Lushness, thickness, and color.
So now it was Thanksgiving time, the leaves turned, as did
the weather. There's not a whole lot of good things can be said about the
pursuit of needs in a place not conducive to these objectives. My encouragement
over
the past few paintings was enough to override the hostile
environment, however a certain physical sense could not be easily over looked.
It was noticeably colder, and when ones hands play a marked part in their
efforts, they simply do not work as well as in the warmth of summer. None the
less, and as if justified in my
statements in GIVING, and backed with the suffering attitude
I felt was, by now, an artists --
into making my work more real. I do remember having a long
conversation with my friend David about painting, and saying to him that I was dissatisfied
with my work because it appeared to me as if the work
was done upon, not within the canvas. That did seem to be
the point for me, the work should come from within, not be upon the surface of
the canvas. How to create this effect became my next task. David did
think for a long time about our conversation and eventually
came to see what I meant. This might be the
first painting theory I discovered with Mr. VanGogh.
Perhaps that type of a theory mostly pertains to painters
and artists, but I also know that my pursuit of Vincent VanGogh was beginning
to show me things about myself the closer I came to him. It wasn't dissatisfaction
with what I was doing, but rather more like a series of questions as to why.
Why was I working in the garage? As November, December and
early January passed, with me knowing
the Muldoons showing must go on, and wanting to have the
best examples displayed this time out, I lost myself among the frozen brushes
and the remains of last night’s pallet of color, hot in pursuit of three
VanGoghs.
From "the great book" I had focuses upon a
stairway scene from Auvers, 1890, a church scene from Arles with women walking,
and a Sower, one of my favorite pictures. The intent in these paintings was to
use slightly more paint with the same devotion to color, and to try and get the
depths possible, thereby having
the painting come from within, not on. I was feeling pretty
good about my developing skills and had a sense of confidence as through the
cold weather my works transformed themselves in, pretty much, an even, flowing
fashion. Each painting gave me more courage to begin the next and when I'd
finished the three, Muldoons at the end of the month seemed attractive, indeed.
While I cannot say, in good faith, I totally accomplished
everything I set out to do in these three paintings,
I can begin to give you a sense of what I had tried to
explain to David. In the stairway picture, there are
four figures walking towards the stairs. At the top of the
stairs there are three large homes, while off to the right there are three
smaller buildings and throughout the painting, trees of the dreaded green, and
shrubs.
How to pull all this together, keeping the colors both
separate and together, making the presentation come from within rather than on,
was much, much more difficult that I thought. This time much more paint was
applied as I was now convinced, and confident, that to paint a painter has to
use sufficient paint.
In actuality, I painted the paint that was applied to the
picture, keeping color changes in mind as I went along, hoping for the affect
I'd wanted. To really do this properly the initial base of paint must be
sufficiently thick such that the painter need not go back
for, as a matter of fact, using this technique,
one cannot, without scraping or erasing, go back. Even after
all that, I found myself wanting more, coming closer, yet not quite there yet.
As the base paint pulled the darker outlines, feeling that pull was what I was
after.
The second painting, a church in Arles, with a woman in a
yellow hat (I'm sure one of the same women
from the previous picture) really is a composite of many
types of problems I'd tried to overcome in the past.
The painting came from "the great book" and shows
an old church with green and orange tile roofs, a steeple, and several
supporting side buildings. The trick here, for me, was to get the foreground
which
had a small road, or path, and its accompanying greenery and
flowers correct with the shadows that were
at the base of the building. Now, that may seem easy, but
remembering my earlier efforts and how the
dark colors "ate up" my lights, to pull this off
and have it look correct was a large scale celebration for
me. Again, I painted the paint this time with a deeper base
than before, still not nearly enough.
The sky, Vincent's usual deep blue, taught me yet another
lesson. Not until I'd photographed this
picture did I come to realize that several techniques I'd
tried to paint were actually a result of the photographic process. If you look
closely, the sky to both the right and left of the church seems to have
white strokes through it, as if one of Claude Monet’s
brushes had, somehow, magnificently touched the painting. I can, for sure, tell
you this is not true, but an illusion mostly due to photography. If you take
pictures of paintings, as I did this one, the lights you must use cause this
affect. They are called “hot spots”
and if you paint from photographs, you could spend
considerable time trying to create these effects and wondering just how the
painter accomplished these techniques. If I had not seen some of Claude Monet’s
work in person, and had not made some of these basic observations between
photographs and paintings,
I'd still be wondering just how to get that sky correct, and
more importantly, trying to recreate a technique based upon a false assumption.
Anyways, though this again does not match Vincent’s
original, the painting of the church and the woman with the yellow hat gave me
a sense of sublime satisfaction. The problems I'd perceived insurmountable
'only a few short years ago had now been dealt with in a
most reasonable fashion. As in the previous
painting, the woman in the yellow hat flew out with a few
short strokes and I especially did enjoy that
same feeling of the heavier base paint pulling the outline
of the woman. Today, when I look at this painting
it gives me a sense of extreme amusement when I think about
the hours I spent trying to figure out that sky, only to realize it was
photographic, not "painterly". Oh well, to each accomplishment comes
a funny side note and I'm sure glad to have found this one out. There's also a
moral about painting from photographs,
which I'll get to soon.
Well, by now it was early January and the 29th showing date
bore into me as all my deadline seem to do.
I knew I was on to what I'd wanted to accomplish, and the
theory of thickness was working well for me.
A sense, in these last two paintings, of the paintings being
within and not upon the canvas was with me as I looked at them and so, deciding
to try for the best effect to date, I selected The Sower, a generic forever
lasting impression of what farmer do, as the final effort for the show. I must
also confess I painted this picture for David because I knew he thought of
himself as a type of "sower" and I was sure of a sale.
That was a big mistake because a painter should never assume
a commission or sale as it misrepresents the intentions of the painting, which
is art, not money.
Thick backgrounds, again not thick enough, began the work. A
large tree and a green sky with a large orange sunset, as a figure, planting
seeds moves towards the observer with a hand held out lays out the work. The
seeds in the sower’s hand are dark with the sunlight glancing off as they fall
to the ground. The sower
has no face. The tree has reflected sunlight, a red cast to
it and flowering buds at the beginning of spring.
The painting made it into the show and I learned a lot from
it, mostly about myself and sales assumptions.
"I
wished for more thickness but fell in love instead
with two women in yellow hats.
Courage, and feel, are the way".
"Tranquillity,
beauty, light within shadows more in, than upon.
A good painting comes at, then is with
you".
"A man
of seed, true seed, plants, and takes a chance.
Self-declared
insurance, assuming a sale for instance,
affects the
crop (painting) as it does the painter".
