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

Water

Considering that it's transparent, water has a myriad of appearances. Because of its transparency, water reveals much. But when light strikes water at some angles the result is reflection--blue water is actual a reflection of the sky. Still water looks completely different from moving water. The ceaseless ocean has even more variations. 

My own studies of the qualities of water--especially flowing rivers--continues. In "Middle Raccoon," a studio work completed while I was at Whiterock, the river was flowing smooth and slow, leaving its surface a flat mirror of the deep sky. Along the banks of the river wildflowers were blooming in a riot of yellows and mauve-red. Although this was painted from photo references it was also based on hours of contemplation in peace and serenity. The only sounds were a gentle rustle of leaves and birdsong.

Hoff, "Middle Raccoon," oil on panel, 11x14

This particular painting will be offered on my website in a few days, so check there for new works--www.garyhoff.com

Whiterock Morning

While I was at Whiterock Conservancy, my constant view was a hill just across the Middle Raccoon River from the River House, where I lived. Most mornings I sat on the vast porch that faces westerly, watching the light crawl down that hill, lighting the riotous wildflowers along the river. This plein air piece was done from that viewpoint, although outdoors, in two late morning sessions. 

Hoff, "Whiterock Morning," oil on panel, 9x12

The experience of spending time confronting and considering a subject was invaluable, and the surroundings were sublime. 

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Whiterock Residency

Plein Air at Whiterock 

 

At the Park

During my residency at Whiterock, I facilitated three sessions of plein air painting, two at the conservancy and one at the Fort Des Moines Park. During those sessions I attempted to demonstrate a beginning and finish a small oil in the time allotted--about three hours. The site is one of the smaller parks in Des Moines and it's less visited too, even on a Saturday, when we painted there. Lack of rain during much of the month of August had driven grasses to yellow-brown dormancy but the trees still wore their deep summer greens. Along the banks low greenery still flourished. The small lake was placid, the breeze cooling, and distant music brought a smile.

Hoff, "Near Sunset, Ft. Des Moines," oil on panel, 9x12

A weather front threatened by the time this one was finished, The lowering sun caught the coming cloud tops. I managed to finish the painting in time to stay dry in the bargain.

Details

A useful tool for a painter to practice or advance skills is sketching. In particular, sketching small things like leaves, stones, branches and boles of trees. It isn't so much that each of these things must be drawn or painted with exactness. It is simply that it's difficult to accentuate, or deviate, unless you understand the shape being imitated. A good example is drawing or painting trees. A beginning painter will often encounter the advice to make the tree's foliage look like solid chunks of matter--balls or fluted vases or whatever and not try to draw each leaf or branch or twig. That is, suggestion is a more potent indicator of the world than tiny tiny details. Still it helps to understand structures. 

Hoff, "Study--opposite bank," iPad sketch

In "Opposite Bank," from 2019 I used an iPad and Procreate to simulate a drawing done with a soft graphite pencil. As you can see, the masses of leaves are treated as big solids, though here and there I gave in to the temptation to render leaves too. The grasses are also treated as masses and not individual stems. Knowing how this tree branches and how its smaller twigs end in the mass of leaves is a critical piece of detail  information. 

 

Hoff, "Before the Snow," wc on paper, ~5x9

The intrinsic shape of trees varies by species and type, and knowing the variations can help even when there are no leaf masses. Sometimes in late autumn through very early spring an artist is called on to make and image of leafless woods. In "Druid Hill Creek Before the Snow" (above) there are vague washes of color indicating bare branches in the far distance, against a blue-grey sky. Instead of trying to render distant branches I washed in massed color and then drew branches here and there delineated various stands of woods. Knowing the trees' intrinsic structure, a crucial detail, helped make this watercolor believeable. 

Hoff, "Across the River (plein air)," oil on panel, 9x12

In "Across the River," above, although details, again are missing in nearly every passage, this painting again demonstrates the importance of understanding them. 

Winold Reiss

The information age is wonderful Wide-ranging forays into the Internet turn up jewels among the offal. Time after time the 'net shows me new and really wonderful artists that I've never known about. The latest was Winold Reiss (1886-1953), a German-born painter and graphic designer. Like many he was successful and well-known while he lived but has faded into obscurity since his death. After reading a bit about his life I spent some time with his images. This is an artist who deserves to be remembered. Luckily, the New York Historical Society is currently exhibiting a wonderful collection of his works.

Hoff "Winold Reiss, ca. 1930" digital

Mr. Reiss was born in Germany into an artistic family. His father Fritz Reiss was a successful landscape painter and Winold's first teacher. Eventually Mr. Reiss attended the Royal Academy of Fine Arts, in Munich and the School of Applied Arts, also there. His training was therefore in both fine arts and in graphic design and it served him well. In 1913 Mr. Reiss came to New York City, where he settled permanently One of his most intense interests was ethnic portraits. He visited Montana and the remnants of the Blackfoot tribe, both surviving elders and younger generations, and painted several hundred portraits. He also traveled in Mexico where he painted revolutionaries--mostly indios. In addition he was a teacher at the Art Students League as well as founding his own schools and teaching studio. 

Much of Mr. Reiss' graphic work was ephemeral, published in periodicals that have also faded away, and much of his portrait work is in private collections. So far as I can tell, no exhibition or retrospective of his oeuvre has taken place either. I've done a bit of searching online and found a few well-known works and some that show his amazing skills.

Particularly interesting is his sketch of a male model with hands on his hips, gazing to his right. It reminds me strongly of Holbein, perhaps because of the pose but more likely because of the attitude depicted in the sitter's expression.

During the second half of the 1920s Mr. Reiss made a number of portraits of Harlem Renaissance, hired by the social welfare journal Survey Graphic. Later on he illustrated an anthology of Harlem Renaissance writings. Perhaps his most famous portrait from those days is Langston Hughes (below), but he made portraits of a number of others, including Zora Neal Hurston. 

The New York exhibition of Mr Reiss' works at the New York Historical Society will be on display until October (link below) that would merit a visit but alas I will not be able to attend. 

"Langston Hughes," 1925

"Zora Neil Hurston," 1925

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Turtle," 1920

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Exhibition Links:

Winold Reiss: An Immigrant Modernist (NY Historical Society)

Artwork of Winold Reiss (CM Russell Museum)

Hirscl and Adler exhibition 2018

A Saturday Watercolor

Back in June the Saturday sketch group made our way to Waterworks Park to draw. The afternoon was grey and felt damp, but the group is seldom discouraged by weather. But by the time I was motoring along in the park fat droplets were hitting the windshield. The rain sputtered, starting and stopping, sometimes a brief shower but mostly just drips and drops. It didn't look promising, but I pulled off the park road at a pedestrian/bike bridge (actually an old, converted railroad bridge).

Although painting in the car isn't a favorite of mine, I spent about ninety minutes making a sketch of the bridge, a steel framed trestle that must date back nearly a century. It spans the Raccoon and the bike trail goes off into wild growth woods to the north before winding its way to a city park a few miles away. The open structure was a fun challenge. 

"Waterworks Park Bridge," wc on paper, about 6x9

Digital Dailies

Drawing every day is a discipline that I probably wouldn't have adopted without digital equipment. Like most codgers of my generation and background, drawing, to me, involved marks on paper or perhaps parchment. Drawing produced tangible results--you could hold the drawing in your hands, smell the ink (or smear it!). But daily drawing with traditional materials required a certain degree of preparation, appropriate pencils or drawing implements, and so on. Digital drawing seemed promising. It is considerably more convenient--computer on, program booted, draw. No cleanup. Save and power down. 

But digital drawing requires learning a completely new tool, a new tool that is not simple nor easily employed without significant commitment. Depending on the computer program, the platform (PC vs. Apple), drawing tablet, and more, it may take months to years to advance one's traditional drawing skills into the new medium.
 

My current equipment is a PC with a Wacom display tablet. I run several different programs on my desktop, including Sketchbook and Paint. These digital drawings were all done using that setup. 

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Related Posts:

A Digital Habit

Daily Digitalia

Reflections on the Residency

My stint as Artist in Residence at the Whiterock Conservancy here in central Iowa ended nearly a week ago. Three weeks living and working there were in many ways a personal retreat. With only drawing, painting, looking (seeing) and the small tasks of day-to-day living, the world seems to expand. The Conservancy is about six or seven square miles of preserved and/or restored lands, and my quarters were about in the center. The terrain is varied, from the valley and wetlands of the Middle Raccoon River, to now-rare oak savanna, to the rolling prairies that most of us associate with Iowa. The land has been husbanded and restored, with much of the area surrounding the river growing undisturbed for hundreds of years. In short, paradise for a landscape painter. Beyond the beauty of the scenery, the peace and serenity at The River House is incomparable. The sounds of the planet are audible there--the call of a catbird, a distant barking of a night-traveling coyote, a faint bovine bawl. And the darkness down by the river is nearly total, so that the stars blaze at night.

With such riches surrounding me, it was easy to abandon much of my electronic connection to the world. No television and no radio, little attention to social media, and fewer references to email meant much time for thought, observation, and even a kind of meditation. It is rare in many lives to have such an opportunity--to simply "be" and live in the moment. The residency was an eye-opening, remarkable experience, a true gift. 

Hoff, "Middle Raccoon, Whiterock," wc on paper

As a plein air enthusiast, it was difficult for me to decide whether to load up my gear in the ATV or paint in the small studio, so in the end my output was through both, which is ideal. This land is as it always was, festooned with yellow coneflowers, Queen Anne lace, several kinds of sunflower, Joe Pye weed, and more. The effect is big drifts of color along the banks of the river. The oil below was done in the studio, based on a watercolor study (right) and personal photos.

Hoff, "Riverbank," oil on panel, 11x14

I did a number of plein air works  too. Across the river from the barn a rounded hill looms, topped by old dark oaks. It slopes up to the northwest, and is covered by tall grasses. Perhaps the bluff was cleared and farmed once, but for whatever reason there is a meadow at the top, fronting the oaks. The lay of the land means its appearance changes a lot during the day. It was an interesting exercise to paint the scene at different times.  

The echoes of the residency will no doubt sound through my work for the next weeks and months. 

The Ashcan School

In the early 20th century, a motley group of illustrators and painters began producing realistic paintings mostly depicting the common city people going about their daily affairs. Their styles were similar but varied as were their social and political views. Nonetheless, these artists wanted to tell the truth of city life as they saw it--that is, they believed art should be like journalism. The eldest of them, Robert Henri (1865–1929) was probably the best known. Influenced by the poetry of Whitman, whose rough works celebrated the common man, Mr. Henri believe that art of his time should explore the lives of cities and working class people. The painters shared a fascination with subject matter, not technique or materials or even style. They produced works that were darker in palette and darker in social terms. The hard truths of modern city life appear in many of their works--prostitutes, street kids, the subways, boxers, and more.

John Sloan, "McSorley's Bar," 1912

William Glackens, "At Mouquin's" 1908

 Many works by Ashcan School painters were less finished, sketchier and more gestural, with juicy, vigorous brushwork. Although they painted the common people, Ashcan painters also did well by the upper classes. William Glackens' most famous work "At Mouquin's," gives us a peek into an upscale New York eatery of the time. The wife of the proprietor is the lady but the man is a wealthy playboy.

George Bellows, "Stag at Sharkey's," 1909

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the more brutal examples of Ashcan works is "Stag at Sharkey's," by George Bellows (1882-1925). Two club boxers, clashing in a private club, glisten with sweat in center ring, slashing punches and elbows at one another as grotesque spectators crowd ringside. Bellows' brushwork features quick, thick strokes and hides the fighters' faces, emphasizing the anonymous brutality.

Works by the painters linked below are justly famous or well-known, but movements in the "art world" were diverging from representational art and realism in favor of cubism, abstraction, fauvism, and a host of movements. Nonetheless, these painters and their works repay study.

 

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Robert Henri

John Sloan

William Glackens 

George Bellows

George Luks

Everett Shinn 

A Very Old Sketch

In other postings I've mentioned my process of reviewing previous works, mostly as a way to look at past techniques and accomplishments. It's also a way to gauge how skills and ideas change over time. So here is a really old sketch I ran across not long ago. 

This about 8x10 graphite sketch depicts Stewart, who was 96 or 97 at the time. We were guests in the same house and often spent an hour or two on the front porch after breakfast. Although he was a relatively abstemious man, Stewart allowed himself one cigar every morning. So he and I sat and discussed many things. Born with the century that was fading, he'd been a bit too young for the first World War and a bit too old for the second. But he had spent nearly a century working and observing the world. Stewart was still mentally very sharp though physically his age was obvious. Even now, a quarter century later, I remember his quick laugh and mischievous demeanor. 

Sketching is visual journaling.

Plein Air at Whiterock

As the second of my three weeks as Artist in Residence approaches, the experience has begun to take on weight and depth. One of the great features of this residency, for a plein air landscape painter, is the enormous variety of subject matter. There is a century-old barn, the river, wildflowers galore, old-growth woods, and a lot more. The ability to explore using a small all-terrain-vehicle has been priceless--I can load up my plein air gear and go nearly any place in this vast, rich Conservancy.

"Whiterock Bluff," oil on panel, 9x12

Whiterock Barn," oil on panel, 9x12

Artist in Residence

Hoff, "On the Middle Raccoon," wc on paper

During the week before this posting I've been Artist in Residence here at the Whiterock Conservancy, an Iowa land trust working toward conservation, sustainable agriculture, education and recreation. Situated on the Middle Raccoon River near Coon Rapids, the Conservancy comprises about 5500 acres of river valley, prairie, savanna and farmland. Much of the Conservancy was part of the Garst farm which famously hosted Nikita Khrushchev in the 1950s. The Conservancy aims to save our remaining topsoil, restore soil health, and educate the public and private sectors.

The River House, Whiterock Conservancy

Residency here includes housing in a wonderful, century-old farmhouse (with studio) situated in the Middle Raccoon River valley, only a few dozen yards from the river. The Middle Raccoon There is an equally old barn (see below) and other buildings on the site. Wildflowers abound along the river bank and hiking trails. Trails for hiking, horseback riding and cycling provide a network leading into the spectacular landscape along the river and take you through oak savanna and restored prairie as well. The undisturbed quiet is therapeutic, the surroundings too. I've managed a number of plein air sessions involving both oil and watercolor as well as studio paintings, and before leaving will have taken scores of reference photos.

Hoff, "Whiterock Barn," oil on panel, 9x12

As part of residency at the Conservancy I'll also be facilitating plein air painting workshops the afternoon of August 25 and morning of August 26. The focus will be on outdoor oil painting, but artists in other media are certainly welcome. I'll be doing demonstrations and assisting participants.

Mainframe Studios in Des Moines is a cosponsor of the workshops and will hold a show and auction of participants' works at their facility during their First Friday event September 2.