The Sorolla Museum

Sorolla Museum
All Photos (c) Meredith Lincoln, 2015

A friend of mine just visited Madrid, and spent some time at the Sorolla Museum. If you have been reading my blog for a while, you know that I am a great admirer of  the Spanish Impressionist painter Joaquin Sorolla. I have long wanted to visit the museum that was once his home, and I was thrilled with the photos my friend sent me from her visit. I immediately wanted to share them with you! You can tell from the images that my friend, Meredith Lincoln, is an accomplished photographer with a wonderful eye. The top photo shows Sorolla's studio--can you imagine working in such a wonderful space? And yet Sorolla painted primarily outdoors on location. I remember that Sorolla said

That Touch of Red

"By the Sea, Honfleur"
Pastel on canvas, 45 x 37 cm
Eval Gonzales, 1881

I have often noticed how one small splotch of red in a painting can make all the difference. A dot of red can attract the viewer's eye, and direct the visual journey through the painting. It can draw attention to a focal point. In a painting that is otherwise composed of cool or subtle colors, that bit of red can serve as a counterpoint that makes the other colors come alive. Given my fascination with red, I was interested to come across an essay about the Impressionist painter Eva Gonzales, and her use of red. It was entitled "Expressive Red". **

The top painting is a wonderful example of using red in a carefully managed, restricted way. The painting is mostly cool blue/green colors. But the painter picked out a detail of the clothing, two thirds of the way up the height of the canvas, and used red as a "revealer". Voila! The red bow

The Magic of the Lamp

"Evening Tulips"
16 x 12, oil on linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2015

Following my struggles of the winter with paintings in the lamplight, I have continued to work on the subject. Something about the magic of the lamplight won't let me go. It's actually sort of fun to come across a challenge like this--one that that intrigues you and makes you want to work harder and learn more. This particular challenge has definitely sent me scurrying through my reference books to see how the great masters solved the problems involved. I think I am making progress in portraying the lamplit subject in a believable way--but there is more to learn!

"Inside, Outside"
12 x 12, oil on linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2015

I'm illustrating this post with some recent paintings in my lamplight series. I have been especially fascinated by the challenge of

Going Big

Many times I paint a small painting that, when finished, continues to intrigue me with further possibilities. Perhaps there were more elements to the subject than I could capture in a single painting. Or perhaps the light changed so much during the course of my painting session that the afternoon presented an entirely different subject than the morning did. Or perhaps it is as inexplicable as

Pucker Power

"Single Lemon"
11 x 11, oil on linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2015
Available

I have recently been working on a series of paintings featuring lemons. You would think that painting a simple thing like a lemon would be a breeze. But you would be wrong! Seeing the correct color for the shadow side of a lemon is very hard for me. Is it greenish, or brownish, or reddish?? Or perhaps blueish, or violet-ish? Most of the time what I am seeing there is not a color that is very intense, so it is not instantly identifiable. At least not most of the time--of course, it depends on the other things nearby.

"Two Lemons"
8 x 12, oil on linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2015
Available

Once I have identified the color, there is the problem of mixing it. Again, hard to do when the color is so subtle. Every little dab of paint can change the mix by pushing it too far in one direction or the other. I was glad to know that I am not alone in this, when I heard Connie Hayes say

The Blank Slate

We often hear the expression that someone or some thing is a "blank slate". Being a blank slate is viewed as a positive thing, because it means that anything can be written, and that all options are open. When it comes to painting, every canvas is a blank slate--literally and figuratively. And sometimes (maybe always!), stepping up to the blank canvas can be frightening.

Twyla Tharp writes in The Creative Habit about the empty white rehearsal room--the blank space waiting for the dance to be choreographed. She says it symbolizes something "profound, mysterious, and terrifying: the task of starting within nothing and working your way toward creating something whole and beautiful and satisfying." She talks about how hard it can be to get started. No wonder that people can become paralyzed with terror when confronting the blank slate.

As is the case in many things in life, experience and hard work can help overcome the terror of the empty room. Tharp has worked as a choreographer for many years and has a long track record of outstanding dance pieces. Many successes. As a result, she now enters the white room feeling not only trepidation, but also peace and promise. Now that's the attitude we all want when we confront the blank canvas! I doubt I will ever achieve the mastery of a Tywla Tharp, but I hope I can gain the confidence to face the blank slate with her sense of peace and promise.