Looking Back

This is a good time of year to review previous work. The winter is over and spring is warming the countryside, so it won't be long until most painting time will be outdoors. Thinking of the plein air year to come, I've looked through some of last year's work. 

"Adirondacks," oil on panel, 12x9

This view of a peaceful little lake in the Adirondack Mountains is an outdoor work from a retreat I attended there last June. We painted two or three (sometimes more) small plein air works every day for a week. It was a fine event, full of new friendships and lots of inspiration from the beauty of the mountains and the quality of the work. 

"Upstream," oil on panel, 9x12

Later in the summer while spending time with friends in Virginia I had time to paint the view from their front yard--a placid river. Like so many of my outdoor works it's on a standard size canvas panel that fits my pochade box. The canvas is glued to a Gatorfoam board (a kind of styrofoam sandwich) that is very light and easily portable. Another plein air work of the same locale, "Across the River" (below) became the basis for a much larger studio work over the winter. The woods on the opposite bank glow brightly near sunset.

"Across the River," oil on panel, 9x12

Reviewing past work is useful because it jogs my memory and brings more possibilities to mind, both for upcoming outdoor work and new studio pieces.

Unvanquished

"Invictus 2020," oil on canvas, 36x18

As noted elsewhere on this blog, cities are where the majority live today, both in this country and in the world as a whole. So although plein air landscapes and studio landscapes have occupied a great deal of my time lately, cities haven't been far from my thoughts.

"Invictus 2020" is a recent cityscape that celebrates how the United States and New York City were able to transcend the covid pandemic. Invictus, of course, is Latin for unconquered. This large studio work was inspired by a 10x8 oil sketch of the famous Chrysler building that I had called "Invictus," and painted to celebrate how Manhattan had overcome the attacks of September 11, 2001. In that time, before the pandemic, the attack was likely the biggest trauma and challenge faced by New York. I wanted to comment on how well the city was responding to the pandemic but wanted to set this work apart from the earlier one.

 

 

 

 

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Related:

 Cityscapes

 Cities Full of People

AAPL Spring Show

About a year ago I was honored to become an Elected Artist Member of the American Artists Professional League (AAPL). With that election came the opportunity to exhibit with other professionals in the League, both online and in person. These days, even though the pandemic seems to be waning, opportunities to exhibit work virtually is a plus. 

Not long ago I was notified of acceptance of a piece previously posted here several times, "The Golden Hour," into the AAPL Spring Members Show (click the link to view it on my website). This particular work has also recently been featured in a Salgmagundi Club exhibit in New York. It's a view of a Virginia river during that fleeting moment when the sun sinks to the horizon and sets the world aglow. This one is an oil. 

"By the Creek," casein on Bristol,

In contrast, "By the Creek," which was my first acceptance to an AAPL show, was done in casein, an unusual medium today that reminds many of acylic because it is water-based and dries like lightning. 

"Fall on the River," casein on Bristol

Another favorite casein of mine is "Fall on the River," which was actually done outdoors an not in the studio. In this case my intent was to abstract the shapes and colors as much as possible, with less attention to detail. Perhaps I'll do some more plein air casein work this summer.
 

Watercolor Wanderings

One of my habits when traveling is making watercolor postcards to mail home to friends and family. The time and expense involved is minimal and recipients seem happy with them, so I've kept up the practice for years. 

"Schefflera Sunset," watercolor postcard ca. 2000

This particular postcard was one of my first watercolor postcards, decades ago, and unpublished until now. The second postcard, below, is from a vacation in souithern France, also long ago. Whatever these works lack in finish is offset somewhat by spontaneity and chutzpah. Regardless, they keep me working while traveling and provide something that friends back home like to receive. The foreign postage and cancellation and the personal paintings are an important part of the pieces, too. Several of these are framed and hang happily in various places.

"The Yellow Cafe, Arles," watercolor postcard, 2012

 

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Related:

Travel Postcards 

Postcard Travelogue

Sketches of Spain 

Memory of Washington

As mentioned in several previous posts, one of my winter-spring studio rituals is searching out and reviewing previous work. Sometimes that means dusting off older sketchbooks or even resurrecting drawings or paintings that have somehow been shuffled to the bottom of several stacks of such materials. So this week I found a watercolor sketchbook full of drawings and ink and wash paintings of a visit to Redmond, Washington. 

The area around Seattle, including eastern suburban communities like Redmond, is mostly forested with evergreens of several kinds. For someone like me from the Midwest, the backdrop of spruces, and the like is jarring at first. This sketch, from 2009, was done one dawn in a pocket sketchbook that I carried back then. The tall, tall trees against a different sunrise than we see in Iowa made this one a "keeper."

The basis for the sketch was actually an ink drawing of the trees and underlying foliage. I overlaid wide washes of "dirty" sky colors and then mixed a dark, cool array of greens for the evergreen boughs and underlying shadows.

Bottles and Light

Although the past several years of my painting interests have involved painting water and light, among other things, it is light that forms the thread of my works. A few years back it was glass and light in still life works. The real fascination for me is what happens as light encounters either of those two. Water and glass alike can transmit, reflect, and refract light. Their perceived appearance in fact depends heavily on the angle of incident light, too. 

"Winter Bottles," oil on panel, 8x10

"Winter Bottles" is a good example of how light can seem trapped inside a glass container. I saw this on my work table one winter afternoon and quickly painted it. The light was bright but indirect but somehow a small bottle of linseed oil seemed to possess a hidden glow.

New Fall Landscape

Although the spring season is moving along, damp and cold weather plus other circumstances have kept me in the studio. It's a good time of year for making more finished landscapes, like "Fall on the River," below.

"Fall on the River," oil on wood panel, 9x12

The setting of this painting is a bank of the Raccoon River. The river meanders and winds through lowlands not far from my studio, making it a constant target of opportunity. This painting is based on plein air sketches from early last fall as well as much personal observation. In the distance, sunlight is reflected onto the woods and rock of the bank as the river turns. Trees along here that change early in the fall seem to fade from green to yellow-green before going golden. The sky begins to look a bit colder, but summer isn't finished just yet.

Rainy Day at the Dome

About a month ago the sketch group dwindled in the face of cold, dreary conditions to only a handful. Thinking that the weather might close in, we made our way to the domed Des Moines Botanical Center, a wonderful melange of indoor specimens under the dome and extensive outdoor gardens. The Greater Des Moines Botanical Garden (to use it's official name) opened as the domed Botanical Center in 1979 and now has grown to a much larger facility, but the dome remains the centerpiece. 

The dome seemed a good choice that day. Dark clouds boiled along the northwest horizon, across the Des Moines River, as we went inside. No sooner had we ducked into the humid interior but a violent thunderstorm exploded overhead, complete with thunder and lightning. We settled on a balcony that overlooks a tangled mass of tropical vegetation that includes several species of palm trees, including banana palms, orchids, ferns, and much more. It's a wonderful and warm refuge during the cold months. 

"Under the Dome," watercolor on paper

With a cup of hot tea to warm up, I made this watercolor sketch in the usual order. That is, graphite layout sketch, then large masses of color, then details, then ink lines for definition. Several other groups of people were there, one woman on her computer. The ribs of the geodesic dome and the translucent panels made an interesting backdrop for the selection of figures I decided to include. The mini-jungle protrudes above the balcony railing. The blurred and unfocused outdoors was one of the challenges that made me want to do this one. 

Watercolor is a great choice for sketching on the fly, whether indoors or out. You can carry a little half-pan palette, a pencil, tech pen and brush in one pocket. And of course water is readily available, though I also like to use a waterbrush.

Rummaging

Sometimes when searching for older works, studies, scraps, and sketches I run across works that somehow escaped my notice. That's where this watercolor came in--"Up North" is at least 20 years old and maybe older, but somehow the particulars about the piece have disappeared. It's about 8x10 on cold press watercolor paper but undated. After a brief search I found the original in storage and it's now in my studio. I wonder what else I've forgotten?

"Up North," watercolor on paper, 8x10

Salmagundi Spring Auction

The Salmagundi Club, a New York art institution, holds a members auction in spring and fall every year. This year I'm happy to have two of my pieces selected for the show. Each is a studio landscape based on plein air studies and references. "The Golden Hour" is a spot along a pristine river in Virginia, just as the summer sunset begins to light up the woods and water. "Upstream, October," is Druid Hill Creek early last fall, before many of the trees had begun to change, allowing yellow-green light to filter across the water and rocks. Each will be auctioned at the club during the second session (and simultaneously online via  LiveAuctioneers, where you can see all of the available art). The club makes bidding remotely quite simple, and the auction is a chance for people worldwide to see the members' works. 

"The Golden Hour," oil on panel 16x20

"Upstream, October," oil on panel, 14x11

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The works in the links above are on display now through April 9 at the Salmagundi Club, 47 5th Avenue, in Manhattan.

Saturday Sketch Safari

The weather has begun to turn sufficiently so that a few more sketchers turned out for the Saturday sketch group's weekly safari. 

March 19, 2022, watercolor, 7x10

Here in Des Moines the trees are bare, most grasses yellow to brown and dry. Here and there, along watercourses, networks of spindly honeysuckle are tipping toward green. And where the slope faces southwest, grasses are greening. Like the just-ending colder months, early spring features subtlety in colors. Most of the group painted in Greenwood Park, which is just south of the Art Center and features woods, water, an amphitheater, and other amenities. Besides, it was in the lee of the woods and sunny. You can get trapped into detail, so I consciously scrubbed out big shapes of colors, each slightly different, then added figures and ink details. I worked quickly because it was a little cold. 

Sketch, 3-19-22, 14x5

After packing up to leave it seemed a shame to go away before taking one more look. I sat down on a bench and sketched a tall, bare tree that loomed overhead. Mostly this was a pencil drawing that I finished and accented with ink and watercolor. 

Because of the height of the tree and the smaller size of the sketchbook I chose, it was necessary to lap from one page onto another. The red color of the woods in the background is invented--the color was more a warm grey. Trees are wonderful sketch material. I return to them again and again. 

After finishing, we met at a local cafe, where I rewarded myself with a Philly cheesesteak.

Memory of the State Fair

Back before the pandemic, I often painted outdoors at the Iowa State Fairgrounds here in Des Moines. Although many of those works are gone, I ran across one of the Agriculture Building, which stands along the Grand Concourse. It's the venue for all kinds of competitions during the Fair, from bonsai to produce judging. And inside, there's an upper balcony that's great fun to visit at fair time. The painting below is the result of two or three plein air sessions in early autumn. The viewpoint is actually along a sidewalk in the demonstration garden area that's run by the Master Gardeners association and is a high point of the grounds all summer.

Untitled, oil on panel, 14x11

There have been many beautiful outdoor venues closed these last couple of years, but I'm hoping they will be able to welcome visitors this year at last.

The Snows of 2022 (so far)

January and February are statistically the snowiest months here, but every year feels record-setting anymore and this one is no different. As it happens, snowfall has been about average overall, but January did set a record with almost 19 inches. For the past several years one of my regular winter practices is watercolor sketching from my studio window, sometimes daily, and I've continued that practice, albeit at a somewhat slower pace. Still, I've managed a few winter watercolors and here are three for 2022. 

January 2, After a Big Snow

As the written notation says, this watercolor was painted January 2 after a big snowfall on New Years Day. The day was bright, winter-hazy with enough sun to cast oblique shadows across Druid Hill Creek. When painting these watercolor journal entries I often omit details or entire passages of the actual view, as in this work. Most of the woods on the west side of the creek are absent, as are a lot of them on the east. As is often the case, though, the creek is framed by two trees. This work began as a rough drawing with a warm-colored watercolor pencil. I added the watercolor, then inked a few crucial details. 

February 27, Another Snowfall

In this painting from February 27, my note indicated a total of 6 inches of snow fell that final week of the month. We had already had several inches earlier, sending our total to the higher side of usual. This painting from February 25 shows how the tree colors grow warmer and brighten as the days lengthen, even though they still throw inky shadows across the frozen creek. This is an afternoon view, with the distant trees in full sunshine while the creek bed is shaded darkly. This wider view is a more satisfying one for me, but requires more than a single page of the sketchbook. Leaving the right-hand tree half-finished was a deliberate attempt to keep the viewers' gaze deeper into the shadowy distance. 

March 7, Five Inches

The last watercolor (so far) for this year shows yet another post-snowfall scene, this time from about a week ago. Feather-light snow sifted down for hours that day, probably more than had been forecast, but the temperatures remained high enough that the creek stayed open though ice-rimmed and mounded up by the snow. At this time of year, already meteorological spring, the color changes in the trees and branches become more pronounced almost daily (see the paintings above), and even the temperature of the light is warmer. Still, the icy fist of winter wouldn't relax for at least another week.

One of the attractions for me of painting winter is the opportunity to study the subtle yet wide range of colors in what are seemingly dull and nondescript scenes. The challenge of looking long and then carefully turning reality into paint is a continuing pleasure. And these watercolors provide a fascinating and immediate record.
 

Casein Again

This past year or so I've neglected casein paint in favor of oils and watercolor. But as the seasons change I've been thinking about taking it up once again. Casein paint, for those who aren't familiar with it, is made from milk protein (casein) that has been emulsified. It's a wonderful medium that dries matte and therefore photographs well. It dries like lightning, too, making it a go-to illustrators' paint. I've written about it before but it's been a couple of years. 

In preparation for coming back to some casein painting (again), I rummaged through my files and found "On the Sound," (below) a studio casein done on Bristol board in 2020. The painting is based on reference photos I shot from a sailboat on Puget Sound several years back. Seascapes are a personal pleasure--I've never offered them for sale--done for my own edification. This particular work represents studies of color, composition, and the paint itself. It's around 24x16.

"On the Sound (Dropping the Spinnaker)," casein on Bristol.

Later this year I'm going to take my casein box outdoors and see what happens.

Shady Street

Although the weather continues to be an issue here in flyover land, work can always continue in the studio. This winter has been particularly busy, with a half dozen or so new studio paintings coming along. This view of a residential street in autumn is fresh off the easel. It is a 9x12 oil on panel, inspired by the lowering autumn sunlight and the way changing leaves can light up like lanterns. In a tree-lined neighborhood the contrasts between light and dark, warm colors and cool, superimposed on the geometric shapes of streets and sidewalks, the patterns become intriguing. 

"Down the Block," oil on panel, 9x12

 

Thumbnails

Using a tiny to small preliminary sketch is routine for many painters. It's useful both in the studio and elsewhere because 1)a preliminary essay of the subject helps solve composition, value patterns and so on and 2)it allows the painter to study his subject in the same way many paint: large shapes to small, broad value patterns first, without fussiness or too much attention to any details. Using a small size assures that details simply can't be included. 

In my own practice some works begin that way--small thumbnails--but usually not to work out an already planned composition. Instead a quick, small sketch can just be exploratory. Do I really want to paint this particular view or subject?  Many times these small studies aren't all that small at 8x10 or so, but sometimes I make much smaller ones, usually on little gesso panels. For example, below is a study for a possible landscape with a figure. The idea is from a video freeze frame, considerably modified. The painting is relatively tiny at 4x6 inches, or about the size of a postcard. (Depending on your monitor, it may be shown larger than the original.) The palette was relatively limited to yellow ochre, lemon yellow, cerulean, raw umber and white. Although there is little to no detail, the main ideas for a larger work are there. Because of the small size the sketch/study was finished in perhaps ten minutes. 

"Rainy Coast (study)," oil on panel, 4x6

By the way, my choice of gesso panel for many of these is because I have dozens of these small pieces of gessoed hardboard, picked up from a manufacturer when he quit business. These "drops" as they're called were inexpensive leftovers from production of larger panels. You could as easily use small, inexpensive canvas panels, pieces of illustration board, or other rigid supports. It really doesn't matter.

"Canoeing (study)," oil on panel, 3x5

Here is another recent sketch/study, even smaller at 3x5. In this case, "Canoeing" was done from a magnified snapshot taken some years back. In the case of this really tiny painting, there were two broad interests. The first was the color combinations of yellows and greens with the single, nearly centered red and the second was the overall composition, with heavy bankside foliage opposite and a near and overlapping set of branches (barely indicated) and embracing the canoes. This color oil sketch occupied no more than five minutes but captured those two interests reasonably well.

Studio Landscape

This time of year when changeable weather and roller-coaster temperatures are the norm, much of my time is spent on studio work. One of the advantages of painting en plein air is the chance to study various locales, the colors and values and so on. The information captured in outdoor sketches comprises notations of the reality of the subject. Those notations plus any other studies or photos can be used to make larger works in the warmth of the studio. But sometimes a painting comes only from a reference photo, like "Cascade" (below).

"Cascade," oil on panel, 9x12

"Cascade" is a spring tumbling over rocks and into a larger stream somewhere in the eastern United States. The painting is based on a freeze frame captured from an online video. The interest here is the varying textures as well as reflectivity and transparency There is also a play of edges in various places that I used to show depth. This is now available on my website and is part of my current solo exhibition here in Iowa.

February

February 2018

These last days of February seem to last longer than they are. There are days of grinding cold here in Iowa, punctuated by a day or two of sunny warmth, then more days of gray sky and sweeping wind. Snow sometimes falls heavily.  In 2018, snow was disappearing, color was coming into the big bluestem along Druid Hill Creek, and the remainder of the month was seasonable. 

February 2019

On the other hand, the following year the snow covered the banks and drifted deep over the frozen creek. Nonetheless, this time of year the light changes and goes a little more golden. Like hope in times of travail. We would need it. The pandemic followed.

February 2020

Then in 2020, at the height of the covid crisis, though the light was warm on the frozen trees and land, the snow was as deep as it had ever been. 

This year the pandemic seems to be less a raging fire and more and more an evolving aftermath. The news is more encouraging as case numbers and deaths decline. It's tempting to declare the pandemic finished, but one suspects and fears a return. In the meantime, the light goes more golden and the earth warms. The season creeps forward as do we all.

Camille Pissarro Exhibition

Camille Pissarro, "Self Portrait," 1903

This week in the Guardian there was a notice of a new exhibition at the Ashmoleon Museum in Oxford, England, devoted to Camille Pissarro (1830-1903), a neglected member of the Impressionist group that included Monet, Renoir and Degas among other luminaries. Known to his fellow painters as Father Pissarro because he was a decade older (Monet was born in 1840), Camille Pissarro did seem to be a kind of paternal presence for at least some of his contemporaries. Unlike his younger contemporaries, he had abundant life experiences, having been born in the tropics, and lived in South America. After moving the Paris in the 1850s he met Claude Monet and Paul Cezanne. He was later tutored by Camille Corot (1796-1875), who inspired him to paint outdoors. Other early influences were Courbet and Millet.

Although he worked and was influenced by a number of the early group and post-impressionist painters too, unlike them he painted out of his interest in the reality of his subjects, without prettifying. That is, he painted subjects that were decidedly noncommercial such as barges, butchers, and sometimes confusing landscapes. He was an idealist and a role model. One of the concepts he espoused to his younger colleagues was to finish the work outdoors, confronting the subject. 

"Farm at Montfoucault in Snow," ca.1875

"Pond at Montfoucault," 1874

Mr. Pissarro has most commonly taken a back row seat in the pantheon of his times, but this new exhibition, running February 18 to June 22 of this year, provides a wealth of his work and others. The object is to demonstrate his centrality and influence. In another way, the exhibition gives us a painter whose work reflects that of his friends and peers. In work from the Impressionist period, his work can resemble that of Claude Monet, as in "Pond at Montfoucault" and "Farm at Montfoucault," (above). A decade or so later it is pointillism, and his friendship and studies with Georges Seurat and Paul Signac that as in "The Apple Harvest," and "View from my Window," (below). Both of these are featured in the exhibition and on the Ashmoleon website.

"The Apple Harvest in Eragny," 1887

"View from my Window, Eragny," 1888

Later he would return to a more realistic style, and painted with a more subtle but knowing touch. His work deserves more attention, and this exhibition provides it. Alas, I will not be able to attend. An exhibition catalog has been published.

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Ashmoleon Pissarro Exhibition

Outdoor Itch

Here in the upper Midwest we don't count on springtime's arrival until March, but even so, warm days set my fingers itching to be outside painting. December and January were cold, and the first half of February too. But a few days above freezing, some sunshine, and plein air beckons. The last time I managed some time outside was the first day of December. It was cold, and windy, but the air was crystalline and trees along the river were still holding colorful foliage. Th bright sun made them glow.

"North of the Park," oil on panel, 9x12

This particular spot is by the Raccoon River, just north of Gray's Lake. As usual, I toned the panel with a thin wash of burnt sienna, then sketched the composition with the same color. In my experience the best way forward after lay-in is to block big masses of color, then smaller and smaller ones as the picture is refined. In particular I try hard not to focus too closely on minute details in any one place until the time comes for a few tiny strokes at the end.