Fall #7, October Sunrise

oil on panel

18x24

This is done the same day from the memory of looking out the window at approximately seven a.m. at the sunrise. A golden light came across the treetops, the grass was pale and cool, and the sky light pale blue-violet to violet. The color moment seemed so short compared to the rest of the day. I knew how I wanted to do it.

Dots are like the cherry on top of an ice cream sundae, of supreme importance, bright, celebratory, and excitement inducing. They are tempting but the rest of the picture also has something to offer.

In graduate school I painted a portrait of a fictional person. The painter Jake Berthot saw it and told me that I needed to paint the whole thing with the attention I paid to the woman's earring, a roundish piece of green. It was not to say that the whole painting needed to be made of that shape but that that piece of paint conveyed more in its delivery that the rest. Painters need to make sure that paint passages aren't just filled in areas like a coloring book but are functioning parts of the picture. This doesn't mean that all parts need to have the same thickness or level of description or saturation of color; it is a bit tricky. It is kind of like paying attention to someone else as an active listener and not zoning on parts of the conversation. I think I have learned how to do it and this painting is an example. Another example is this drawing of trees by Matisse. Even though it is made of simple lines, the negative spaces are considered. The space between the trees, for instance is hour glass shaped, echoing the curvy trees and complimenting their duality with the upper and lower parts of this shape, two for two.

If you look at this fabulous jpeg of Shoes by Van Gogh, 1888, you will see what I mean. Check out the floor. This reproduction is big enough to get into the paint passages. I can't get enough of it. You can see his thinking as he defines planes, observes variation in color, and physically describes the turns of the leather, it's facets made by the form of a shoe and the history of the individual wearer. It makes them a kind of portrait, intimate, through the appreciation of this everyday object and the life it represents. It is done with the care and tenderness one regards the clothing of loved ones who have passed and we have the sometimes difficult decision of keeping or donating them. People are passionate about Van Gogh because he understands this. He paints what he can't hold onto. The subject is shoes, the content is life.

Primary Window (Early Spring)

oil on panel

24" x 18"

I love Matisse's Window at Tangier painted in Morocco in 1912. It is the type of window that opens in, which becomes the side panel of the painting. The painting deals with this rectangle of pink, the pinks and oranges in the view to the red-orange vase with flowers on the sill, and the blues including the large rectangle at the top. Paint is dappled in areas to reflect light. The title is due to its primary color composition of blue, red, and yellow (three central bands). It's what your eye wants to see, after all.

Primary Window (Early Spring) is frontal. Whites and grays frame it from bright on the left to dark on the sill. The colors aren't very exaggerated; it is a day of bright blue sky, bleached grass uncovered from snow, and bare trees more pink than brown. Vertical ripples of the curtains bracket the woods, drawn like the colors shimmer. The lightness of the colors and the paint handling make it airy. Vital are the space between the trees, their rhythm, as does the way the treetops mingle with sky.

Landscape consists of objects: rocks, trees, whatever, the place in the space they inhabit, and that space, coexistence, interdependence. I like seeing the connection between these named things and their context (colors isolated and interacting is the same idea). It is difficult to see oneself that way, maybe impossible. We try to see ourselves, our connections to each other and the world through photographs, Facebook, Google Earth. I think they are all good tools for trying to grasp this thing that can't be held. Sticking one's hand in dirt is another way, a relief to feel something real. Reverend Scott Taylor of the First Unitarian Universalist Church in Rochester describes the mystery between people almost as a force, as God if you are a believer in God. He seems to stick more to just the idea of mystery and something that's there but you don't know what it is; he has a hand gesture to describe it. I think this mystery or energy between people is the same as what I see in the landscape. Lots of people "see it", feel it; I'm just trying to paint it. For that matter, lots of people have tried and continue to try to make art about it. It is what makes painting so difficult, almost daunting at times, but draws one back over and over to engage in the impossible obsession of trying to nail it. Plenty of painters wouldn't have this agenda and would say that they are just trying to make a good picture, Pop Artists, for example. Western Modern Art from the beginning of the twentieth century through today reflects the ideas of Western Society, including religion. Artists ranged in their beliefs from a singular, all-powerful Creator as defined by Christianity and Judaism, to Atheism and everything in between. Painting is a spiritual/religious practice for me. As an undergrad I read Kandinsky's Concerning the Spiritual in Art which also delved into his ideas about color theory. I don't think there are many great books written since on the subject (let me know if you know of any!) because it is such an intangible area. I'll just keep making tangible things about the intangible and shut up like most painters do.