Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Richard Diebenkorn

"Cityscape I"
60 1/4 x 50 1/2, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1963
Travel often leads to new discoveries, was well as to the rekindling of old interests. My recent trip to California was no exception. As a painter, I often seek out areas where the "greats" have painted. I have tracked down the spots that Cezanne painted around Aix-en-Provence, and found it fascinating to see the landscapes that he immortalized. This time, I didn't go to California in quest of an artist's habitat. But while I was there I came across a new book featuring the landscapes and still lifes of Richard Diebenkorn. There I was, right within shouting distance of the places Diebenkorn had lived and painted. The little book seemed like a prod to delve into a deeper study of his work. 

"Interior with Book"
70 x 64, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1959

I have always been attracted to Diebenkorn's paintings. He moved through several distinct phases in his painting career, from Abstract Expressionism, to more representational and figurative work, and back to abstraction. Over the past few weeks, I have been studying his more representational landscapes, such as those pictured in this post. I love them for their clarity of color, for their geometry, for their sense of depth, and perhaps above all for their marvelous simplification. How can he leave out so much, and yet tell so much, at the same time??

"Bridge"
36 x 39 1/4, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1961

I have read that Diebenkorn had a pivotal experience one day when flying in an airplane between Albuquerque and San Francisco. From that vantage point, he saw the fields below as organized patterns of horizontal and vertical grids. We can see how that point of view affected his landscape painting forever after. Diebenkorn used geometry and color relationships to create a sense of vast scale, spacial depth, and wide open spaces in his landscapes. Looking at them, I almost feel like I am standing on a precipice looking out.


"View from the Porch"
70 x 66, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1959

Diebenkorn lived and painted for the vast majority of his life in California, eschewing the popular New York "scene". In fact, many say that his paintings are unique and notable precisely because they portray the luminous light and color of Northern California. In an interview shortly before his death, Dieibenkorn acknowledged this point, but noted that it was not something that he consciously sought. He said, "I arrive at the light only after painting it, not by aiming for it." Spoken like a true artist and seeker. 


"Ocean from a Window"
70 x 64, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1959

Stay tuned for more on Diebenkorn. I hope to write separately about his wonderful still life paintings...


Monday, May 23, 2016

California Dreaming

"Sonoma Clouds"
12 x 12, Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2016
(SOLD)
Greetings from California! I have been fortunate enough to spend the last two weeks in Sonoma--right in the heart of wine country. The landscape here is gorgeous, but perhaps even more important for painting on location is the weather. It is such a pleasure to paint outdoors and not suffer from heat, humidity, or mosquitoes. On the other hand, the area does have rattlesnakes. Yikes! That's enough to ruin your concentration.

"Foggy Morning, Viansa"
7 x 14, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2016
(Available)
I have painted in this region before, and had been frustrated that there were so many gorgeous vistas, and yet I could not find a good, safe spot to set up my easel. This time I got

Saturday, May 14, 2016

Propped Up



I often paint in a smallish format--works whose largest dimension are, say, 14 or fewer inches. Sometimes I paint larger, but my heart eventually returns to the little ones.  But make no mistake: a painting that is small in size can be monumental in artistry and impact!

So what can you do with a painting that is not designed to fit over a mantle or a sofa? Lots! In fact, a recent issue of House Beautiful caught my eye. The cover featured a beautiful little painting propped on the mantle. That's one of my favorite art placements. It speaks to me of abundance and plenty, as in "Gosh I have so much beautiful art that I've run out of wall space, so I'll just prop this one here". And the casual placement exudes ease and relaxation.


Photo: Suzanne Kasler
Photo: Suzanne Kasler

Here are more examples of art propped on a mantle, from Atlanta designer Suzanne Kasler. In the top image, I think the propped artwork gives a bit of a bohemian atelier feel to this otherwise quite formal living room. And the second image---well, it's definitely drool-worthy, and the painting propped on the mantle is the piece de resistance.


Photo: Traci Zeller

And of course a mantle is not the only perfect place to prop a painting. Bookshelves are always enhanced by artwork. I recently spotted this great bookcase styled by the inimitable Traci Zeller. Love it!

And let's not forget the humble kitchen counter. I love seeing a painting tucked under the kitchen cabinets. It takes an otherwise dead space, and completely enlivens it. Here's what the talented folks at Huff Harrington did in their Paris apartment:


Photo: Huff Harrington Home and Paris Perfect Rentals


The moral of the story: Small is Grand!


Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Anatomy of a Painting: Bungalow Porch



I have had a number of requests to write about my painting process--the steps I use to make a painting. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I decided to give it a go with some "progress photos", showing how one particular painting came together.

This one began on a fine, late spring morning. I wanted to be outdoors painting, but I couldn't figure out where to go. Every place that came to mind was quickly ruled out for one reason or another. No room to stand without getting hit by a car; sunlight coming from wrong direction; too far away; you name it. Finally I decided to quit making excuses. I went to the same little bungalow I had painted the afternoon before, figuring I could paint it in morning light, which would look completely different. I was drawn to the shadows under the eaves and the geometry of the architecture.




No sooner had I set up my easel than a pickup truck with a trailer parked right in front of my subject. Sigh. I probably should have moved to a different motif, but by that time I was