Small surprises

Been home today with a tough headache and just plain weariness. Roaming the house, at loose ends, thinking about work . . . no way to shut down the mind even though the body is screaming, "stop!" 

Finally wandered into my 'studio' area (actually was doing a load of laundry) and started to poke around in the files on my computer, drifting through various scans when I stumbled on a small file of pastel and watercolor sketches. God, when did I do those? And, more importantly, where are they? 

Surprisingly, I've always steered clear of pastels, although I do love the density and richness. Several years back I tried my hand, and I think I wrote on this blog about how I stupidly wore white shorts while using pastels -- a true 'duh' moment! 

But I keep returning to favorite artists, such as Casey Klahn and Deborah Stewart.  And, of course, one must revel in the pastel works of Wolf Kahn, so there must be something in pastels that stirs my feeble brain.

Earlier this summer I found that working small and quick while using watercolors as the underpainting truly gave me the effect I was seeking with pastels. Somewhere in this mess, I need to find those sketch books, perhaps tack them up on my inspiration wall, pull my head out of the dense cloud of work and the threatening depression of winter and sink myself into those colors -- 

Sunset on the CT River

The Stillness of Pines at Dusk

A Continuous Flow

High Summer along the River

Pastels Redux

So many times I've tried to work with pastels, and so many times I have given up in frustration, moving back to oils or acrylics.  Just could never seem to get a handle on this medium.

And yet over the years I have admired so many pastel artists' works; I even subscribe to Pastel Magazine.  Then, this morning while having my first 400 cups of coffee, I read through the latest issue that just arrived yesterday.  I was bowled over once again by the beauty, the softness, the fine nuances of the colors. 

So while taking a morning walk, I mentally charged myself to go back to the drawing board, literally.  This time I would not dawdle with accuracy; I would aim for swiftness and mass, huge chunks of colors on a watercolor background, working into the wetness for that lovely smudged aspect.

Who are my favorite pastel artists?  First and foremost, Wolf Kahn.  I have several of his books and review them frequently.

Swift Skies, 6" x 9"

Other pastel artists I have been following over the years is Casey Klahn, Marla Baggetta, Deborah Stewart and Carolyn Caldwell.  I think Bagetta's influence is quite obvious on this piece below.  She has several vidoes on YouTube, which truly inspire yet also put you at ease in her laid back attitude toward making art.

Morning in January, 5" x 7"

I found that today, after several hours of working quickly, that I liked working on 150 lbs. heavy bristol paper by Canson, usually used for comic and manga drawing. It held up well under the watercolor and multiple applications of the pastels. 

High Summer, 8" x 10"

As I moved, I found myself becoming braver about using my fingers and the sides of my hand to smooth and smudge. Pastels are quite forgiving and change is possible without losing momentum. 
 

Early Autumn on the River, 5" x 7"

How do I feel after today's attempts? Not too shabby! I think I may have finally moved to another stage in my development using pastels. They are immediate; they are forgiving and they are certainly easy to transport for quick sketches, etc. 

I think I will continue to pursue pastels, especially during these dreary months of winter. To have this array of lush colors before me is the best tonic.  

I don't think I have enough, though.  Guess I better take a trip to the art store, don't you?

Helen Frankenthaler
Japanese Maple (woodblock)

Ira Barkoff
Ocean Bright (oil)

Wolf Kahn
Seaweed Fingers (pastel)

What do these 3 artists have in common besides the fact that I admire them? It is the luminous fields of color that they create -- great fluid fields that wash across wood and canvas and paper, intense saturation, so deep one can sink into the surface, perhaps never to emerge again.

The French mathematician and philosopher, Gaston Bachelard, once wrote,

the great function of poetry is to give back to us
the situations of our dreams.

The same can be said of art -- these intimate immensities, these visual states that seem to lead to a sense of the infinite . . .

I think that is the quality of great art. One can but hope to achieve even a degree of that --