Last November we moved across the country to Port Townsend, Washington, where Michael had lived before coming to live with me in Brooklyn. We live in a beautiful co-housing community, with fruit trees and a big community garden. It's the smallest town I've lived in for 40+ years. I'm looking forward to finding the arts community here, a task made harder by the pandemic, but not impossible.. I'm getting settled in my new home studio, and enjoying the lovely plein air possibilities.
0 Comments
Michael and I thought our apartment would be our world for the foreseeable future. Then, he got word that some marinas were re-opening. That we might be able to get our sailboat launched and live safely on it, even go as far as Maine if we quarantine on the boat when we get there. And, here we are. Not normal life, much more solitary than we would usually be, but we're immersed in the beauty of the northeast. And I'm painting from the boat, in acrylics and watercolor. After a summer of painting outdoors, both in the city and on the sea, I decided on a new project: why not paint the people in my own life? It was hard to leave the guidance of my wonderful teacher Mary Beth McKenzie, and to lose the stimulation of colleagues I greatly enjoy and learn from. But I felt ready, or at least game, to push myself well outside my comfort zone. So, I started to ask people, and some people started to ask me. We set dates. We negotiate what feels comfortable, how much to talk (and what about), how long does each "set" last, how do I see them and how that meshes with how they see themselves. Some are able to be very still. Others move more than any professional model, and that's OK. It feels formal, and yet very intimate. I'm sad when each portrait ends, yet looking forward to the hours I'll spend with the folks now on my calendar. In January/February, Michael and I spent 3 weeks in Hopetown, on Elbow Cay in the Bahamas. In addition to soaking up sun, sea and serious relaxation, I was determined to paint a little every day. I shared some of these on Instagram as it happened. Belatedly, I'm updating my own site with my own news. (You can pick through these as you like, or hit the "slide show" button up to the left.) Whenever possible I prefer to paint from life.. Part of the pleasure is translating 3 dimensions to 2, and dealing with all the inevitable changes in light, perspective and so forth. But this fall I've found myself rushing through still lifes because I'm dealing with fruits, veggies and flowers that are never really still-- they are ripening, stretching to the light, getting bruised, dropping seeds. So I dug through the seldom-used kitchen stuff and came up with this arrangement of old aluminum gizmos. Unlike with most organic shapes, it is painfully obvious when the drawing is cockeyed, but I'm wiling to live with that. I had time to do a couple of pencil studies and play with the composition. So many ovals and curves, great fun.
For the most part I've been posting new work on Instagram-- some of you have found me there, but if not, come see me -- @madilounelson. This summer, between plein air sessions and in the comfort of my studio, I painted these two large panels. They are based on a plein air acrylic I did in Maine, plus reference photos I took there. Today my partner Maikel glued them to the cabinet fronts on our living room wall unit. Their purpose is frankly practical and decorative-- they are now part of the furniture, covering a TV and its related junk that we'd rather not stare at when it's not being used.
|
In the 2nd week of my Italy trip I drove solo, mostly pretty near Arezzo, across mountain passes higher and twistier than I expected in Tuscany. I thought piling all the gear in a car and stopping wherever I liked would make it easier to paint. It didn't work that way. My most productive times were still early morning or late afternoon, fairly near the 2 "agroturismo" places I stayed. Or I would get inspired after walking a bit, focusing on more slowly changing scenes. The wildflowers in the countryside were astounding but hard to capture, scattered as they were over many acres. In the end, I gathered a great armload, and painted them as a still life. One wet, chilly morning, I bundled up and painted myself in my room, where a big mirror handsomely reflected the courtyard outside. |
In May I did a landscape workshop taught by Art Students League's virtuoso abstract painter Frank O'Cain. The ideas that work for me: taking notes on the light and colors, looking at composition rather than detail, not looking to create finished paintings as much as capturing a moment. Arezzo was perfect for such a workshop-- all the light, color, architecture, trees (and food!) that make Tuscany special, with minimal Disneyfication.
I also experimented with watercolor (last 3 pictures of this set), much more portable and discreet than acrylics, although more difficult to control.
I also experimented with watercolor (last 3 pictures of this set), much more portable and discreet than acrylics, although more difficult to control.
Reasonably new to me is the idea of doing a quick people-picture in oil. It forces me out of yet another comfort zone. I have to let go of strict accuracy (which I'm not capable of that fast, in that medium) and just go for an expression, mood or light. When I started a "quicky" of John (in the fedora) on Friday, I found his dry wit, full of 70s and 80s anachronisms, fun and refreshing. He labeled what I was doing as a "one shot deal", and said that for him, as a painter, that can sometimes be the best work. John's comment reminded me of the old Frank Zappa song, whose climax was, "you should be diggin' it while it's happening... (yes! diggin' it while it's happening!) cause it just might be a ONE SHOT DEAL! (cut to lazy Hawaiian steel guitar solo) So, here are a few recent samples. I was definitely diggin' it while it was happening. | |
If anyone had asked me a year ago, was I interested in making portraits, I would have said definitely not. Yet it's hard for me to resist focusing on a model's face. The general plan is, with few exceptions, always the same. What's engrossing: the subtle shades of difference in bone, skin, light, and expression, the deviations from symmetry dictated by the pose and the person's own face. Not to mention the luxurious responsibility of gazing intently at one person for hours on end. I drew Tsering four times (here are the 2 profiles) before I started to paint the oil (center).
I've been back nearly a week from our winter getaway in Guadeloupe, and promise I'll post some of the lush colors from that beautiful place in a few more days. Meanwhile, news from a dear friend of my youth (say it isn't so that another friend is dying, dying of AIDS, no that still isn't over...) sent me on a search in my graphic archives. There, I found some of my own younger faces, as seen by my younger selves. Growth rings of a tree, nesting Russian dolls, memories and emotions jam packed in simple images.
Whether we know it or like it, we (the artists) are often drawing (out) our own desires, dreams, fears and memories. Maya is a fantastic model, with graceful gestures and cherubic vulnerability, but also for me a muse. Looking at her, and later looking at these drawings, I remember being eight years old, reading over and over the story of Saint Agnes. Because at the age of twelve Agnes wouldn't agree to an arranged marriage, she was paraded naked through the streets of Rome. A man dared to look at her with something less than the reverence she deserved, and was struck dead, presumably by the hand of God. The sublime personified, seen through the eyes of a pre-pubescent 60-year-old.
A few nights ago I googled one of my Art Students League colleagues, Amy Koy, and found she’d made this statement: “A painting is not complete until it is seen.” When I was in theatre, I wouldn’t hesitate to say, “Hey, I’m in a play, you have to come see it!” And yet, I’ve left it until the last minute (today) to encourage friends to come see some of my work at the Flatbush Artists salon exhibit in a lovely townhouse at 502 9th Street in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Noon to 6pm today (Saturday) and tomorrow (Sunday). I would love to see friends there, and I’m also looking forward to seeing what my neighbor artists bring. My ambivalence is probably about the emphasis on selling. For me, it’s about having "the public" see some of the results of what has become a much-cherished part of my life. And the pictures do look better in person, all dressed up in their frames and mats. PS-- This morning I was excited to see I now have a page on the Flatbush Artists website. |
This week I struggled with "accuracy" when painting that most traditional of subjects, naked white ladies. Where's their navels, what color are their inner arms, do their heads really tilt that way? Have I managed any illusions of depth, roundness, softness of skin? No wonder the faces of both these ladies look stressed out; that's what I was feeling, and projected onto them. As a break and a relief, I painted just the face of the blond lady, Monica (center and then right). Monica has the delightful quirk of not holding her face in a neutral mask. She periodically breaks out in giggles, makes eye contact with those of us struggling to depict her well, even does an occasional fish-face, much to my delight. It's hardly an accurate portrait but I think my pleasure in painting it was much purer than the absorbing but almost impossible task of depicting an entire, detailed, accurate human.