If a Face Could Launch a Thousand Ships...

Untitled
14 x 14, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2019
(Available)

If a face could launch a thousand ships, then can a flower launch a thousand paintings? (You may know that the face referred to here is Helen of Troy. In ancient Greek mythology, Helen was so beautiful that when she was kidnapped, a fleet of a thousand ships was launched into battle to seek her return. Thus began the Trojan Wars...).

Untitled
20 x 16, Oil on Panel
(c) Lesley Powell 2019
(available)

I suppose that a flower can never be as beautiful as a person, but lately I have been captivated by the beauty of the hydrangea. Each stem is capped with a big, fluffy assemblage of tiny flowerettes. I personally love the white

Finishing Up

"Lady with an  Ermine"
Leonardo daVinci, c. 1489

My last post was about the process of starting a painting, so it's only fitting to write now about the process of finishing.  The start of a painting happens very quickly, with each brushstroke following rapidly on the heels of the prior one. But the ending happens very slowly. Toward the end, before every stroke, I pause and consider "Will this help or hurt?" And then there is the ultimate question--is it time to stop? The answer is seldom obvious.

"Patina"
12 x 16, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2016
SOLD

For some artists, a painting is never finished. At least not until it leaves the studio--and sometimes not even then (see below). As time passes, you have the opportunity to reflect on the painting. You may return to it after a few weeks with fresh eyes. Sometimes that fresh vision causes you to notice something that just begs to be adjusted. Then out come the

Getting Started

"Chimneyscape II"

16 x 20, Oil on Linen

(c) Lesley Powell 2018

Available at Shain Gallery in Charlotte

It's my first post of the New Year! As the New Year starts, I have been musing about the process of starting  paintings. When I studied at the Andy Braitman Studio, Andy used to say that "The start and the finish of a painting are both exciting, but the middle is plain ol' hard work." 

What happens at the start? It is pure magic! You are laying in shapes and forming the composition. You can see the picture coming to life on a blank slate. It happens very quickly, with every stroke serving as as an overture to the next. The future of the painting is nothing but possibilities--nothing has gone wrong yet! These are moments of high excitement, no question.

If I'm not thrilled by the start of a painting, if I don't have that "Ahhh" moment when the work suddenly comes into relief, I tell myself not to go forward. I need that initial thrill to push me through the middle phase, which, as Andy said, is a lot of hard work. I want the start to be so compelling that I am chomping at the bit to take the painting to the next level.

A good start makes you excited about the future of the painting. On the other hand, a bad start is very hard to overcome, and usually means that the entire painting will be a big struggle, probably not ending well. If you make a bad start, you fare better to simply wipe it off, and make a whole new start. Thank goodness that the oil painting process makes that entirely possible. 

I'm illustrating this post with some starts of my own paintings.  Stay tuned for upcoming thoughts about the finish!