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 20^th and early 21^st 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?

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

Mysterious appearances

 

 

 

People who know my quirks (if you're reading this, you're one of them) can easily answer these two questions: --  (1) If I see an unknown seedling shooting up unexpectedly in a garden bed, will I let it grow and cheer it on?  (2) If my curiosity is piqued by anything at all, will I spend way too long in on-line research – and if it's a geographic place, will I hop on the Google Streetview bike and drive as far as the road will take me?  That's three questions, really, and the answer is "Yes" to all of them.

 

So it's not surprising that the volunteer squash shown above is rampaging among my marigolds.  And it's not surprising that my artist friend Y's relocation late last year to Budapest has opened up whole new vistas where I can squander – oh, I mean COMMIT -- many hours in research.

 

Before Y's move, my associations with Hungary had been – oh, let's see -- Hungarian goulash; Gypsy violinists; little-remembered history of this region going back to the Austro-Hungarian Empire; and the 1956 Uprising.  Ah, but there is so much more – as I've seen through her eyes in her wonderful photographs and as she's shared in accounts from her own rich and cultured European perspective.

 

Should we start with magic castles? (the next two photos are from tourist websites)

 

 

And then there are so many ordinary/extraordinary Streetviews where gorgeously detailed old buildings (many in bad shape, she tells me) rub elbows with modern glass and steel.  It's easy to see why Budapest is sometimes acclaimed as "the Paris of Central Europe." 

 

Y has a long personal history as a worldwide trekker, but even she has been slowed by first, the pandemic, and now the intense summer heat.  I don't think she has yet ventured to the other side of the river (the Danube! – can you imagine living nearby?!).  When she does, there's a surprise waiting for her.  And nobody knows his name….!!!

 

I found him in my early internet meanderings – I think because I'd confused "her" castle near her home with the fairytale castle in the photo above.  He is literally "Anonymus"  – the unnamed scribe and notary of a late 12^th-early 13^th century Hungarian king.  For more about this 1903 sculpture – and the modern-day ritual involving the pen in the scribe's hand – read here

 

You can tell that I'm smitten – and I was so excited that I would be able to introduce him to Y.  Are you ready?  I rubbed my own drawing tools for good luck.

 

 

I did a number of small studies, refining placement and colours.

 

 

I'd had the feeling that it would be very tricky to scale up the two figures – to go from small sketches to an 18x24" canvas – so I resorted to a technique I like to think I invented – paper cutouts as guidelines.

 

Here we go – the first layout on canvas, and the first colour applications.

 

 

I began to feel that the trickiest thing of all was the hood – and so, for temporary guidance, I firmed it up with dark outlines…….which made this figure look really weird. 

 

 

Their actual encounter is – and someday will be, I hope – less weird.  In my imagined version, Y is sizing up whether or not she'll take a photo – although her art photography tends away from the touristy to her unique sightings of patterns in and on natural objects, or almost unbelievable colour\texture pairings on weathered buildings… the kinds of things that can't be categorized.

 

Here they are, at first encounter – "Strangers in a Strange Land" (copyright 2021)

  

  

There might even be background music – as in this on-the-spot video, with street performer and a view of the castle, too:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85UMEFAK9Q0

 

Strange instrument, you say? I can barely believe that I tracked it down on the internet -- it's called a "Hang" and is said to have been invented in Switzerland.  Y can check me out on that one, too.  But wait: It just might be a Gubal?

 

Meanwhile, closer to home, there are other astonishments – last week's front lawn art exhibit by a favourite local artist Matteo, whose name is known and who crafted the posters with his own magic pen (very lightly because he had pre-exhibit butterflies).

 

Sunbursts and surprises

 

 

 

What a summer!  Agreed?  And suddenly unexpected things are bursting out all over – like this marvellous white gazania that, with a colour cohort, I bought in the middle of wet rainy May.  What's more, in random places around my garden, pale grey-green leaves are shooting upward for a small crop of what I call "Fibonacci poppies".

 

 

Check here for more than you ever wanted to know about the mathematics of the Fibonacci Series – and be sure to scroll down past the business about the multiplication of rabbits to "The Sequence in Nature" and a black-and-white drawing showing leaves or branches spiralling up a stem – just like the swirling leaves of my pale pink poppies.  The flowers last only a day, but what a delight.

 

Another big surprise hit me just before the Heat Dome:-- the discovery of a new-to-me artist.  Among the free e-newsletters arriving in my in-box is one from Tate Britain and there, in mid-June, I read about the upcoming exhibit of Portuguese-English artist Paula Rego.   This female artist has played in the big leagues since the 1960s – and I'd never heard of her…and *loved* what I glimpsed in the Tate newsletter.  Quick to the Vancouver Public Library!   There I was able to find one of the definitive books on her work – "Paula Rego" by John McEwen (1997).

 

Then the Heat Dome arrived.  As enchanted as I'd been with Rego's style when I first brought the book home, it had sat on the sidelines as I concentrated on………drinking cold water and napping!  Suddenly, though, real-time events caught up with me when I saw a BBC review of the just-opened Rego exhibit.  Yikes!  I'd been thinking I'd try emulating her style but now the book was due in just five days – and the chances were great that other VPL patrons would now have their eyes on it.  What to do?

 

Acrobats to the rescue!  A recent session at my life drawing studio (still on-line for now) featured a professional acrobat and co-owner of a Vancouver circus company.   She was not allowed to swing from the rafters but did some challenging poses with the aid of a wide belt fixed to a pillar.  Try these with a one-minute limit:

 

With one of her longer poses, I'd chosen to concentrate on her face – and that's just what I needed for my Paula Rego study.

 

With the clock ticking, I counted on five 2-hour sessions in the studio.  Here's the first lay-in:

 

An early stage as more colour is added:--

 

And the final version of "Midday Nap," (copyright 2021):

 

 

Surely, there's more to come.   Many of Rego's themes are very dark, but her use of colour and line in figures and portraits definitely calls to me.  And I was able to renew the book after all!

 

Meanwhile, the garden must be watered and weeded – as the jungle rages almost out of control.

 

 

But just outside my fence, I'd planted along the sidewalk some sedums of the hens-and-chicks variety.  Amazingly, for the first time ever, they produced a flower – another sunburst surprise!

 

When the heat goes to your head

 

 

When I painted this jokey picture "Under the Heat Dome" in summer 2016, I thought that Dome Denizens might find relief at the beach.  New York City was then broiling under a heat dome, and my friend A had far too much sense for that – as I came to fully understand this past week in Vancouver.  Whew!  At least the dome is now slowly sliding to the east but it's been a sobering and instructive experience on many counts. (Also sobering is that the broiling sun in this painting looks eerily like a familiar virus…)

 

Looking on the bright side, I think my ability to draw/paint figures has improved since then.  This painting was based on drawings I'd made in the 2000's, when we'd sometimes swim at the outdoor Kits Pool.   Ace swimmer that I was, I'd finish early and would sketch other beachgoers scattered around on the grass.

 

In other bright news, although the debilitating heat kept me from the final touches on my latest painting, I'm going to publish it anyway and keep moving ahead.  My "Jury is Out" Series is explained here, and this time I started with the aim to work in the style of little-known artist Irma Stern.  A mid-20^th century South African artist, she was credited by some with "seeing beyond the colour bar" – seeing her subjects with shared humanity as in her "Zanzibar Woman."

 

When I discovered her via a 2018 on-line course, I was charmed by her vibrant use of pattern and also her use of line as in her "Portrait of the Baillie Children":--

 

 

For my course assignment, I imagined these two sensitive children ten years later (and in an era of cell phones) in my painting, "And Then They Grew Up."

 

 

The figure that occurred to me as a subject for my Irma Stern spin-off was an elegant senior woman named Flor, who I'd spotted as a volunteer in a thrift shop.

 

 

But I needed to transpose her into a young art student, awaiting the jury's decision – "Flor comme jeune fille."

 

 

And right on time came a suitable portrait model via the on-line drawing sessions I've been doing twice a month.

 

 

Flor-the-art-student is a sculptor, did I mention that?

 

 

And despite my ongoing focus on faces, I still screwed up and had to make some early corrections to the size of her head and the placement of her eyes.

 

 

So here it is, allllllmost but not quite finished: "The Jury is Out (Flor) – work-in-progress."  I usually give the art students the first name of the painter whose style I've tried to emulate, but this one has been "Flor" all along; she just doesn't look like an "Irma.

 

 

The big excitement for me has been an unexpected outcome of this hot week.  Searching out my old photo of "Under the Heat Dome," I came across my 2016 post on this subject – and recalled my enthusiasm for artist Serge Hollerbach.  Reading his book and viewing his paintings, I'd been encouraged to make figure paintings based on my old quick sketches – even before I'd resumed more formal study of the human figure. 

 

I remembered, too, how much I'd loved his group poses, and I placed some of my own figures together in what Hollerbach would call "shrimp on a bed of lettuce" (fleshy beach bums…!!!!....on darker lawns or sands.)  This reconnection with Hollerbach is very meaningful to me as I begin to plan my next series (and my next and my next) which will rely on groups of interacting figures.  For now – projecting backwards and forwards – here's my own 2016 "Catching the Rays" -- with hopes for a manageable summer out from under the dome.