Thoughts to share, ideas to ponder

This painting shown came by way of a very specific scene in my mind, including the warm sunlight, the couple locked in concentration.  The light had to be warm, the background diffuse, the observers (us), not detached but present, watching the game unfold. 

My feelings about the scene, as I witnessed it in my own imagination, fueled the creation and completion of the painting.  Yet, despite having the "picture" in my head, the resulting painting was so much more alive and fresh and rich when it was finished!

Here is another example of a scene that was partially developed in my imagination, resulting in "Daylight Soiree".
Daylight Soiree', 15 x 23, Pastel


I imagined an abundant table setting of white dishes, in the shade of an outdoor patio, expectant energy in the air.  Fuzzy imagination came into focus as the scene took shape.  The result was more peaceful than what I had imagined.

In other cases, the unique qualities of  the light itself sparked my emotion and imagination, prompting inspiration.  Below are examples of those:

Peace of Morning, 18 x 24, Pastel
Grace Under Pressure, 19 x

Why do I say "without formulas?"  Because creating art (using my definition), is less about relying on a tried and true formula, and more about observing (always through the lens of beauty) two important things:  First, emotion feeding imagination and, second, the way light informs and shapes both. 

This path, by definition, guarantees some level of uncertainty, which means that I have to stay out of my own way, and let inspiration-- with an a prior sense of beauty at the helm--speak.  Even when imagination fosters a complete picture in my head (as in the first example here of Hearts and Diamonds...and Cara Mia, and in other paintings like Hope, and Innocence), the light informing the scene still dictates the arrangement of the composition, and the result (when I am truly out of the way) is often surprising and wonderful.

Sometimes the light is warm and dramatic; sometimes, cool and soft. (Notice both in the paintings above).  And never do I want to become so predictable to myself and to my viewers (formulaic, boring and limited) that I rely on only one type of light to inform the inspiration.  The surprises of light's beauty would end, a sense of wonder would diminish, and I would become a technician.  And the result would be craft without art.

In summary:

• Definition of formula:  A method of doing or treating something that relies on an established, uncontroversial model or approach
• Definition of art:   So many..most focusing on creativity, aesthetics, imagination.  So the best definition I can come up with is the one above:  a single one-time act of human creation, never-to-be repeated.

Emotion and imagination, in concert with the wonder and variability of light, as it all points to beauty, frames every creative and fruitful moment....each lived one brand new and one final, never-to-be-repeated  paint stroke at a time.

When the results of those paint strokes add up to "art"....there is certainly a formula for that:

67. Don’t call yourself an artist. Let others name you that. “Artist” is a title of great weight.

I read this insight in 2009 in Robert Genn's, The Painters Keys, as he posted a letter about artist, Irwin Greenberg, along with the list of 100 of his insights.  It is probably one of the most instrumental lists I have ever read.

To feel that "Artist" is a title of great weight and not to call yourself one is not fase modesty. Most artists I know feel that they never, ever arrive...that is, their art falls (slightly or hugely) short of their expectations.  It doesn't mean that they don't like the work or will feel a certain sense of happiness about it and even enjoy selling their best work.  It's just that it is "art", not "craft".  And so they are driven to do the next piece, and the next, and the next....

After working on my art for 25 years and selling it for the last eight, I still squirm a bit calling myself an artist.  If others do, indeed, I am very appreciative. Still, each day at the easel is a brand new day, and craft will only take me so far.  The "art" part of it will always be elusive to a greater or lesser degree and I can never be sure, day to day, how the needle will point.  So I go along for the ride, grateful for the opportunity to create and learn, leaving the "art" part of it the Universe.

I had a vision for this exact scene almost two years ago.  How to convey how absolutely gratifying it was to pose my models and see it come to life in the beautiful, warm dramatic sunlight I had hoped for?

Below is the study I completed from life.  For some reason, I was determined to do a larger plein air study than I would normally do, probably because I had intended the final studio piece to be much larger. 

After completing the study (below, roughly 18 x 22), I decided that it was nearly right size to convey what I intended.

I was inspired to do this painting by James Gurney's "Gurney Journey" blog The Separateness of Black.  He features a painting by Solomon J. Solomon, "The Breakfast Table" that shows how black as a distinct note in the composition stands apart, but the piece is still unified and beautiful.  James Gurney's point was to emphasize Solomon's point that black, used carefully, is a beneficial color on the palette, but as admonished by Rubens, mixed with white is dangerous.

The cool skies and landscape greens provided a perfect foil to the drama of this lone figure, fingering her black embroidery-embellished shawl in a moment of thinking and discernment.  Somehow, I think her black draped figure implies that her strength and conviction will yield a positive, if not difficult, outcome.

Anything with a mirror reflection, warm cool foreground light and cool back light is nothing short of incredibly challenging to paint.  I was given these beautiful ranunculus by the dear young woman who runs The Bloom of Time floral studio next door to my art studio (what could be better for a person like me who loves to paint flowers?).  Ranunculus have very delicate stems and so drape naturally. This heavy Chinese ink bowl, purchased at an art supply store directly in Bejing, China, was the perfect vessel for these rich red and white blossoms. 

The entire effect, even though I didn't set out intentionally to make it so, manifests itself as elegance...hence the title: "Eleganza"....

"Eleganza" underway. (The overhead "warmish" halogens were turned on to take this photo. Working light was much cooler.)