New Year’s Eve 2019 - What’s out there?

Wow.  What's coming?  A new year.  A new decade.  And who knows what, on all fronts.  To say the words "twenty years ago", to reflect on all that has happened in that time...  rather astonishing.

Well, twenty years ago at this time of year, I'd been recently hired for a full-time job at a place I loved, we were celebrating the season at our snowy cabin, and among the gifts I was cherishing from JT was this beautiful half-size sketchbook:--

Just recently, when my Chinese-Canadian neighbours brought their friends to my house, I realized my chance had come to learn the meaning of the symbol on the cover.  When I brought it out, their eyes lit up, "Good luck!  Good fortune! -- and the red, too, so lucky!"  Well, what more could I have asked, for the special purpose to which I eventually put this lovely little book? 

Twenty years ago, the year 2000 was a special time for my art.  I had come to accept that evening art classes were no longer feasible but that, by golly,  I wasn't a half-bad student.  I had continued my enduring practice of drawing every day -- thank you, revered teacher Kimon Nicolaides via your book THE NATURAL WAY TO DRAW.  I see by this link, which explains the Daily Composition exercise I've followed for more than 20 years, that his teachings continue to inspire others.

I also recalled then the advice of my other revered teacher RJS, from whom I'd taken several semesters of life drawing classes in the early 80's.   Nicolaides had said, "The student who learns to draw is the one who draws." (Meaning:  You have to work at it, not just think about it.)  RJS had said, in answer to another student's question about how to learn to paint, "Just do it.  Start painting."

By August of that year (the season that I consider my personal "new year" in terms of major goal-setting), I had decided to take myself to Art School at home -- to set goals, to devise a curriculum from all the resources I had available, to keep working. 

Year One in my art school was based on an exercise suggested by Robert Kaupelis, artist-author of two great books, LEARNING TO DRAW and EXPERIMENTAL DRAWING.  He proposed:  "Draw every day for a year.  Draw on a roll of paper.  Do not unroll and do not look back until the end of the year." 

And I did it! - missing maybe 3 days out of the 365.  The Daily Composition continues (most days!), as does my annual goal-setting in the beautiful red sketchbook.  To cheer myself on, I "graduated" from Art School about five years ago and began to call my studies "The Homegrown MFA." (Master of Fine Arts).

This past fall, I again carefully set my goals for Year 20 - Homegrown MFA.  And I decided that I'd paint a self-portrait for my launch into the year 2020 -- when (gulp!) I will be 75 years old.  The self-portrait was a good opportunity to try working in the style of an enthralling artist I'd only recently discovered -- Julien Lévy-Dhurmer.  My eye was caught by a library book cover using his painting, La Femme à la Médaille ou Mystére  ("Woman with Medallion -- or Mystery."):--

As much as I've always loved Art Nouveau, I'd never come across this French artist of the late 19^th/early 20^th century.  When I checked on-line and found some of his other eerie images -- like "Le Silence" -- I was smitten.

Here's my take, in the manner of  Lévy-Dhurmer, on my own personal "Mystére":--  "Looking Toward 75" (copyright 2019).

Although I'm excited about the unknown adventures ahead, the view hasn't yet come into focus.  I'm confident, though, that if I just keep moving, one step after another, the path will become clear.  From another old sketchbook that I came across just the other day, here's how things appeared as I looked out my studio window at our old house -- one dark evening, almost exactly 20 years ago.

Denizens Series -- It's a wrap!

I aimed to produce ten paintings in the "Denizens" series by year-end, and with mixed results, I'll announce that it's a wrap.  Did I learn a lot?  Yes.  Did I make progress?  Well…let's come back to that in a minute.

First, I'll introduce Number 9 in the series.  She's a lovely young woman who's a receptionist at the clinic I go to.  Almost every time I show up for a volunteer stint, her hair is a different colour, and I ooh and aah.  She told me her sister is a hair stylist, and she gets the benefit of her sister's experimentation.

Here's the first drawing I made from memory and my first quick painted study.

She was so excited about the drawing -- though we both agreed it doesn't really capture her beautiful young face.  (My words, not hers)  And I don't even plan to show her the final painting, Denizens Series - "The Stylist's Sister," copyright 2019.

Number Ten in the series is truly a denizen -- a neighbour down the block until two years ago.  Evidently, he worked from home and would go out for a daily coffee.  He seemed at first to be grim and vaguely hostile.  Then I began taking my sweet cat Nik for walks on his leash -- and that led to cordial sidewalk exchanges.  Here's my memory drawing and very slapdash painted study (gotta use up the excess paint on my palette).

The last time I saw him, Thanksgiving 2017, he and his 10-year-old son (who I'd never previously laid eyes on) were taking a big box of food to a homeless shelter -- quite a different person behind the forbidding features that had first caught my eye!  Two weeks later, I learned the family had moved out, unable to afford a hefty rent increase.  So here he is -- reminding me that you can't judge a book by its cover, Denizens Series - "Neighbour," copyright 2019.

Back to the opener:  Did I make progress through this exercise?  I'm not aiming to paint classical portraits but just want to become more….well, plausible, I guess.  Let's take a look.  Here's Number One, "Ringlets," compared to Number Nine, "The Stylist's Sister."

And here's Number Two, "Filmmaker", compared to Number Ten, "Neighbour."

Hmmmm.   Progress?  Not sure.  What I remember as a uniting feature of all four is that I knew something more needed to be done, but I wasn't sure what.  And I was afraid to go further and wreck the whole thing.

Did I say "feature"?  I'm sure I've read somewhere that it doesn't take an artist to instantly recognize the errors in the features of a painted face -- like those eyes in "Ringlets"?!  Looking for this reference on-line, I found an abundance of articles on facial recognition -- some of it rather scary.  The Smithsonian offers the simplest (and least sinister) summary of findings to date.

With the Denizens Series a wrap, what's next?  Well, there are always people off on the sidelines, and their figures and features are just waiting to show up in my studio.

Eight down, two to go

With two more faces completed, I'm approaching my goal of producing ten mini-portraits for my "Denizens" series.  Number Seven is based on a memory drawing of a pale-eyed young man I spotted on the bus.  His features were quite sharp but he had a sweet open awareness of things going on around him.

He was with a  staid looking buddy, both of them carrying packs and hardhats -- but poking out of his, I detected what looked like a recorder -- so I've called the painting "Denizens Series - Musician."  (copyright 2019)

An equally fascinating sighting was a young woman on the coffee shop terrace at VanDusen Gardens.  Here's a sketchy glimpse of her:

Soon afterward, on a morning when I had leftover paint on my palette, I tried to capture her strong features -- and hair!!! -- in one of my funky cardboard sketches.

Meanwhile, the mystery remained. Who was she??  She seemed to be a visitor, solicitously hosted by a woman and man of about her own age who seemed to be almost fawning over her.  Was she their boss from Toronto head office?  A potential investor in their new start-up?  I’ll never know.  So with acknowledgment of facial features that appeared somewhat masculine, I’ve given her the gender non-specific title, “Denizens Series - Actor.” (copyright 2019)

Recently, I've been reading some stories by the noted 19^th-century French writer Guy deMaupassant.  I've been struck by the way his characters immediately come to life, immediately evoke the reader's attention and concern.  And I've recalled something he wrote that I've had posted on my bulletin board for many years:--

  

It is the lives we encounter that make life worth living.

 -- and it is the hint of lives encountered that makes the human figure and face so compelling to me.

Around the 'hood

Recently I began my "Denizens" series  with the goals of becoming more familiar with painting on canvas and more confident in painting heads/faces.  Generally, I find my subjects walking about or riding the bus.  Some, however, are just too fleeting like this striking seasonal zebra with attendant ghosts, courtesy of my beautiful young neighbour.  The zebra rotates between her and her twin sister so it's likely to haunt the premises again next Halloween.

But on to my wider neighbourhood.  The fifth of my Denizens is a guy who often sits across from me in the circle at the drawing studio.

He works seriously at his art and has a unique style, with a touch of Toulouse-Lautrec about it.  Here he is -- "Emerging Artist, age 70." (copyright 2019)

  

My sixth Denizen is one of those chance encounters -- a young woman glimpsed on the bus who seemed mostly golden, except for the white of her earbuds.  I call her "The Listener" (copyright 2019).

I'm over halfway to my goal of ten paintings of Denizens.  And just coincidentally, an artists' organization I belong to is having its annual "Ten by Ten" fundraiser.  It's a juried sale (and I'm not at that stage yet; not eligible to submit) of paintings measuring 10" x 10".  So what the heck.  I thought I'd have my own little show here -- three in a series that shows what can happen on 100 square inches of my palette. 

Acrobatic outcomes

I've been doing studio gymnastics for a long time now, and there's no way to predict when I'll land on my feet.  It was 2016 when I painted "Clowns Take a Tumble" and considered it then to be a kind of breakthrough.   I haven't painted over it yet, but not every attempt of mine has survived that long -- or even reached that stage.

Remember "Young Fil"? 

It seemed to start out so well, and then at a late stage, it became clear that too much was wrong with it.  Quite disappointed, I stowed it in a dark corner until just recently -- when the time was ripe to turn it upside down, paint it over, and start with something else.

I decided I'd work from a drawing I'd done several months ago at the life drawing studio.

I worked away and began to wonder if this particular canvas had a curse on it.  The placement of the shoulders wasn't right. The slope of the head was wrong.  And even as I made adjustments, I decided that as a drawing it had been one of my great successes -- but as a painting….it was boring.

Enough!  I reached the stage of what I dramatically call "The Point of Abandonment."  But as if on cue, almost that very day, my niece N sent me a fabulous photo of her (and my) friend H, who lives in Bellingham.  I knew I had to give him a try and started with a quick familiarization study on cardboard.

Then I took the troublesome canvas, painted over the model's head, turned it upside-down, and began to lay in H's portrait.  He's one of the kindest men I know and in his quiet way draws people to him.  Notably, he's also a fabric artist, and I decided to place an imitation dyed fabric behind his head.

It's taken some juggling, but two tumbles later, this canvas turned out to be magic for me.  Here's the final version of "Artist, Friend, People Magnet," (copyright 2019).  

This is truly the best painting I've ever done. (Not that I intend to give up my pursuit of surrealism).   And here's the real work of art -- a close-up of one of H's tie-dyed scarves that he and N gave me, a cherished essential in my summer wardrobe.

Out of the shadows

It's that time of year when the low sun works mysteries in The Yellow House.  At its long seasonal slant, it bounces off windshields of cars parked out front and creates enticing shadows as the reflection passes through outdoor foliage onto my living room walls.  Continuing my Denizens series, I pulled two more candidates out of shadows of their own.

First up was an unusual young elfin woman I spotted on the bus.

As I laid in her features, which brought to mind a woodland sprite, it occurred to me that she might be at home in camouflage.

If you want to be dazzled by pattern, google "camouflage" or take a look at this page of a gazillion variations.  After studying many examples, I was almost seeing double by the time I'd narrowed my choices and placed the nymph among them for Denizens Series - "Camo" (copyright 2019).

 Just as my vision needed a rest, another bus rider caught my eye.  (I've perfected a technique of not being noticed as I constantly scan people's appearance -- their posture, their costume, the lift of their eyebrows, the ridge of their noses, the shape of their chins...)

Compared to the dazzle of the "Camo" elf, this young man was almost all uniformly dark -- his cap, his hair, his beard, his skin, his T-shirt, his sunglasses, his earphones.  Here's the final version:-- Denizens Series - "Shades" (copyright 2019).

Right now, there's a possibility that Metro Vancouver bus drivers might go on strike.  Luckily, I have years of stored images in my sketchbooks based on memories of fellow transit riders.  And when you look around you, Denizens can be seen anywhere -- as on the shadow side of this building.