Vermeer: Stolen

One of my Christmas gifts was the recent book The Woman who Stole Vermeer.  You may know how much I enjoy stories of art heists!  This book tells the story of the woman who orchestrated the theft of Vermeer's "Lady Writing a Letter with her Maid"--incidentally, one of my favorite Vermeer paintings.

 

The mastermind behind the theft was Rose Dugdale.  Rose was raised in high-society Britain, in a  wealthy and respected family.  As a young woman, she developed a strong revolutionary bent, renounced her family, and became a left wing Irish Republican Army militant. Unafraid of using violence, Rose participated in demonstrations and bombings.

Eventually, Rose organized and directed the Vermeer theft. Armed with pistols, Rose and three accomplices entered Russborough House (a private mansion near Dublin, Ireland) on April 27, 1974, and bound and gagged its owners and their staff. Rose then perused the owners' art collection and took the best pieces, nineteen in all, worth about $100 Million in today's money. What was the motive?  Pure and simple, Rose wanted the paintings as bargaining tools to aid IRA prisoners.  After the theft, she sent a ransom letter demanding the release of two infamous IRA prisoners (the Price sisters) in exchange for the return of the Vermeer and two other stolen paintings.

Empty frames left behind

Fortunately for the art world, the Vermeer and other paintings were recovered just eight days after the theft.  Police conducted door-to-door canvassing in the neighborhood, and one neighbor's tip led them to Rose. The Vermeer was found in the trunk of her car, virtually undamaged. It can now be seen in the National Gallery of Ireland. Rose was tried for its theft, pled guilty, and was sentenced to nine years in prison.  Upon her release, she went back to work for the IRA. 

The author of the recent book is Anthony Amore.  He is the Director of Security at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston--which had its own Vermeer stolen in 1990. No wonder Amore has become such an expert on Rose Dugdale.  You can't help but wonder if he suspects that she or her compatriots could have been behind the Boston theft as well. That painting has never been recovered, so the mystery remains unsolved--perhaps the subject of a future post!

Red All Over

"Dr. Pozzi at Home"

79.4 x 40.2 inches, Oil on Canvas

John Singer Sargent, 1881

I've been thinking a lot about RED. Maybe it's because I just finished reading Julian Barnes' new book, The Man in the Red Coat.  The book is an amazing and entertaining romp through Belle Epoque Paris with Dr. Samuel Pozzi, the subject of the top photo.  The painting of Dr. Pozzi by John Singer Sargent is huge (larger than life-size) and powerful. I have actually seen it in person. If ever there was a painting that called for the word "scarlet", this is it.

"Robert Louis Stevenson and his Wife"

20 1/2 x 24 1/2, Oil on Canvas

John Singer Sargent, 1885

In the world of painting, the color red is a "dark".  That is, at its most intense, it does not reflect much light.  This feature can make red pigments difficult to use successfully.  I am intrigued by paintings that are "red all over"--working with very subtle variations in hue to achieve their purposes. Sargent was a master of this, as was Anders Zorn (see below).

"Mrs. Howe"

Anders Zorn, 

It's one thing to paint a portrait when the subject is clothed in red.  'Tis a horse of a different color to take a more neutral scene and amp up the heat by couching it all in red.  The interior pictured below by Connie Hayes does just that.  And beautifully. 

"Light Witness"

20 x 20, Oil on Canvas

(c) Connie Hayes

And while we're at it, I can't overlook those red flowers by Nicolas de Staël.  Hot!  Hope you'll enjoy this exploration of the reds to warm you up on a winter's day!

"Fleurs Rouges"

Nicolas de Staël

Warmth of Home

 

Drawing (c) Lesley Powell 2019

A cold snap has arrived, and with it my thoughts have turned to cozy interior spaces.  Early nightfall and a chill in the air definitely draw my attention inward. 

I've been revisiting some of my favorite paintings of interior spaces.  I do love to paint interiors--but unfortunately I end up throwing away as many interior paintings as I keep.  I fall too easily into the trap of making them look like stiff renderings of furniture!  Much harder to make them tell the story of how the light illuminates the room.  Therein lies the challenge...

"Ground Floor Entry"

14 x 11, Oil on Board

(c) Lesley Powell 2019

SOLD

It helps when I can take the time to draw the space while I am sitting in it.  With a drawing in hand, I can move on to the canvas, and sometimes not even look at a reference photo.  Working from the drawing alone allows me to be more free in my interpretation, and to avoid the distraction of extraneous objects.

"Sheltering"

Oil on Linen

(c) Lesley Powell 2020

 

My quest to simplify the interior continues.  I recently read that "The best way to stay afloat is to throw things overboard."  So I am "throwing overboard" all the unnecessary clutter, and focusing on how the light and dark shapes tell the story of the room.  Stay tuned!

Transcribing the Masters

Transcribing from Degas

My last post was about the discovery that Edward Hopper had copied some of his early paintings (previously believed to be originals) from paintings photographed in magazines. Since then, I have been thinking about the difference between "copying" and "transcribing".

"After Degas I'

12 x 10.5, Oil on Linen

(c) Lesley Powell 2020

"Copying" could be called an attempt to make an exact replication of the original. "Transcribing", on the other hand, is not aimed at replicating the original, but rather at getting into the mind of the master.  The goal is to see how the master painter saw the subject, to understand how his composition worked, and to feel how he applied the paint to the canvas. This type of transcription is an important part of the curriculum at many art schools.

Along those lines, I just watched "The Queen's Gambit" on Netflix (worth a watch, by the way).  I learned that serious chess players spend time re-playing the matches of grandmasters.  They don't just study the moves from a book, but actually set up the board, and touch and move the pieces. The physicality of the process is an important element in retaining the concepts. 

Transcribing Vermeer

Twyla Tharp, the great ballet dancer and choreographer, used a similar approach. As a young dancer, she would stand behind every great dancer then in New York, and literally mimic him or her. She said that this process imprinted their movements into her own creative DNA. I love the idea of developing mastery this way! 

"After Degas II"

12 x 12, Oil on Linen, Mounted on Cradled Panel

(c) Lesley Powell 2020

In case I needed another prod, I happened to attend a talk by the talented painter Elizabeth Geiger.  She discussed her practice of copying from masterworks. Geiger advised that all painters should study a variety of masters whose work they admire.  Each painter will draw a different "thread" from each master.  As a result, the tapestry that any particular painter weaves with those threads will be different from that of any other.  We all draw on our predecessors, but each of us is unique.

I'm illustrating this post with a few transcriptions I've been working on.  Enjoy!

Hopper Copied!

"Old Ice Pond at Nyak"

Edward Hopper, c. 1898

Faithful readers know how much I enjoy the work of Edward Hopper.  Hopper is one of the great American painters of the early 20th century. He has long been supposed to have been a child prodigy in his painting abilities. Turns out it's time to re-think that whole child prodigy idea.

"A Winter Sunset"

Bruce Crane, c. 1880's

While working on his art history graduate thesis, Louis Shadwick has discovered that paintings by Hopper during his teenage years were actually copies of other works. The one pictured above was copied from a reproduction in a magazine for amateur artists. The magazine even gave detailed instructions as to how to replicate the painting.

This discovery calls into question not only the matter of child prodigy status, but also the belief that Hopper's work depicted his childhood home in Nyack, New York.

"Ships"

Edward Hopper, c. 1898

The same situation applies to Hopper's painting "Ships".  Long believed to be Hopper's original take, it was revealed to have been copied from a reproduction of a painting by Edward Moran.  

"A Marine"

Edward Moran, c. 1880's

Now I must say that copying the masters is a time-honored method of learning to paint. It is a method that is still encouraged, and can yield a treasure trove of ideas. In the best approach, the goal is not to copy the masterwork verbatim (as it were), but rather to use it to see into the mind of the master, and to recreate his visual experience. If a painting is copied slavishly from another painting, it should not be passed off as your own.  

Back to Hopper--here's a link to Shadwick's recent article about Hopper's copying of these magazine reproductions.  A new page turns in the analysis of Hopper's work!

Salute to the Silhouette

"Woman at a Window"

Oil on Canvas, 72 x 47 cm

Edgar Degas, 1875-78

One of the greatest revelations during the course my painting instruction has been the power of the silhouette.  Surprisingly, I was told (and found it to be true) that if you paint the space AROUND your subject, you can practically skip painting the subject itself.  The viewer's eye tends to fill in all the missing information. And if the "background" forms an interesting shape around the subject, like it does in the painting below, the viewer's eye is completely enthralled.

"Madame Camus with a Fan"

Oil on Canvas, 72.7 x 91.1 cm.

Edgar Degas, 1869-70

One artist who used this phenomenon to great advantage was Edgar Degas.  His backlit figures are breathtaking.  Degas' "Woman at a Window" (top photo) is a masterpiece of simplicity--and yet it conveys plenty of detailed information.  He tells us just enough, and our experience in the world fills in the rest.

"Grandmother Michaud in Silhouette"

Oil on Canvas, 65 x 54 cm

Édouard Vuillard, 1890

Édouard Vuillard was also a master of this approach.  Who can leave his portrait of his grandmother (immediately above) off the "Best Hits" list when it comes to silhouettes?  This particular painting is almost a classic side profile, which we commonly call "silhouettes". But keep in mind that many of these paintings are not simple side profiles, but rather show figures in full volume.  

\

"In the Lamplight"

Oil on Canvas, 37.5 x 45.5 cm

Édouard Vuillard, 1892

Vuillard's women in the lamplit room is an another example of the power of the outlined form.  Simple shapes of color are all we are given to describe these two women.  There is absolutely no modeling of their figures. Yet we know exactly what they are doing, and can take a good guess at the fabric of the clothes they are wearing.  

"Intérieur au Cannet"

Pierre Bonnard, 1938

The power of the silhouette is effective in still lifes and other subjects, as well as human figures.  I'll conclude with a painting by Pierre Bonnard, showing an room with an open window.  Even though the table and chair--even the walls and bed--are scarcely painted, we understand exactly what they are and where they are placed.  It goes to prove the maxim that sometimes "less is more"!

What the Fauves Knew

"Woman with a Hat"

Henri Matisse, 1905

"Fauve" means "wild beast" in French--and that's exactly what the Fauve painters were!  The so-called Fauves painted in France in the early years of the 20th century.  Their paintings featured bizarre, vivid colors. They used flat areas of pure color, in hues that often bore no resemblance to reality.  But despite their unnatural colors, the paintings were still discernable representations of their subjects.

How did the Fauves accomplish that? They knew an important proposition about color: If the value is accurate, the hue doesn't matter.  That's right.  Every color has a certain value (relative darkness or lightness), as well as a certain hue (color on the spectrum). Just check the photo immediately above, in which I have converted Matisse's vividly colored painting into black and white. Pretty convincing, no?  

"Teapot and Sugar Bowl"

(c) Lesley Powell 2020

I recently conducted my own experiment with this proposition. I used a still life setup, and painted it with bold, unrealistic colors, paying VERY careful attention to the value of each color. And sure enough, the black and white image is proof of concept.

But let's not get too analytical. We should just enjoy the zestful use of color that characterized the Fauves. Sometimes a joyful romp in pure color can be a real mood lifter.  And since we can all use a lift in spirits about now, I'm closing with more images for your viewing pleasure. You may be well acquainted with Matisse, but his lesser known Fauvist compatriot André Derain was also a master of color. Thought you'd enjoy seeing a couple of his paintings.  'Til next time!

"Charing Cross Bridge"

André Derain, c. 1906

"Landscape near Chatou"

André Derain, 1904

A Virtual Feast

Collage by Nancy Gruskin

One silver lining in the pandemic is the proliferation of online painting demonstrations, talks and workshops. Though it's not as good as being together in person, these virtual sessions are often affordable, and provide opportunities to learn from artists with whom we might not otherwise connect. 

Collage by Nancy Gruskin

For example, I just "attended" a collage demonstration by Nancy Gruskin. Nancy lives in Boston, and was scheduled to hold a collage workshop in Nashville last week. Because the workshop had to be cancelled, Nancy did an online demo. I've been rather curious about collage work lately. But not curious enough to pay hundreds of dollars and travel hundreds of miles to attend a three day workshop! This online demo was a chance to dip my toe into the process, without making a big investment of time or money.  So glad I did it--Nancy gave us much to explore!

Most talks and demos last only an hour or ninety minutes.  They offer a glimpse into the artist's process. The programs are designed for practicing painters. But they are great for non-painters who are art lovers, who want to learn more about how art is made.

Self portrait by Maggie Siner

Nancy's demo was sponsored by Warehouse 521. I have also participated in their demos by Maggie Siner.  Maggie is a wonderful painter and instructor, and it's a joy to watch her apply paint to the canvas.  I have a high degree of confidence in Warehouse 521, and the quality of the instructors they sponsor.

Painting by Maggie Siner

The online demos and talks are usually recorded, so if you are registered for the program, you can participate "live", if your schedule permits. You are also given a link to watch anytime during the following two weeks. A big plus! You don't have to be present at the time of the live session, and you can watch at your convenience, as many times as you'd like. Another advantage of watching the recording:  you can pause the presentation whenever you wish, whether to take notes or to take a break!

Some studios are offering full blown workshops online--a number of sessions scheduled over several days or weeks.  I haven't ventured into this depth of online instruction, but I'm curious about it.  Black Pond Studio is one I follow, which has some wonderful instructors offering online workshops. Perhaps a list of my favorite venues would be a subject for a future post...

MINI, but Mighty!

"Valley Sunset" , SOLD, (c) Lesley Powell 2020

During the quiet of the pandemic, when so many plans have been cancelled, I've had the luxury of time to experiment in the studio. When I want to try new things, I often start small.  

""Village Houses", SOLD, (c) Lesley Powell 2020

The problems of composition, color and value are the same, whether you are painting a big picture or a small one.  But when working on a small scale, you can complete more paintings in less time. That means that you can learn more! As a bonus, when you experience the inevitable failures, you have not wasted yards and yards of expensive linen.

I am now offering a selection of my best small works for sale.  I call them "MINI, but MIGHTY."  They are Mighty because a small painting can have a big impact. And the options for placing them in your home are limitless--filling that empty spot on your wall, completing a bookcase arrangement, highlighting a tabletop arrangement--you name it. 

"Ménerbes", 4 x 6 inches, (c) Lesley Powell 2020

The MINIs are priced at $100 or less. You can check them out on my website here.  They speak of the joy of discovery, and the promise of new things to come. Thanks for taking a look!

Can't Live Without, Part II

By popular demand:  Things I Can't Live Without, Part II.  The scoop in this post will have studio tips for fellow painters, and a peek behind the scenes of a working studio, for you non-painters. Actually, I'm only talking about one item this time: Gaffer Tape.

"Gaffer" is a strange name, no? A "gaffer" is the head electrician on a movie or TV set. Gaffer tape gets its name because it is the preferred tape for use on the film sets. Wikipedia calls it "a heavy cotton-cloth pressure sensitive tape, with strong adhesive and tensile properties".  Strong is an understatement.  If two things are capable of being held together, gaffer tape will hold them. 

I love gaffer tape for so many reasons.  I've used it to hold an umbrella in place when plein air painting. I've used it to repair equipment that breaks during a painting trip. 

I also use gaffer tape to finish paintings for presentation. I often  paint on loose pieces of linen. Later, when they are dry, I mount them on panels. Unlike most people, I don't cut off the overhanging edges of the linen after mounting, because that leaves the raw edge of the panel showing. Instead, I wrap the linen around the panel. Wrapping can leave the back of the panel looking messy, like this:

But I use my trusty gaffer tape to finish the back side of the panel. I paint the raw panel with gray gesso. It ends up with a clean, professional look. Check it out below:

Gaffer tape is also great for covering the white edges of stretched canvas, when the painting is going to be put in a floater frame. Darkening the edges insures that no bits of raw white canvas will be visible when the painting is framed. Many times I just paint the edges of the canvas black with an acrylic paint or gesso. But oil primed linen won't accept those materials. So presto: gaffer tape to the rescue!~

I'm sure I'm overlooking other uses of gaffer tape. But you can see why I love it! Stay tuned for more "Can't Life Without" to come...

Uncovered

Sometimes it's very hard to know when a painting is finished.  I study the canvas carefully, over a few days (or even weeks), constantly asking myself whether there are aspects that could be improved, or areas that need to be corrected.

I'm not alone in this struggle. Even the greatest artists of all time have been known to go back and make revisions--sometimes even after the painting has left the studio!  I have written about this phenomenon before, because I find it fascinating. But a recent discovery has prompted me to return to it now.

This time the tables are turned: It's not the painter who made the late-breaking revisions, but rather an unknown subsequent owner.  A painting by none other than the great Dutch master Johannes Vermeer has been determined to have been altered long after Vermeer's death. 

Experts have known for about 40 years that the original canvas featured a large Cupid on the (now plain) back wall.  But they believed that Vermeer himself was the one who had painted over it.  Recently, it was determined that the overpainting of the Cupid had happened decades after Vermeer's death. So now the experts are painstakingly removing the overpainting, to restore the canvas to the state in which Vermeer intended it. The middle image above shows the painting in mid-restoration.

I for one will miss the quietude and serenity of the light on that simple back wall. But presence of the Cupid does tip us off that the letter being read is probably a love letter.  So something is lost and something gained.  I'm staying tuned for the final reveal. And I would love to have been a fly on the wall to learn why the owner of the painting decided to have it altered!