5" x 7" watercolor on 140 lb Fabriano Artistico hot press paper
For several mornings at approximately the same time, I parked my car at the same place at the edge of a park. There was a large tree that intrigued me and I wanted to try to capture it on paper. I also liked the way it framed everything beyond.
So I painted the tree and when I was about halfway through, with the tree complete, I showed it to a friend. I had tried to portray all of the many shades and textures I saw on the tree, including a large knot.
She looked at it, and then squinted and leaned closer. "What's that?" she said, "Is that a bear?"
I looked at the picture again. And then I saw it.
There it was where the knot should have been - a bear. I'd had no idea the bear was there.
If you didn't see a bear the first time you looked at the picture, then look again, and there it will be. And once you see the bear, you cannot unsee it.
Now with a few dabs of water or paint and some subtle changes I could have banished the bear from my tree, and I considered doing so. But I kind of liked the old fella - he had a friendly smile - so there he stays.
So now it's my bear tree.
I had fun with the scene beyond. There was a house off to my right just beyond the far side of the park and I decided that for my composition it would look good on the left, so I put it there. And now the bear guards that house, I suppose.
And those are the bear facts, as I see them.
At the end of each of my sessions, I'd snap a shot of the picture, to evaluate my progress and consider what to do next.
"Mortality" 10" x 8" ink and watercolor on 140 lb Fabriano Artistico rough paper
My employer of almost 11 years passed away this week after a long battle with breast cancer. She was relatively young, 48, and left behind two children and a husband. It was very sad. A night or two later I dreamed of the above painting. I think abstract art may be a way to wrap your head around such concepts as mortality when these facts are hammered home. As it is related in style and subject matter to the painting in my last post, "Organic/Inorganic", I'd say that it is the second in a series if there can be a series of two.
The idea is that the center section is life with all of its many activities and experience. It is bordered by the period before birth on the left, and by death on the right.
I have some representational works to show you as well, including an acrylic painting I am especially excited about. I still remain primarily a representational painter so while this blog has taken a bit of a detour, it has not careened of the road. Really.
My most valuable critic thinks this work is horrid. Does it have value as art? I don't know. But it has meaning to me.
I have not been posting often enough for my taste. I considered a sabbatical, but I have too much to share. So I may have a bit of a Summer Souffle', with short and airy posts, more frequently submitted. Maybe.
A few of you saw the brief flash of another watercolor I had done that swiftly vanished from the web.
It's the first time I recall pulling a post, and vestiges remained on the web. My MVC didn't like this watercolor either. I think it lacks something compositionally, and yes, yes, it is the most boring watercolor I've ever done. But it was a good exercise. I also couldn't get the colors to show quite right with the scanner, despite repeated tries. But for those of you who asked, here it is.
Coral Gables Women's Club 6"x 6-1/4" w/c on Arches 140 lb cold press
About two months ago, Jennifer Edwards of Drawn2Life was gracious enough to award this blog not one, but two, awards. Thank you Jennifer for thinking of me, and for your kind comments about my blog. Jennifer's blog is fabulous, and for anyone that has not read her marvelous lessons, you should visit here.
I created a whimsical post with an imaginary awards ceremony. That is the post I pulled. My MVC thought it was too, I don't know, contrived, derivative, maybe even offensive. It was probably all of the above. I mean, how do you make answering questions like, "What is your favorite color?" interesting otherwise? I was having some fun.
Maybe I ought not show any posts these days to my MVC in advance - you think? [A note here: The reason my MVC is my MVC is because my MVC is virtually always right - so at least I get all of the crap out of the way in one post!]
So in a grand gesture of rebellion, if you'd like to read it, you may tumble down the rabbit hole here...
***
Awards in hand, I contacted the paparazzi to tell them about a special
gathering that I would hold in order to announce the answers to the questions
that I, as a recipient, was duty-bound to answer. I tried to book a
room in the state-of-the-art showplace arts and culture auditorium, the
Arsht Center, or at the Gusman Concert Hall in downtown Miami to no avail. But Frank's Old Folk's Home in Hallandale took me, so I gathered my helpers and went there a few hours ago.
When I arrived the place was packed! I was thrilled. The secret servicemen wouldn't let me through though.
When the President finally left, the vast space was left mostly empty except for five elderly men, scattered throughout, three of them in wheelchairs. They stared straight ahead in rapt attention.
So I got on the stage with my troupe.
I brought a young woman with me to ask the questions, petite, about 4'6" tall, but I knew she had a deep thundering voice that belies her size.
"WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?" she boomed.
The trumpeters I brought then played the fanfare. This is a video taken at the event:
"Blue," I announced with great flourish.
One man coughed. Another clapped very slowly.
"WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER?"
"23!" I said. Yes I am vain enough to have the day of my birth be my favorite number. "Oh and I like 11 too!" I added.
11:11 is my favorite time of day. One friend told me that when I catch 11:11 on the clock (which happens all of the time) it means my muse is with me. I like that.
The other day I went to a small workshop at the Museum of Contemporary Art Institute. My goals were to (a) get out of the house, and (b) stretch my boundaries. Our instructor told us about the artistJoanne Greenbaum who uses numbers in her work, some of which you can see here. She builds in layers and uses shapes and numbers.
Then we were to use her approach as a guide and make our own, non-imitative work. What fun! Another of the wonderful things about the workshop was that they had all kinds of mediums available that I had never used before - oil pencils, watercolor crayons, inks - I used everything. I also used watercolors and acrylics. The result was a bit of a mess, but oddly engaging. Probably not post-able. My meaningful numbers were scattered throughout the piece so it is not to be discarded, not matter what it looks like.
When you check out Joanne Greenbaum's work, you might react by saying, "A child could do that!" and then you try it and, like me, will probably proceed to find out just how wrong you are. Of course, you are not a child, so maybe you'd have made a point.
"WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DRINK?"
"I have ..," I had to pull my mike back because of feedback. I started again. "I have given up my favorite drink, Diet Coke, which is, I have read, apparently responsible for all of the world's health scourges, including heart attacks. The idea of a heart attack was the last straw for me. So now I drink tea."
An orderly wheeled one of my audience away. Now there were four.
"WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ANIMAL?"
"The dolphin, er, not the kind you eat"
[Wheeze][Drool].
"FACEBOOK OR TWITTER?"
"Well I have Facebook, a personal account - I'm hardly ever on it though."
"GETTING OR GIVING PRESENTS?"
"Both."
At this point one of the elderly men in the audience stood up from his wheelchair and exclaimed, "I can walk!! I can walk!! It's a miracle!!" And left.
"WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DAY?"
"Thanksgiving Day," I said.
At that time I felt it important to engage my audience - "How many of you three like Thanksgiving?" I raised my hand as an example.
No one raised his hand. One red-haired gentleman tried to touch his nose with his tongue.
"WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER?"
"I HAVE NO FAVORITE FLOWER!" I retorted.
She gave me a steely stare.
"Okay," I said sheepishly, "the dancing lady Orchid." Sigh.
Finally,
"WHAT IS YOUR PASSION?"
"Why art, of course, what else?"
And that says it all.
When I packed to go and sent my troupe on its way I realized that I am supposed to give these awards away to some other folks. And I may, only not today. I am too busy playing canasta with my audience. Fortunate that we all fit at the table.
"Organic/Inorganic" 10" x 8" ink and watercolor on 140 lb Fabriano Artistico rough paper
On a day when I was feeling particularly laden with the sad news that a close - very close - family member has cancer (which makes three significant people in my life battling the disease), I wanted to paint, but was too exhausted to think too hard. I decided I would let my subconscious control, and the above painting resulted.
At first I thought it was going to be an abstract piece, but representational elements intruded. It became a pictorial metaphor:
Invasion.
Injustice.
And vulnerability.
A flow of rocks severing a vein-like stem.
I was surprised at how letting go resulted in the near-perfect representation of my feelings.
10" x 8" watercolor on Fabriano Artistico 140 lb hot press paper
I. The Dream:
I had a dream a few nights ago.
I was standing beside an easel. My online artist friend Linda (L.W.) Roth of the "Out on a Limb" blog, was about to show me how she paints on canvas. She put brush to canvas, and as she brought the brush down I heard a musical sound.
I heard a sort of sing-song, "PNT-ING!"
The sound was coming either from the brush or the paint itself as she executed the stroke.
"What was that!?"
"What, yours doesn't do that?" she asked.
She put more paint on her brush. Then, watching me out of the corner of her eye, she brought down the brush again.
"PNT!", it rang.
Without lifting the brush from the canvas, she pulled the brush back up to finish the stroke.
"ING!"
I was speechless.
Just then, I heard another sound.
"##!"
I jumped. Looking towards the sound, I saw another online artist friend, Hallie, of the "Arting Around in SOVA" blog, standing next to an easel with one of her paintings on it.
"@@!"
The sounds were coming from the painting itself! Hallie was doing nothing at all.
I asked her about it and she yawned and said, "yeah, they do that every now and then. Don't yours?"
And that is when I woke up.
II. The Doubts.
The painting at the top of the page took many mornings, in the hour before work, to do. I parked across the street from these two storefronts in South Miami, and painted in my car, en plein air conditioning. I'm not one for quick watercolors. I layer and layer.
In truth I was disappointed at how it turned out (although my brutally honest family seemed to like it).
After painting the reddish-brown jewelry store, I read Frank Eber's stark reminder that I should not "try to do too much" with the watercolors. I felt it was already overworked but I had invested time in it, so I continued with the picture and finished it.
Then I sailed far afield in the world wide web and felt that everything I saw was better than what I had done. I had a crisis of confidence. That's when I had the dream.
So I searched further and discovered the SGVA blog which has short posts containing art quotes, definitions, and tips. I found a Wolf Kahn quote there:
"The practice of art should have an effect not only the public, but even more importantly, on the artist himself, by enlarging his sphere of freedom... Each picture is valuable only insofar as it contributes to this development, because it enables the artist to go on in a freer, larger way to his next picture."
And I had learned a lot from this picture. I had struggled with perspective. I wrestled with values, with changing light and shadow, and coordination of color. I successfully inserted a figure in the scene that I had sketched from life in my Moleskine. And I worked a bit larger than my usual.
I found this quote at the SGVA Blog too, by Ira Glass:
“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit.
Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work... It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions.
And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”
I was cured.
III. The Key.
We are a family of artists. We endure the same struggles and enjoy the same intrinsic rewards. We have the joy of seeing - really seeing - the world, and then attempting to portray it our own way. Knowing this helps me through the rough spots.
I am constantly reminded of this connection because of two consistent resources that I've been dying to share. You may know about these already. But maybe you don't. And if you don't, you are in for a treat. So here they are:
A. "Artists Helping Artists". This is the only internet radio show that I know of that is by artists, for artists, and addresses artist's concerns, hopes, and desires. There is an emphasis on marketing, but also many featured artists. It is inspiring and enlightening to listen to this show and Leslie Saeta is a creative, knowledgeable and personable host. The easiest place to listen is here, where you can find all past episodes too. I usually listen in my car! The blog to accompany the show is here.
B. Subscribe to "Robert Genn's Twice-Weekly Letter". It's free and arrives in your e-mail. It is always a good read, with useful tips for artists, and the personal experiences and anecdotes of Canadian artist Robert Genn. You can subscribe here.
Art talk comes to me! What can be better?
You needn't thank me. What else is family for?
{pssst..I was given some blog awards but I need to gather the paparazzi anyway, so next time..)
My Love Letter to Art on the Occasion of Our Anniversary:
My Beloved,
It's our anniversary. It's hard to believe that it's been 3 whole years.
You and I flirted on and off, of course, before we finally became serious on March 15, 2009.
As a child I drew all of the time. Doodles were in all of my margins at school, and cartoons of aliens were everywhere. I knew my true love then. I forgot later, I know. But you forgave me.
At age 7 I won my newspaper's weekly children's art contest! Then in 1973, the Watergate trials were on tv. We had only a rudimentary idea what was going on but loved to draw all of those nefarious faces, didn't we?
One year in junior high school, they had a "patch and motto" contest. My design for the patch won first place in the school. But they sent the second place winner on to the county contest. That student's idea was better than mine, they said, although my art was the best. I was crushed.
I drew in pastel. I played with calligraphy. I loved pen and ink. I did a mighty impressive pastel of my brother, and some pretty good drawings on scratchboard. I was 14 or 15.
A pastel of my younger brother done when I was 15?
If only we'd stayed together. But I was young - I was confused, and looked away from you. In college at times I forgot you altogether. I thought I was too old for you.
After I graduated we had a tentative liaison and I dabbled in oils, and then acrylics. But I didn't do much and knew even less, and had a marriage and then a family to tend to. I didn't take you seriously.
But you were always whispering in my ear even if sometimes I forgot to listen.
Finally, in 2009 we caressed. But would it last? It had never lasted before.
Friends we have never met saved our relationship; I am sure of this. Our first acquaintance was Janey of Janey's Journey, a very special artist to me. You can read in this blog's very first post about what she did for me, if you'd like - about her innocent question. That was the beginning. By my second post, I'd met Raena. [Check out my joint blog with Raena, 2'nFro]. And soon thereafter, the Everyday Matters Group and artists all over the web.
A mildewed scratchboard drawing I did at about age 15
I discovered that there are no folks in the world that are more generous than artists. They share their knowledge, their techniques, their struggles. I have learned so much from them - am learning so much every day - that I am now almost as good as I was at fifteen.
I must confess, that my wife knows of our affair of the heart. She says all I think about is art, art, art. And it's true, I am smitten. But we could never be, you and I, without the artists I feel so blessed to have met and am still meeting every day. They care about us, you know. This blog has just passed 200 followers!
To properly summon tears for the occasions, and since I am a guy and of course do not cry, I have painted onions. This is only the second time that a painting on actual canvas has appeared on this blog, but it won't be the last. I love impasto, and have missed it with watercolor. And I love the immediate rich colors.
I am newly reacquainted with acrylics. I believe that this painting was able to happen only because of what I have learned from my online friends. [I will now never believe that watching the Cooking Channel can't help you to learn to cook!] I was visiting my mother, and she and I painted together. We found two onions in the refrigerator - one had been there a very long time! It was a delightful afternoon that you shared with us.
So here we are, beginning year four, and our relationship is renewed again. I am working on another painting in acrylics that is far more complex than this one - and so far so good (fingers crossed). I am truly excited about it, and hope I can get it to the end without ruining it. But even if I do [ruin it], I know you will be there for me, and this time I won't leave you.
Deadlines, Deadlines. The other day, Terry Miura asked at his blog, "Are you waiting till the last minute so as to set yourself up for failure and cushion your fall with the excuse, 'I just ran out of time...'?"
No! I answered. Absolutely not! I knew that I finally needed to complete his Cityscape Challenge.
His challenge is posted here - to paint and simplify a scene using a random street in San Francisco as a reference - and from the moment I saw the photo I was intrigued by it. One reason for this is because Frank Eber does this kind of scene all of the time in watercolor (see his New York streets here), and his goal and Terry Miura's goal is the same: SIMPLIFY! And both are very successful at it. If you visit their blogs, you too will be the beneficiary of their generously-shared knowledge. And witness to their great art.
Of course knowing is not the same as doing and the most successful parts of this picture were where I actually paid attention and tried to follow their learned advice. In the least successful parts I would not only forget to simplify, but would also forget what medium I was using - I was practically scrubbing the paper in parts, with watercolor! Don't know what came over me, really.
2-5/8" x 9" (lol)
It might be that I've been working in acrylic lately (I can't wait to show you.) Might be that I shouldn't start painting after hours of yard work.
Excuses, I know. But I can't help myself.
I set up my paper to draw a big swath of buildings on the side, and decided, for the composition, and to humanize the picture, to place a man crossing the street on the page. With the buildings, though, I really lost it - simplicity out the window (er, out all of the windows.) So I sat staring at the completed piece, not really satisfied, and suddenly I saw two much better pictures were I to simply to cut the page vertically, just so. And that's what I did. On the right is the other picture, cut from the left. So that the first picture that you saw on the left, was on the right, and the second picture that you see on the right was on the left, capisce?
So that's about it. No poetry, no witticisms, nothing particularly clever to say today. Sorry about that. This picture left me high and dry. And I had to meet that deadline. If 99% is simply showing up, at least I did that. And I left having learned a thing or two.
5" x 7" watercolor on 140 lb Fabriano Artistico rough paper
South Florida.
A quiet walk outside is disturbed by a tumult of squawking. A company of parrots traverses the sky.
Three lanes of traffic on US-1 come to a halt as a peacock casually crosses the road.
A car dealership on Bird Road (I kid you not), first thing in the morning before it is open is sprinkled with pepper - hundreds of nondescript black birds called grackles. They loudly perch in groups on every car, every surrounding wire, and along the rims of bordering buildings. Every day I suppose the employees must rewash the cars if they are ever to hope to sell them.
In Miami, a white ibis, with its orange decurved bill, visits our home so often that my wife has named it. When he appears we call for our son Matthew and stand together at the window, watching, as the ibis strides across our yard. He is "Commander", his bearing so proud that it must be so. Sometimes he brings his army - ten or twenty other birds.
After dropping my son off at a weekly Saturday activity, I'd drive to a spot in downtown Davie, Florida, where the branch of a tree would extend along the shoreline of a canal. There every week, without fail, a white ibis would stand. I like to think it was the same bird week after week. I sketched him and painted the surrounding trees and the leaves on the branch.
The next week, when I returned, the branch had been cut. The ibis was gone, the beauty of the spot diminished.
This also is South Florida.
This little page had a few incarnations. A few months ago I sat in the backyard of my sister-in-law's house in central Florida, and sketched the stylized sun that was hanging on her fence. I then attempted to paint the fence, in yellow ochre, and was not at all happy with the result. I tucked the paper away. Then, when I saw the ibis, I decided to put him on the same sheet. I paint the trunks of the trees and then the leaves in the middle of the page and the leaves were so tedious that I quit. I put off doing anything more with the page - again for weeks (if not months), not wanting to deal with the leaves.
But then I saw master watercolorist David Lobenberg, at his blog here, and his loose treatment of leaves, and I thought - voila! (because that is how artists express excitement - voila!) - and pulled out the page again. I had done this before - why not here? Not all of the leaves had to be so exacting. I began covering the page with a wash and then the impression of the leaves and grasses from memory. I was surprised at the richness of color and the depth. It was enhanced by the yellow ochre underneath I think.
So there you are: a Florida story.
6" x 3" watercolor on 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico extra white hot press paper
A few days ago, from a distance, I spotted some more Florida wildlife. Retirees. In their native habitat. A lucky find, I think. Ah, South Florida, with so much to offer.
My Most Valuable Critic has complained that my last three pictures (the two in this post, and the one in the last) look too similar.
"They are so green", she said.
"But they are outside", I replied.
"But they are so green," she said.
"Then you can consider this to be my Green Period!" I replied, brandishing my beret, then tilting it smartly on my head.
Swerving along the artistic road with every sight a potential target. * * * If you'd like to contact me about any of the art that you see - about purchases, commissions or just to say hello - feel free to email me at danscanvas@yahoo.com. I'd love to hear from you!
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