When I started painting again, I found myself wanting to find the right vocabulary and references to help myself form more concrete thoughts about my style. I read all my old art catalogs. I read them over and over at night while watching baseball on the couch. Titles included: Great Masters of French Impressionism (a c. 1970 book from the National Gallery), and exhibition catalogs of Mary Cassatt, Wayne Thiebaud, Wolf Kahn, and David Hockney. I wrote in them with pen.
In doing, I found so many wonderful quotes and critical insight that gave me consolation that I wasn’t seeking: that so many artists think the same things I do. The insecurities, the inspirations, the roadblocks. I was delighted to read Renoir say after he had painted with the Impressionists, “I found that I didn’t know how to paint or draw. I was at an impasse.” Been there, bro. I found that I aligned more with Impressionists than I thought, and I think we all do, because the big thing that ties all of us together who have followed them is their sincerity. They painted real, contemporary life rather than history, allegory, mythology. While their work wasn’t full of message or narrative, it was a genuine depiction of humanity. Living, loving, hanging out. Manet said, "Sincerity gives to painting a character of protest, while in fact the artist simply wants to render his idea. He wants only to be himself." Yes, Impressionists painted the prettiness of modern life, but can you believe that was part of the scandal? I love this from Renoir, “I’m well aware that it’s difficult to acknowledge that painting can be both great and yet full of fun. . . Those who laugh aren’t taken seriously.” I wrote Ha ha! in the margins next to that one.
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This painting is my first larger figure painting in the vein of what I used to do. It’s from a snapshot of my friend at her wedding. When I looked at the picture later it reminded me of one of my all-time favorite paintings, Betty, by Gerhard Richter. She came to the Art Institute when I worked there, and everyone in my office was smitten. I ran into her again when visiting the St. Louis Art Museum (I didn’t even know she in their collection). The technical challenges for me with this painting were rendering textiles and beading, plus what to do with the background. I repainted the dress beading twice, and by then I knew how I needed to approach the pearl barrette--simpler. The background was much more difficult to decide. At first I wanted it all black to create heavy contrast with the white dress and pale skin, but as I began that I spontaneously sketched in two figures facing the bride. They stayed there for a long time while I continued to work on the bride. Something about the figures wasn’t right, wasn’t giving me the dramatic effect I wanted. But I wanted them to work so badly because 1) They created a bit of narrative, which I never intend to include in my work, and 2) their sketchy rendering was a greater element of abstraction that I don’t do either. After much consultation with family, friends, and self, I went back to my original vision and am very happy with it. The process of painting was extremely fulfilling with this painting, too. It took me a long time—about two months—because I tried different techniques and took a lot of time to look and think. Finally, I put down the brushes and said, “all done,” which was a problem for me in the past. I’m pretty sure this brief but painful conversation on the sidelines of a pee-wee soccer practice subconsciously led to the creation of this web site.
Soccer Mom: "Now, what do you do?" She innocently asked. Me: "I paint," I replied unsurely. Soccer Mom: "That’s so cool! What kind of painting do you do?" Me: "Oil painting." Soccer Mom: "Are you a professional?" Me: "No." Soccer Mom: "Do you sell your work?" Me: "No." Soccer Mom: "Do you exhibit?" Me: "No." Soccer Mom: "Do you take commissions?" Me: "No." I don't even remember what happened next because I was so stupefied. |
I Heart Art
I do! I make it, sell it, think about it, look at it, read about it, and (sometimes) I write about it. Join my mailing list, and you'll receive my brief--promise--messages about new work, shows, events, and a little inspiration. Probably a picture of my dog, too. Archives
April 2023
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