Variations on Landscape

Life is strange sometimes. One moment you're complaining that you are bored and need something more; the next moment your wish is granted and now it's too, too much. The new job is keeping me hopping and at night I'm too tired to even contemplate lifting a brush. Come the weekend there's too many chores to catch up on.

But it's been several weeks now, and I finally am feeling a bit more relaxed, able to focus on something other than work. In fact, it is an absolute necessity -- otherwise, one could go crazy.

Right now I'm sitting in my studio surrounded by chaos. Over the weeks I've dumped things here and there, stashed half-finished works on the floor or on the work table. I think I've even lost a batch of brushes as the turps dried up and now they're hard as bricks.

Nevertheless, some small quick works have been done in an attempt to keep my hand in, to keep the creative flow trickling along --

Breaking Light

acrylic, 12" x 12" panel

A view of the CT River in late winter -- a sense of a spring thaw perhaps, colors muted, early morning light breaking along the opposite shoreline

Farm Fields

acrylic on paper; 3.5" x 5.5"

Altogether different, a petite view of an autumn farm field, harrows of fresh-mown hay resting in the late afternoon sun --

Desert Moon

acrylic on 12" x 12" panel

the last landscape, dream-like, of a place not familiar to me in reality but perhaps internally;  a vast, open space, somewhere that I would like to be, cradled in a tapestried arroyo under moonlight?

Not sure.  Perhaps . . .

Whether working in a large, orderly studio or cramped in the front seat of a car, sketching on a scrap of paper -- that is the studio, that is the space, the moment in which one must do the thing itself despite setbacks, lack of time, lack of confidence. 

It just is . . .

The aim of art is to represent

not the outward appearance of things,

but their inward significance. 

Aristotle

Working Quick, Working Small

It's been so long since my last posting!  I just took on a new position and have been wrapped up in learning a new environment, a new staff and new communities. But today on a quiet, chilly gray Sunday, I decided I needed to do some catching up --

Is this my "Blue" phase? Not sure but this winter seemed to bring out blues in a variety of hues and values. For Wassily Kandinsky, blue was the color of spirituality: the darker the blue, the more it awakened human desire for the eternal (On the Spiritual in Art).  Kandinsky also developed a theory of geometric figures and their relationships, claiming that the circle was the most peaceful shape and represented the human soul.

Circular Thinking

acrylic on paper, 6" x 8" 

 mat opening of 3.5" x 5.5"; 8"x10"

Perhaps that helps explain the prevalence of blue -- the need to keep calm, to focus on serenity amidst a chaotic period of life.  I found I had to work quickly, sometimes just on a smaller scale; otherwise, I'd never had done anything. When going through interviews and waiting to hear the results, it was hard to concentrate on anything else. The creative life was shoved off to the side; not a good thing, but I had no choice. So these mini-works were about all I could handle.

Racing the Storms

oil pastel on bristol paper

3" x 5"

And I find that as I look back over these paintings and sketches, I like what came through -- nothing belabored, heavy and dull -- at least, in my opinion. The funny thing is that I have so many more that I unearthed from the piles stacked on the shelves or in portfolio bags -- pieces of larger paintings that just didn't make the grade, that I salvaged by cutting up and matting.

Ghost Barn

watercolor and pastel on Cartiera Magnani paper

6" x  6"

Why do larger paintings sometimes not work while the smaller bits do?   I'm not sure -- perhaps the brain can only take in and register pieces of a whole. Or is it that the artist is truly working on several paintings within the larger one?  Is it the push-pull between the right-brain and left-brain processes that seem to create this phenomenon?

Waterfall

6" x 8", acrylic on Yupo paper

matted to 8"x10" with 3.5"x5.5" opening

And then there is the color, again pushing through, insisting on a presence whether you want it there or not. Working quickly, working smaller -- spontaneity, process over detail -- swift movements that evoke a kinetic energy that inevitably calms . . .

Variations on a Theme

How does one envision an image? How does one interpret that vision?

I love the coastline and spent many summers on the beaches of Long Island, NY where I grew up. Not only summers but every season really and in all types of weather. Actually, Long Island is like one giant sandbar, as my Dad used to joke!

I'm not sure if it was the wide open spaces of the beaches or the vast skies or that thin scrim of a horizon line between ocean and sky that I loved the most. Or perhaps the dunes and the waves. In the midst of February, all these images and smells and sounds fill my head.  These two works seem to evoke some aspect of those memories, yet in very different ways and methods --

Coastal Haze

This is a fairly small work done on Wallis pumiced paper with acrylics and touches of pastel, done quickly with large mop brushes.

And this one was painted with oils on a thick heavy 200lbs. acrylic paper by Strathmore, which sold a few months ago at the Hartford Open Studio weekend.

Wetlands, Orleans MA

Different mediums, different approaches -- and yet both seem to capture a sense of the coast and surrounding wetlands. And I suppose that's the best one can hope for --

In summer, the song sings itself.

~William Carlos Williams

Still reeling after Irene

Holding Back the Chaos

acrylic on yupo

 It's been more than a week since hurricane Irene struck New England and we are still recovering. Odd to think that New England, particularly Connecticut, Massachusetts and Vermont, as well as the shorelines, took the brunt of Irene.

The community where I work is still without power in many areas and people are grappling with downed trees, wires, transformers and such. This is a fairly rural area and pumps and well water are out of commission, schools delayed, etc.

But what everyone is muttering about is the sense of disorientation, of having daily rhythms and routines disrupted, of being confused at to what day it is. It's as if summer never existed, just a faint memory as the rains continue and the temperatures drop. Whipped and destroyed trees are shedding leaves and roads are filled with downed leaves.  It looks more like November than early September.

Chinese traditional medicine pays great heed to the junctures of changing seasons, of when forces disrupt and anxieties rise. It is a tumultuous time.  This entire year, weather-wise, has been chaotic, heightened, strained -- a winter that never seemed to quit, tornadoes, an earthquake in the northeast followed quickly by a hurricane that slipped up the coast, missing where expected, landing where unexpected.

This is a painting I did last winter amid the weekly snowstorms that hammered New England -- and it still captures how I feel about these past days, these past months -- unsettled, wary, waiting for that other shoe to drop . . . 

not a good place . . .

Paintings for August

last weeks of summer

sea change in the air

humid weight lifts and

gardens spark with a clear, bright light

wading through ocean waters

dizzy with currents

that ripple and tug
pulling you further
and further
beyond the shores

drifts of sea thrift and thistle

fairy wands that tap the sunlight
calling you to the dance

shadows at twilight

lace treetops and the

last rays spill 

through tired leaves . . .

A Borrowed Density

acrylic on paper

9" x 12"

It's been a bit since I posted last -- busy in the garden, then my son's 21st birthday arrived and family matters took over! Hard to believe the baby of the family is a grown man. Where does time go?

Funny that when you're focusing on other things -- family, weather, gardening -- suddenly odd things start to happen with your art. First, notice that the gallery was closing (not a good thing); then, a corporate sale of five pieces that the gallery negotiated before the closing (a very good thing); then an email from an overseas acquaintance who is producing a book of poetry and would like to use my works on paper throughout the book (a very amazing thing) . . .

And where was I during all this? Rummaging around under the roses, yanking out weeds and dragging 20 lbs. bags of mulch from car to perennial beds, trying to corral family members for a big dinner out of the 21st.  Just goes to show -- what, I'm not sure.  That when we're not trying to force a situation or on bended knee praying for that sale, good things happen?

Reminds me of Edgar Allan Poe's imp of the perverse -- that quirk of nature that, when we do not look directly at something, when we do not focus on a problem, we suddenly "see" that slight shift in our peripheral vision and spy the thing in question, suddenly find the answer we were seeking, that eluded us no matter how hard we concentrated. 

So, this summer I think I'll spend more time under the roses and trying to enjoy my painting for the pleasure it gives me, perhaps take a workshop and learn something I already had learned but forgotten.  What about you?  What will you do this summer?  I hope you take the time to smell the honeysuckle, stroll on the beach, maybe play with finger paints like when we were young . . .

"Life is what happens when we're planning for it."

                                                            John Lennon

A Lighter Touch for Spring

Untitled: acrylic on paper, 11" x 14"

The season demands a lighter touch,

to sweep brush on paper,

to let colors swim and play, to caress,

then slide away.

Keep the white --

a reminder

of things to come, of what has been left behind,

of spaces for breathing,

for dreaming --

Time for Art-Making

Virginia Woolf's seminal work, A Room of One's Own, described three elements necessary for a woman to succeed in this world:   her own space, her own money and her own time. These days I believe that time is the most elusive, that our lives are being whittled down, byte by byte, despite all the gadgets that are supposed to save us time.

So it was such a pleasure this past week to take a vacation with nowhere in particular to go except to work in the garden, begin a quilt for my brother's new baby, walk, swim, read and mentally just wander about -- no required destinations, no agendas beyond watching the weather.

Obviously between digging in the dirt and other things, I made time to simply play about with paints and papers, not trying to create something for the gallery necessarily but rather to explore and enjoy whatever evolved. It was also my idea to use up as many materials on hand as possible rather then drive around buying more stuff -- the old "use up what's in the refrigerator first" concept -- and if I could recycle any old scribbles by priming over and beginning again, that was just fine with me. 

First Blossom

9" x 12"

acrylic on Nujabi paper
$175

or Matted Print

The Earth Forgets Nothing

12" x 16"

acrylic on Nujabi paper
$175

or Matted Print

An Oblong Day

12" x 16"

acrylic on Nujabi paper
$175

Zephyr

12" x 16"

acrylic on paper
$175

"Eloquence is spoken through the labor of hands . . . " 

Terry Tempest Williams, 

Finding Beauty in a Broken World

Reflected Light

Evening Reflections

24 x 36

oil & wax on birch panel
Available at Left Bank Gallery

I haven't posted many pics of my recent work, which are now at the Gallery. Sometimes in the heat of the moment -- trying to get them packed and delivered -- I forget to take any photographs. On this last go-around, I did try but the camera was not cooperating, probably needed new batteries, and my patience was wearing thin, so I apologize for the fuzziness. And because I'm working on a larger scale now, obviously it's not possible to scan. But what I'm excited about with these paintings are the new techniques and surfaces I worked with.

Detail of Evening Reflections

These two paintings are oil and wax on birch panels. I was having trouble with the panels even though I had primed them several times. The primer seemed to sink into the wood, and I could not get a good surface on which to work. Then I added several layers of acrylic glazing, and that seemed better. I had begun these paintings with acrylics but after several days again I had that sense of flatness, of things sinking and losing their freshness. 

Reverie du Soleil

oil and wax on birch panel

24 x 36
Available at Left Bank Gallery

So I put them aside and a week later came back to them armed with oil paints and cold wax. Aha, now I was getting somewhere! And the more I worked the surface, the more the vestiges of the underlayers came through, giving a rich, textured surface.

Sometimes it takes awhile to become familiar with new materials and how they react. And by now my approach was kill it or cure it, probably not the best attitude to have when painting.  But it had become a battle and my learning curve was improving.

The other interesting thing in this whole process is that these paintings began as abstracts, similar to the one below.  But when I moved over to the oil/wax combination and began finding those hidden layers of sparks, glints of light -- they shifted to landscapes, more impressionistic in their celebration of light and reflected light.

Summer Haiku

16" x 16"

acrylic on canvas
Available at Left Bank Gallery

This was a smaller piece on canvas working very loosely with acrylics -- I think we were in the midst of our last big snow storm when I did this one. Can you tell? But I enjoyed the looseness, the quickness of this painting.  Everything seemed to flow and dance without much help from me!  Again, the medium and the materials seemed to steer me one way or the other.

And now it's April and the weather is warming up and the garden needs some TLC big-time. So, I think the brushes will be put aside for rakes and trowels -- at least for the next few weeks. Happy spring everyone, and be back soon!

Spring Thaw

acylic on paper

9" x 12"

Available as a Matted Print (click here) 

Well, we thought we were out of the woods with winter behind us -- but yesterday another snowfall. Ugh. But luckily the sun slowly made its way through the clouds and all had melted by the afternoon!

Spring Thaw is the mate to the painting below, which I did last fall.  I painted it on heavy 200 lbs. acrylic paper by Strathmore, which holds up well under multiple layers of water and paint, scratching and rubbing. I may continue with this series, hopefully creating a sense of seasons, of nature's rhythms; also exploring the sensibilities of colors -- what conveys a sense of a season, its feel, its weight or its lightness . . .

Late Autumn

acrylic on paper

9" x 12"

Available as a Matted Print (click here)

I don't usually work in series but rather randomly hop from one thing to another.  But now I feel I need a bit more structure, more discipline to the act of painting.  Perhaps because time is so compressed for me -- essentially only having the weekend to paint -- I tend to skip about the creative arena.  Two series -- this one and the ink sketches of the human body.  I should be able to handle that, you would think?  We'll see how it progresses, depending upon the gardening season and the weather.

No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.

There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,

a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others. 

Martha Graham
American Choreographer

A Rummaging Kind of Day

Enough is enough.  Too much snow and ice.  Too much white.  My soul craves color -- luscious, edible color!

So today I went rummaging through drawers, in dark corners where things are stashed from years ago, from times when one was just learning and yet hesitant to toss out those small fledgling paintings that helped spur the creative act yet seemed so elementary, so child-like at the time . . .

Well, I dug through those little guys and found I was laughing, mostly at the titles I had given them!  But the colors made me smile and counter-acted the grimness of what lay beyond the windows.  So I will share them with you in the hopes that they make you smile, too:

An Intense Pair of Pears

I can only think that this series was painted because I was hungry; must have been dieting for my daughter's wedding --

Available as a matted print; click here
Available as greeting cards; click here

Anjou and Bosch

Sounds like a law firm . . .

Available as a matted print; click here
Available as greeting cards; click here

Smokin' Java!

This was before high blood pressure hit; now on decaf, most of the time anyway  -- :-)

Similar to our "bad hair" days . . .

Available as a matted print; click here
Available as greeting cards; click here

 A Stormy Pair

Just look at those lewd colors -- what was I thinking???

Bouquet in Shadow

And with this painting, I leave you with thoughts of spring to come, of flowers and birdsong, of balmy breezes wafting through your hair, of an exquisite bead of sweat trickling down the back, of bare feet on a warm deck and a chilled glass of wine close at hand . . . ah, perchance to dream!

Now pardon me as I have to go back out there and chip away at a frozen driveway . . . ugh.

Art Forms for Labor Day Weekend

Haze-ridden Coast

Grey Coastline

Working with gouache and acrylics, mostly on Wallis archival sanded paper, I tried for a loose, more juicy effect, allowing the paints to run and drip, mix and flow -- a bit like how I'll be working with dyes and silks in the coming weeks. These started in response to the days at the beach on the Cape, where the weather has such a profound effect upon the land/seascape. Somehow, heavy oils just did not seem to work; however, the acrylics and gouache captured the effect I was seeking. Working on the Wallis sanded paper, usually for pastel work, helped achieve those rivulets and runnels one finds at the beach.

Well, in the next few weeks I'll be working with the dyes and silks for the festival in October. I often work with the Japanese arashi shibori technique (arashi means storm, as the wrinkles appear to be like wind-driven rain) where the silks are wrapped and tied on poles, then dyed and over-dyed and allowed to dry for several days. Here's an example of a finished silk scarf:

It's always a surpise as one cannot see what's happening under the wrapped layers, so a degree of patience and faith is needed, trusting in the process and allowing for "welcome mistakes" Maybe next entry I'll post some in-process photos -- it truly is a lovely mess!

Art and the Contrast of Topographies

Rocky Shores
acrylic & gouache
6" x 8"

Summer Crossroads
gouache
6" x 8"

Here in New England we have the wonderful ability to drive within minutes between landscapes which are so diverse -- the rocky shorelines of Connecticut up through Maine, then to wander back roads past old tobacco fields, cow pastures, mills and working farms. As a child I grew up on Long Island, which is really a glorified sand bar that stretches about 120 miles out to sea starting at the shores of New York City. Flat, flat, flat . . . I love the beaches and the (then) wide open skies but that's about it. My folks were always taking weekend roadtrips up to New England and as soon as we crossed the Throgs Neck bridge, my dad would shout, "Off that g-d sandbar!"

One of my favorite drives is up Route 7 through the Berkshires of Massachusetts right into Vermont -- wonderful! Summer Crossroads reminds me of that drive. And Rocky Shores is not unlike Meigs Point at Hammanassett Beach in Madison, CT.

Well, I'm off to the World Quilt Festival in New Hampshire tomorrow -- another road trip! Hopefully, new vistas await -- I'm packing my pastels in the hopes that I can do some sketching while I'm up there. I keep working at those pastels . . . someday it will click.

Happy weekend --

Chihuly, Sunflowers and Damp New England

Chihuly Drawing Wall

Sunflowers
9 x 12
acrylic, oil pastel and pastel

After seven weeks of (almost) continuous rain and damp, I require a BIG dose of color! Lots of color! In going over some of my photos from a trip to San Francisco last autumn to visit my brother, I found some he had taken at the Chihuly exhibit at the DeYoung Museum. This is one I located on the web, very similar. These works (most on paper, I believe) are his preliminary drawings done in acrylics as studies for his glass sculptures, and it was an amazing experience to stand in front of this wall that probably measured 35' long and about 18' high -- an artist's Wailing Wall!

A couple of months later, in the dead of winter, I painted my sunflowers, my soul craving bright hot colors. I began with acrylics and then added layers and staccato touches of oil pastel and pastels. It was one of the first times I really let loose, just trying to get to that point where the colors were alive, almost edible.

Well, after floods here where I work, slopping mops and throwing out drowned materials, I did this blog entry to share another bright spot at the end of a very damp and dreary week -- enjoy!!!

Playful Artwork

"Sun and Shadows in the Garden"
acrylic on Wallis paper
9" x 12"

Sometimes you just gotta play -- grab that sense of when we were kids and mucked around in the dirt making mudpies or climbed trees and caught lightening bugs in jars (only to let them go at bedtime, of course)!

I did this piece a few weeks ago working on Wallis archival sanded paper, which is used mostly for pastels. But it's a powerful piece of paper coming in at 200 lbs. and can take watermedia and oils. This was a warm-up piece to flex the muscles and loosen up. Having worked with silks dyeing for many years, I also used coarse salt with the watery acrylics and got these marvelous "blooms" scattered around the surface. I left quite a bit of white, too. It just seemed to lighten the whole piece.

I made it a point to step away before I began to "fiddle" too much and let it dry, moving on to other paintings. At the end of the day when I returned to this, it brought a smile to my face. Why? I guess because it reminded me of those summer gardens of childhood with the dappled sunlight and shadows flowing about the shrubbery.

Happy summer and enjoy the weekend! We finally have sun here and about 80 degrees -- thank goodness! This past June here in CT averaged 27 days of rain. Ugh.

Exploring Art Techniques

"Summer River"
12" x 9"
acrylic on Wallis paper

Breaking away, exploring, experimenting, testing the waters of the strange and unusual -- sounds more like science fiction than art!

Last weekend I dedicated 2 whole days (almost) to working on some methods I had been thinking of for some time now. I wanted to combine the lush sensibilities of working on paper but with more "umph," shall we say?

I used some Japanese nujabi watercolor paper at about 185 lbs. and also had some Wallis archival sanded paper (200 lbs. also), which is meant for pastel work. Because of their heft and toughness, I felt I could truly abuse the surfaces more than usual.

"Summer River" is an example of working with acrylics, lots (!) of water and sprayed rubbing alcohol (just a bit), and continual layers of paint worked into the surface while still wet and dripping.

The acrylics seemed to love this sanded surface, although the brushes took a beating -- I learned that quickly and switched to old, stubby things just laying around.

This next painting -- "Grey Wetlands" -- was worked on nujabi paper, a handmade Japanese watercolor paper with beautiful deckled edges on all 4 sides. This I worked more thickly with less water and more opaque colors, but also using the spray method to obtain a less rigid appearance.

"Grey Wetlands"
16 x 12
acrylic on nujabi watercolor paper

On both these and other works (see my gallery "Coastlines & Waterscapes"), my vision was to achieve that hazy appearance one finds at the beach in summer when the heat drops a veil over the atmosphere and a lovely drowsiness descends, letting us drift into a state of reverie so difficult to find in the everyday world.

Did it work . . . ? I like to think so!

Miniature Art continued . . .

"Garden Window"
3" x 4.5"
oil pastel

Another diminutive piece to add -- of course, there are others but my time to scan is a bit strapped these days! Working with these smaller pieces has made me see things a bit differently. Now when I'm looking at a large artwork, my eye tends to drift around the image seeking out, almost wrestling out sections that create their own pictorial plane.

This weekend I was painting with watermedia on heavy weight paper -- Nujabi -- which is a coarse, handmade Japanese watercolor paper, about 200 lbs. I was trying to paint a still life. After about 4 tries and 3 hours later, I gave up in total frustration.

Why? After pondering the mess I had created, I realized that I do not like still life. I don't have still life works in the house, I just do not like that static, lifeless image staring back at me. Also, the light was rigged and the flowers were "sad" to say the least. Everything seemed to be working against me.

On Sunday I sat on the deck, soaking up the sunshine after this long winter and didn't go back inside until about 4:00pm. I dragged the dining room table up to a north window, brought out the paints again and decided to paint what I like, what I continually seek when driving, etc. -- a horizon line with a distant perspective. Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote that "a healthy eye demands a horizon" and I think he was right!

Several hours later when the light had faded, I had several small(ish) pieces done, mainly in acrylics treated as watercolor. I might go back into some with oil pastels or pastels and continue working the surface. One of my favorite artists is Helen Frankenthaler -- actually she is the best -- and was re-reading about her works on paper, many of which are acrylic with oil pastel or pastel markings, which is what sparked the re-negotiation of acrylic on Sunday.

Then, oddly enough, to come back to my point about seeking out these miniscule "paintings within paintings," I took a mat with a 2" x 3.5" opening and began moving it around the picture plane. Amazing! Within the larger paintings I could find several hidden gems, some landscapes, some more abstract. So there may be one or two larger pieces I will "trash" so as to rescue the smaller pieces that lay within.

never, ever give up . . . the paint, the surface, the marks -- all will tell (eventually) . . .