Tuesday, August 31, 2021

Order in the court!

 

 

  

Actually, there's been a fair bit of disorder and upheaval as I've approached the end of the "Jury is Out" project.  If you've been following this (breathlessly?), you'll know that I've aimed to emulate the different styles of certain artists I admire, with a view to – seeing where it takes my own style.

 

I was about to close the series when I decided to try once more to elude my natural tendency toward outlining and filling with brilliant colours. (*Loved* those colouring books as a child!)  My inspiration was a recent library book on Harvey Dinnerstein, one of those still-going-strong artists of the mid-late 20th and early 21st century.  I'd first met him in art magazines in the 1980s – when he was in his 60s – and I loved his themes, his figures, his New York sensibilities.

 

You can get a quick scroll through his work here.  And if you really adore him, as I do, you can watch this 3-minute video in which, in his 90s, he reflects on some of his work.

 

So, how to begin?  I spent two weeks trying small studies from past sketches.

 



At last I settled on a solo female I'd seen on a bus and rolled up my sleeves to place her at the centre of the canvas.

 



Working very carefully, layer by layer, I reached this point – where I'd become obsessed with putting Paula Rego's easel in the background.

 



Paula Rego's easel!!  What was I thinking?

 



What's more, despite the challenge of trying to position that darned easel, I'd become bored with the whole thing.  What to do?  Paint out the background?  Paint over the whole thing?  I chose Option 2, and in the process I decided to work on a smaller format and aim to copy part of a Dinnerstein painting.

 

This opened book shows his 1971 painting of his wife and daughter "Lois and Rachel" – with close-up of Lois' face on the right.  (He has lovingly painted his wife and family for decades.  Lois, an art historian, is still going strong, too).

 



I chose to copy the close-up on a small canvas about the size of the book page.

 



It should have been easy but placing the hair falling over those lovely cheekbones…was NOT.

 



In fact, I went back and forth many times….cheekbones wider…cheeks narrower; reverse; repeat.  And there was something impossible about the skin tones.

 



By this time, I'd decided the joke really was on me – although I hadn't consciously outlined, the whole of the face, hair, background is structured on implied line  – which is briefly explained and illustrated here.

 

Here's the final version:  "The Jury is Out (Lois) – after Dinnerstein."  




Consider this:  The artist's natural tendencies are in evidence.  Innocent or guilty?

 

Next?

 



 

 

 

 

 

Sunday, August 15, 2021

Beneath the surface

 


 

 


 

This summer's heat and smoke have put me behind schedule with an ever-expanding garden project that must be accomplished this season.  In early spring, I hadn't foreseen that some random sprouts from my cherished wild rose (Rosa nutkana) in the back yard represented a vast underground network of roots, radiating in all directions and invading my established plantings on that side of the yard.  The photo shows just one example of the root I've so far exposed from an 8" high shoot of greenery (one of about 20 poking up here and there!)

 

Last year at this time, I was working just as hard, digging up the extensive root system of Houttuynia – called here "the worst plant in the world."

 


 

Maybe this is part of my karma – and if so, I'll be grateful for the learning experience and also – let's face it – for the *fun* I always have, playing in the dirt.  Another accomplishment from about this time last year was creating a new rock garden from my neighbours' cast-off cement blocks.  That adventure and the first chapter of "The Secret Chamber" is told here.

 



The highlights:  I wrapped some oddments in and around a piece of white canvas and placed it in the hole of the cement block at the end of the rockery.  I covered this with another stone and left it there for the winter.

  




Well!  I should have had a video rolling when I unearthed the packet at Summer Solstice 2021 – it was a rotten, sodden mess that fell apart in my hands (no doubt thanks to all that spring rain I complained about).

 



I rinsed the shreds carefully and found them all less colourful than I'd hoped – just some black blobs and some rusty spots.  Does anything here suggest the Shroud of Turin?  Or prehistoric cave paintings?

 



I had fun playing with different compositional arrangements on both white and black backgrounds.  On the one hand, this might make a cool assignment for a junior high art class.  On the other……Rorschach test, anyone?

 

 

 



Finally, last week I decided to use the major pieces on the covers of my black sketchbook-in-waiting, which will be put into use when the current one is filled, probably some time next month.  Here's my preliminary layout:

 



I used wax paper under front and back covers to protect the fresh pages – having a little laugh about the source of this tip.  Early in the summer, I'd watched an on-line demo given by an Arkansas artist who creates marbled papers.  Her final project was gluing some of these to a journal notebook – and she asked the moderator, here in Vancouver at our renowned art supply store, "Oh, I should ask: Do you have wax paper like this in Canada?"  Moderator (surprised):  "Yes, we do."  Arkansas:  "Like -- in rolls?  That you can get at any grocery store?"  Moderator (soothingly): "We do, we do.  We certainly do."  (She didn't mention that usually we're asked about the dogsleds)

 

I glued the fabric using acrylic gesso and then decided to spatter some gold watercolour pigment for a bit of drama.

 



All that's needed now is for time to pass – until some day soon, the sketchbook's front cover will be opened….and eventually, something will evolve there, emerging from the Secret Chamber of fresh pages.

 

Fall 2020's bare rock garden evolved into this abundance, as of this morning.

 



And beneath the surface of that rampant volunteer squash vine, there's at least one acorn squash.  Maybe this is why I so enjoy Earth Art.