uncertain terms that they are loved and valued as if it was the last time you would see them. At some point, it will be.

Back for seconds

A quick post…

this morning went quite well. Out the door by 7 AM, setup and running well before 8.  The light was actually the only drawback, in that the sky was almost perfectly clear, and I realized that I’d have to adjust my values throughout.  The darks were darker, essentially because I’d  lost a bit of the atmosphere that a touch of cloud cover veils objects with.

No matter, I’ll get that effect again, since it’s one we commonly  have, and having the deeper tones won’t be an obstacle. I’ll merely select the tones that work best when I tie the painting together towards the end.

Here’s a reminder of where  I left off yesterday morning.  The basic values and shapes are loosely established on a warm-toned panel ( 11 x 14″).

Layin lanikai

Today’s session (of about an hour and a half ) brought the values and colors closer to nature (closer to what the eye objectively sees), and I  was able to work over the entire painting due to decent light conditions.  As some clouds finally rolled in, the darks warmed a touch and lightened very slightly, which allowed me to get something closer to what I mentioned earlier, the effect I’m anticipating in the final work.

Lanikai point

Working with a three-part medium, as I have most of the summer, and many good sized, pointed round bristle brushes on this, which leave a shape-mark that I like.

I’ve been noticing that I’m shying away from filberts recently for landscape…they seem somehow androgenous to me these days.

From here, I’ll take a day off and get back with this on Monday, weather and God permitting, to make it more More.

One change  is that I’ll need to add a figure to make this work…the size of this grove of Ironwoods is deceptive, they are  bigger trees than you might think from this little painting. It even surprises me a bit when a person goes by them, and this painting doesn’t yet reflect that contrast.

setup b

This is the setup I’m running with lately.

The vintage easel I picked up recently has become a great favorite of mine, mainly because I’ve seen it in photos of Willard Metcalf and others for years, and now feel I’m part of the club a bit, kind of like having the same brand guitar pick as Elvis or something.  In some ways not as practical as a French easel or an Anderson style easel, I still love this baby. It takes all sizes of canvases, brass and steel fittings, and surveyor-tripod spiked tips.

dickinson

I found this photo of Edwin Dickinson working on the same easel  in Provincetown. (Photo courtesy of the Provincetown Artist Registry)

And, Wilson Irvine somewhere with same:

easel_04
Setup a

T.W. with grey, portrait sketch

TWGREY1-550

T.W. with Grey, 16 x 12″  oil on linen

Being involved with painting the outdoor world as much as I am, I really value the opportunity to teach  classes  involving the human form. When I teach,  I always paint along with the class.

This is a portrait  head completed over about 12 hours from a favorite model.  Since we have students new to color, I often choose to have  black and grey tones in the composition so that they can key their flesh color mixes against simple values.

TWGREY2

The model looks good against grey, anyway.

Willard Metcalf-Backstage Pass

Willard Metcalf (1858-1925) has been one of my favorite American landscape painters since I first encountered his work at the Spanierman gallery in the 1980’s. I never tire of him, and love to introduce him to modern painters who don’t know his work.

Metcalf was chiefly a painter of the New England countryside, and his works possess a spaciousness and  beauty  that seems to be the result of massive natural affinity for his subject, talent, and a tremendous grasp of essentials.

Here, we  have the opportunity to examine one of his outdoor studies and then be able to compare it to a finished painting.  Both works were painted in 1887, when the artist was twenty nine, and working at Giverny, France with the group of painters attracted to and surrounding Claude Monet. What a time that must have been!

My often repeated (to myself, anyway) statements about the value of seeing “unfinished” works by great painters holds true here.  It’s like a backstage pass to a magic show, where the hidden apparatus of how things are done is more easily discerned than from  the audience side.

In this study or sketch ( I think of it as more than a sketch) all the basics of the location and  the movement of the eye in the composition  are evident, but are painted pretty bare-bones, everything being reduced to values and rough hewn shapes.

Metcalf study

Giverny, oil on canvas, 12 x 16″

After the initial attraction of the foreground shadow leading to the tree and the shaded area left of it,  the dark passage attracts us to the right side of the canvas.  This strategic element has a great effect on the balance of the picture, both by contrast (it’s the darkest spot directly next to a light)  by weight (it’s close to the edge), and line (the shape of the river).   Without that dark, I don’t think the eye would have much incentive to do anything but zoom right out on the upper left hand corner and be gone. But because of it, we cross the canvas to see what’s going on, and then walk our way back across the picture to the exit provided by the interest of the buildings and patch of sky.  You can test this easily by covering the dark patch with your thumb  and observing what your eye does.

The answer to the question of how Metcalf decided on such things and makes them operate without us even noticing is that it’s all planned.  The initial thinking for this painting had to include where the eye would be led.  An enormous part of the pleasure in experiencing his works is this marvelous business of composing carefully.

Metcalf GivernyGiverny , oil on canvas, 26 x 32″

And here, we see what he eventually arrived at in his finished painting.  I have no way of saying for sure that this was painted  directly from nature or was a studio work from the study above, which is,  by the way,  about one quarter size of the final painting. It could easily be both, and that’s my guess.  But the question I have is this: would he have possibly arrived at the beautiful completed work without the initial study effort? We can see that his generation of  well-trained artists moved slowly and thoughtfully, and that their work reflects this.

The continuing lesson is about  planning our work carefully, slowing down, equipping ourselves with experience and knowledge of composition, and giving ourselves the best possible chance of  a worthwhile outcome for our efforts.

Today, so many painters of the landscape seem burdened by the belief that a painting increases in artistic merit by being completed in one session. The evidence of the late nineteenth century indicates quite the opposite, does it not?   I suspect that current practice is more a function of our culture, pushed by inner restlessness, and  I believe that this confusion of a sort of alla prima painting with plein air painting needs a second look.   I don’t believe I’m qualified for the job, and can think of many who are,  but since they are quiet maybe I’ll attempt that another time anyway.

Silver-Grey, a Corner of Kailua

A Corner of Kailua 2 Silver -Grey, a Corner of Kailua Oil on Linen 20 x 22″

This piece is now finished, one painting of what has become a small series of paintings down in this wonderful area of my local beach.  Construction of a frame is under way, and I’ll be varnishing in a couple months in time for a show in October.

It’s going in a direction I’d like to continue to pursue, turning away from the ocean-based works and drawing more on subjects that are a bit unexpected, the easily-overlooked glimpses of beauty.  It’s been very helpful to find  that others have responded well to this piece and other pictures like it. Despite popular notions of the artist forging a bold direction in spite of opinion, I find it gratifying to discover that I’m not alone in seeing that this difficult world has been laced with unexpected glimpses of heaven.

Halona Cove watercolor and studies

Because I’m beginning to find my way into creating prints of my work, I’ve decided that over the next year I’d create some paintings particularly suited to reproduction.  On my list has been Halona Cove, a very special and very challenging location that I’ve painted repeatedly over the years.

Halona Halona Cove, final painting, watercolor, 15 x 22″

I brought this painting into existence using the smaller “plein-air”  sketch shown below augmented by a number of pencil drawings, my preferred approach when painting directly, in situ, isn’t a practical solution.

hlona color sktch Halona Cove watercolor study, 11 x 14″

The watercolor  study managed to grasp general colors and big shapes, some topographical information, and some figures for scale, but that’s about all I could glean from a watercolor excursion to this place, and the work falls short of my ambitions. However, I can use this as a guide in-studio, and when accompanied by pencil drawings and notes, I was able to create the larger and more complete painting  that expresses more fully what I’d like  to say.

Hlonapencils1I find that compositional sketches, a simple breaking down of the basic elements into patterns, is indispensable.

halona pencils2

Because I’ve immersed myself in painting and drawing on location in Hawai’i, I’ve accumulated a large body of sketchbook material involving figures that I can use and manipulate as reference for paintings.

As my students know, I  prefer this approach over the more popular method of using photography.  Almost every painter I’ve come to admire worked without much reliance, if any, on the camera.  I suspect that some of the shortcomings I find in contemporary representational art, as compared to the work of the older artist’s,  is somehow tied to our  reliance on the convenience of the camera over the impressions of the mind.  At least I think that, and have been willing to challenge myself.  Does anyone else think that bowing to convenience has seriously eroded our skills as observers?   But more practically, the benefits of working  this way are that I’m constantly strengthening  my observational skills by drawing from life,  am disciplined to create stronger mental impressions, and gain a deeper personal connection with what makes a place special.  Perhaps  such a practice will prove to  have a positive accumulative effect over the years.

Halona Figures

A detail of the background figures invented from rough sketchbook suggestions.

Halona pencils 3

Working out the foreground figure

Silver Grey

This is the latest, an abstract composition of forms defined mostly by color; the colors mostly subtle grays. These trees, rather homely as trees go, have been transformed by the constant assault of nature, and have a runty survivor’s dignity.  The color scheme and I go back to childhood;  I like weathered, silver grey beach houses and driftwood fences, dried grasses, and sand peppered by violet shadows.  Not colorful?  Look again.

The small indication of the figure was added today, and she may or may not stay.   The composition may hold up  without her, but the warm tones of her figure  and the suggestion of scale thrown into this blender of lights and darks seemed helpful.

Light on Sand

untitled, oil on hand primed linen, 22 x 24″