Summer pastel series

 

Every time I travel to Cape Cod for a summer vacation I feel revived -- there truly is something about "Cape Light," as many artists and photographers refer to it.  Colors seem more vivid, the light almost crystalline in its clarity.  Unless, of course, if it's raining or foggy!  

This year we were right on the beach so to watch the colors of the various beach grasses and marshes was perfect -- early morning, midday, sunset and dusk.  This is a pastel-and-watercolor sketch, a mix of mediums that I find fun to work with.  I use Strathmore Bristol paper, which is usually used for graphic design and manga artwork.  But I like the way it holds the watercolor and allows me to overlay the layers of pastel. 

I'll be working on more of these sketches, working now from memory, and will soon be uploading this painting to my space on Fine Art America soon if you're interested in a print, a notecard and more!

Happy Summer!

"I hope to make pictures like I walk -- under a spell, an instinct of motion,

a kind of knowing that is essentially indirect and sideways."

(Ellen Meloy, Anthropology of Turquoise)

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

Getting to know Pastels

A Gray Stillness with Pines

It's been a long time coming, my getting to know pastels. A kind of last frontier, you could say. I've written about this before -- the dust, the white shorts, the sense of clumsiness and frustration.

It's not that we all don't try to extend ourselves beyond the comfort zones we've come to know and love. It's just that, for me, there has always been this sense of embarrassment.  I think in today's society, we tend to believe that "if I think it" or "if I study it" long enough, I have mastered it. Reminds me of the Holiday Inn Express commercial: because you stayed there, you are now capable of performing brain surgery or running a touchdown for Notre Dame. Pretty funny but probably truer than at first glance.

For several years now I've visited and admired other pastel artists' sites and blogs, marveling in the rich mixtures and nuances of pastel painting -- Casey Klahn is one in particular, another is Debora L. Stewart's abstract pastels.  So I decided that whenever I travel, I will take this little box of pastels and a small 5" x 7" Strathmore Visual Journal sketchbook with me. Nothing can melt. Nothing is wet and sloppy. No squeezing tubes or dealing with smelly pseudo-turps. Here's what I've discovered (as if no one else has ever -- ha!):

pastels are immediate and they offer deep rich color or delicate mists --

they are fun to smudge -- like being back in the sandbox --

one is often tempted to eat them they are so yummy-looking (but I wouldn't recommend that -- every time you burp, you'd be sending out puffs of colored pastel dust) --

pastels seem to love the smooth surface of bristol paper --

spraying fixative really does work -- I've always been a skeptic of rules and guidelines --

yes, pastels are messy but a pack of baby wipes does wonders (and smell so good) --

So I think I have found my travel medium, my most satisfying sketch medium -- and maybe someday I'll progress to paintings on a larger scale.  But one step at a time.  For now, I've moved beyond the messy white shorts stage -- finally.   Here are some sketches I did last weekend in my travels up to the last big quilt show up in northern New England:

Glow on the River

Road into the Berkshire Mountains

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 . . .

Sometimes time is compressed and one's ability to create is limited. So, what to do? I haven't been able to take any further life study classes and my friends and family seem unwilling to sit for me -- why ever not, I'm not sure. Could it be my continual scowling, my abrupt commands ("Now, tilt your head. No, not that way! This way... Stop fiddling!"...) and the fact that texting in the middle of a sitting just does not work, spoils the feel . . .

So I decided to digitally create my own models. Here's an example of one I hope to work on this weekend:

I found the above photo online when I searched Google images for tango dancers. I love the way the bodies melt into one another and the sensuous line.  Then I pulled the image into PhotoShop and began to alter it, erasing the male figure as I wanted to isolate the female form.  By using various effects, such as charcoal and pencil, I ended with this variation, which gives me a clear sense of line and of light & shadow. I'll probably enlarge this to page size (8 x 10) and work from there.

So when desperate for a model to sketch/paint from, why not give it a try?  There are other variations I'm trying also -- the effect of stone would be cool or manipulating the colors and adding layers of texture to reach a more "painterly" look.  And the beauty is -- these models do not talk back, do not fidget, text their friends or change the pose.  Think about it . . .

 "the imagination spins and weaves new patterns . . .  pure inventions, 

absurdities, and improvisations."

August Strindberg

Change of Pace

Recently I took a break from painting, seeking out another path to follow for awhile. Suddenly I had felt the need to "cleanse the palette," to return to the basics of paper and ink.  I've written before about nudes and my love of the human form; however, I've only taken one life drawing class, which was cut short by snow storms last year.  I continue to dabble, sketching people at the beach, sitting in cafes, waiting in airports, etc.  There is something about the body in moments of quietude, when the person is totally unaware of being observed -- staring off into space over a mug of coffee, laying on a beach soaking in the rays or trundling along the sidewalk walking a dog -- those are the moments one hopes to capture.

The Pin by K. E. Marszycki
11"x14";  ink on paper

It's more difficult during a posed life drawing, as the model is aware and often posed in a stilted manner. Time is pressing, you can hear other members of the class grumbling, whispering, the model twitches, the instructor rambles on and on giving well-meaning advice . . . then "bing!" the timer goes off and you're just getting warmed up.

Seated Nude by K. E. Marszycki

14" x 17"; gouache on paper

The fun thing about these sketches is that they were done from my head -- sorry, Madam, but I'm removing your bathing suit but just this once, I assure you -- from people I recall or, as in the case of the sketch below, taken from a beautiful sculpture by Rodin of his lover, Camille Claudel.

Rendering of Rodin's Savage Sweetness by K.E. Marszycki

17" x 14"; ink on paper

I hope to continue this series of ink sketches as I believe they are loose and spontaneous with little time to fret over whether the scale or dimensions are correct, that there are no facial features thus giving them perhaps a more universal feel.  I liked the feel of the ink on paper and, whenever I found myself tensing up, I turned the bamboo stick sideways and rolled it, thus breaking up the line, letting my clumsiness convey an added edginess.

Maybe a bit later in the spring I will have some of these sketches framed and bring to the Gallery . . . we'll see.  Sometimes it's difficult to let one's work go when it has given you such pleasure, such freedom, has taught you well . . .

Small Studies

Color Study I

(gouache and ink, 6"x6" on Magnani Acquerello paper)

Available as greeting card  -- Click here

Available as a matted print -- Click here

Color Study II

(gouache on Magnani Acquerello paper, 6"x6")

Available as a greeting card -- Click here
Available as a matted print -- Click here

Color Study III

(gouache on Magnani Acquerello paper, 6"x6")

Available as a greeting card -- Click here
Available as a matted print -- Click here

Threshold

(watercolor and gouache on 200 lbs. acrylic paper, 9"x12")

Available as a greeting card -- Click here

Available as a matted print -- Click here

working small, touching water to paper

colors creep seeking points to merge or not,

to blend or not.

scratch the surface,

stumble,

stay with the clumsy gesture

for it is true.

outside whiteness falls

into puddles of black ice,

the sound of winter

no sound . . .