Progress!

 The peonies in my little garden have flowered, and I could not resist taking a vase of them to the studio to paint. The bloom season is very short--but a painting lasts forever!  I thought it might be fun to share a few photos showing how the painting materialized.

Top shot:  I "blocked in" the big shapes.  At this first step, the most important things to me are (1) getting the big shapes in approximately the right place on the canvas, and (2) paying attention to which shapes are in light and which are in shadow.  The shadow shapes are toned in a fairly deep blue-ish color. If I'm not excited by what I'm seeing at this point, I don't proceed.

Next step:  I paint the background.  As painting instructors say, one should "paint the SPACE around the thing", rather than painting the thing itself.  Getting the color down accurately for the area behind the flowers tells the viewer where the flowers are located in space.  It makes the painting believable.  Plus, notice how the painting almost seems to paint itself once this is done.  Sometimes I wish I could stop here and let my mind entertain all the possibilities, without having to commit to any one of them.

Third step:  Trying not to mess up the magic of the underpainting.  This is the hard part: keeping room for the imagination, and deciding which parts are important to emphasize.  It's a battle between the general and the specific.  I definitely don't want to draw each petal!

Fourth:  Stopping point.  I've worked far enough through the prior steps to stop for a while.  I'll let it sit for an hour or two, or a day or two, and see whether it feels finished.  The key from here on out is to avoid the temptation to fiddle and fuss so much that the freshness is destroyed.  Wish me luck!

Apple of my Eye

Is there any fruit more storied than the apple? Perhaps the mystique surrounding the apple began in the Garden of Eden. In Eden, fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, presumed to be the apple, was the one forbidden fruit.  And of course it proved to be the most enticing. We have all grown up seeing images of Eve proffering an apple to Adam.  A simple red orb, yet laden with so much meaning.

"Red Deliciious, Single"

7 x 5, Oil on Gessobord

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

Apples have figured in many historic moments.  Isaac Newton had a famous encounter with an apple.  It's said that his realization about gravity happened because he was hit in the head by an apple falling from a tree.  William Tell earned freedom from his captors by shooting an apple off of his son's head, using his bow and arrow.  And the list goes on.

Untitled

5 x 7, Oil on Gessobord

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

Leaving aside the symbolism of apples, I love to paint them simply for their color and shape.  It's a challenge to depict  a sphere correctly, showing its volume and weight.  No mere red circles these!  Finding the turns of the planes in a rounded fruit is a key to showing its three dimensionality. Or as painters say, "When the plane changes, the color changes."

Untitled

6 x 6, Oil on Gessobord

(c) Lesley Powell 2021

Patrick George taught his art students that they should "recognize the apples as some sort of an irregular solid, made up of a succession of planes."  Easier said than done!  I'm illustrating this post with some of my recent efforts.  These are small paintings, quick studies.  My aim was to lay the paint and leave it, to avoid over-working, and to leave the marks of the initial drawing visible as a sign of the process. Hope you'll enjoy taking a look.

Playing with Planes

"Planes on Pears"
Oil on Canvas, 30 x 30
(c) Lesley Powell 2020
(Available at Huff Harrington Fine Art)

Lately I've been painting quite a few still lifes in my studio. I've become obsessed with the yellows and greens of lemons and pears. And I've taken to heart the rule of thumb that "Where there is a plane change, there is a color change".  (Translation for non-painters: where an object's contour changes, the light it reflects changes, and thus its color changes).

It's easy to see the planes on a cube.  Not so easy to see on a rounded object, such as a human head. Or, more prosaically, a lemon or a pear.  Careful observation is required!

"Jug, Lemons, Pear"
Oil on Canvas, 12 x 16
(c) Lesley Powell 2020
(SOLD)

With subjects like this, the fun is in the SEEING. It's a challenge not only to detect where the plane changes occur, but also to see the sometimes subtle color changes that result from the change. 

"Three Lemons and Creamer"
Oil on Canvas, 12 x 16
(c) Lesley Powell 2020
(Available at Huff Harrington Fine Art)

One great master of this challenge was the British painter Euan Uglow. I hesitate to show his work in the same post as mine, because my work pales so in comparison, but just to make my case, see Uglow's lemon below. So beautifully observed and rendered. 

I've been trying to take some lessons from Uglow. If you remember my prior posts, learning from the masters is a time honored method of honing your skills. It's very humbling, yes. But as the poet Robert Browning wrote, "Ah, but a man's reach should exceed one's grasp, or what's a heaven for?"

An Apple a Day

"Apples VI"
Oil on Linen, 7 x 10
(c) Lesley Powell 2020

It's official: the apple is fast becoming my own little "Mont Sainte-Victoire".  That's shorthand for saying that I am nearly as obsessed with the apple as Paul Cézanne was with his beloved Mont Sainte-Victoire. You may recall that Cézanne is known for the vast number of paintings in which he portrayed this mountain, which is located near his hometown of Aix-en-Provence (France). Cézanne returned to this motif time and time again, painting the mountain from many different points of view. His work on this subject spanned twenty four years, and he never seemed to tire of it. 

"Montagne Saint-Victoire"
Paul Cézanne, 1890

I may not have mountain vistas near my studio, but I do have apples! [Coincidentally (or not?), apples were another favorite subject of Cézanne]. I have become enthralled by the possibilities of these little spheres. They may seem quite simple, but they are nothing of the sort.  I've especially enjoyed painting the "Honey Crisp" variety, which are a bit variegated, and have swaths of different colors. A good challenge to the eye and to the color mixing skills!

"Apples III"
Oil on Linen, 6 x 9
(c) Lesley Powell 2020

Let it suffice to say that I have run through as much red paint over the past couple of months as I usually use in almost a year. It's been a rewarding time of exploration in the studio. I've used different sources of light--sometimes all natural light, sometime adding an artificial spotlight. I have painted the apples straight on, as well as from different angles. 

"Apples, Backlit"
Oil on Linen, 9 x 9
(c) Lesley Powell 2020

One of the most challenging approaches was the backlit apples (just above). I did a lot of squinting and trying to see colors, which was difficult for these old eyes, given the strong light shining right into them. 

"Apples and Creamer"
Oil on Linen, 8 x 12
(c) Lesley Powell 2020

I doubt I will tire of the apples any time soon. I have started adding an occasional supporting player to the compositions, such as a little cream pitcher, or a pear. Stay tuned to see how this develops...thanks for following along!

Blue & White Forever!

"Anemones and Chinese Vase"
Oil on canvas, 23 5/8 x 36 1/4
Henri Matisse, 1922

Among the small handful of things that I would count as truly timeless, one rises to the top: blue and white porcelain. The Chinese invented porcelain as long ago as the 700's, but they managed to keep the formula secret for over a thousand years. Europeans probably saw their first porcelain when Marco Polo brought some back to Venice after visiting Kublai Kahn. And the fascination began! Blue and white porcelain has always had a hint of the exotic, and has been widely sought after. No wonder that artists have portrayed it in their still life paintings ever since the Renaissance.

"Still Life with Chinese Porcelain Jar"
Willem Kalf, 1669

I love to look at paintings of blue and white porcelain, and consider the vastly different approaches to painting it. From the finely detailed works of Dutch masters, to more whimsical depictions by Matisse and other moderns, there much to delight the eye. And of course the scholarship on blue and white porcelain is limitless. I have read that the vase depicted by Matisse in the top image is "underglaze blue with figures in a landscape, possibly of the Kanji period" (that's 1622-1722).*  How it can be identified so precisely is something of a mystery to me. But it's nice to look at, and it's the first place my eye goes in this painting.

"Lady at the Tea Table"
Oil on Canvas, 29 x 24
Mary Cassatt, 1883-85

Sometimes porcelain is the main player in these paintings, and other times it is a supporting actor. Just above is an example of blue and white as a strong supporting actor: a portrait by Mary Cassatt, depicting her cousin serving tea. The tea set is of Nanking Ware, probably from the late 1700's. They say that it was probably a cherished family heirloom. Very appropriate for inclusion in a family portrait, wouldn't you say?

"Still Life with Melon"
Oil on Canvas, 20 7/8 x 28 3/4
Claude Monet, 1872

Nowadays blue and white wares are widely reproduced. Some reproductions look cheap, but others can be very convincing. I have both types in my studio to use as props. And one or two true antique pieces. There's no substitute for the real thing! The coloration of the antique pieces is truly inimitable--and fun to paint. 

"Chinese Pots"
Oil on Canvas, 11 x 14
(c) Erin Gafill

I'm closing with paintings by some of my favorite contemporary still life painters, and one of my own. Enjoy!

"Silvery Light"
Oil on Linen Board, 10 x 8
(c) Marjorie Hicks

"Orchids, In Full Swing"
Oil on Board, 24 x 18
(c) Lesley Powell, 2019
Available at Huff Harrington Fine Art

*Identification of particular porcelain depicted in paintings is from Blue & White China Origins and Western Influences, ed. John Esten, c. 1987.

Take a Closer Look

"Kevin's Nasturtium"
Oil on Linen, 35 x 25 cm
(c) Sarah Spackman

I must confess to a renewed crush on still life paintings. What is it that we love about still life paintings? Perhaps it is that they show us the beauty in ordinary objects. Or that they teach us to observe things more carefully. A great still life painting shows you something you have never seen before, about an object that you have looked at often. It awakens a delight in the everyday.

"Autumn Pears"
Oil on Board, 25 x 30 cm
(c) Sarah Spackman

Not only have I been working on a new still life series of my own, I have been basking in the wisdom of some of my favorite (living) still life painters. These painters lavish so much love and attention on their subjects that you can practically feel it. There is something almost reverent in their attitudes toward their subjects--no matter how commonplace those subjects may be. 

"I Saw Three Figs"
Oil on Board, 20 x 25 cm
(c) Sarah Spackman 2017

One wonderful still life painter that I have recently "discovered" is Sarah Spackman, a British painter. Sarah's compositions are simple, but arresting. I have read that all of the objects in her still life paintings have been given to her, or acquired for certain specific qualities. It is clear that she feels a very personal connection to all of these objects. 

I have also become a fan of Erin Lee Gafill. Erin is a Californian, and my favorites among her beautiful still life work also feature simple things--fruits, citrus, simple vessels. Her paintings almost cry out: "Slow down, pay attention--you're missing out on the beauty around you." 

(c) Erin Lee Gafill, 2019

Both Spackman and Gafill are what I'd call "painter's painters". Their application of paint is juicy and deliberate. The color relationships in their paintings are carefully observed, and scrupulously mixed. It's clear that their perception has been carefully honed. Faithful readers know that perceptual painting is my true love, so you can see why I am so enamored of their work. These paintings speak of time spent, lovingly, with their subjects, deep in observation.

(c) Erin Lee Gafill

I'm illustrating this post with paintings by Spackman and Gafill. I hope I'll have some of my own new still lifes ready for a future post...

Happy Easter!

"Hydrangea Centerpiece with Azaleas"
18 x 18, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2019

Wishing you all a very 

Happy Easter!

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

A Bouquet

"Hydrangea, Facing West"
16 x 12, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2018
(SOLD)

Thank goodness that Trader Joe's carries beautiful white hydrangeas all year round! During a recent spell of wet, gloomy weather, I sought a pick-me-up by painting some fluffy hydrangea blossoms. The hydrangea can be intimidating to paint, because each blossom is composed of hundreds of separate little "flowerettes". That's a lot of detail that can really bog you down!

"Hydrangea. Threesome"
18 x 18, Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2018
(Available)

For me, the key to a strong painting is to see the big shapes of light and dark, and to avoid getting mired down in too much detail. To identify and simplify the big shapes--now that is the challenge! Meeting the challenge involves a lot of squinting, and using my peripheral vision. If I stare directly at

The Many Colors of White

"Hydrangeas from Vickie"
18 x 18, oil on canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2018
(Available at Shain Gallery)

Faithful readers know how much I love to paint white things. It's a very interesting challenge, because of course "white" is never actually pure white. Its hue is quite variable, depending on what sort of light is shining on it, and what color objects are near it. Painting white things really does develop your color perception muscles!

"Big Leaf Hydrangea"
12 x 12, oil on linen, mounted on panel
(c) Lesley Powell 2018
(SOLD)

My latest vehicle for the exploration of white has been the hydrangea flower. It all started very innocently, when a friend brought me an arrangement of hydrangeas from her garden.  (Top painting). They looked so cool and fresh, and were such a counterpoint to the summer heat, that I just had to paint them! 

"Half Turned Hydrangea"
16 x 12, oil on linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2018
(SOLD)

After the first two paintings, I was hooked. I seldom start out intentionally to create a series of paintings. But sometimes the sense of discovery--and the desire to probe deeper--just spur me on.  In this case, I was trying to avoid getting bogged down in little details of all the flowerettes that make the big blossoms. I tried to see the blossoms in terms of big shapes of color, and light and shadow. My mantra was "Simplify, Simplify!"

"Second Verse"
18 x 18, oil on canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2018
(SOLD)

Simple, however, isn't easy! It's a constant process of decisions about how much you can say with how little detail. I went through a lot of scraping off in these canvases--painting an area, then stepping back and seeing that it was too detailed, then scraping it off, and finally re-painting that passage using only shapes of color. In the end, I was pleased with the shapes and colors, and I think they manage to tell the whole story.  Thanks for looking!

Fresh off the Easel

"Gerbera Daisies: Harbingers of Spring"
12 x 12, Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2018

Is it possible that we have actually (finally!) experienced the last frost of the winter season? In most areas of the country, Spring arrived late this year, and been quite chilly. But that hasn't stopped me from expressing the enthusiasm of the season in my studio!

"Trio, Yellow"
12 x 12, Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2018

It all started with the Gerbera daisies. I have always regarded these flowers as true harbingers of spring, especially the yellow ones. Almost everybody finds the color yellow to be cheery and warm. After all, yellow has long been associated with the sun, with its bright and life-giving light. From a scientific point of view, it's also interesting to note that the

Happy Easter!

"White Roses in Footed Vase"
18 x 18, Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2018

Wishing you a very happy Easter,

and all the joy and hope

of the season!

Combining Two Loves

"Nude Woman Seated in an Urn"
Auguste Rodin

When I visited the Rodin Museum in Paris, I was struck by what is called Rodin's "assemblage". That is, Rodin often combined different elements which, although not naturally related, spoke to him in some way. Rodin had gathered a collection of fragments from ancient Greece and Rome--both pieces of sculpture and other antiquities, such as urns and vases. These fragments served as a springboard into some of his most interest assemblages (such as that above), in which he combined the classical antiques with his own sculptures.

"Blue Pot"
20 x 12, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2018
Available at Shain Gallery, Charlotte

Alas, I am not as creative or as bounds-breaking as Rodin. But I did think of him recently when I was working on my  series of orchid paintings. Faithful followers know that I love to paint orchids. I really respond to the warm terra cotta of the clay pots that contained the first orchids. But I also have

A New Leaf

Happy New Year! I could not resist the title of this post, since the New Year is the time we all make resolutions, and vow to turn over a new leaf in certain areas. But the "new leaf" I am writing about is a quite literal one: I've been painting a new plant lately, and one whose leaves are most compelling.

I waited eagerly all fall for the cyclamen to arrive in garden shops. The cyclamen is a cold weather plant, so the plants don't come in until after that first cold snap. They often show up after Thanksgiving, and they are beautiful for Christmas decor. The white ones are my favorites, because I love to paint white things. They always show us that "white" is not actually white. In fact, white can be almost any color, depending on the light and the surrounding objects.

Detail from a recent painting (c) Lesley Powell 2017

I love the cyclamen flowers--some writers have described them as looking like shooting stars. I find that, although they all have an "upswept" look in common, they often take different shapes. Some of them remind me of badminton shuttlecocks.  Others remind me of the Flying Nun (that shows my age--Sally Field fans unite!). Still others look like a windswept figurehead on a ship. (That's how I saw the one of the left, just above). No matter their particular configuration, the flowers are elegant and sculptural. Not unlike the orchids I love to paint.

"Cyclamen II"
12 x 9, Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2017

The cyclamen leaves are also a noteworthy feature of the plant--and very intimidating to paint. Gardener's Supply says that the leaves are "embroidered with intricate, silver patterns." And there are certainly lots of them! I challenged myself to simplify both the leaves and the flowers of the cyclamen. I kept in mind the words of that great painter of flowers, Georgia O'Keefe. O'Keefe said: "Nothing is less real than realism...details are confusing...it is only be selection, by elimination, by emphasis that we get at the real meaning of things."

This one's still on the easel...

Well, I would not compare myself to Georgia O'Keefe, but I do share her philosophy of simplification.  You can let me know how well I did in avoiding confusing details and capturing the real personality of the cyclamen. Check out the images of the finished paintings here. Thanks for looking!