Working in Series

Why do artists paint (or sculpt) a series of a single subject? Many are familiar with Monet's various series--haystack, cathedrals, and poplars to name a few. What attracted him and others to making paintings of the same things, time after time? There are probably as many answers to that question as there are people to give them. But there are certain advantages and outcomes that make doing a series attractive. 

Claude Monet, "Poplars on the Epte," 1891

For one thing, a well-chosen subject can provide fodder for many paintings. Monet painted 25 separate haystack paintings 1890-91, 15 paintings of poplar trees in 1891 and 30 or so paintings of Rouen cathedral (1893-94). Seventy paintings in about four years is a prodigious output. Besides knowing one's subject intimately, painting in series gives the artist an opportunity to study the subject in all seasons, all kinds of light, and from various viewpoints. Mr. Monet spent two years working on his Rouen cathedral series, marveling at how sunlight coruscates the ornate facade. Each painting of his more than two dozen provides the viewer with a separate example of his peerless vision and his delight in how light changes the aspect. For him, light was the ultimate subject. 

"Polars on the Epte" 1891

Jackson Pollock, "Number 1, Lavender Mist," 1950

Other painters have worked in series exploring a technique in depth. Jackson Pollock in the mid-20th century painted what were sometimes called "action paintings" where he dripped, dribbled, and flung paint onto huge canvases laid on his studio floor. The resultant threaded tangle of limited color capture not only the movements of Mr. Pollock's hands but also something emotional that seems innnate in the pictures. Standing before a Pollock I feel nearly enveloped in the tangle of motion and emotion. Probably his most famous is Number 1, Lavender Mist, from 1950, but he painted scores using the same method. Another particular favorite of mine is Blue Poles, from 1952.

 

                                                                    "Blue Poles," 1952

Hoff, "The Point, Grays Lake," oil on panel, 9x12, 2020

In my own practice I've done series several times, notably my long series of multi-seasonal watercolors of Druid Hill Creek, posted here numerous times. This past spring and summer gave me an opportunity to pursue plein air painting, most of which I've done within a couple of miles of home, at Grays Lake Park. In the past several weeks I've painted from the shore of the lake using various vantage points of the ancient trees and placid waters. In particular there is a point of land that juts into the lake from its north shore, anchored by a copse of trees that look as if they're on raft. I've painted that grove of trees a number of times lately. The first is above. Later on I did a view of a long pedestrian bridge/walkway that hugs the south shore of the lake (below) and the wooded hills beyond. Of course, these are only plein air sketches and not finished paintings, but they will provide ample information for future studio works. Altogether I've painted probably ten or twelve of these sketches this spring and summer.

Hoff, "The Bridge at the Lake," oil on panel, 9x12, 2020