Alice Neel Retrospective

The now-famous painter Alice Neel (1900-1984) has a retrospective exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art until the end of August. For those who don't know her work, she was an American realist painter whose uncompromising work and steely vision informed the mid- to late 20th century. This the first exhibition of her work in over two decades, and if the online exhibition is all you can see in this time of pandemic, by all means do so. The current show comprises about one hundred works from all phases of a career spanning over fifty years in the middle of the 20th century.

Alice Neel photographed by Robert Mapplethorpe

Alice Neel was born in Pennsylvania in 1900 as one of a large brood. Although she worked to support her parents for a few years she eventually attended art classes at what was then known as the Pennsylvania School of Design for Women, winning prizes for her student work. She married a Cuban painter, Carlos Enriquez, with whom she had two daughters, one of whom died in infancy. After living in Cuba for a few years they returned to the U.S. but Enriquez deserted her (1930) and took their child to Cuba. Ms. Neel suffered a serious mental health break but eventually returned to painting, living the rest of her life in New York City.  

Kate Millett, 1970

Andy Warhol, 1974

Her style has been termed expressionist but she was more influenced by the Ashcan School and Robert Henri, according to her. During the Depression she began painting female nudes with a distinctly feminine eye that denied the male, sex-object viewpoint. Further, her early works were devoted to Depression scenes of protest and to Communism (though she was never a member of that party). One of most famous paintings is a 1930 portrait of her friend Ethel Ashton, a fellow painter, a precursor of her work with female nudes. Others She used color and line as a powerful way to show the form and penetrate the psychology of women, exaggerating and distorting forms. Still, Ms. Neel felt that she was a realist painter. She was relatively well-known before World War II, but had few shows or recognition until the 1960s.

In her later years, Ms. Neel's work was a significant part of the feminist movement, particularly her female nudes. Her growing recognition meant a commission to paint the author Kate Millett for the cover of Time, and later on a portrait of fellow artist Andy Warhol. . 

Self Portrait at 80, 1980

At the very end of her career she painted an unflinching nude self-portrait, sitting before her easel with white hair and sagging flesh. It is probably her most famous painting.

The exhibition at the Metropolitan covers Ms. Neel's entire oeuvre, and marks yet another show that I wish I could have seen.

This Week on the Raccoon

Great to be out on the Raccoon River this week. The morning sunlight slanting through the giant cottonwoods along the bank lights the river golden brown between the shadows. And unlike last week, the temperatures have moderated and the humidity too. A light breeze turned into a gust or two one morning, and in only the moment that my back was turned the easel tipped toward the river bank. Happily, the wind didn't interfere all that much. 

"Summer on the River," oil on panel, 11x14

This is a dry summer for Iowa, not so dry as some of the worst but dry enough that the river has been running very shallow. Because the Raccoon is the city water source, along with a reservoir or two, it's kept at a minimum depth. So there's been little change in the configurations and shapes of the banks and the surface, running lazily. In turn, keeping the image coherent from day to day is easier. Altogether it has been a delightful week to paint in Waterworks Park. 

My plan for the remainder of the summer is to set regular hours for painting plein air using various familiar spots nearby.

 

Watercolor Sketch

When sketching in watercolor it seems to me that the outcome depends on intent. That is if the watercolor is as a record of information--for a subsequent painting, or memory, or other reasons--it may be done loosely and without minute details. The idea is recording color, shape, value, and so on of whatever the subject may be, paying little attention to strict rendering. on the other hand, sometimes a watercolor is intended as a stand alone artwork, and in most of those cases the image is more detailed in certain passages. 

I like to sketch small watercolors as mementos of a place or event, so while in the mountains last week I did this watercolor, about postcard size. It's a loosely painted rendering of a path we followed to a painting spot near a marsh. Light filtering through treetops gave a dappled appearance, with an occasional sunbeam penetrating to the forest floor. 

Here omitting detail a lot of detail didn't alter the feel of walking through a forest cathedral. 

The human brain often supplies details, even when the artist doesn't.

A Week in the Mountains

Today was the final day of the Publishers Invitational here in upper New York. Hosted by Eric Rhoads, this gathering is unlike workshops that feature a mentor-participant, teaching format. Instead we were all simply there to paint and relate. Every day was a full one of painting, talk, good food, music (several brought their instruments), and encouragement. This year was special as the tenth one, a reunion for those who had previously attended and a novel experience for newcomers. Eric is a human tornado whose career as an entrepreneur of media and promoter of art has spanned at least five decades. And it's his enthusiastic and infectious approach to outdoor painting that has brought artists together here in the Adirondacks. For the last six days we've enjoyed the break from the heat and the clamor of daily routine in favor of painting and camaraderie.

"Adirondacks, June 2021," oil on panel, 9x12

The weather has been spectacular--moderate temperatures, mostly sunny and bug-free. About 100 painters came together from around the country for the week of painting and art talk, a chance to spend time comparing experiences, hearing the successes and struggles of others, and got to know one another better. The group included beginners, accomplished amateurs, and seasoned professionals, a few quite famous but at this camp we were all equals. We stayed at a college in the northern Adirondacks this week along a beautiful lakefront with views in nearly every direction that called out for painting. We spent days painting vistas of mountains, the shimmer of lakes and marshes, and the ever-changing greens.

With a more intense schedule than usual, many painted at least two canvases a day--up to a dozen in all--but some painted even more. One participant actually produced more than twenty paintings. And all the while in company of old and new friends. No wonder about half of the group were repeat attendees.

"Saranac Village View," oil on panel, 9x12

Isaac Levitan

Valentin Serov, "Levitan, 1893"

Isaac Levitan (1860-1900) was born in a shtetl in what is now Lithuania into a poor Jewish family. When he was 10 the family moved to Moscow. He entered the Moscow School of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture at 13 and although both of his parents died by 1877 he was given a full scholarship to continue. He was successful at a young age and sold a painting to the famous art collector Pavel Mikhailovich Tretyakov (whose collection became the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow) at age 19 while still a student. 

He eventually left the school to become a prolific, respected and even famous painter of mostly landscapes. He is particularly remembered for the moodiness of his works. He has been called an impressionist, but his colors were darker and more like the earlier Barbizon artists. His pictures are quiet, still, and most commonly devoid of figures or animals. To my eye they convey what seems a classically somber and very Russian view of the world.

"Birch Forest," 1889

"Vladimirka Highway," 1892

"Over Eternal Rest," 1894

"Dusk," 1900

 

 

Adirondacks

"Grays Lake, June, 2021" oil on panel, 9x12

In spite of recent heated days (above 90F) painting outside has been pleasant enough along the lake front with an onshore breeze. This month promises to be a productive one--I've managed three oils and a large watercolor since the first of the month, with a lot more to come.

This coming week I will be in upstate New York on a painting excursion. The event is simply six days of painting, no workshops no teaching no competition no prizes. Just painting. That makes this a truly unique event that sounds like a delight. From comments posted elsewhere about previous editions of this event it sounds like a time out of time--a complete break in the routine. The group is about 100 or so painters of all levels, everyone simply a fellow painter. It seems almost like a retreat, a chance for contemplation and reflection.

The Adirondacks are still heavily wooded and dotted with lakes large and small so there should be any number of beautiful views for painting. The weather forecast promises warm days, cool nights and not much chance of rain. So, with a bit of luck I could bring home eight or nine new works. Time will tell.

 

AAPL Auction in July

The American Artists Professional League, a century-old organization that promotes traditional realism, is holding a members-only, traditional timed online auction for ten days this July. The auction is a new venture of the League, taking place this year because of the pandemic. As a new member I'm very happy to be included. My contribution is "Outside the Brewpub," a look at a gathering of friends at a local watering-hole.

"Outside the Brewpub," oil on canvas 16x24

Click on this link to view the catalog of included works, or check out the video below of the 51 lots included in the auction:

Sketch Club Outing

The sketch group made its usual Saturday afternoon excursion today. We meet at a designated spot, negotiate where we will paint, and then spend about two hours working together. The group has been meeting for fifty years or more (obviously with a changing makeup), making it perhaps one of the oldest art groups in the city. The weather today was beautiful--sunny, windy/warm and breezy.--and perfect for plein air painting. A half-dozen of the ever-rotating group made it for the outing, vaccinated and now free of masks.

We spent two hours today at Maffitt Reservoir, an artificial lake that's a backup water supply for Des Moines. As a man-made lake, it has a kind of snaky profile with arms reaching into small valleys southwest of town. The lake is old for an artificial one, dating to before the mid-20th century. The land is rolling, covered with beautiful mature trees, and spots to put in watercraft, picnic, or just chill out. We painted a small inlet on the south side. On the lake, boaters and others in flotation rafts lazed in the sun. It was a thoroughly wonderful afternoon.

Recharging

"Sadness," graphite on paper, 2016

People who work to make things find themselves at a standstill sometimes. That is, they go merrily along, making stained glass windows or writing haikus or novels or painting watercolors but somehow the well runs dry, the words or images won't come. Writers call it a "block". So far as I know there's no equivalent term in the visual arts, but there do come times when work slows to a trickle. Years ago a mentor of mine used to reassure oil painters who worried when their work slowed or stopped, saying that after such periods most find themselves producing more or better (or both) art. Happily, a complete cessation of artwork has never happened to me, probably because I use a diversity of media. Digital drawing is so easy to do that it has become a constant in life for me. But other kinds of drawing in traditional media is pretty simple for the most part too and also nearly a constant. "Sadness," (left) is a good example of my graphite works.

"Shine," oil on heavy paper, 6x8, 2011

Paintings are the least constant of my art pursuits. Many weeks pass when I paint daily, sometimes even in two separate sessions. Those are mostly studio days. But sometimes, gradually, the work slows, sometimes abetted by circumstances but sometimes for no discernible reason. When the work is going well you don't even think about working but instead simply do it. You can fall into a rhythm that (if you're lucky) gains momentum and becomes a daily thing. The risk in being checked is that momentum may not return. We're all influenced by circumstance--family, health, worry, you name it--we can't help it. But productive, successful artists work no matter what. They're like Pete the Street, the British fellow who paints outdoors literally every single day. It's quite simply his life. For most of us though, a health issue, financial issues, even visits from family or friends can slow or stop the work. My mentor used to reassure us that after a fallow period people commonly find their work changing and advancing. The idea is certainly attractive, and perhaps it holds true for many. When the work goes poorly or stops, I certainly hope so.