Tetrachromacy makes it all come clear

 

 

When I first saw these jumbled threads of a worn-out orange construction fence, I actually thought they were a new species of flowering pink vine.  Well, there are some with better eyesight whose gifts were ultimately helpful as I approached #3 in my series of  "East Side Storeys."  Here goes.

 

I love this beautiful house that I frequently pass on my neighbourhood walks.  The residents hang occasional flags and often display giant seasonal balloons – snowmen, jack-o-lanterns, what have you.

 

In my sketch notes, I've called it "House with cut-out porch."  It's the shape of the archways on front and side that are so delightful.

 

 

I decided that this time I'd aim for a little more spontaneity and avoid a meticulous preliminary grid.  As I began my layout with chalk, I saw it would be a trick to capture the cut-out on the side of the porch – and at the same time, the cooperative young model from a historic mail-order house that goes back almost a century before on-line ordering. 

 

 

Well:  Press on regardless.  As I began to apply colour, darks first, I saw that my invented vantage point was making for troubling perspective.

 

 

What's that handy self-critique that hits me about three hours into a painting? "What was I thinking?"  Because by this stage, all the lines, all the angles, all the overlaps and intersections had already doubled the time I usually spend to get to this point in a painting.  And after many  more hours, they were still not right!

 

 

If I'd planned more carefully at the outset,… Is it even worth completing that sentence?  I was where I was, and I decided to just keep going.  For one thing -- to review an early choice -- I'd realized there was a meaningless space between the side cut-out and the small window so I'd filled it with a hummingbird feeder.

 

That's it – Hummers to the rescue.!! After all, we know that they don't see the world like this:--

 

No, their vision has the special quality of tetrachromacy.   Some humans have this trait, too, but hummingbirds can also see colour on the UV spectrum.   So surely their super-vision will put aright any of this painting's flaws.  They could care less about perspective – and knowing that they see in their own perfect way, I've titled the painting "What the Hummingbirds Saw" (copyright 2025 – East Side Storeys Series).

 

 

During the weeks I was grinding away on this, I caught a Zoom lecture by phenomenal wildlife photographer Liron Gertsman.  It's worth flipping through his gallery, and if you're really intrigued by birds and photography, you could view one of his videos like this one  – "The Best Photo of My Career – A Bird and a  Solar Eclipse."

 

Having seen how he photographs rapid wing movement, I was tempted to place an oversized hummer right before the front steps.  But that would be a bit much, wouldn't it?

 

Spring is in the air

 

 

It's been the wettest autumn for us, the coldest January-February, but yes, spring is on its way.  In celebration, I'm featuring my newest fascination – air plants (Tillandsia) – thanks to a holiday gift from my friend L.  For verification that spring is at hand, my windowsill plants are bursting towards the sun –

 

And the largest of the succulents is positively crying, "LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

 

 

It's still raining a lot but when, occasionally, the sky clears at midday, the throngs pour into the street for dancing and acrobatics.

 

 

My wool cap is sick of being a winter cap and started playing funny games with my groceries….flinging itself around my entryway and hiding a bag of mini-potatoes for almost two days.

 

I'm breathing deeply and trying to take a fresh look at things, renewing my original plan to develop a series of "East Side Storeys."  Next up on my list was one of these two houses, about five blocks from where I live.

 

The bay window and the colour combination of the house on the right particularly enchant me.

 

So:  Away we go, with a couple of splashy little studies to play with a composition and then an underlayer in orange, the colour complement of the house's predominant blue.

 

 

Here's a very early planning stage, after I've corralled those sunshine street dancers.

 

 

 

At this point, I'd put in about a third of the many hours I would come to use – finding it a bit exhausting and confusing but well past the point of no return.

 

 

 

I usually build my tones and variations on 3-4 tube colours – this is called a "limited palette."  But I must have used a good 12, plus Payne's Grey, an almost-black….and an almost no-no.  Crazy – and so the logical title was, "Spring Fever" (East Side Storeys series, copyright 2025).

 

Do you know an architect or contractor who would love to know about this series?  Don't tell them…….!  There are just too many errors and irregularities.  (Well, there were no fewer than three recorded earthquakes during the weeks this painting was under way).  But it IS spring – officially next week.  Why not suggest that they forget their building projects and take a walk under the cherry blossoms?

 

 

 

A pause for -- applause?

 

 

Let's consider an upside-down calendar as a symbol for a necessary pause.  And if that sensible action doesn't provoke applause….how about a small plaudit? Does that sound like some kind of tiny creature burrowing out of the snow?  Well, it's something else, but maybe not yet deserved.

 

My decision to pause was at least sensible, if not actually praiseworthy.   My previous painting showed an attempt to combine my "East Side Storeys" series with development work on portraiture. But where would this take me?  A series of portraits, close up against windows, door frames, porch chairs?  I decided to pause for a couple of weeks and reconnect with portraiture without porches.  And for that, I looked to an enduring hero, Hashim Akib. 

 

 

A photo received in my in-box gave me just the subject matter:--  My high school friend B with a young neighbour of hers, whose affection and regard B has earned by coaching the younger woman in a specialty field in which B is a prize-winning expert. 

 

With Hashim's examples in mind, I made a start on a previously used textured paper.

 

 

The Akib method is certainly a challenge in carefully choosing colour tones, then putting them down brush stroke by brush stroke.   When I reached the point of no return, my friend B looked more like an elderly great-uncle than a kindly aunt.

 

 

 So what am I doing here??  And what will I do next?  Recently, my favourite local gallery had a marvellous show featuring this artist's sensitive portraits.  Luckily (or I'd quit now) this type of portraiture is not my goal.  Rather, I aim for the plausible, if inexact, like this previous self-portrait done in my first infatuation with Hashim Akib a few years ago.

 

 

And for a portrait that I just can't put away, here's the copy I attempted of Adirondack artist Harold Weston back at Summer Camp 2023. 

 

 

So here's the Post-Pause Plan:  I'll produce a few more paintings for the East Side Storeys series, I'll incorporate some figures for scale and interest, and I'll try to avoid faces that are either postage stamp size or up-close-and-personal.

 

Meanwhile, I'll continue to salute the artists I've referenced here – and this local artist who has an enthusiastic "patron" in our long-time East Side real estate agent who provides these tasty calendars every year.

 

 

 

When it fits on a postage stamp

 

 

When I introduced my new series titled "East Side Storeys," I barely mentioned my two personal goals:-- first, to celebrate some of the charming old houses that still prevail on this side of town, and second, to get back in the groove again with figures and faces.  I have a long way to go on these.

 

I'd realized pretty quickly that, in the style I envision, I wasn't going to fit a whole house on an 18x24" canvas.

 

 

And when I returned to spruce up the piece post-publication, I had to admit that there just wasn't enough face-space on my subject to develop a believable "portrait."  Moral:  If it fits on a postage stamp, it's not big enough for portrait practice.

 

Okay.  I kept that in mind as I decided to hone in on the features that first caught my eye on East Side houses – the stained-glass details, like this small vertical window:

 

Should I aim for just a slice of the house?

 

Or go in close and have someone standing on the stairs beneath?

 

 

 

I tried some possibilities in my sketchbook and decided on a very close view of the window, with the daughter of a friend right in front.

 

 

Turquoise was my choice for the underpainting, and then I began with the lightest lights on the face.  I had drawn just a few lines to frame the window and realized immediately that, of course, straight lines and square corners would be very important –0r something bad could happen:

 

You remember The Crooked Man, don't you?  Read here for the back-story.

 

At my mid-point, things hadn't toppled over:--

 

 

And here's the final:  "Continuum – 1910 to 2025" (East Side Storeys – copyright 2025)

(Final for now, but I think this might need some touch-ups tomorrow).

 

 

Now, just a little late for Valentine's Day, is a truly grand finale.  This amaryllis wouldn't fit on a postage stamp either, but it's been glorious on my windowsill – with its final 8 of 12 flowers just about to fade.

 

 

A tale of two cities -- and counting

 

 

 

For a good part of the 40-plus years I’ve lived in Vancouver, the city has seemed rather stable.  Now, in the past ten or so years, things are changing at an ever-faster rate.  Try as I might, I still feel more than wistful that six months from now, the construction I see out my kitchen window will have produced a building that will block parts of my view of the mountaintops.

I guess it’s best to just enjoy what I can while I can.   This east side of town and my neighbourhood of Kensington-Cedar Cottage is one of the old working-class districts of the city.  Although that term itself is outdated, the area still has plenty of houses from the early 20^th century onward that have their particular charms.  I’m always on the lookout for additions to my photo files.

The improbably cute houses:

More traditional models, sometimes with enticing porches, stairs, doors

 

The irresistible stained-glass windows.

 

Some years back, I started collecting ideas and sketchbook notes for a series I’m about to activate – “East Side Storeys.”   (Yes, I do know the difference, but I hadn’t known about the national preferences described here.)   My plan was to get back to people, too, along with the interesting houses.

As I flipped through my photo files, I remembered a recent acquaintance telling me about her family’s move here, also in the early 1970s. In their first week in their modest (but beautifully maintained) old two-storey house, she’d called her 10-year-old son to come in for lunch.  He answered with, “Come look at me, Mom!”  When she went outside, she spotted him balanced right on the peak of the second-floor roof, having a grand time exploring their new digs.

In answer to my what-on-earth-did-you-do question, she said, “I told him that lunch was on the stove, and I didn’t have time to stand around talking” and went back inside – and the boy came along pretty quickly.

Without recreating history, then, my plan was to put people on the roof – and I selected the house shown in the title image and started to plan.

As I continued, I saw that this – and likely any others in the series – would require a lot more attention to lines and angles than to anything else.

And here’s the final version.   I resisted the title “Second Storey Gang” – because they’re not breaking and entering.  They’re just having a high old time, with the title, “High Jinx” (copyright 2025)

Should I have borrowed from the Beetle Beings’ wardrobes?  No, I think we’ll have enough fun, just sharing storeys.