Maybe this is not your style?

  

I first spotted these twin Lawrence of Siberia lions with snow on their heads in early February.  By the time I'd returned with my camera, the snow was gone, perhaps just as well.  They're one of the wittiest treatments I've seen of the stereotypical gate on the stereotypical fence in front of the stereotypical Vancouver Special-style house. 

It's time for T-shirts to replace the thawbs (okay, I just looked that up, and you can, too) but I still have winter-clothed figures on the easel and for artistic purposes, I'm going to miss those winter garments.  The piece I just finished is based on a young woman I saw on the bus --white-blonde hair, light cream coat with black sleeves, rich golden-orange scarf and headband, and red boots!!!

Challenging myself to make an interesting painting of the prominent cream and black, I set to work.

But something had happened by the time I started laying in the colours.

  

 

I got bored.  Even though I'd planned ahead, I hadn't planned enough.  I had really wanted to do those red boots, but the figure's placement....yawn.   Decision:  Forget the boots and enlarge the figure.

Deep sigh.  Still boring.  But I *still* wanted to do this figure.  Decision:  White-out the whole thing and begin again.

Okay -- I liked the size now.  Will I be able to I pull this off?  (One of the questions I often ask myself mid-stream)

 

All right -- the placement of the darks seemed promising, and away I went.

 

And as I reached the final version of "Dressed for Winter",  I found myself really liking my big flat colour splashes:

It's almost a given that a painter's style evolves of itself as the artist keeps working -- trying new things, pushing boundaries, making experiments.  Best not to give too much thought to it except I can't help but notice an irrepressible impulse towards big shapes, definite edges, and vibrant colours. 

When my esteemed teacher Thomas came for coffee at The Yellow House, he said, "Just keep doing your thing."  And as he talked randomly, deliberately not wanting to give specific advice, he said, "Alex Katz is a painter you might like." 

I'd only vaguely heard of Alex Katz but when I checked him out (scroll down on the page to see the paintings),...yeah, I did like him a lot.  My beloved friend A. did better than that -- she confessed to *loving* Alex Katz and last fall in Maine took me to the Colby College Museum.  Katz donated about 400 of his works to Colby College, where they can be seen in rotation in a specially-built wing -- and there I saw the real thing, very much larger than life!

Katz, by the way, is still going strong at age 90, and he describes his own style this way:

"I like to make an image that is so simple you can't avoid it, and so complicated you can't figure it out."

Now, about those Lawrence-Lions that kicked off this discussion of style:--  They win a prize, but only second place.  The major award for "Most Distinctive Ornaments on a Vancouver- Special Fence" goes to a house several more blocks away, with the Seven Dwarfs each perched on its own brick pedestal.  Modestly accepting the prize is Bashful.

The black and white of it

Back at it!  Pictured here are two of the regulars who often show up at the same life drawing session I prefer:-- Thursdays, 10 am to 1 pm.  When these sessions are at their best, the model is inventive and steady, the room is silent, and we're all so focussed we're almost breathing in unison.  I love these kind of days -- so do my compatriots and it shows in our happy anticipation beforehand and good moods afterwards, whether or not it's been a "good day" or a "bad day". 

I've referred before to my bible -- Kimon Nicolaides' "The Natural Way to Draw."   A close runner-up is "The Art Spirit" by Robert Henri.  Nicolaides and Henri were hugely influential early 20^th-century teachers at New York City's Art Students League; Henri, the elder by a generation, an accomplished artist.  Their books are still read and revered now, almost 100 years later.  Some timeless excerpts: 

   

"There is no such thing as starting where Cezanne left off. You have to start where he started... at the beginning." -  Kimon Nicolaides

  

"All real works of art look as though they were done in joy."  - Robert Henri

Maybe in some other lifetime, I'll be able to hit the Art Students League when one or the other is there teaching.  For now, I'll dip into my recent drawing sessions...just for the joy of it:

I've found it worthwhile to focus on just a part of the model if I'm not quite in synch with the pose.  Can you interpret this one? --

Just coincidentally, I hadn't worked with a male model in months so I was glad to see this guy show up -- someone with meat on his bones!

You might have noticed that I'm working on hands.

Now, in the coming two weeks, I'll be able to again attend the noontime drawing sessions that are offered free at the performance site of Vancouver's International Dance Festival.  It seemed like a good omen when one of last year's wonderful models returned for the first session I attended this year.

 When I got home, I took a couple inches off her head!  But this one, one of the last, was just about right:

I don't know if she's a dancer (often they are),  but she certainly models with joy.  These free sessions are only an hour long.  As our time came to a close and I began to dismantle my drawing board she said, "Okay -- there's one more minute.  How about this?" -- and  went instantly into a kind of yoga pose, balanced on one leg, arms outstretched.  I slapped my paper back in place, grabbed my charcoal, and captured this impression by the time the minute was up.   Forget the oversized head -- it was an exhilarating conclusion!