Where do these bright ideas come from?

I'm feeling wistful as I use the last old-fashioned lightbulb from the remaining box in a 20-year-old stash.  Wistful and a little anxious.  Whatever happened to the simple choice among 40-60-100 watt bulbs?  Now, when I shop for lightbulbs I'm confronted by racks upon racks of lights with incomprehensible shapes and dimensions.  Can "bright idea" be symbolized by flat-tops with no visible inner filaments?

 

I was equally perplexed as I worked to envision orange for the next in my series of Spectral Creatures.  First, there was a mysterious "fly on the wall" on the nearby building-in-progress that blocks part of my mountain view to the north.

 

Oh, it's a human fly – against an orange banner.  What was he doing??

 

Sleeping on the job?  Worksafe BC would not approve, even with the barely visible orange rope as a headrest.

 

As I fiddled with my camera settings, he righted himself and went on his way.

 

But the orange rope and banner were promising.  Next day in the studio, they nudged my attention toward my drawing from life posted on the wall just in my line of sight. I'd done this several years ago and just couldn't part with it – one of the two times I've had the opportunity to draw acrobats.

 

At that time, I'd done a little research and come across the famous Archange Tucarro (1535-1602) – professional Italian acrobat, tightrope walker, court jester and gymnastics instructor to young Charles IX of France.  He was so wily a performer that he has almost eluded an on-line presence!   His 400-page instruction manual still shows up in rare books sales:--

 

Only a few images of the original engravings, based on his woodcuts, can be found.  (I'd hoped Project Gutenberg would come through, but no such luck).  The first I spotted could almost have been a model for my model –

 

…and this led me to begin playing with a composition.

 

Then I found a second image on-line – the full picture of the stunt that's cropped for the "Trois Dialogues" book cover.  Rather amazing!

Wow!  I added a similar cropping to my sample composition and played some more.

 

And just at this time, when I was about to run away and join the circus, along came a book I'd requested from the library:

 

The author  relates his year studying circus history and arts in France, and here he comments on the very engraving that has captivated me:  (The Pascal he quotes is an eminent 21^st century acrobat/instructor – not the Pascal.) 

 

Well, this was all very fascinating – it still is, as I continue to read Wall's book.  Yet I was no closer to a spectral orange painting.  But……..next to the empty place on my bulletin board was another oldie of mine that I couldn't give up.

 

The creation of this face is described here.  It was inspired by a B.C. artist who our group saw in action on a 2023 art tour conducted by my friend L's gallery.  Scroll to the video and you'll get an idea of his spontaneous process.

 

SO:  That did it.  I decided to put the life drawing and the burning face back into near proximity and use orange with its colour wheel complement blue.  Underway:--

 

And here's the final version:  "Orange Flip – Spectral Series," copyright 2025.

 

Oh, but let's not forget the final step, just for the fun of it – finding a masterwork that features the same colour.  I think you'll have seen her before, and it looks like she's slept through it all.

 

To think that our colour wheel is just starting to roll!

 

Celebrate – Take Notice – Watch out!

 

 

"What's a 'red letter day?'" my 6-year-old self asked my mother, who of course knew all the important things and could tell me. (Now, I wonder if children are even introduced to paper calendars with this helpful code.)

 

The colour red can symbolize so many different things that it's only fitting it should launch the "Spectral Figures" series that I introduced last time.  For several years I had a practice of building my sketchbook with memory drawings from people sightings outside the neighbourhood.  I'd always tried to note and then to later record an example of a face, a pose, a costume – not necessarily from one person.  But then everyone started wearing black!

 

Too bad, but occasionally I'll still catch something – like this young woman's face.

 

I decided to dress her in red and omit the beret – which I used last time.  To warm up, I made a quick painted study of that sweet face.

 

I'd saved a pose from an old newspaper and thought it might work – a woman sitting on a white cushion in a white-walled room with window.

 

Almost as soon as I finished that preliminary phase, I realized I wasn't giving myself enough room to do much with the face – and tuning up faces and figures is one of the goals of the Spectral series.  After all, I was working on only 14 by 18 inches, and I'd need to scale the figure up to fit a larger head.

 

With a lot of back-and-forth (enlarging, diminishing, enlarging, diminishing), I arrived at a suitable size.  I'd never intended to leave the background white but opted for pale tones of green, the colour complement of red. 

 

I also considered using very dark green for the walls, with a deep grey-green storm cloud gathering in the window view.  Dramatic, yes...but, but….  

 

Better to quit while I'm ahead.  Here's the final version of "Red at First Blush" – Spectral Series, copyright 2025. 

 

Well…. Is this red?  Yes.  Is it interesting?  Not particularly.  This led me to go searching for what other artists who I like might have done with red prominent in their paintings of a figure.   Here's a find! – Paula Rego's portrait of Germaine Greer. 

 

I think I'll make this kind of comparison the final step in each of my paintings in this series.  There will surely be interesting surprises – like the wonders of a huge creamy white flower eventually emerging from the red bud of Magnolia grandiflora, radiant even in today's Vancouver rain.

 

 

 

Let's kick-start in neutral

 

Remember this gal?  She's the unidentified disrupter who, about this time two years ago, interrupted the launch of the Commedia series.  So, with a tip of the witch's hat, she's been appointed as the mascot for delayed starts and illogical titles.  (Can you actually kick-start in neutral gear?  Maybe – in old technology).

 

As I finished Summer Camp, at last dehydrated from looking at old sketchbooks, lessons, experimental techniques, I was taken with a formalized colour study I did years ago.

 

The objective was to place trade-name paints (my preferred Liquitex brand) in their proper places around the spectrum colour wheel, for which we can thank Newton.  For me, colour is the all of painting – so now what to do with it, here in the midst of ripe autumn which offers both the brilliant and the subdued.

 

I wanted to start a series that would take me back to figures and faces – perhaps a little more expressive than those I was seeing around me.

 

Then, reorganizing some computer files, I came across my list of "Series and Singulars" – titles to remind me of ideas I wanted to pursue.  There I'd noted "Spectral Creatures" --  YES!  Not eerie, not creepy, like Henry Fuseli's – but a series of interesting figures/faces in which a single colour predominates.

 

Now it happened that my friend Y, a skilled photographic artist settled in recent years in Budapest, had been sending me both colour-drenched and colour-drained photos from her daily excursions.  She was even among the half-dozen or more people I've talked with recently about "conkers" – ripened chestnut seeds.  (It seems there are two types of people -- either conker-lovers or conker-haters).    

 

These elements all came together to suggest the first in my series:  Y with her characteristic light tan coat, flowing light hair, her camera – and the conkers!  But what are the optics of starting my Spectral Creatures with neutral colours?  Never mind.  I enlisted an in-house model to hold the pose and got started.

 

 (Yes, she is holding the camera cord in her mouth to keep it out of the way -- all in the interests of art!)

 

Picking up abandoned techniques from times past, I did some simple preliminary plans.

 

 Then, on the prepared canvas board, I outlined the figure.

 

It didn't take many tube colours at all – and none are on the colour wheel.  So…not exactly as originally planned, here's the final version:  "Consider the Optics" (copyright 2025 , Spectral Series).

 

As I continue into a new painting year, I'm actively considering whether to reclaim or discard practices I once followed – like signing my work.  Watch this spot for what's to come next – At the Sign of the Octopus, where no two are alike.

 

 

Nothing is impossible

 

On a cold wet day in late September, a hint of bright orange peeked out from under huge hosta leaves in a ragged untended corner of my back yard.  Why, that's the flower of an acorn squash!  Who's the joker – Squirrel? Crow? Rodent who shall remain nameless?  Against all odds, the plant produced a few more flowers and then called it a season.

 

I think that's why so many people I know have commented lately on Autumn as their favourite time of year – one phase of life brought to completion and, in the natural course of events, another one lies ahead. 

 

In that autumnal mood, I've been considering what to hold onto, what to let go of, how to develop further.  For example, what to do with 50 years of sketchbooks, of which these are just a few.

 

As I considered a new series, I thought I'd do a transition piece – perhaps around the pond at Il Centro  – near which some Commedia characters recently whipped up a tsunami. 

 

My first idea was to invite eight or so of the artists I most admire to an informal get-together.  You might know that my favourite painting of all time is "Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" – it was love at first sight when teenaged me first saw it in Chicago's Art Institute. 

 

I hold this artist responsible for my tendency to pack a lot into a painting so of course he was first on my list.  But was Monsieur Georges Seurat dressed for a pool party -- or did his tailored appearance invite splash-offs and pitched battles with water balloons?

 

With a too-long list of favourite artists, I began some preliminary sketches;

 

No.  My transition plan was all wet.  Seurat worked wall-size, after all.  I decided to limit my party to just three female artists, close-up – two of them 20^th century Americans, who each wrote one of my most valued art books.  The first is Mary Beth McKenzie, shown here in a self-portrait.

 

The second is Harriet Shorr:

 

And the third, thought by some to be the greatest female artist of all time, blows any comparison out of the water.  She is Artemisia Gentileschi (1593-1654).  I saw her "Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting" when it was on loan to the Vancouver Art Gallery in 2017, and this painting is virtually alive. 

 

Well, I got started on the three of them, with the pool in the background.

 

And, like the acorn squash plant, I eventually called it a season – with no tasty result to show for it and Artemesia's hair having turned grey in the process.  Here's "Memory Pool," copyright 2025.

 

This one will be painted over and "repurposed" within six months, I'm sure.  But meanwhile, I conjured the idea for my new series (stay tuned) -- so I'll sit on a nearby rock, collect my breath, and press onward.

 

 

Still waters run deep

 

 

 

With shorter, wetter days now, it takes a little more effort and a few more clothing layers to go roaming very far.  By early September, I was regretting that the Hydration Series hadn't extended eastward another two miles to Renfrew Ravine.  It's not a place I would explore on my own, but it's important locally as an area where Still Creek has been daylighted successfully and salmon, with a little help from their human friends, are already starting to come back.

 

Then, just as the previous post was going to press, I happened upon this announcement:

 

"It's a sign!" as one friend would say.  Literally.  So I hit the button and signed up.  What's more, I could do some "daylighting" myself, revisiting a concept from an art book I'd acquired in the early 80s.

 

Here's one of Virginia Cobb's observations:

 

On one occasion, it was proven true for me when I found a flat, hand-sized rock slab with almost the same markings and proportions as a nearby cliff face familiar to us from our coastal hikes.  I planned to hold this thought when I visited Renfrew Ravine.

 

I arrived early at the "Yin Yang Bench".  (Is the world divided into yins who never arrive on time, and yangs who are never late?) 

 

This gave me time to walk around and examine in detail the delightful fish-themed mosaic constructed some years ago by community members.

 

Eventually, tour group leaders and participants straggled in.  Don't pass this on but, in truth, the session was organized chaos – in two languages.  Nonetheless, I enjoyed the surroundings, and I looked underfoot for things that might test Virginia Cobb's observation.

 

Back at home, though, I found a more useful model in a piece of driftwood collected somewhere else -- and pretended that it fit the concept.

 

With this at hand, I created a pretty quick splash entitled "Ravine at Low Water – Hydration Series" (copyright 2025). 

 

Remember my semi-serious theory that if I painted in very large size, I could hang with Gerhart Richter?   

 

Spectacular, isn't it?  Even if hung upside down or in the wrong orientation.

 

 

Now – just one more thing before we put Still Creek to bed:--(Don't even read this if birds freak you out).  Our local beach bum crows have one of their massive roosts in this area.   From Fall until the following late Spring, thousands of their kind migrate daily from beaches and coastal margins to East Vancouver and beyond.  At first light, westward to the beach; at early sunset, back again eastward to the roosts.  Just scroll through the pictures here to see what this mass flight looks like.

 

One of the pleasures of The Yellow House is that it's right under one of their flight paths.  As much as I've complained about the new building to the north blocking my mountain view, I delight in seeing them making a rest stop there, morning and evening.  A couple hundred might perch on the carpentry and crane, chatter away for a bit, and then with a WHOOSH, they're off in what seems a single coordinated movement.

 

And now, lights out on Summer Camp 2025.  It's been tons of fun, at least for those inclined to high jinx.