Merry Christmas!

 

Photo (c) Lesley Powell

The holiday season is in full swing, and this will probably be my last post of 2021.  I want to thank all of you who read this blog for your support and encouragement throughout the year.  I close with thoughts of stars, and one star in particular:

Star of wonder, Star of night,

Star with royal beauty bright,

Westward leading, still proceeding,

Lead us to thy perfect Light.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, ALL!

Lyrics from "We Three Kings", Christmas carol composed by John Henry Hopkins, Jr. in 1857.

Hockney in Lockdown

 

I have written earlier about Martin Gayford's book, "Spring Cannot be Cancelled". It focuses on David Hockney's work at his Normandy farmhouse during the COVID lockdown of 2020.  When I wrote that post, and when I read the book, I never dreamed that I would actually see (in person!) the art that Hockney produced during this period.  But I have just returned from Paris, where that very work is on exhibit at the Musée de l'Orangerie--and I must report that it is amazing to see in person.  I'm not usually a big fan of digital art, but this is stunning.  Photos cannot do it justice. 

 

Hockney has been "painting" with an iPad for over ten years.  This Normandy work was all produced on his iPad, and printed in a very large format. The paintings move through all four seasons as they come and go at the farm, and are assembled in a cycle or frieze format.  It is 263 feet long!  The paintings tell their story in a monumental form, reminiscent of the Bayeux Tapestry.  So it comes as no surprise to learn that Hockney was actually inspired by the Bayeux Tapestry, one of Normandy's greatest treasures.

To view the work, one walks through a long, narrow corridor, which is lined with the Hockney paintings, up one side and down the other.  The seasons come and go, but you are at the same farm, seeing the same buildings, fields, and trees, as the seasons work their changes on them. The overall effect  manages to evoke simultaneously two opposing senses: that of containment and that of expansiveness.  Not to mention the pure visual fun of all the squiggles of color!  It's really quite a show.

If you won't be in Paris for the exhibition, you can still read the Gayford book, which has lots of insights from Hockney about creating art.  Or order the fold-out book of the Orangerie exhibit (apparently available in French only) which gives you a better idea of the frieze presentation.  So much to see! 

Simultaneous Contrast

"Impression, Sunrise"

Claude Monet

I've written on this topic in the past, but some things deserve elaboration.  This is one of them:  the Law of Simultaneous Contrast. The phenomenon of simultaneous contrast was first articulated by an industrial chemist, Eugene Chevreul, in the 19th century. Chevreul discovered that a color appears brighter and more intense when it is placed next to its complement.   Here's proof:

In this photo, the middle square is the same color on both sides. But when surrounded by an analogous color (the orange on the left), it looks duller and less saturated. When surrounded by its complement (the blue on the right), it looks far more intense, and brighter too.  The next image is another example. The green bar positively vibrates against its complementary red.

For painters, this is a crucial concept.  We must constantly keep in mind that it is color RELATIONSHIPS, not necessarily colors themselves, that make or break a painting.  That's because no color exists in isolation.  Each color is affected by those around it.  Look no further than Monet's painting above, where the orange sun is surrounded by blue.  Without doubt, that sun would not shine so bright if it were higher in the sky with the other orange-y, yellow colors.

Moral of the story:  if you want your yellow to be more intense, put a bit of purple next to it.  If you want your red to be bright (often tricky, because reds are actually dark colors), find an opportunity to put some green next to it. As Eugene Delacorix said, "I can paint you the skin of Venus with mud, provided you let me surround it as I will".   

Untitled

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

 

I close with an image of one of my recent paintings.  I used a violet/blue on the left, to make the brightest yellows of the pears stand out.  And I used a pale blue on the right to make the orangey dark side of the right pear more intense.  It takes some planning to arrange the still life props to this advantage, but it's well worth it!

Provence Beckons

This post is an alert to faithful readers that my newest collection of paintings has just been uploaded to my website.  It's titled "Provence Beckons", and it features scenes from Provence that have inspired me over the years.

"Luberon Clouds"

6 x 6, Oil on Linen, Mounted on Board

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

(SOLD)

This year, for the second year in a row, the painting workshop In Provence with Maggie Siner was cancelled due to COVID.  I've only missed three summers there since 2011! To ease my longing for the fields and villages that I have come to love, I visited them through paint.  I worked from drawings, photos, and plein air studies.  Even memory and imagination played a part.  All of those ingredients went into the new collection. 

I discovered that painting Provence is the next best thing to being there!  If you too have wanderlust, I hope that you will enjoy looking at the new collection.  You can see all of the paintings by clicking here.

"Welcome Home"

9 x 7.5, Oil on Paper, Mounted on Art Board

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

And in case you wonder how one of the paintings might fit in your home, I'm illustrating this post with shots of a couple of the paintings in situ at my house.  The opportunities are endless for paintings this size.  And they make great gifts for art lovers or Francophiles. Enjoy!

Making my Own

 

For all you painters and art collectors, I want to share this information on how I make many of my own painting surfaces.  I love to paint on Belgian linen, and I often paint in non-standard sizes.  As a result, it is an important factor in my work to have custom supports.  Here's how I do it:

Photo #2

I often paint the painting on "loose" linen, just clipped to a board.  If the painting doesn't work out, I can wipe it down and start over.  If the painting DOES work out, I then mount it on a wood or MDF support.  (Incidentally, these woods are getting harder and harder to find in the post-COVID world).  The top photo shows a finished painting on loose linen, and the panel my husband custom cut for it.  (Not shown:  I treat the board with a coat of primer such as GAC 100 before mounting).  

Photo #3

Next I loosely place the painting on the panel, and move it around until it is centered.  That is the trickiest part of the entire process. Once I'm happy with the placement, I mark the back of the linen to show that placement (Photo #2).  Next I get out my trusty acid-free, archival adhesive.  Usually I use YES paste (Photo #3).

Photo #4

I spread the YES Paste thinly on the panel and also on the back of the linen, using a flexible palette knife (photo #4).  It's a lot like icing a cake.  When that is done, I press the painting down onto the panel and smooth it out with my hands.  Then I press it again using a rubber brayer, working from the center out to the edges, to make sure that any air bubbles are gone and that the linen is securely and evenly attached to the panel (Photo #5).

Photo #5

Finally, if I have been smart enough to leave a good margin of linen (like I did for this example), I wrap the linen around the panel (Photo #6).  Wrapping it around gives a wonderful finished edge to the painting, and allows the painting be to displayed unframed and still look very "finished".  It also allows the painting to be "floated" in a frame, without exposing any raw edges.  

Photo #6

One last step not pictured here: I put the painting face down under a pile of heavy books overnight, to allow the paste to dry and the seal to bond.  And the next morning, Voilà!  An uber-custom painting, ready for its close up!  It's a pretty involved process, but the result is well worth it to me.  Enjoy!

 

An Unlikely Pair

"Study for Homage to a Square"

Josef Albers

"Still Life with White Bottle and Small Bleu Bottle"

Giorgio Morandi, 1955

I have an affinity for art exhibits that pair two artists, and allow for a "compare and contrast" analysis between them.  Quite often these shows feature artists who knew each other, or influenced each other.  Now along comes a very unlikely pairing: the Zwirner Gallery in New York has mounted a show featuring two dramatically different painters:  Josef Albers and Giorgio Morandi.  At first, it seems like a true odd couple.  I feel sure these two never met, and their paintings are worlds apart.  But the subtitle of the show reveals the common thread:  "Never Finished".  

"Study for Homage to the Square"
Josef Albers, 1954

Each of these painters spent decades--perhaps his entire career--exploring one single motif. For Albers, it was the "Homage to the Square", in which a series of square shapes are fitted into each other.  The colors of the squares are carefully calibrated and practically vibrate off one another.  For Morandi,  the motif was a collection of still life objects that he observed and scrutinized obsessively in his studio.  Those everyday objects took on a universal, even majestic, stature in his paintings. They served as a springboard for deep exploration of perception, color and space.

"Natura Morta (Still Life)"

Giorgio Morandi, 1954

Further contrasts are evident. Albers worked in intense, deeply saturated colors.  Morandi worked in subtle, muted colors.  Albers' paintings are nonobjective, pure color fields.  Morandi's paintings are quite the opposite, focusing on arrangements of objects, and the way they occupy space. 

"Study for Homage to the Square"

Josef Albers

Exactly because of these contrasts, rather than in spite of them, the show has been an acclaimed success. One reviewer has said, "To my amazement, viewing them together electrifies, as their works' extremes play off each other.  Think of it as a pas de deux of a drill sergeant (Albers) and an enchanter (Morandi).  There's a crackle in perception when you turn from works by one artist to those of the other." (Peter Schjeldahl, in The New Yorker).  

"Still Life with a Bottle"

Giorgio Morandi

You can see a video of the show, and some enlightening conversation about it, by clicking here.  And other good news--a catalog of the exhibit will be released in November.  Check it out here.  Much to savor!

Insurmountable Opportunities

You may be familiar with the quotation from the cartoon character Pogo:  "Gentlemen, we are confronted with insurmountable opportunities."  The quote was elaborated on beautifully by the acclaimed photographer Sally Mann, in her memoir entitled Hold Still.  Mann writes, "It is easier for me to take ten good pictures in an airplane bathroom than in the gardens of Versailles."  So true.

There is something about limitations that forces us to delve deeply into our creativity.  And conversely, there is something about endless possibilities that can be paralyzing.  In fact, I  confronted "insurmountable opportunities" recently on a painting trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains.  Staying at Old Orchard Creek Farm for a few days, there were beautiful sights in every direction. Paralysis almost set in--what should I paint--the distant ridges? nearby apple orchard? charming Victorian house? striking red barn?  I was ready to hyperventilate, just considering the overwhelming array of options.

Thankfully I was able to settle down and focus.  I got a few paintings that were very satisfying.  I just kept repeating my mantra:  "Shapes of Color, Shapes of Color".  And trying to focus on simple shapes, rather than on "things".  But still--sometimes it's easier to make something from nothing, than to face a gorgeous scene that is surely more beautiful than any painting of it could ever be.

I'm illustrating this post with some shots from the trip.  Hope you will enjoy these.  Finished paintings to go up on the website soon...

"Old Orchard Creek Farm"

12 x 12, Oil on Linen

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

California Girls

Oil on Canvas Panel, 5 x 7

(c) Peggi Kroll Roberts

A collector recently asked me what artists' work I personally collect.  Great question!  I could write several posts on this topic, but for today I will just take the theme of "California Girls" and talk about three of my favorites.

Oil on Canvas Panel, 6 x 8

(c) Peggi Kroll Roberts

When I collect from fellow painters, I seek work that is not only pleasing to look at, but that can also teach me something. The top two images are paintings by Peggi Kroll Roberts.  I have taken several classes with Peggi, and can vouch that she is a wonderful and generous teacher.  Just looking at the impasto paint on these canvases, I remember watching Peggi load up her brush and make her beautiful marks.  It reminds me not to skimp on my paint, and to be expressive with my mark-making. 

"Across the Fields"

Oil on Panel, 12 x 12

(c) Sandy Ostrau

Another California girl whose work I admire is Sandy Ostrau.  I have never met Sandy, but I have seen her paintings in several different venues, and find it stunning.  I think we both love geometry in paintings, and she is a master with geometric forms.  She makes simple blocks of color absolutely sing.  And although they are not "descriptive", in the sense of being detailed, her paintings still convey a sense of the time and space in which they exist.  Just looking at my two little Ostrau paintings (see bottom image) spurs me forward in the quest to simplify and to master color relationships.

"Red Horizon"

6 x 6, Oil on Panel

(c) Erin Lee Gafill

My most recent acquisition is a little painting by Erin Gafill.  It's called "Red Horizon".  Even though it's only 6x6 inches, it has a much larger impact.  To my eye, Erin's paintings have a definite meditative quality.  They convey the sense of being fully present.  Her still lifes, like the little cobalt jar I purchased earlier, speak of the majesty of simple things.  And they never look labored--they seem to flow organically off the brush.  I've never met Erin either, but I almost feel as if I know her, having watched her on UTube and having heard her talks.  Maybe someday!  Meanwhile, looking at her paintings creates a sense of serenity and reminds me to be present and quiet with my subject. 

Oil on Paper, 5 1/2 x 7 1/2

(c) Erin Lee Gafill

Hope you'll enjoy these paintings as much as I do.  I'm concluding with shots showing their placement in my home.  Thanks for reading!

It's Back!

Torrit Greys

This week I got an announcement that the 2021 Torrit Grey has hit the shelves!  Years ago, I was befuddled by a similar promotion at the local art supply store, which promised me a free tube of Torrit Grey paint if I bought a certain amount of goods made by Gamblin. Nowadays, I am a huge fan, and eagerly await each year's release of Torrit Gray.  Here's the story...

Gamblin Artists Colors is one of the largest paint manufacturers in the US. Their factory uses an air filtration system made by a company called Torit. The air filters trap pigment dusts that escape into the air during the paint mixing process. Every spring, Gamblin cleans the dust out of its filters. Instead of dumping the pigment dust in a landfill, they use it to make a special paint, which they call "Torrit Grey". How cool is that?

Because the combination of pigments cleaned out of the filters is never the same from year to year, the color Torrit Grey is never the same either. Recently, Gamblin has started labeling the tubes of Torrit Grey with the year of manufacture. So now we can collect tubes from various "vintage years", if you will, just like we would collect wines from different vintage years. It's a limited edition pigment!

Not only is Gamblin's approach very earth-friendly, it has the added lure of the mysterious: You never know what the next batch will be like until you open it. It often tends toward green, because one particular pigment, Pthalo Green, has an extremely strong tinting strength. Sometimes it is a truer neutral gray, like the 2013 vintage shown below.

Torrit Grey is great mixed with other colors. In his book "Landscape Painting Inside & Out", Kevin Macpherson advocates for scraping your palette as you work, and stashing the scrapings on the side, to be used in mixing other colors. Many painters call this their "mud". Kevin even suggests buying empty tubes and filling them with your mud, rather than discarding it at the end of a painting session...another great recycling approach. Here's to more earth-friendly ideas!

Emilio Sanchez Forever

 

Every now and then the US Postal Service publishes a new stamp that makes it worth waiting in line at the post office.  And this year we got one: stamps featuring the work of Emilio Sanchez.  Postage stamps are one of the rare things in life in which the interesting ones cost the same as the plain ones--so why not go with the gusto??  And the Sanchez stamps indeed exude gusto!

"35 Calle Sol"

Emilio Sanchez

Emilio Sanchez was a Cuban born artist (1921-1999), who began his art studies at the Art Students League in New York.  He painted a variety of subjects, but was especially fascinated by the play of light and shadow on brightly colored forms.  The buildings of the Caribbean and other regions proved to be perfect vehicles for his exploration of light and shadow and color.  But he also depicted scenes from New York, such as the one just below.

"Looking West from My Studio"

Color Lithograph, 19 x 17 1/2

Emilio Sanchez, 1968

Sanchez has been compared to Edward Hopper and Georgia O'Keefe in the way that they simplified the environment.  One critic said they created an "abstract stillness of the built environment"--I could not say it better.  By eliminating extraneous details, Sanchez reduces these structures to their essence, and they take on universal meaning.  Though the details are eliminated, the colors are so true, and the shapes so accurate, that the structures remain very believable.  In fact, they almost seem alive.

"La Ventanita"

Emilio Sanchez

I love the way that Sanchez knows how to zero in on the most telling, most interesting shapes.  He zooms in on one part of a structure, but that one part tells us everything we need to know to picture the entire structure in our minds.  Or to sense the place that it occupies. Believe me, selecting just the right slice of a scene to achieve this feat is easier said than done.

"Una Pandemia"

Color Lithograph, 29 15/16 x 22 1/4

Emilio Sanchez, 1973

I have purchased my Sanchez stamps, but I am tempted to keep them to look at, rather than to use them to mail letters. I hope this will inspire you to check them out. And for the curious, I'm closing with a shot of Sanchez himself.  I may be crazy, but something about the decisive planes of his features reminds me of his paintings...

Emilio Sanchez

Kick Start, Part II

"Neighbors at Les Bassacs"

Oil on Paper

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

My last post talked about the way that using new materials can kick start your creative process, or even open the door to a new way of working.  I promised to explore that notion in more depth.  So--this time I'm writing about oil painting on paper.  Yes, plain ole PAPER. 

 

"Bonnieux View"    

6 x 6, Oil on Paper

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

You can buy special papers that are pre-treated for oil painting.  These papers don't require any preparation--you just start painting. Eliminating the preparation time is a huge advantage, but I have found drawbacks to these papers.  One of the popular brands is so absorbent that it practically sucks the paint off your brush and absorbs it deep into the paper.  That's great when you are in a "lay it and leave it" mode, but not so great when you want to move paint around on the surface.  Another brand is pressed to have lines that mimic the weave of canvas.  Sometimes that's nice, but then again why not just use canvas if that's what you're after?

"Blueberries I"

6 x 6, Oil on ArtBoard

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

My latest exploration is painting on heavy drawing or print-making paper.  Or even watercolor paper.  I have learned in my research that if you give these surfaces two thin coats of shellac, they are archival for oil paint.  The shellac creates a barrier that keeps the oil "sitting on top" of the paper.  The surface is very smooth, but not TOO smooth.  And if you paint a picture that is a keeper, you can mount it on board or another stiff surface, and (if done properly) the painting can be treated like any other oil painting.

I have really enjoyed working with this new surface.  I love the way it accepts the paint.  And the way you can scratch back into it to make expressive marks (like you see on the blueberry stems above).  Plus there is a freedom in painting on paper--since paper is less expensive than the linen I usually use, there is not so much at stake.  You can let go and experiment without wasting a lot of resources.  

Another advantage if you know how to paint on paper is that you can shift gears in mid-process, and undertake a "change of state".  That happens when a picture that begins as a drawing  starts to feel more like it should be a painting.  Putting a coat of shellac over the drawing allows you to take it to another state, and become an oil painting.  Check out the photo immediately above for one of my drawings midway in this process. (I used an amber shellac on this one, but I usually use a clear one). I'm illustrating this post with other recent works on paper--enjoy!