Wednesday, March 23, 2011

The artist's hand, the artist's eye

One of my great mentors (a "virtual mentor," I suppose, since the relationship is a literary one) is contemporary artist Harriet Shorr. I accidentally came across her insightful book THE ARTIST`S EYE almost 20 years ago, and I've continued to be inspired by her beautiful paintings and her observations about the process of painting and about being an artist.


She describes her interest in painting objects, not for what they are or what they represent, but for their form and colour -- a bias for abstraction through the lens of representation. About the content and style that tend to "choose" an artist (as children are said to choose their parents!), she writes:

Certain objects call to the painter because they resonate with the painter's sensibility -- an attraction to particular kinds of forms, to particular kinds of space. These attractions are formed by the innate visual sensibility of the artist and, perhaps of equal importance, the art that, as a young person, the artist first saw and loved. These primary influences, which together help to form an aesthetic sensibility, are what lead the artist to her subjects.

In my childhood home, there was no art to speak of, and it was many a year before I set foot in an art museum (and such a museum -- The Art Institute of Chicago!). But what my family home provided, and its female line nurtured, was a calm enthusiasm for interesting old things. Still in my possession are many second-hand finds (whether or not they are actually "antiques") brought home by my mother, my grandmother, my great-grandmother -- a pitcher, a jar, candlesticks, a figurine, baskets, some pieces of jewellery.

I expect my own eye, my own choices as an artist, have been informed by these objects and, as well, by a reflected interest in the human hand and mind -- sometimes a remote hand and mind in the past -- that made the choices that led to their creation. Several years ago, re-reading Harriet Shorr's book and the quote above, I made a painting on these twin themes and titled it in explanation: "The Artist's Hand, the Artist's Eye" (copyright 2007).




I learned a lot from this painting -- working in a limited colour scheme, with the objects just at eye level and the shadows cast by an upfacing light. Working with intensity, one becomes very acquainted with the individual things themselves.

Dipping into Shorr's website last week, I saw that one of her more recent paintings is called "Things of Use to Me." It's another of her characteristic huge still lifes (measured in feet rather than inches), and she has assembled perhaps two dozen objects that I recognized immediately -- they each played a role in at least one of her gorgeous paintings of the 70's and 80's, reproduced in her book. Wow. What a concept. The familiar objects, the close acquaintances, are gathered together as if at a family reunion. Already I see the temptation...!

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Slimming down, scaling up

Just after Christmas, JT started giving the cats and me an official daily report on the increasing minutes of daylight -- a reminder that I'd need to work fast to capture a scene in my studio corner that has fascinated me since the days turned dark. Here's the scene -- against a bulletin board, the intriguing shadows of two randomly placed bows and some roses hanging to dry.

I knew that the success of my painting (in my eyes at least) would depend on an exact placement of the objects and shadows and that some artists' techniques I rarely use would be needed. You're probably familiar with the first, a stereotype of artists in cartoons. You hold a pencil or other straight-edge at arm's-length as a guide to eyeballing distances and angles in the original set-up. Inch by inch, I developed a small study, and this showed me that for the effect I wanted, I'd need to use a narrower format than usual (13" x 26" vs. my usual 20" x 26").



In another few breath-holding sessions, I transferred these shapes and lines to my painting surface with a technique called "scaling up" -- one inch on my study equalled two inches on my paper. Meanwhile, I'd realized that if I added the stems and shadows as a final stage, they'd look tacked on -- so I made an early decision to work dark to light, leaving the defining darks intact and building up light tones around them -- quite exciting! You can view the whole process here .

Here on the easel are the original study and the final painting:



And here on its own, is the finished painting, "Studio Corner - Hanging Out to Dry." (copyright 2011)