Observing

I decided to take the month off from working in the studio and it was both a positive and negative endeavor. The latter was a bit troubling because I didn't miss painting or experience a yearning to return as Michael predicted I soon would. The positive side was that I didn't experience a yearning to return soon at all! Contradictions aside, the time off was well-spent in contemplation, research and meditation.

Always studying other painters and their work, I find that looking at the work of my living peers reaps the most beneficial results. It's impressive that there are so many extremely masterful painters among us.

Here a few of the many I admire:

Tibor Nagy's loose translation of both urban scenes and landscapes are beautifully abstract. The surface contains wonderful mark-making: brushwork, palette knife applications and incisions, scumbling, scraping, etc., leaving the first layers to show through to the surface. His color palette is subdued and sublime:

Nancy Boren is a risk-taker. I have studied this painting over and over and I believe it's a perfect example of pushing the envelope. The background heron is overlapped by the figure's face and touched by the far wrist. It works - as evidenced by winning the Bronze Medal at the National Oil Painters of America 2016 exhibit. Gorgeous piece:

Swedish-born painter Odd Nerdrum's art is influenced by the likes of the great masters such as Rembrandt and Caravaggio. Figures on large-scale canvases tell modern yet timeless stories of human experience in a lyrical landscape. Surface texture and a classical subdued palette inspire me to simplify, simplify, simplify. And always tell a good story:

I couldn't make it this year but it's on my bucket list to study with Morgan Samuel Price. She's a remarkable plein air painter, tackling complex subjects that she seems to effortlessly pull together. I want to observe her edit the complicated Florida flora (and fauna) as she works her magic with light and color:

Mark Boedges works in layers of transparent paint, removing, re-applying, adjusting until he achieves his desired effect. Hints of Richard Schmid? You know it...living and working in Vermont alongside the Putney Painters but emerging with a distinct and beautiful voice of his own. Strong stuff.

Fear not, I'm back at work with a vengeance and with renewed inspiration,
Sharon

Stanka Kordic

Those of you who follow my artwork and it's processes have witnessed the gamut of my experiences as a painter. Sometimes it's positively thrilling and other times, well, I struggle miserably. I don't subscribe to the tormented artist sentiment, rather, I desire that the act of creating be inspired and joyous. Even though I devote time to meditate "religiously" every single morning, I don't consider myself a deep thinker. Decisions in my art making tend to be intuitive. Not doubt, I'm evolving rapidly (I think I'm too old for a mid-life crisis).

I have a master-artist voice in my head that coaches me through every piece of artwork I make from concept to signing. Before you conclude that I've gone completely daft, let me explain. Most artists have a running dialog playing in their head as they create. Believe me, it's a good thing. There is so much to consider, so much to question, comparisons - is that color warm or cool, is that horse's leg anatomically correct, does this brushstroke convey enough energy, am I accurately portraying depth, am I convincing my viewer of the story concept, and on and on it goes.

My own personal master-artist coach has become demanding and harshly scrutinizing of late. It's still a good thing but often can be downright exhausting.

However, this is not a negative post. I took this weekend to catch up on varnishing paintings. The strong solvents require that I find something else to do outside of the studio. A newsletter I subscribe to, Fine Art Connoisseur, was languishing around in my email in-box. I finally sat down at the computer and found this great video contained within the issue. It's about the process of master artist Stanka Kordic, who I am only vaguely familiar with (hey, I'm a horse artist). I found it to be extremely inspiring and I hope you will too.

No! master-artist, you need not talk me through this blog post.
Sharon

Realizing Intent

There's no use complaining about the weather. Almost the entire country is affected by the extreme cold and up here in the northeast...snow...lots of it. I simply cannot paint outdoors as some artists are able - my hands and right shoulder are beginning to exhibit the signs of a lifetime of repetitive motion. I'm okay with this as I consider this cabin-bound time important for study and practice.

And study I have. My dear artist friend Robert Stebleton suggested books by David Curtis of the U.K. which further led to books by Curtis' teacher, Trevor Chamberlain. I resonate with the simple, common-sense instruction by Chamberlain and will say his teaching and paintings have had a huge influence on the shifts I choose to make in my work. I'm finally experiencing some clarity after considerable floundering.

As Michael nails it: "...spot staring and wandering aimlessly." That perfectly sums up my state of mind for the past year.

Chamberlain suggests: "It's worth having a supply of boards that you have prepared yourself, and which you don't feel are too precious, to experiment and practise on, and for doing quick colour sketches of things that interest you." Fortuitously, I recently received a pile of old masonite panels that will serve his advice quite well.

Here are a couple of the better experiments:

Not quite as loose as I'd like, but my color and light is improving.

 I am pleased with the spontaneous, fluid brushwork of the Geese:

Alas, this week I'm back painting another greyhound and it looks like another will follow. Certainly helps keep the heat on in this winter of extremes. So very grateful!

Introspection and unmerciful examination are the rule of the season.

In long underwear,
Sharon

Miles of Canvas

I completed a couple of experimental paintings this past week in between my equine commissions (and canine to come). As an artist friend wisely told me not long ago, sometimes it's about painting miles of canvas to achieve your vision. I think of her sage advise whenever the restlessness sets in. Whenever I'm uneasy because the paint isn't doing or looking the way I want it to. My thoughts have returned to wondering if I should take a workshop with an artist who's accomplished in landscape, who's wrestled with values and edges, perhaps someone who can help me find my voice within this cacophony of uncertain thought.

Indian Summer, 11"x14", oil on textured canvas

In the painting above, I wanted to loosen my brushwork. I may have gone too far as I used big brushes on a small textured canvas. One thing I am pleased with is my return to a brighter palette. For a while I limited and toned down my colors. Don't ask me why. We all love happy colors.

Studying other artists continuously - the modern masters, plein air painters, or just keeping track of what my peers are up to - I've observed that unless a landscape painting has an unusual focal point, or any focal point for that matter, it's boring. A pretty picture yes, but where's the intrigue? Even some technically excellent pieces are just that.

In the other piece, I struggled with the waterfall, cooled it, warmed it, brightened, toned it back, added rocks, spray, rivulets, scraped, smudged and generally worked the thing to death. In contrast, the deer took about two minutes to apply with a few simple brushstrokes that I got right the first time. A nod to all those hundreds (if not thousands) of horses I've painted.

 

Wahconah Falls, 11"x14" oil on canvas

So thank you to my artist friend Sue Johnson for assuring me about all those miles of canvas I'm determined to crank out. You're so right. Just this morning Michael and I did an inventory on what to scrap heap in order to reuse the stretchers. Now that's an accomplishment from the days of wrenching a bad painting out of his reluctant arms.

It's a bittersweet symphony,
Sharon

Back to Basics

After spending the last several months experimenting with different subject matter, I'm delighted to return to the loyal and patient muse. Don't get me wrong, my foray into street scenes, ocean, snow and a bit of plein air has been a welcome change - reassuring my brain that it can still concentrate with dogged focus and even learn a few new tricks.

It was a return to the basics of value and perspective. My equine paintings are closely cropped into somewhat abstract compositions. Spatially, here's limited depth of field and the angles are as unorthodox as I can convincingly portray. It's difficult to choose a focal point when the entire surface is so in-your-face.

My artist friend Robert Stebleton generously sent me a cd of images that he scanned from one of his Richard Schmid landscape books. I drooled over these paintings. And I stared at them for hours. What impressed me the most was Schmid's simplification of some very complex masses and his suggestion to perceive these areas as patterns. Also noteworthy is his effective technique with edges, something I really need to work on.

It will be interesting to see if my return to a large-scale, motion-infused canvas will be affected by the time spent painting scenes that were definitely outside my comfort zone.

7'x5' canvas with preliminary charcoal sketch and color washes.

I think it will.
Sharon

Illustration vs. "Art"

We visited the Norman Rockwell Museum recently, specifically to see the Howard Pyle exhibit. Surprisingly, it was quite crowded but evidently the throngs were there for the Rockwells. The galleries in the rear of the museum containing the Pyle paintings were almost deserted. This left lots of room and time to intimately savor.

I'm a major fan of Howard Pyle. If historical accuracy is sketchy, dream it up and make us believers. And do a stunning job while you're at it with a maniacal imagination, rule-breaking design and excellent painting skills. So moving to finally see the actual paintings I've drooled over in picture books for years. The Flying Dutchman is over-the-top for diagonal thrusts creating uneasy motion:

Do you think I'm NUTZ about this painting? The Coming of Lancaster. It's almost a religious experience, a pilgrimage of sorts, to see the real brushstrokes. Adore this horse. In the olden days it was called a piebald (think Caravaggio's Conversion of St. Paul) and the depiction of his watch eyes (blue) is perfect. The expression is priceless and it's haughty posture which mimics the rider - magnificent. We have arrived to save you.

And yes, this amazing painting was there as well: The Mermaid. Wisely, a bench had been place before it for those of us who couldn't peel our eyes away:

The art snobs have always looked down their noses at illustrators. Nevertheless, one must be a superior draftsman and accomplished painter to create this kind of imagery. Their drawing skills are phenomenal and I find tremendous inspiration in this traditional genre. Pyle's imagination speaks to me, urging me to step out and express my own inventiveness.

Norman Rockwell, whose very American art is quite rooted in...well...Americana, interprets the joy of commonplace and home. However, he bravely goes out on a limb to express social injustices and causes he believed in at a time when it wasn't cool. This is so powerful...especially in 1964: The Problem We All Live With.

Here's another painting I couldn't pull myself from. The composition is uncanny with cropped faces lining either side of the canvas leading you to the turkey focal point. I was so mesmerized, I forgot to read the gallery card. Is that Rockwell's self-portrait smiling out at us from the lower right? Freedom from Want.

I have great respect for Rockwell. What technical skill and talent! It's just that I resonated to the Pyle's in a way that I find so stimulating.

Let's all go to drawing class...
Sharon

Farm Painting Almost Finished

Unfinished painting, oil on canvas, 30"x40"

Back in the studio today after a mini vacation to work on this painting for a few hours. I increased the value and contrast on the moss at the top left to make it belong to the foreground tree. I'll also make the horses sun-dappled under same tree. And that horse on the left...you've seen the classical pinned ears of horse portraits by George Stubbs? Just standing there, ears pinned, eyes wild and nostrils drawn back in a sneer - what did Stubbs observe, what was he thinking? An artist after my heart.

Hollyhock by George Stubbs, c. 1765

Working on the accomplishments list and promise to post before the new year. Stay tuned.

“A vacation is over when you begin to yearn for your work” - Morris Fishbein