Winter Naps

Winter Nap   charcoal/pastel   28 x 18

come easily in the dark season....even if you don't wish it.  It must relate somehow to a kind of hibernation...layers of  warm clothing, the warmth of an engaging fire and an early sunset all collaborate to induce sleep.  Drawing a napping person has always been one of my favorite things to do.  The model is happy and relaxed.  Weight is suspended.  I enjoy the articulation of the intersections of person and pillow, of person and support.  "Winter Nap" was drawn from a model at Summit Artspace as a poorly-attended demonstration one winter afternoon.  I so enjoyed this undertaking!  The green was added later - to merge, to liven and to soften.  That year my son was married in San Francisco.  Their wedding photos were shot by a pair of Portland twins who journeyed south for the event.  All of the photos seemed to have a greenish cast which conveyed an earthiness as well as visual mystery.  I decided to try it myself and was pleasantly please with the results.

Amanda

is one of the many many models whom I have drawn or painted over the past many years.  While I do strive for a likeness of sorts, I most often use these sessions for experimentation.  As I recall, I was disappointed that I had rendered her face too long from hairline to chin.  However, this is one of my favorite portraits in its "feel" and its expressiveness. 

We have a new "print" rack at Group Ten Gallery.  Amanda is wrapped all in cellophane and is offered as an unframed work. 

Amanda?  I'm afraid that I don't even recall her last name....but I thank her nonetheless.

Amanda   charcoal   16.5 x 11

Letting Go

The Letting Go   oil on canvas   40 x 30 x 1.5

of all kinds of things is scary...letting go of habits, of crutches, of perfectionism.  And yet, letting go allows for many more opportunities, more confidence, and an increasingly greater realm of creativity.  When I was a child, I took swimming lessons.  As a below-average swimmer, I always took care to choose the lane in the pool that was on the edge, just in case I needed to hang on to the wall as a security device.  After a few sessions, my instructor caught on to my trick and told me to take the center lane.  That was when I learned to swim.  By increasing our drawing skills, and by letting go of photographs we are able to achieve more freedom in our paintings.  And that is indeed the most difficult thing to do.  As children, we are able to doodle all over the page without terror.  As adults, we somehow become mired in reality and glued to details that are actually unimportant.  In the long run, I believe that we will only achieve freedom when we let go of our visual crutches.

My actress friend calls this "being off book".  Essentially, this means that it is only when you have memorized the script, and can put it down, that you are able to be creative with your own interpretation of your character.

My current read is The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt.  On page 578, (for those of you with an investigative inclination), is a description of paintings that illustrate my point....and a lengthy discussion at that.  Too much perfectionism deadens.  The masters are indeed masters at the creating the illusion of the subject, while using the paint, the strokes and their hands, as well as the subject.

Let go..............if only one hand at a time.

"Letting Go" is currently on exhibit at Group Ten Gallery in Kent, Ohio.

Napping

Eleanor enjoying Thanksgiving Day...from my sketchbook

is one of the most pleasurable of winter pastimes.  We are, after all, animals who respond to temperature and activity changes.  Sketching nappers is just as pleasurable for me.  The unmoving model (for the most part).  The way the weight of the figure melds into the cushion, the blanket, the pillow.  Some of my best sketches have been nappers.  Quiet.  Quiet.  A treat for both the napper and the observer.

Precious Hours

were spent over the holidays with our grandson "E".  Of course, as is life with a 16-month-old, our activities were punctuated with naps.  Such was the case when we visited Turtle Run park where one can hand-feed the sparrows which is one of our Christmas pleasures.  As we arrived, E. had slipped into naptime while buckled into his car seat...and so I volunteered to stay in the car with him.  Being ever-so-careful and quiet, I slipped my small book and pencil carrier out of my bag and set to work.  Small sketches such as these provide me with continual pleasure, long after the event is over.

Snow and Frost and Chill...oh my.............

The Birch Brothers   watercolor   20.25 x 13

No, really....just half.  Half a piece of pie.  Half 'n Half.  Half a slice....not the whole.  And, my favorite....half a cookie.  (Never mind that I will retrieve the other half in a relatively short period of time)  There are indeed times when a whole won't do....even a whole stroke.  Such was the case with "The Birch Brothers".  I knew that the counter-spaces between branches at the top would be important in its rendering.  Not being a fan of masking fluid and, I believe, the thick, chunky and clumsy shapes that it leaves behind (ask my students), I knew that this large area would have to be worked in a push and pull fashion.  Lay it in.  Take it away.  I like happenstance.  Surprises.  After a pass or two, the area was far too described....the strokes laid in told too much of the story...not enough ambiguity.  And so I headed for the basement laundry tub.  I used extreme water pressure on the top of the work.  The pigment came off unevenly much to my delight, leaving pocks of white paper.  Further application.  Further destruction ensued.  Back and forth.  More water pressure.  Some scraping.  Until I had achieved the feel that I wanted.  Andrews turquoise became my best friend. Nothing ventured.  Nothing gained.