Happy Christmas Season

This year the holidays have been particularly cold and snowy. With luck though, the clouds will pass with the snow. Regardless, the days are starting to lengthen. Here comes the sun!

"Winter Walk," oil on canvas, 24x20

Merry Christmas and a productive and Happy New Year.

Lazy River

Last summer I spent considerable time near the Middle Raccoon River, a slow-moving tributary of the river that runs through Des Moines, some sixty or seventy miles away. Here the river is deep, even torrential, in spring but runs shallow in late summer. Like many rivers through agricultural land, it is browned by silt and can often look dark. This view of the river gives the viewer an idea of how this land might have looked before the plow.

"Downstream, Middle Raccoon River," oil on panel, 11x14

 

Winter

Although it has seemed wintry here, with snow a little earlier than usual and some chilling low temperatures, the real winter weather has begun now. Snowfall has been small but low temperatures have kept it on the ground. And low temperatures are going even lower, with the daily high later in the week predicted to be only zero Fahrenheit and the low in negative double digits. Brrr. 

At the moment the weather feels like Union Square, an oil from several years ago, albeit with less wind. 

"Union Square, Winter," oil on panel, 10x8

Frankly, we Iowans are probably all hoping for sunshine, not wind and snow and sleet, even if the temperatures are low. Bright sunrises are the thing to keep our spirits up, here in the darkest few days of the year.

"Winter Sunrise, oil on panel, 10x8

Primaries

One of the exercises that helped advance my paintings skills was doing a painting a day. Those were not larger than 6x8 so that a still life could be completed in thirty minutes or perhaps an hour. The other part of that exercise was to place the object(s) to be painted without a great deal of thought. For me, arranging and rearranging objects is simply putting off the main objective, so I mostly simply plunk something down, consider it and the lighting for a few moments. 

This painting came about during one of those daily panting sessions many years ago. 

"Primaries," oil on panel, 6x8

Annual Review

One of my habits this time of year is review of past work. Sometimes the review focuses on work completed in recent months or perhaps the last year of two, but many times the review dives deep into older and often unseen folders. This time it's been the latter result. Many older works came to light. These two are watercolor sketches made in the Pacific Northwest more than a decade ago. In each case the colors and techniques were explorations and didn't lead to any major changes in materials or methods.

"Sunrise, Redmond," watercolor on paper 9x5

"On Puget Sound," watercolor on paper, 5x12

Reviewing older materials provides the chance to revisit places, techniques, ideas and a lot more.

Here's my favorite plein air oil from the past year: Whiterock Morning.

"Whiterock Morning," oil on panel. 9x12

And here's another older work, this time in casein, done to study light and also the medium. Casein is an infrequently used medium made from milk protein. 

"Shellac," casein on panel, 8x6

Invention and Experimentation

Although there are quite a few reasons why painting attracts me, one of the foremost is the chance to do something I haven't done before. It might be using a new kind of paint, or perhaps a new support. Sometimes it's mixing a specific color using different components. The kinds of experimentation and invention are endless. Not long ago I bought a stack of heavy paper from the Legion Paper, a well-known supplier of art papers. This particular variety has a slight tooth, making it suitable for metalpoint and other drawing media. But it's also somewhat heavier than lighter papers I've used for watercolor. So I gave it a try. 

"Country Lane," watercolor on paper, about 6x8

This particular composition is based on a photo I snapped not far from my house--that is, the reference is a city street, complete with driveways and houses along the left. I simply removed the houses, emphasized the trees and changed the street to resemble a gravel road. So in a sense this is an imaginary scene superimposed on an ordinary street. The paper held up well, too.

Favorite Artists 18 - Winslow Homer

Winslow Homer, ca. 1870

If ever there was a quintessential American artist, Winslow Homer (1836-1910) fills the bill. Mr. Homer was born and grew up in Massachusetts, in fairly middle class circumstances. His father was a businessman always seeking a big fortune. His mother was a gifted amateur watercolorist who taught Mr. Homer his first lessons. Eventually he was apprenticed to a lithographer after he finished high school. Leaving apprenticeship after a couple of years, he opened his own illustration studio in Boston, where he was immediately successful. Most of his work in those years was graphic--wood engraving primarily. By 1859 he lived in New York and kept a studio in the famous Tenth Street Studio Building in Greenwich Village, the first purpose-built studio building. Although Mr. Homer is said to have been mostly self taught, it's also true that he attended classes at the National Academy of Design and learned at least the rudiments of oil painting by Frederic Rondel, who taught there. 

Harper's Weekly illustration--"Sharpshooter on Picket Duty"

"Home, Sweet Home," oil, 1866

Although his family hoped he would travel to Europe to study painting, he instead secured a position with Harper's magazine making pictures of the Civil War, many of them wood engravings. He spent time at the front, drawing and collecting material that went into studio works like "Home Sweet Home" which he exhibited at the National Academy of Design to considerable acclaim, and an oil version of "Sharpshooter on Picket Duty," among others. But even though he did oil paintings of war subjects, much of his postwar output depicted women, children and rural settings, despite his studio being in New York. 

"Boys in a Pasture," oil, 1874

Following the war he did spend nearly a year in France, though he didn't study formally but spent time doing drawings for Harper's, seeing the art that was current and doing his own outdoor works. 

"Snap the Whip," 1872

Through the decade of the 1870s Mr. Homer focused on rural subjects, including one of his most popular works, "Snap the Whip," among a number of others that remain popular if nostalgic.

"Breezing Up," 1873-78

Something happened to Mr. Homer--perhaps a romantic loss--because in the late 1870s he retreated from much social contact. He lived in Gloucester and the UK before moving permanently to Maine in 1883. His studio was near the ocean, in Prout's Neck, and it was there that he painted a number of monumental works, including one of my particular favorites,"Undertow," a depiction of an event he'd witnessed elsewhere. Two women are being dragged from the surf by two lifeguards.

'Undertow," 1886

Mr. Homer lived in Prout's Neck until he died in 1910, though he traveled widely and painted many other works.

"The Gulf Stream," 1899

"Fox Hunt," 1893

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Also in this series:

Favorite Artists
Favorite Artists 2--Chardin
Favorite Artists 3--Grant Wood
Favorite Artists 4--Diego Velazquez
Favorite Artists 5--Andrew Wyeth
Favorite Artists 6--Wayne Thiebaud 
Favorite Artists 7 - Edward Hopper
Favorite Artists 8- Nicolai Fechin
Favorite Artists 9- Rembrandt 
Favorite Artists 10-Hokusai
Favorite Artists 11-Franz Hals

Favorite Artists-12-Vincent 

Favorite Artists 13-John Sargent
Favorite Artists 14-Thomas Eakins 

Favorite Artists 15-Ilya Repin 

Favorite Artists 16-Albrecht Durer

Favorite Artists 17-Holbein the Younger

 

Echo of the Past

Sunsets are coming earlier and earlier as winter closes in. We're in the colder and darker months but memories of summer help. This is a small panorama of oak trees and prairie, based on sketches and photos made last summer. 

"Oak Savanna, Summer," oil on panel, 12x16

It's sad when you learn that this kind of native landscape once comprised much of primeval Iowa--now plowed, planted and developed. These trees are old growth and the spot has never been logged or farmed. Echoes of the centuries resonate in this patch of prairie.

Saturday in November.

This is the season of changeable weather here in Iowa. Although it isn't yet December we've had more than a week of snow and cold, followed these past few days by sunny skies and unseasonably high temperatures. When the wind howls down from the north and the skies stay pewter-grey, I stay in the studio. But days like last Saturday beckon me outside.

"November on the Racoon," wc about 3.5x8

This photo is a trifle blue rather than the warmer white of my sketchbook. Nonetheless I think it captures the sense of the banks and waters of the Raccoon River, which meanders through our nearby park. The trees are bare now, the branches either fan-like or more spidery, while distant groves of trees take on varied shades of yellow-brown. The sky and the river are nearly the same blue, but the river is a little darker. These days, as drought has continued in the upper and westerly regions our rivers are all running low.

Waiting for Food

One of the great things about sketching is how portable it is. You can sketch virtually anywhere, with a bit of discretion. Last week I sketched in the program while our local symphony played. There was ample light from the proscenium and the music (Holst's masterpiece "The Planets") was transcendent. No one minded, of course. 

"At the Airport, Waiting for Food," wc/ink

Another place one can sketch is in an eatery. One of the fun things I've done over the years is sketch in a very small pocket book using watercolor and ink. I posted about that a couple of years ago. This is another sketch I made some years back while waiting for food in an airport. It's actually a lower corner of my trip diary, We were enroute to visit family in Seattle.

"Sarge's," wc/ink

This second sketch is another from a trip, this time to New York. A favorite neighborhood place on the east side of Manhattan is Sarge's, a fairly traditional New York kind of place that we used to visit quite often. Both of these were sketched quickly with permanent ink and colored either immediately or shortly after eating. 

Sketching is a simple way to make visual notes that can become part of a visual library for later work.

Up North

The cold months are upon us. Here in Iowa we are emerging from one of the coldest early November weeks in recent memory. And although it's comforting to remember the lazy hazy crazy days of summer, the realist in me says we have to face the winter weather. 

"Up North," watercolor on paper, about 8x10

 "Up North" is a watercolor from a long time ago that shows folks from our neck of the woods, going about their daily business in spite of wintry weather. .

Panorama

Most of the time my work is in standard sizes, mostly to make framing simpler. So much of my outdoor work is 9x12 and the majority of studio pieces is 11x14, 12x16 and so on. But sometimes an idea requires a different kind of layout, like a panorama. So far most of my more panoramic paintings have been relatively small, like "Oak Savanna" (below).

"Oak Savanna, Summer," oil on panel, 8x16

This particular work is quite similar to another I posted last month. But it's a wider view of the edge of an area of oak savanna--basically prairie with copses of oaks. The trees are all old growth because the savanna is as it has always been--never farmed, cleared or otherwise disturbed much. The difference in this one is the considerably wider format, which gives a better sense of the savanna.

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Related post

Vastness

Light is the Subject

One of my interests in painting is the interaction of light--natural or otherwise--with the tangible world. That is, what happens when light bounces, bends, transmits, and so on? How does a glass object look in differing lighting? What happens to the light of day as the sun traverses? 

Hoff, "Tryptich (Morning Afternoon Evening)," oil on panels mounted on board

In "Tryptich" for example there are three 5x7 oil studies of a bottle about half full of clear liquid. Despite the simplicity of the subject, the changing light provided the chance to study light intensely. Each panel was done at a particular time of day, and the light painted as it appeared to my eyes. 

In the far left painting the outdoor light is cool (blues) and reflects the bright indirect light of the sky. In the center work the light of early afternoon is now direct, warm (yellows), and quite bright, seeming to flow into the liquid and ricochet from the near-bottom of the bottle. In the right panel the bottle is at twilight so that the light again now indirect, dimmer, cooler (blues, greys, grey-pinks), and transmitted (not reflected) through the glass and liquid so that we see the dark bands of the window sill. 

There are quite a lot of differences among these three little works, owing to the always changing light. I enjoy returning to study them even now, more than a decade after they were made.

Veterans Day

Hoff, "Uncle Sam, after J.C. Leyendecker," oil on canvas

 Today we mark the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month--Veterans Day. It once was called "Armistice Day" and marked the ceasefire that ended World War I. Following World War II the holiday was modified to include all veterans. 

I hope you join in me in gratitude to all who served our nation in peace and in conflict. 

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VA Hospital's Final Salute

A Plein Air Summer

Reviewing photos of plein air work from last summer. Besides three weeks at my art residency, I managed to paint outdoors quite a bit. These three are from the first three months of the season. All of them are oil on panel, 9x12.

"Raccoon River Bridge," May 2022

The bridge in this painting is an old iron trestle bridge that's now a pedestrian/cycle path. The sun was behind my left shoulder as I painted this, standing on the riverbank. The light on the far trees and embankment was wonderful and warm. This one took two separate sessions to finish.

"North Shore, Gray's Lake,", June 2022

This is a view of the point on the northern shore of a lake near my studio, completed in a single rapid session of about two hours. The lake was quite still in early morning and the sunlight barely lighted treetops far off and caught the banks just across from my painting spot.

"Along the Cowpasture River," July 2022

During July we spent time with friends in southern Virginia, along a magical, unspoiled and sparsely populated river. I had the pleasure of painting several plein air pieces while there, all at a leisurely pace. This view is just outside their cabin--it's my favorite.

There are a number of plein air works on my website--check it out.

Another New One

More than twenty years ago, while riding horses with a friend in Alaska, I gazed down the Matanuska Valley, toward the glacier that feeds the river that flows to the sea. From the Glenn Highway the rolling hills and distant mountains were devoid of the touch of humans. No man made structures, no electric transmission lines, no bridges, dams, or other structures. The land looked as it must have always looked. Limitless, inspiring awe and explaining why people have sought the spiritual wilderness. The experience showed me how much I have lost by living in cities, among the millions of my fellow humans. The experience in residence at Whiterock Conservancy was something like that experience in Alaska. The conservancy is huge--5500 acres give or take--and far from metropolitan turmoil, noise, and lights. The quiet of the days and the starry starry nights suggest how the land once was, before we peopled it with ourselves and our machines. And it gave the faintest glimmer of how connected, how in the world we once were. 

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

My work from the residency continues and is becoming a moderate-sized body of work. Here is a new studio oil of a trail along the Middle Raccoon River. It's a wetland, strewn with drifts of wildflowers--sunflowers, Joe Pye weed, coneflowers and Queen Anne lace among them. The sun in early morning seems to set them afire. 

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Reflections on the Residency

The Saturday Sketchers

A year or so ago I posted about an informal group who go sketching on Saturday afternoons (linked at the foot of this post). It's a group of folks of varied backgrounds and artistic interests, a professional or two and the rest committed painters. The organization is barely organized, meaning there's no hierarchy, bylaws, dues, or any folderol. We meet at 1 pm to decide on a place to paint--mostly nearby--for an hour or two. Afterward we meet for refreshment and to share work, discuss art, artists and a lot more. 

"Early Color in the Rose Garden," ink and watercolor on paper

Having such a group to work with, even when you can't do it regularly, provides a kind of anchor to the week's work. It's a time without deadlines or clients, a time when you can practice without worry. It's fun, and when the weather cooperates painting or drawing outside can be a sublime pleasure. 

"With the Saturday Sketchers," ink and watercolor on paper

This year's times outside have been great times of observation and thought, and mostly cooperative weather. After November 1, though, the weather inevitably turns cool, the skies close in, and winter lumbers in. I'm hoping to go out a few or times before cold reality arrives.

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The Saturday Sketchers

 

A "New" Gentileschi

Nothing we make can last forever. A teacher of mine often said that most of our paintings won't live longer than we do. Another told me that even now, after a career of several decades as a painter, he discards about forty percent of his paintings. So the longevity of our paintings and sculptures may be short. That's no reason to employ shoddy materials nor to ignore proven methods. Although most artwork dies with us, the remainder should still be durable and permanent enough to last. Those ideas came to mind with the discovery of a centuries-old lost work by Artemesia Gentileschi (1593-1656) being widely reported in the last few days. According to news reports the mis-identified painting was damaged severely in an explosion and will require a great deal of restoration.

Artemisia Gentileschi, "Susanna and the Elders," 1610

I posted about the painter and her work a couple of years ago. Briefly, she was one of the most successful painters in Europe during the early 17th century. Ms. Gentileschi was born in Rome and trained under the tutelage of her father Orazio, himself a very successful and well-known painter. Her natural aptitude meant that she mastered oil painting while still in her teens. "Susanna and the Elders" (right) dates to her 17th year. The composition, draftsmanship, drapery and cloaks, fluid figural and facial gestures plus her clear mastery of color demonstrate her skills. The influence of Caravaggio (a contemporary of her father) is evident, too.

Not long after she painted Susanna and the Elders Ms. Gentileschi was attacked by a man who worked in her father's studio, and raped. Her father had the man prosecuted (which is why the story is known). She married a painter from Florence not long after and moved there after the trial. Her career there was so successful she was the first woman admitted to the prestigious Accademia delle Arti del Disegno. She moved to Rome after about a decade, where her career continued to flourish. Besides Rome she later lived and worked in Venice, and in England at the invitation of King Charles I (her father was court painter at the time). 

Damaged Gentileschi painting--note the huge tear across and over Hercules' knee (photo: NY Times)

Neglected for a long period, her work has become considerably more popular over the last century. Now, a painting known as "Hercules and Omphale" is being authenticated as one of her works. Previously considered work of an unknown, the 6'x8' work suffered significant damage in the huge explosion in Beirut a few years ago. It had hung in a nearby mansion for many years. Today the work is undergoing extensive restoration at the Getty in Los Angeles. Already, many glass fragments have been removed (it was near a window) and stabilization, repair of tears up to 20 inches long, relining, filling losses and relining must be completed before the work is retouched. It will likely require several years' work. There are only about 60 known works by this incredible master.

Vastness

Long ago, when I was an undergraduate (the 1960s) I met a man who had been one of the very first to settle on the open western plains. Before his family plowed that patch of prairie under, it had been grassland with tops as tall as a man and more. There were still abundant wildlife, antelope and deer, (buffalo were long gone) but you only saw them when they jumped higher than the grass. He said that from the seat of a horse-drawn wagon the grasses were like waves of the ocean, rippling green and shining into the sunlit distance. Those ancient prairies and grasslands are mostly gone now, but remnants survive in parts of the Whiterock Conservancy. Oak savanna is a prairie-like landscape dotted with copses of oak trees. At the Conservancy you can imagine the immensity, the ocean-like vastness, that once was. 

"Oak Savanna, Whiterock," oil on panel, 12x16

 

Autumn

There's been a hard frost here in Iowa, but otherwise the weather has been seasonal, with cooling temperatures. Besides that the light changes, slanting lower across the sky and lighting up changing foliage. Autumn is the time for one last burst of vibrant life before the skies come down and the landscape goes grey. 

"Fall Finale," oil on canvas, 18x24

"Fall Finale" is a view of one of my favorite painting places, Gray's Lake. The lineup of trees along the north point go bright orange when the weather changes.

Whiterock Watercolor

While consolidating photos and files of my time at Whiterock Conservancy I chanced on a forgotten watercolor sketch. During my first week or so there I did a few small watercolors in addition to plein air oil paintings. This particular painting is of the Middle Raccoon River just downstream from the River House. The morning sun was on both banks but the river flowed dark as coffee under the far bluff. Later on there will likely be a studio oil of the same motif.

"Downstream," watercolor on paper, about 8x10

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Whiterock Morning 

Whiterock Residency

Plein Air at Whiterock

 

Travel

It's difficult to take along an array of oil paint and brushes when traveling. You can check paint and materials when flying (no solvents though), but besides the hassle of flying you have to find a way to get the wet paintings home. Watercolor doesn't present those difficulties. For one thing, no solvent besides water is needed and for another the entire setup including a sketchbook or block of watercolor paper can be slipped into a carry on bag or into checked luggage. For years, I've carried watercolors with me when traveling.

"Arch of Septimius Severus, Rome," 1999

       "Seattle Street," 2013

                                                  

"Omaha Summer Arts Festival," 2013

"La Rambla, Barcelona," 2017

As you can see, we've been fortunate to travel quite a lot before the pandemic. Since then not so much. Regardless, whenever we go I take my watercolors.

Autumn Light

Every year I look forward to the light of October and November. The sun is lowering in the sky daily and the twilight lingers a bit. If the weather cooperates with clear skies we can experience those golden minutes as the sun touches places where it's usually excluded. The bright slanting sunshine lights up the land and water for a painter. 

"Gray's Lake, Autumn" is the result of an outdoor painting excursion nearly a year ago. I often paint outdoors at the lake. It's convenient and provides a myriad of views. In this case I was interested in how the morning light touched the wildflowers along the western shore of the lake. The water was deeply reflective at that time of day, too, but very still and smooth. The season was very early--trees just turning yellow here and there, but the grasses were going dormant and wildflower seed heads were full.

"Gray's Lake, Autumn," oil on panel 12x9

Figures

The human figure has been a subject for artists since prehistory. Figures in cave art have now been dated to more than 40,000 years ago, suggesting that the human form has been central to image making since the human species has existed. 

Figurative work has been a small part of my painting output for a number of years. Here is a selection of figures from a few years ago, exploring human figures and relationships in a nearly monochromatic palette.

"Just Leave," oil on panel, 12x12

"Nocturne," oil on panel, 12x12

"Stormy Day," oil on canvas, 24x18

"Goodbye, oil on panel, 16x20

 

Two Trees

"Out Back," oil on panel

Like many before me, I return again and again to certain subjects. Andrew Wyeth, for example, painted the nearby Kuerner farm dozens of times during his career. Claude Monet is known for his series of haystacks. Francis Bacon painted several images of Pope Innocent X in his "Screaming Popes" series. 

In my own practice, a pair of unlikely trees have been one of my series. Just out the window of my home studio is Druid Hill Creek, and beyond that a small woods. Two trees with contrasting sizes stand before the others, often more brightly lighted. Over the years most of the pictures I've done of the two trees have been paintings--oil and watercolor. Here are a handful.

"Blue Spruce," oil on panel

"Across the Creek," watercolor on paper

"Foliage," watercolor on paper

"The Other Bank," oil on panel