I've been doing more thinking than painting on my "main" painting. All the background will be basically neutral, so the blues of the subject stand out. The initial wash is in a unified grey/brown spectrum—darker and browner near the floor and bluer and lighter near the window. (Of course, it's ultramarine blue and transparent red oxide.)
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| 15" x 10" |
I've also been intrigued by images I've seen in a magazine and done some small studies. They're kind of cool, but the best part is that I've had to learn to step away and let everything dry after starting really wet. Teaches patience!
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| approx. 4" x 5" |
And this little oddity is from my sketchbook, testing my new India Ink (the dregs left in the old bottle were completely dried up). It's not particularly good, but it's crying for a story. It's up in Wisconsin at a state park. On this trail, there was a semi-hidden path to the left leading to Lake Superior. To the right, it was weedy, overgrown and hilly. But in the weeds, we spotted these abandoned crutches. They were nestled in the grass, but not rusted or overgrown. We made some jokes about "Lourdes of the Midwest" and tried to invent a backstory, but ultimately, this one's for you, Ken....
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| approx. 5" x 4" |
See you all in person on Saturday!
I love that bee! I like how you combined the watercolor wash with pen drawing. Do you have a Sailor Fude pen? If so, would you bring it to class so I could test it? I love the grays and blues and browns of the first painting. Isn’t it hard to think first and then paint?! I often paint first and then think “uh oh…”
ReplyDeleteYes, I do have a Sailor Fude and I like it. I'll bring it along on Saturday. Oh, and the bee is just direct painting from the reference. It's not exact, but bees are relatively blobby, so no one will know!
DeleteAgain, that bee is beautiful! Is that a direct painting ( no drawing)?
ReplyDeleteSo there was this guy, name of Art, who happened to be an artist. Not a big time artist, maybe he had yearly shows at a north side tavern, though people sometimes refused to listen to his spiel. But it wasn't money he was after, nor fame, not at all.
ReplyDeleteHe would say, seated on his stool, the fifth pale ale of the evening sitting before him, to some poor sap who had just ordered a beer and now was stuck at that stool until he finished. "You know when I was in the eighth grade I bought a telescope from an ad in a magazine and I took it out in the backyard in the middle of the winter and looked at the moon. I knew about the Palomar telescope in California and how it could see way more than I ever could in that backyard. But that didn't bother me at all, you know why?"
The poor sap nodded gulping down half his beer the way those wolves gnaw away at their legs when they are in a trap. Art continued. "Because even though my scope is nothing like the one in California. We are both looking at the same heavens!"
"And," Art added, "This is the same way with my painting. I am no Michelangelo or Rembrandt, but when I dip my brush into the well of perylene green and take a brush stroke, I am aiming at pure art, pure artistic essence. What do you think about that?" But of course there was nothing but an empty glass on the bar before him. Well that's ok Art thought, whole subject probably too deep for the poor sap.
But Art was troubled, that thing about the perylene green was a little off because in fact, he had no perylene green. He had been painting some philodendron leaves and to his distress they were looking a bit shallow. He needed something to add to their gravitas, and just yesterday he had heard from one of his fellow artists that it was just the thing to get a dark foreground. Earlier in the day he had googled around and it seemed that the only art store that had the paint was out in the burbs near the forest preserve and he had been planning on taking the train out there the next day.
But you know what? Why wait? He had finished his fifth pale ale, and was feeling very competent. And there was his bike right out the door and quick as a cat can wink her eye, he was heading lickety split northwest to the edge of town, and making very good time and - BAM he ran into a very big truck.
A couple months in the hospital staring at his leg up in the air, some rehab, and he was feeling pretty good, except for the crutches. Well an artist has to suffer. That fellow artist had kindly given him a tube of perylene green and he returned to those philodendron leaves, slathering all that leaf, and sap, and olive green with deft touches of perylene green. Looked pretty good, but as any watercolor artist worth his salt knew, you have to look at them from a distance, and that required limping away on those damn crutches, and he wasn't too good at that. It was awkward, it hurt his armpits, it took forever. How could he ever apply paint so as to achieve pure artistic essence in these conditions? He could not.
ReplyDeleteIn despair he took the train out to the forest preserve, not sure why, took a bottle of absinthe along to settle his mind or something. He had to hobble all the way from the train to the woods and he was achy all over and tossed his crutches across the path and into the bushes. Then he got to work on that absinthe. It wasn't easing his woes as he had hoped it would and he slumped down to where the sun struck him smack dab in the face.
But wait, that wasn't the sun, it was Apollo, Greek god of the arts, tying his chariot to a tree and coming over. "Fear not Cricket. I have been watching you. I have heard your spiel in the bar, and, as the god of arts, I am going to convert you to pure artistic essence. I am also the god of poetry and there is nothing lovelier than a tree.
And now Art was standing without the crutches. His legs were strong, his arms spread out, his clothes, turned to tatters by his growth, fell away, and he felt the glorious rays of the sun on his skin, and now he was growing leaves and ascending into the sky. Glancing down he noticed the crutches and asked Apollo, "What should we do with these?"
"I know not," said Apollo. "Perhaps the beavers will gnaw them, perhaps the vines will enwrap them. Maybe some artist will come along and make them a part of her work of art."
I knew I asked the right person! Good one!
DeleteReally like that bee, should have had him sting the poor sap or maybe Art, or maybe even Apollo hisseif.
ReplyDeleteI can believe the “clothes turned to tatters” part. Also loved the bee. Hard to do insects. Ask Ken.
ReplyDelete