Year End Report

As we reach the end of the calendar year, I thought I would give a status report on my paint consumption. You may recall that I made a resolution to fill a big glass jar with empty paint tubes by September 2013. I wrote about the resolution in "Paint like a Millionaire". The resolution was part of my plan to push myself to apply more paint to the canvas, for a more juicy, lush surface. Well, I didn't make the original goal, and I have to confess that the jar is still not full. But as you can see above, it's getting closer!

I have a few nearly empty tubes that are just itching to get into the "empties" jar. But as everybody knows from the behavior of the toothpaste tube---just when you think there is not another iota left, you find that you can squeeze out a tiny bit more!  These "keys" are one way to help you get the very last bits of paint out of the tube:

Thanks to the invention of the metal paint tube, oil paints can last almost indefinitely. And I hate to let anything go to waste, so I hold out until the very last gasp. Here is another handy device that literally puts the tube through the wringer:

Even with squeezing and wringing, all things must eventually come to an end, so stay tuned for future postings on my march toward the goal of filling the jar with empties...

Merry Christmas!

"Late for Evensong"

Oil on Board, (c) Lesley Powell

(Private Collection)

This is a painting I did some years ago, and I have been thinking of it as Christmas has been drawing near. The choir boys in the painting remind me of my grandmother's Christmas candles that were made like red and white robed carolers. Their open mouths were shaped like little "O"s, and their faces looked so angelic. Add to that memory the melodies of the Christmas carols that we proclaim this season, and I guess it's no wonder that this painting reminds me of Christmas.

May the peace and joy of Christmas fill your hearts and homes this season, and all the New Year ! 

The Limited Palette

Ever since I began to paint, I have used a limited palette. That means that I use only a few primary colors, plus white, to mix all of the other colors in my paintings. Despite what the name might suggest, it is actually not limiting at all. On the contrary, it is very liberating to know that you can mix almost any color from the six or so tubes of paint you carry.  And it certainly lightens the load when you go out on location.

Kathleen Dunphy has written a great post on the advantages of the limited palette. Like many artists, she started using a large number of tube paints, but ultimately found her way to the limited palette. Thankfully, I never had to wean myself from a big Crayola box of paint tubes!

The accomplished Lori Putnam uses only three colors plus white. Someday I may be bold enough to try this. You can read Lori's "how and why" of her limited palette here. Here is a photo illustrating how Lori sets up her palette:

Look how much simpler and more organized this is than the photo at the top of the post! 

What's on my palette? A light and a dark of each primary color. I have written previously about my primaries. For yellows, Cadmium Yellow Light (light) and Raw Umber (dark). For reds, Cadmium Red Light (light) and Alizarin Crimson (dark). For blues, Cerulean Blue (light) and Ultramarine Blue (dark). I also use Burnt Sienna, and occasionally (as a "convenience color") Yellow Ochre. I'm a true believer in the power of the limited palette!

Meanwhile, Back at the Studio...

Blog followers may remember this post from Paris, about a painting session on a very gray day. I was determined not to let the weather keep me from painting the cityscape of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. In fact, the gray weather is a hallmark of Paris, so I felt like I was seeing the city in its natural light. I was painting the Pont des Arts, the wonderful pedestrian bridge that crosses the Seine. (This is the bridge that has become the repository of millions of "lovers' locks", padlocks that seal the couples' love.)

I am often asked about my painting process, and whether I work on my plain air paintings once I am back home in my studio. The answer is sometimes yes, sometimes no. Here's an example of a painting that I put a few tiny touches on after returning home. The painting started out as you see below, a mere silhouette of the skyline, with the bridge in front of it.

At the conclusion of my plein air session, the painting stood as you see it in the top photo. I was pleased with the looseness of the painting, and the way it captured the subtle shifts in grays...one gray for the sky, a greener gray for the waters of the Seine. But I had been unable to catch a few fine points while I was on site...I thought the painting would benefit from a cleaner definition of the rail of the bridge, as well as from some indications of the people walking across the bridge. I also cleaned up a few spots in the sky where my brush had gotten dirty on site, and left the area a bit muddy. Here is the final result.

"Pont des Arts"
7 x 14   Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2013

Stay tuned for a future post about a painting that I didn't touch one iota after coming in from the field...

Reproductions: A New High, or a New Low?



A friend recently alerted me to a new phenomenon, something that takes the "art" of reproduction to a new level.  The Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam is releasing certified reproductions of five Van Gogh masterpieces. Each sells for the amazing price of only $35,000. (Yes, you did count three zeroes).





"Almond Blossoms"
(c) Vincent van Gogh



The reproductions are made using technology from Fujifilm called "Reliefography". It is an advanced form of inkjet printing that claims to reproduce the exact surface texture and brush strokes of the original, in a 3D print. Curators claim 95% accuracy. Hmmm.

Is this a nail in the coffin for those of us who create original, hand-made, one-of-a-kind paintings? Will people actually pay five figures for an inkjet print? It seems that modern technology can knock off almost anything a person can create--but can technology itself CREATE? 

As for me, I believe that there is no substitute for human creativity. I agree with the great French painter Eugene Delacroix, that the gift of the artist is to show the world new things about old subjects--things that others have never before appreciated. Delacroix wrote in his wonderful Journal (May 1824): "Nature has stored away for great minds...more new things to say about her Creations...than she has created."  Amen.

Cypress Trees



"Five Sisters", (c) Lesley Powell 2013
30 x 40, Oil on Canvas
Available

While in the south of France this past summer, I became fascinated with the cypress trees. I was taken by their shapes...tall, narrow, reaching upward. I have heard the shape called "flame-like", and that seems very apt. In the strong winds, the trees bend, lean and sway, acting much like flames flickering on a candle.

Vincent van Gogh wrote to his brother Theo that the cypress trees "have such beautiful lines and proportions, like an Egyptian obelisk." Well, I have a weakness for the classical shapes of the ancient world, such as the obelisk and the urn, so that might help to explain my fascination with the cypress.

"Cypress and Vineyards" (c) Lesley Powell 2013
30 x 24, oil on canvas
Available 

Van Gogh also wrote about the difficulty of getting the dark color of the cypress correct. He called it "one of the most interesting shades of black, and the most difficult to get right, that I can possibly imagine." I heartily concur! I found it hard to make the cypress as dark as it actually is...a dramatic dark in an otherwise very bright, sunny landscape.

I tried to capture the majesty of the cypresses in the two paintings shown above. You can read more about the "Five Sisters" here, or the "Cypress and Vineyards" here.