Category: General

Knowledge condensed: the drawings of Rembrandt

I’ve yet to find a larger or more convenient portal into the mind of a great artist than to view the drawings of Rembrandt Van Rijn. I often say that if one looks carefully, there is almost certainly a lesson in any of them.

The more I’ve allowed myself to cross over and enter his world through his drawings, the more I learn from them. His mind, eye, and hand were never idle, and it’s great fun to think what he would be doing in our world today. He was the type of man who was never bored by everyday life. Whenever he wasn’t planning a painting in his sketches, he would be drawing a child sleeping, a maid working, working out Biblical subjects from imagination, or observing a couple. When weather was cooperative, he would be out drawing the neighborhood, from kids shoplifting to minor construction projects.

At other times, he wandered beyond city limits to the countryside, for a great portion of his drawings are devoted to the landscape, although he rather rarely painted it. Is it reasonable to wonder if he’s among the first of distinguished artists to draw for the love of drawing and observation alone?
Rembrandt 114 A Child Being Taught to Walk Pen and Ink

In upcoming posts, I’m planning to offer some of my own thoughts and examinations of drawings by Rembrandt in hopes of getting newcomers excited by this very accessible artist.

First Lay In

I’m finally back to some oil painting after several months that have been predominated by watercolor work for an upcoming show and magazine article that are in the works. More on that later.

This is the lay-in and some second -day work on a new painting I’ve started. It’s decidedly not a new subject for me; I’ve painted various interpretations of this mountain over the years.

However, I’ve never been entirely through with it as a subject…it’s monumental presence, practically in our community’s backyard, is delightfully transmuted hourly as the sun and the atmosphere play their games across it’s face. Whenever I look at it, I find myself wanting to give it another shot. My goal is to capture the truth of the color in the early morning hours, on the rare, clear sort of day when the entire mountain is visible. I want very much to make this a painting which makes it’s stand on beautifully observed color and shapes.

The two main difficulties in this painting are the speed at which the color in nature changes, and the unusual combinations of pigments required to get the right shades. Combinations of pigments that easily can go dead have to be applied loosely, reds and blues and yellows woven or scrambled together into rather odd scarlet-greens in the lights, and shadow-shapes of violet greys that seem to be equally troublesome to get a handle on.

My solution for all of this is to repeatedly get to work on the painting in the same light and at the same moment of the day, and gradually build the painting in touches of color as best as I can, allowing the truest notes to show through and adjusting the shapes and carving out the form gradually. I’m really not sure how different this is than a portrait approach, in all honesty.

Mtn lay in

untitled, 20 x 24″ oil on primed linen

I will probably need about eight clear mornings to get a good grip on this, and hopefully the weather will be accommodating for another one or two days this week.

The canvas is a medium linen with a somewhat absorbent oil (lead white) ground that was single primed at least six months ago. It’s taking the paint well.

detail

As an added inspiration, I’ve just re-read Ives Gammell’s “Dennis Miller Bunker”, a wonderful biography of one of my favorite American painters. Revisiting that book, I find myself again connected with the idea of going after the “big look” of nature wholeheartedly; that it’s a worthwhile and precious thing to obtain a beautiful result through a patient and thoughtful impressionism.

Maintaining a ligature to life

I began keeping sketchbooks as part of my work habits about fifteen years ago. Because life is the disjointed and unpredictable thing that it is, I found there was a real need for something I could do, incrementally, to keep my work on track in the spare moments I would find throughout the week.

As I looked closely at all of the artist’s I admired, I realized that they were always planning things on paper, always leaving abundant sketches and drawings in their wakes. I knew my own work needed more thought, and my observational and figurative skills constantly required practice. Also, I did not cotton to the idea of relying on photographs; much of the work I loved was painted before the era of the camera took hold, and I wanted to see if I could train my mind’s eye to capture the essential things around me.

Beginning with the sketches of Rembrandt, (and later artists like Menzel, Fantin LaTour, Sargent, Constable, and so many others), such drawings became, for me, exquisite examples of artists thinking aloud on paper. I realized that one constant occupation of these artists was visual involvement with the world around them.

Concurrently, my reading of “Harvey Dinnerstein: Artist at Work” impressed me very much. I recommend this book as it discusses the painters’ life in terms relevant to modern times. Like artists of the past, he’s drawn upon the life immediately around himself as a subject, using personal friends, students, and family members as models. And he is a fluent sketcher, from whose work I learned this critical lesson: to always draw and paint ideas, not pictures. Pencil Studies for "Rush Hour, Kailua". Private collection

Pencil Studies for “Rush Hour, Kailua”. Private collection

So, I continue to use my time observing and sharpening myself, squirreling away the details of what lies about me. Here are some of my sketchbook works from the last few years, done for their own sake or as a study for something that may become realized more fully later.

Sunlit Surf-Lana’i Lookout

seascape Sunlit Surf-Lana’i Lookout 28 x 32″ Oil on Linen

Other than some minor adjustments, I consider this painting finished. Now is the time where I move on to another painting and get this off my mind. I love this point, because ironically, that helps me come back to this piece with a fresh, objective eye after some time has passed, to see if it’s really finished.

I make that judgement based on a couple of factors. Going back to my original intentions, that sense of weight, power, and energy are as close to what I’m after as I think I can manage. I’ve made some changes from the sketches; choosing to keep larger areas in shadow, shaping the rocks differently than I planned. The main thing is that the eye moves through the composition as I wished it to, and the handling of the paint seems to me to be energetic and varied, without arresting the movement of the water more than necessary. I remember while doing the plain air sketch that there was a sense of the water actually “galloping” forward, and I’ve tried to capture some of that.

While I move on to the next painting, I may come back to build some of the impasto areas more heavily after some drying, and possibly a warm glaze over the rocks in sunlight.

I always seem to hold out the great hope that “this time, I’ll really get it.” “It”, for me, is the sense of creating a convincing, shimmering reality, all the while keeping the viewer fully aware that this is “only made out of paint.” It’s the duality that one gets with good impressionism…it’s the absolute look of the thing being painted, and the paint itself, and you can’t decide where the thing ends and the paint begins…the awareness of both are simultaneously present.

I’m not there yet, but trying.

Barclay Easel Restoration II

easel
I managed to get a couple hours of work done over the weekend on stripping the old paint, plus a chat with a friend who refinishes old pieces on a professional basis. I think I’ m on the right track, and I’m looking forward to getting a bit more time in removing the last of the old finish. It’s come a long ways.

The next step, after I finish the stripping, is to wet the wood down and steel wool the entire piece after sun drying it briefly. Then will come the finish, which I think will be simple warmed linseed oil followed by a light wax.

Shickler067 Here’s a shot I found of the great Aaron Shikler working on the identical easel in the 1960’s. The only difference I can see is that mine has this threaded hand-screw instead of the knob on the top canvas holder. I have to say that the hand-screw has a disadvantage in that it casts a long shadow, depending on the light source, but it also gets me wondering: how old is this easel?

Barclay Easel

Barclay Easel Restoration

About eight months ago, I had the opportunity to acquire this beautiful old Freidrichs easel. It’s in good shape for it’s age, which I guess to be pre-WWII, though I don’t know for sure. While doing some digging I learned that this is known as the Barclay easel, designed by illustrator McClelland Barclay, who was quite the innovator in numerous ways. The manufacturer at some point changed it’s name from Friedrichs to the familiar (to artists) Frederix company. It’s solid red oak throughout, and the crank mechanism works perfectly well.

I’ve always hoped to find something like this wonderful easel and bring it back into service. When I discovered it, covered with dust and tucked away in a basement, I was delighted. Thanks again, Brad!

After a good amount of deliberation, I decided to strip and refinish the easel myself. This is the easel in the condition in which I received it, the only real damage is a bit of termite activity that’s not threatening anything. I’ll post some shots of the refinishing as it gets farther along.

In doing the research, Learned that this was the preferred easel of Norman Rockwell, and found many shots of him working at his. This is a favorite.

Rockwell Barclay easel — Rockwell painting at his Barclay studio easel

Building the painting

Getting into the heart of this now, this is the result of the second day’s work. I’m now building carefully, in the sense of not wanting to lose my initial idea of what this is ultimately about… a statement of wonder. I’d like everything to add to that idea, and am willing to eliminate anything that I find detracting from it.

Working from sketches and memory like this is a real test…and a delight. At one of my breaks, I snapped this photo of my palette . I’m always a bit amazed at what beautiful harmony naturally develops on this work surface from simply trying to get at some of the truth of nature’s color.

As a note to people new at painting, I try to be a clean worker. That doesn’t mean fussy. Good painterly habits include using a fresh brush, (I went through at least fifteen today), wiping the work surface of the palette down every few hours, using freshly laid out pigments, and eliminating unnecessary additives to the paint.

Show me the child at five…

Oil lay-in, 28 x 32 ” oil on linen

Well, it’s nice to get this stage up and running….there’s a circular movement and a pyramidal structure to this painting that is more evident now. By the way, I’m working on a Belgian linen with an oil priming that I did myself, something I returned to doing a couple years ago. I enjoy creating and working on these surfaces very much.

I also feel I’m finding a good sense of how I want this painting to come to life.

For this stage, I establish the overall placement and tones, and the location of my lightest light and darkest dark. Those represent the extreme ends of the value range, and every other value is going to fall in between those two poles. And I bring that light down in value from pure white; it’s not a pure white, but colored and toned down a step or two. That’s important, because I don’t want a screeching falsetto at the top of the value range, but something deeper and richer that merely appears white-like. It determines the tonal key of the painting.

I also am working so that there is the sense of looking up slightly, maybe almost subconsciously. I’m eliminating the bit of horizon that was showing to the left in the sketches, which destabilizes the overall effect, making things feel a little more energetic.

I use my largest hog-bristle brushes, ones that you can really cover some ground with. I always push myself to work with the biggest brushes I can for the area I’m working on. I grip the brush lightly in my palm at the end of the handle, like an orchestra conductor would hold a baton, making use of the full length of the brush, and working somewhat at at arms length, so I’m back away were I can see big pieces. The paint is thinned with Gamsol, just enough to give it a touch of a glide on the surface, and I try to complete the lay -in suggestively and energetically.

(If you ever have the opportunity, study the unfinished paintings that museums occasionally have out. They are gold. A favorite example, at the Met in New York, is the large and incomplete Greuze mythological painting “Aegina Visited by Jupiter”, which in many areas reveals the initial lay-in stage. It’s a surprising opportunity to see how a superbly trained painter developed his work. Many other museums have studies and other partially finished works that for a painter are treasures.)

I find that the more I can keep the painting fresh and moving forward in the early stages, ” sustaining it’s adolescence” for lack of a better term, the richer the painting and the less finicky the final work becomes. I’ll want more of the sort of energy I see now, in this first stage, to remain through to the end. That requires awareness. Awareness is not painting thoughtlessly, when you are tired, and means putting the brush down and getting back from the work.

I’m stepping away from the painting often, back eight feet or so. I also turn the piece upside-down while working, so that I can keep the abstract patterns in mind, separated from the content. A mirror serves the same purpose, and it’s really important for me to take the time to use those tools often.

Didn’t the Jesuits have a saying, “Show us the child at five, and we’ll show you the man at 25”, or something to that effect? That sums up how I think of this stage of the painting. Anything that I won’t care for later in this painting is probably already rearing it’s ugly head now, and so I’m keeping alert. One thing I hadn’t noticed until I worked on the canvas upside down was how critical the element in the lower left hand corner really was to the balance of the painting. I need to pay more attention to it, but in a simple way because I definitely don’t want the eye to get hung up there.