Sometimes a Painting...

Going to Richeson 75!

2012-01-23T20:32:00.000-06:00

Under an October Sky is a plein air 8x10 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

I've posted this painting before, but I did want to share with you that it was accepted as a finalist in the Richeson 75 International Small Works show.

I’m very grateful to my friend, Jean McGuire who told me she especially liked it because her comment inspired me to submit it!

It’s of a very typical Tennessee scene, a field of soybeans. In my state, soybeans are one of our cash crops, along with tobacco and corn; and the plant is pretty ubiquitous. But though it’s common and unassuming, combined with our lovely rolling hills, it can put on a show.

I love it when the ordinary turns beautiful, and we artists have the pleasure of painting it!

Into the Heart of Bok Choy

2012-01-16T21:42:00.000-06:00

The Heart of Bok Choy is a 8x6 oil on linen by Shirley Fachilla.

This painting began with a beautiful head of bok choy from a good friend's garden. I intended to paint all of it, every purple/green leaf (which I found to be absolutely gorgeous).

But good intentions often are subverted when I start welding a paintbrush and instead of showing all, I painted a close-up of the very heart of that crispy little bok choy. It became an abstract rather than a study, something that was all about light and dark, color complements and thick versus thin.

Who would recognize it as a garden vegetable? Probably no one that’s who.

Turning things into abstractions, of course, is hardly anything new. Georgia O’Keeffe did it with a vengeance. Her big, bold close-ups of flowers filled canvases with swooping, simplified shapes and beautiful subtle colors. Art critics compared those flowers to many things, some x-rated, or at least extremely intimate; but no matter, artists have been following her lead ever since.

Remembrance of Things Past...

2012-01-11T08:00:00.035-06:00

Study: Heading Out is a 6x6 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

As mentioned before in Sometimes a Painting, when I was in Maine, I very much wanted to paint the ocean. Though I did have my chances, the little painting above doesn’t reflect one of them. It’s the afternoon view of Mohegan harbor as we waited to board the ferry back to the mainland.
There was no time to paint, barely time to snap a couple of photos that I knew would have no resemblance to the shimmering scene before me.

So I took photos to remind me, and I tried very hard to impress on my mind the colors and light I saw. The above painting is the result. Actually it’s the initial result. I’m attempting to paint it again much larger with the help of the color harmonies I worked out in it and prolonged looking at images of William Ritschel’s seascapes. The photos I took mostly help with the shape of lobster boats!

Just for your information, the Ritschel link does not do justice to his amazing use of color. It’s often saturated, usually unexpected and somehow always totally right. I just wish there were more and better images of his work available on the web.

To Vignette... Or Not to Vignette

2012-01-04T12:05:00.000-06:00

Baby, It’s Cold Outside is a 24x12 oil done in open studio by Shirley Fachilla.

The vignette isn’t as easy as it might seem. Knowing when to leave a portion of a painting unfinished, knowing when to let your line, your shape just fade away is tricky.
It’s tricky because the empty negative space becomes a part of the painting’s composition. That emptiness can make the painting look unfinished or worse, awkwardly designed.

[For the art meanings of vignette, negative space and composition, please visit the Artful Definition page.]

It can also give work a freshness and structure that finishing out would not. So artists vignette. Manet’s Portrait of Mme Zola is a very classic vignette design; Berthe Morisot’s Girl with the Greyhound where the unfinished space becomes the light illuminating the room is not.
With Baby, It’s Cold Outside, the vignette was a way to avoid a portion of the pose that I found distracting and focus instead on the model’s very elegant face.

My Week with "Marilyn"**

2011-12-27T21:49:00.000-06:00

Platinum Blonde is a 6x6 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Okay, it wasn’t a week with Marilyn. It wasn’t a week with Michelle Williams either.
And it really wasn’t a week, more like five days, widely separated.
But the open studio model reminded me of Marilyn, same sort of hairstyle and color, that pale, pale platinum blonde.
She wore a dress about the color of her hair and struck a pose that created a foreshortened head and face. (Quite hard to paint. See Artful Definitions.) But I loved the lighting, all that paleness in high contrast. So later after the open studio session, I painted her again. Unlike most of my paintings which are a la prima (again visit Artful Definitions), I kept coming back to this little one and redoing it. This is where the week comes in.
I never quite got it the way I wanted. But I did get closer. Sometimes, it’s good to revisit. This is my lesson from my week with Marilyn.

**For non-movie goers, My Week with Marilyn is a new release about Marilyn Monroe starring Michelle Williams.

"Dreams of Sicily"

2011-12-15T11:50:00.000-06:00

Dreams of Sicily is a 6x6 oil by Shirley Fachilla

A little less than two years ago, my husband and I went to Sicily. We circumvented the island and also traveled to the interior. It was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever experienced. It possesses great natural beauty. Its hills, cliffs, beaches, sea are spectacular. And the buildings left behind by the eleven or more invasions and subsequent populations are enormously evocative and beautiful.

This little painting is of some rooftops in Palermo. As you can see in the painting, the weather wasn’t always glorious. But the island always was.

Out of Context...

2011-12-07T15:45:00.000-06:00

Girl in the Red Skirt is a 20x10 open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla.

If you’re a politician, being quoted out of context is almost always bad. But usually phrases and sentences which have been taken out of context are those that capture a thought or feeling best. They are the remembered quotes, the sayings which capture important truths, the lyrics that define an emotion.

“Out of context” seems to work in somewhat the same way in painting. Take a thing or person out of context and that thing can become iconic. Velazquez sometimes stripped his figures down to just the figure and its shadow, omitting even a horizon line. The person painted remained a very specific individual and yet functioned also as an “Everyman,” an icon, if you will, of our humanity. Manet who adored Velazquez consciously copied that technique in The Fifer, a work stunning in both its simplicity and emotion.

Every daily painter who paints just a pear and no more, every painter from life who strips away the studio backdrop and shows only the model is using the “out of context” Velazquez methodology. And every once in a while, in the hands of someone like Julian Merrow-Smith or Don Gray, it works as marvelously as it did for Velazquez.

Forecast: Cloudy with a Chance of Deep Fog

2011-11-28T21:13:00.001-06:00

Killing Time is a 6x6 oil on panel by Shirley Fachilla.

We make fun of weathermen and their predictions but I, for one, have a much worst batting average of foreseeing the future… at least the future of individual paintings. I’m almost never right about which painting will sell, which painting will be the most popular or which painting will be juried into a show. (See Artful Definitions if you’re unclear about the definition of juried show.)

A case in point is the above 6x6 panel. I thought if any of my 6x6’s had a chance of getting into the California Higbee 6 Squared Show it would be this one. I was wrong. Two others made it but not my nonchalant smoker. Heck, maybe it was her attitude.

Feeling So-o-o Square

2011-11-21T13:13:00.000-06:00

Consider the Lilies is a 6x6 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Small Boat on the Tyrrhenian Sea is a 6x6 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

I’m very happy to report that these two paintings were selected to be in Randy Higbee’s juried 6” Squared Show in Costa Mesa, California.
Why does that make me feel less than cool, you ask? Because to be in the show, the painting had to be square, a small square, 6x6 inches. I think there will be something like 400 6x6’s on his gallery walls.
The rules were that submissions had to be that exact size and representational, no abstracts allowed. But they could be any medium, oil, pastel, acrylic, graphite.
The reception is December 3 and begins at 5; the location is Randy Higbee Gallery, 102 Kalmus Drive, Costa Mesa, California. The show’s up until December 22. This Tennessean can’t be there; but if you’re in the vicinity, I hope you drop by. There should be some tiny gems to see.

I think my next post will be the 6x6 painting that I thought stood the best chance to be picked

Ah, to Be the Center of Attention...

2011-11-15T16:23:00.000-06:00

Queen Anne's Lace is a 24x12 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

The little lady in Queen Anne's Lace is an unlikely person to attract notice. There's nothing outstanding about her (except, of course, she seems to lack a nose, mouth and eyes); but none the less, she is the focal point, the spot that commands the most attention.
Painters compose work around focal points; they want to lead your eye there and keep you looking for awhile. Artist C.W. Mundy has several tips for creating a focus; and some of them are at work to make my little lady an attention-getter. But I'll just mention the one that works the best for her. It's her face.
We humans are social creatures who rely upon sight to identify friend and foe and upon faces to read the emotions of our fellows. If there’s a face in a painting, then that immediately becomes where we look the most intently even if that face has no discernible features!

Detail

I’m happy to say Queen Anne’s Lace was also accepted, along with my painting Island Music, into Scottsdale Artist School’s juried Best and Brightest Show happening January and February of 2012.

The Violinist on Mohegan Island

2011-11-10T15:07:00.000-06:00

Detail from Island Music a 24x12 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

In August, my friends and I traveled from Tennessee to Maine and then to Mohegan Island.
Our arrival on the island was confused. We had traveled by boat for more than an hour to arrive at a very noisy, crowded dock. Possibly every vehicle allowed on the island was there, to pick up supplies or drop off things for the boat’s return trip.
We made our way from the dock and clambered up the steep road to the village, backpacks stuffed with our heavy supplies. On that road, we left the noise behind and found instead sweet music and a sweeping view. When I think of the island, I think of the violinist on her hillside with her notes flying across the waves.
Mohegan is a special place.

Jean McGuire’s Entry for the Best and Brightest Show

Time for a Break is a 20x16 oil done by Jean McGuire.

Above is an image of Jean McGuire’s painting destined for the Scottsdale Artists School exhibit. I remember when she did it in Open Studio.

And since my last post, I’ve learned that Abigail Gutting, artist daughter of my blogging artist friend Susan Gutting, will also have a painting in the show.

"The Best and Brightest"

2011-11-07T07:00:00.050-06:00

Island Music is a 24x12 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Scottsdale Artists School calls its exhibit The Best and Brightest. Of course, the name alone is enough to make a participant love it.

And I will be participating in 2012's Best and Brightest Exhibit along with my good friend and artist, Jean McGuire. Back in the early spring we both were students in the Carolyn Anderson Workshop given in Scottsdale. We loved the workshop and loved the school (we already knew we loved Carolyn Anderson).

So when we were invited to submit work for a juried school show, we were delighted. Now we’re even more delighted that our work has been accepted into the exhibit.

My accepted painting is shown above.

I’ll write a little more about Island Music in a day or so. She has a story to tell.

The cost per lb... per piece... per inch

2011-11-01T21:55:00.000-05:00

Sweater Girl is a 12x12 open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Most artists price their work by the inch. It does seem quite prosaic, sort of like selling carpet or produce.
The per-inch method is often justified by asserting that larger takes longer to paint and therefore should cost more. Trouble is unless the larger size is really bigger, like a wall-size mural, it usually doesn’t take that much longer.
At 12x12, Sweater Girl is four times the size of a tiny 6x6. But I often labor all day on such a tiny one and when faced with a deadline, finish a 20x24 in less than half of that. So it isn’t the time, it’s just that other pricing techniques make even less sense.
Ask any artist, often one’s best painting takes the least amount of time. And the piece the maker thinks a masterpiece might seem less than wonderful in the eye of another beholder.
To read a very funny essay on the subjective nature of art pricing, visit Canadian artist Robert Genn’s blog, A Rough Day on the Board. It’s so funny but so true lots of readers missed Robert’s tongue in cheek and thought it was fact not fiction.

Do You See What I See?

2011-10-24T22:12:00.000-05:00

Sunlit Sycamore is a plein air oil by Shirley Fachilla that turned into an abstract.

I have several artist friends who are abstract painters. One, Barbara Stokes, does beautiful big “abstracted” landscapes. All, including Barbara, start with a mark; they begin with a stroke or patch of color and work from there. They do not try to paint an abstract of a chair, or a tree or any recognizable form.

Sometimes my friends end with a completely abstract work; sometimes they recognize as they paint the suggestion of a landscape or a figure. When that happens, they work toward that vision.

I have tried to paint using their method and failed miserably. I end up just playing around with no purpose.
I must start with the concrete (that chair or tree!) and dissect what I see. I try to break it down into its parts, lose the non-essential, find the underlying design and extract just what made me want to paint it. Hopefully if I have some success, the viewer of my painting will, indeed, see what I see.

Once in a Blue Moon...

2011-10-21T11:15:00.000-05:00

Under an October Sky is an 8x10 plein air oil by Shirley Fachilla.

It’s time for the annual Blue Moon event. Blue Moon is a fundraiser to benefit the Land Trust for Tennessee, an organization that preserves and protects the natural beauties of the state. Each year, Land Trust enthusiasts party at Glen Leven, a historic mansion and farm just minutes from downtown Nashville. And for the past couple of years, the Chestnut Group, Plein Air Painters for the Land, participate as well by painting land trust properties and offering them for sale during the event. Part of each painting sale goes to the Land Trust.

The Blue Moon is Saturday, October 22nd. On Sunday afternoon, October 23, the Land Trust will open Glen Leven for everyone to see. Drop by Glen Leven at 4000 Franklin Road, Nashville, this Sunday, see the mansion and perhaps find a painting to take home!

Playing in the Paint

2011-10-18T17:02:00.000-05:00

Cold Forest is a 20x20 open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla.

When my daughter was small, I was a preschool teacher for two-year olds. Just about every week, the two-year olds and I would have a gloriously messy painting day. Lately, I’ve had some two-year-old envy. I wanted more playing in the paint and less worry about the outcome.
Surprisingly, C.W. Mundy’s workshop gave me a path to playtime. C.W. makes great use of paint manipulation. His marbleizing, requires a sure hand and knowledge of what you’re about; his tissue disruption mainly requires bravery. [I’ve defined C. W.’s marbleizing and tissue paint disruption on the Artful Definition Page.]
Both work because they’re play-based techniques that let the characteristics of the paint itself produce happy painterly “accidents.”
C.W. advised inventing one’s own paint manipulations. I did a bit of that above. The forest background consists of all the colors used in the painting swirled together, thinned with solvent, and applied to canvas. Then with my trusty paper towel, I swiped in tree trunks and branches. It was a good dose of two-year old fun.

The Upside Down World of C. W. Mundy

2011-10-10T23:10:00.000-05:00

I took a C.W. Mundy workshop last week right here in Nashville, Tennessee. It was a plein air workshop, Locales were both nearby and beautiful. In addition, the weather was unbelievably gorgeous. As you might suspect however, the subject of the above painting is not plein air. Horses rarely pose to be painted from life!
One workshop day, we went to the gardens of Cheekwood and painted from photos… upside down photos.

It's an exercise sometimes given to demonstrate how important it is to paint shape and form rather than a “thing.” I'd never done this particular exercise. Perversely, I selected a photo I thought would be really hard; I did it because I like horses and wanted a break from landscapes. I drew it and painted it upside down.
I had very low expectations so I was happily surprised to find my upside-down shapes resolved themselves into… horses! There are lots of things missing, reins and wheel axles and such, as well as some angles and values that need adjustment. But they indeed look like horses… who would have thought it!
Well, I guess C.W. would have.

"Put on Your Red Dress, Baby..."

2011-10-02T17:11:00.025-05:00

Put on Your Red Dress, Baby is a 20x10 open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla.

When we set this pose in open studio, we asked the model to look toward the door as though she had just glimpsed someone entering. This instruction was inspired by Vermeer’s Girl with the Red Hat.
Actually, there is some question whether Vermeer’s figure is really a girl. It seems that 400 plus years ago, it would have been equally possible for a man to wear such a huge, feathered, red hat. And the face Vermeer painted appears neither definitely male nor female.
But girl or boy doesn’t matter. Vermeer captured a fleeting expression of amazed surprise where gender is beside the point. He managed to do it on a canvas slightly smaller than our standard 8x10 inch ones. He did it with fluid brushstrokes and subtle value changes. And he did it with both big and tiny touches of saturated color. There’s a minuscule dot of bright turquoise in the nearest eye and of course, the red of that amazing hat.

All I can say about my decidedly female figure is that the guy at the door better be ready to dance.

Just Imagine...

2011-09-25T22:54:00.000-05:00

The Last Time I Saw Paris is a 24x20 open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Was this very dapper gentleman really gazing up at the Eiffel Tower on an early spring day? No, in fact, he was sitting in my Monday open studio studying a spot on the wall and wearing his boater at a rakish tilt. I added the Eiffel Tower after I got home using a bad photo I took in Paris.
The thing I most love to paint is the figure (or figures) in a place. Sometimes I paint the figure in the actual setting in which I find them and sometimes it’s a setting that I’ve imagined. The difficulty with imagined places (or added places) is linking those bits to the person. Often they just don’t make a seamless whole. My bon vivant worked better than most. Of course, that’s why I’m showing it to you rather than one of my many other attempts!
My last post was all about finding the “good” painting within rather than looking to your subject to provide it. I think there are many avenues to that result. And sometimes that path goes through one’s imagination.

In North Light

2011-09-19T20:45:00.001-05:00

Detail of In North Light a 20x20 open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla.

If you’ve read this blog for very long, you might know I paint in an open studio each week. The studio is intended for portrait, but I often use it for figure. I also often complain about and protest the sameness of the pose from one week to the next. I can find it quite repetitious.

But as Hamlet said about his mom, “the lady doth protest too much, methinks.” In other words, I need to stop protesting and look to myself to alleviate the boredom.

Wonderful contemporary painters that I greatly admire (two immediately come to mind, Carolyn Anderson and Dan McCaw) paint the same pose over and over again. Examples here and here for Carolyn and here and here for Dan.

They recognize that they are exploring form and light, shape and line, depth and flatness just as intently as the abstractionist. They know that it is not the subject but what they bring to the subject that matters. I need to attempt to bring some of that same intensity to my subject, whatever or whoever it may be. The good painting is found inside the painter, not out.

Seven Days in Maine

2011-09-11T21:01:00.000-05:00

High Tide is an 8x10 plein air by Shirley Fachilla.

Before I left for Maine with my artist friends, I thought a lot about what I wanted to paint. I’m a big believer in good painting having little to do with subject matter and much to do with what the painter brings of him (or her) self in terms of skill, intellect and emotion. A view of one’s backyard can have the makings of a wonderful painting, just as much as waterfalls, canyons and mountains. The still life painter Morandi proves this with a vengeance.

With that said, there’s something in Maine that can’t be found in Tennessee, something that I very much wanted to paint. I was dreaming of the Atlantic, its waves and color.
In Maine, happily painting at the shore, at high tide, I realized that even if painted everyday, the ocean would present a completely different face each day to the artist. In effect, it would function like Morandi’s bottles and dinnerware, same subject but with endless permutations.
There's a seascape painter whose work I studied before I left for Maine. The Californian William Ritschel painted his ocean, the Pacific sublimely. I find his work to be beautiful, powerful, and like the ocean, endlessly fascinating.

In the Margins of My Mind...

2011-09-06T22:22:00.000-05:00

In the Margins of My Mind is a 20x20 open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla.

When I was in school, my notebooks were notable not for the clarity or completeness of my note-taking but for the doodles that decorated their margins.

There were stylized daisies, disembodied eyes, badly drawn cats and dogs, and lots and lots of faces. I drew both male and female faces, almost always young, and always with a romantic look about them that was my attempt at creating beauty.
A few weeks ago in open studio, we had a model with flowing hair dressed quite romantically in white lace; and as I painted, it occurred to me that she might have stepped from the margins of one of my old notebooks… or rather the idea of her might have stepped out (my doodles were never very good). She might have emerged from the margins to remind me of my time-wasting in high school and how it felt to be so very young.

Irene's Road Trip

2011-08-30T22:33:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time (that would be last week!), five painting friends and one non-painting husband went to Maine. We packed our art boxes, then our suitcases and boarded the plane for Maine. We had a week of glorious weather, luscious seafood, and a million and one beautiful scenes to paint (we couldn’t and didn’t begin to paint them all).

We were out of touch and happy as clams (so to speak) but then… along came Irene. Our plane back was cancelled (though the airline neglected to tell us so). Our summer place was both oceanside (good) and in the path of Irene (bad). Not wanting to brave the hurricane, we pulled out maps and planned our escape.
Our car left in the dark of night headed north away both from our final destination, Tennessee, (bad) and from Irene (good). Three days later and one rental car more (a meeting with a porcupine and a flat tire made the change imperative), significantly poorer (bad) but still friends (good), we arrived back home.
Pat Mayo, Jean McGuire, Gale Haddock and I would like to thank our dear friend Jean Gauld-Jaeger and her wonderful husband, Chuck, for a grand and glorious stay. Just next time, let’s not tell Irene where we’re headed!

"What... This Old Thing!"

2011-08-22T17:19:00.039-05:00

A Trifling Matter is a 20x10 open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Recently in open studio, our model appeared wearing a trifle of a hat. It was inspired, of course, by the beautiful, and now royal, Kate and her wardrobe of completely non-functional, delightfully whimsical toppers.

In addition to satin and net bows, the model’s trifle had a half-veil with dots.
When painting a la prima (definition here), veils are one of those things you add last. You hope you have everything right underneath and you hope that you do the veil part okay, too, because you have one chance. Get it wrong and you’ll have to scrape that part of the painting down and start over.

Did I say our lovely model has a mean streak?

Renoir did just such a veil perfectly.
Sorolla painted a couple of transparent, windswept veils beautifully.
Monti demonstrated why veils add mystery much beyond one’s expectations.
And some glorious ancient Greek sculptor made poetry in motion with his veiled bronze dancer 2,000 plus years ago.

Artful Definitions

2011-08-15T21:44:00.000-05:00

A Thoughtful Man is a 24x20 open studio oil. We’ll assume that’s a dictionary on his lap!

I’ve made a new page of art definitions. There’s a link here and another tabbed link directly under the blog header (title to those more bookish).
I added the page for a couple of reasons, both more selfish than altruistic. First, I wanted the option of not defining art terms that I use in a post in the post itself. Second, I didn’t want to assume everyone understood every word as I personally might define it. I do try to stick to universally accepted definitions, but I’ve discovered even the experts sometimes disagree.
In the list, I’ve left out all the isms (impressionism, realism, abstract expressionism… you get the idea). I may add them later. I hope to add as I post. The definitions I’ve begun with are those I’ve used already or think I’ll be sure to use soon.
The definition style is haphazard and informal though the words are, at least, in alphabetical order. Sometimes, I use a sentence as the definition, sometimes a phrase, sometimes an example. Merriam-Webster, I’m not!
I also discovered that some words had to be researched for me to begin to define them. This leads me to think some definitions may be useful or thought-provoking for the painter as well as the non painter. I certainly hope so.

"Belinda's Window"

2011-08-08T07:30:00.054-05:00

Belinda's Window is a 12x9 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

This is a Daily PaintWorks Challenge (DPW) that I could not resist. I couldn’t resist for three reasons.
First, it let me paint a window-based still life a la Duane Keiser. Keiser is the artist who began the daily painting phenomenon. During 2004, he painted a small canvas every day, seven days a week and posted it on the web. He no longer paints everyday but he still paints very frequently. And one of his favorite subjects is a simple object placed on his sunny, or sometimes grey-day, window sill. Now of course, hundreds, if not thousands, of painters paint and post as "daily" painters.
Second, this challenge was like a grown-up artist’s coloring book. The challenge was to take a black and white photo and translate it into color. Doing this is a lesson in values (definition here). Values, along with composition, are the foundation of a good painting. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a representational or abstract painter. Your work must have good design and proper values to be, well… good!
Third for me, a from-life painter who teases out color by intense looking, to be allowed to make it up was just too delicious.

P.S. This was last week’s challenge. Click here to see all the other windows. Oh, I titled it Belinda's Window because DPW artist Belinda del Pesco created this particular value lesson.

The Impermanence of Art

2011-08-01T21:07:00.000-05:00

We like to think of art as forever. In attempts to make it so, we artists often worry greatly about the archival nature of our materials. Is the paper acid free? Will the paint color hold fast over time? Should we use linen or a polyester canvas?
Of course, some artists celebrate art’s very impermanence. Ice sculptures, sand paintings, performance art are all meant to last the moment and no more. The most glorious recent example of artists creating a planned disappearance was the installation of The Gates by Christo and Jeanne-Claude in New York’s Central Park. It lasted 15 days and then was gone.
Some artists sadly create a different kind of impermanence. My favorite Jasper Johns painting, The Diver, is made of a combination of materials, some unknown. How does a museum conserve and preserve the unknown? Then there’s a Joan Brown painting whose paint is so thick that it remains wet inside so that the image will start to slide down if left too long in a vertical position. This is the sort of impermanence that archival concerns are designed to prevent.
Artists (even those who try for the long-lasting) also like to save money. That is why I opted for extremely cheap painting panels when attending Carolyn Anderson’s workshop. I was sure I wouldn’t like anything I painted. I even persuaded my friend to do the same. And then when one of Carolyn’s first lessons was to use quality materials, I squirmed. Later when I actually liked some of my work, I did more than squirm; I was sad.

The two paintings above are from the workshop. They are not the ones I especially liked; they are on especially cheap supports; one even has wall-protectors stuck on its corners. (Do not use this method to transport wet paintings!)
I think I’ve learned my lesson. Art, of course, doesn’t last forever, nothing does. However, I will do my best to make mine last as long as possible by using better materials.

Of Time and the River and the Color Green...

2011-07-25T19:19:00.000-05:00

Of Time and the River is a 6x8 plein air by Shirley Fachilla.

As I see it, painting green is really about a painter’s grasp of values (value definition here). Now before my readers who aren’t painters stop reading because this sounds technical and directed only toward artists, being able to paint green well is very much about the vision a painter wants to convey.

Knowing how to paint a spring green, a serene green, a hot summer green convincingly is essential for those of us who use landscape as the vehicle for… well, what we want to say in a painting.
With my little canvas, I was trying for a serene vale of green so I used a lot of cool blue/greens while the river flows deep and warm.
On the technical side, I find two different tube blues rather essential in creating greens; I just can’t make the range of greens I want with less. Lots of painters can, however, including many of my painter friends who live and work and paint right here in Middle Tennessee. If you follow the links above, you'll see paintings by two of them, Dawn Whitelaw and Kevin Menck.

It's Not Easy "Painting" Green!

2011-07-18T22:08:00.000-05:00

Alone in Her Garden is a plein air 8x8 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Kermit, the Frog, knows being green is hard; I know that painting green in a Tennessee summer isn’t easy either!

There is simply so much of it. Keeping it straight in value (see this post for a painter's definition of value) and hue so that you don’t end with a blanket of indeterminate greenery is difficult. It makes me envy plein air painters with beaches, oceans, deserts and/or mountains at their disposal. Of course, there are strategies around the greenery, some more straightforward than others.
The method employed here is one of the more direct. I found some things outside to paint that weren’t green. My focal point is a little statue who serves as a fountain. Her garden was deserted; her water source unavailable. But her surrounds were warm orange soil, backlit shrubbery, and, what, I think, were blooming wisteria vines. She seemed so exuberant in her aloneness and so very non-green I simply had to paint her.

"Look Homeward"

2011-07-11T16:03:00.040-05:00

Look Homeward is a 20x20 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

I wanted my painting to clearly be one of a cemetery, but I also wanted it to seem a beautiful place and to exude a mood of… well, cheer.

The canvas depicts the cemetery at Carnton Plantation in Franklin, Tennessee. Carnton’s owners, the McGavocks, donated the property to serve as a burial place for the hundreds of Confederate soldiers who died in the extremely bloody Battle of Franklin during the American Civil War. [To read a bit more about that battle, see my prior post, here.]
Carnton Plantation has a fascinating history. It was a major player in the fight and in its aftermath. A best-selling novel Widow of the South was written about it. A novel that I found even more interesting and moving, Howard Bahr’s Black Flower also describes the battle and the part Carnton played in it.
The cemetery itself is long, rather narrow strip of land housing row after row of small stone markers, each denoting a grave. The men and boys in those graves were buried far, far from home.

Carnton is hosting an art show and sale to benefit the Battle of Franklin Trust. The Chestnuts, Plein Air Painters for the Land, will have paintings there. My painting Look Homeward will be among them. If you’re in the area, I hope you can come by. The dates and times are: Friday and Saturday, July 15 and 16, 10 to 7 and Sunday, July 17, 12 to 5.
The place is Carnton Plantation, 1345 Carnton Lane, Franklin, Tennessee 37064.

Band of Brothers

2011-07-04T22:45:00.000-05:00

Band of Brothers, a 12x24 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

The small town of Franklin, Tennessee was the location for one of the last great battles of the American Civil War. The Battle of Franklin was a horrible defeat for the Confederacy. In five hours of fighting, it sustained 6,252 casualties among them, 14 generals.
During the battle, Southern forces launched wave after wave of frontal assaults upon an entrenched Union line that held the higher ground. First-hand reports say that bodies were stacked like cordwood in front of the Union breastworks.
I find it amazing that the soldiers continued such a hopeless attack. The only explanation I can imagine is that they were indeed a “band of brothers” just as Shakespeare described in his great play Henry V, as Tom Hanks later commemorated in his World War II series of the same name and as go the lyrics of the Confederate anthem Bonnie Blue Flag.
The men who made up the Army of Tennessee were battled-hardened veterans. That day, they fought not for a cause or even for those back home instead they fought for one another. Their loyalties lay with the men to their left and right. They fought for their brothers.
My painting is done from a photo reference of a reenactment at Carnton Plantation in Franklin earlier this year. I used the photo and the place to reconnect with the men and boys who fought so long ago.

Carnton is hosting an art show and sale to benefit the Battle of Franklin Trust. The Chestnuts, Plein Air Painters for the Land, will have a collection of paintings for the event. My painting Band of Brothers will be among them. If you’re in the area, I hope you can come by. The dates and times are: Friday and Saturday, July 15 and 16, 10 to 7 and Sunday, July 17, 12 to 5.
The place is Carnton Plantation, 1345 Carnton Lane, Franklin, Tennessee 37064.

Deja Vu... Again?

2011-06-27T21:15:00.000-05:00

A Patch of Flax is an 8x10 plein air oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Tennessee Vines is an 8x10 plein air oil by Shirley Fachilla.

You might have noticed. Artists love to paint the same thing over and over. Sometimes it’s for convenience sake. Morisot, for instance, painted her daughter many, many times at least partly because she was a very accessible model.

Then sometimes it’s a learning experience. Monet painted multiple views of the same haystacks varying the time of day and season to hone his understanding of light on form. Later in life, he painted the lily pads in his pond over and over. This time, it was a test of reality itself. What was reflection, what was actuality? What was water? What was sky?

Abstract expressionists are not immune. Franz Kline painted in black and white for years. He was doing many things in his paintings: studying composition in its essence, playing with negative and positive spaces, testing the creation of form.

If you look at my two landscapes, you’ll see the same house in the background. I haven’t any exalted reason for painting it more than once except like Morisot with her daughter, I like the house very, very much.

Stop to Smell the Roses

2011-06-20T12:30:00.029-05:00

Stop to Smell the Roses is a 6x8 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

I’ve been painting soldiers and cemeteries and needed a change of both mood and subject. Let me introduce you to Desi, one of our two cats. Desi is a tuxedo who looks a lot like Dreama Perry’s famous Eddie. But where Eddie has a rugged handsomeness (at least according to said Eddie), our Desi is a goofy beauty with Cleopatra eyes, pink nose and white rimmed ears. The ears and eyes are both larger than the usual cat size.

In my painting, it looks as if he’s smelling the roses. And Desi does seem to love flowers but… sadly, it’s because he likes to eat them.

I’ve included a link to Dreama’s Eddie paintings; you might also visit her blog so you can read as well as look. The adventures of Eddie are addictive.

The Charm of the Incomplete

2011-06-12T21:36:00.000-05:00

Tied Dyed is an open studio oil 20x10 by Shirley Fachilla.

I intended this post to be about unfinished paintings using as a linked illustration, a specific unfinished work by Berthe Morisot. Despite much looking, I can't find it online. But my search made me realize that much, if not most, of Morisot’s work could be considered quite incomplete.

Please don’t misunderstand. Morisot's paintings are intentionally sketchy with canvas that is uncovered by paint, with lower thirds that dissolve into abstract brushstrokes, or faces and bodies that melt into the background. Morisot meant them to be this way; this is their charm, their resonance. It’s also one of the main reasons the academic establishment so disliked the Impressionists. And its one of Impressionism’s enduring legacies to painters today. Suggestion can be more powerful than polish, the unstated more mysterious and evocative than the explicitly shown.

Biographical note: Morisot was a woman in a man’s world. She was a professional painter when women were supposed to paint as a pastime only and as a painter, she chose to follow the Impressionists, the rebels of their day.

My open studio painting is definitely less finished than my usual for it was done in about half the usual time. But I think I like its sketchiness more than the finish it would have acquired with another two hours of paint!

Gazing at the Goddess

2011-06-07T17:47:00.000-05:00

Gazing at the Goddess is a 14x11 oil done by Shirley Fachilla.

This is an unabashed plug for Nashville, Tennessee’s fabulous Parthenon. Located in Centennial Park, our Parthenon is a full size replica of the original, 2,438 year old architectural masterpiece in Athens, Greece… before that original was blown up in 1687.
A couple of weeks ago I watched Secrets of the Parthenon on PBS. It had a brief glimpse of Nashville’s lovely rendition and a lot of first-rate information about how the Athenians put the original Parthenon together. They used visual tricks and refinements that aren’t used today in even the most elegant of buildings. In the fifth century BC, the Greeks managed to build the Parthenon in less than ten years from start to finish. Restoring the Parthenon has already taken about three times that long and is very far from complete. But once done, it will be wonderful thing to see.
Until then and before going to Athens, you might want to visit Nashville’s version or at least watch Secrets of the Parthenon when it appears next on PBS!

My little painting was done several years ago and is of a teenager gazing at the 42 foot tall, gilded statute of the goddess Athena done by local sculptor Alan LeQuire in Nashville’s Parthenon. And yes, the original Parthenon also once had its own 42 foot gold and ivory Athena done by its local sculptor Phidias.

Where the Wild Things Are

2011-06-03T12:01:00.000-05:00

Backyard Neighbor is a 7x5 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Our very small backyard adjoins a small patch of woods. Though it’s small, there are wild things who live there or at least, pass through. Possums, raccoons, pileated woodpeckers, owls, hawks, bluebirds, foxes and once a coyote have strolled or flown out of the woods and into our back yard. We consider them our backyard neighbors. This one lingered long enough for a photo op.

I painted my deer as a part of the DPW weekly challenge. (For a definition of challenge, click here.) This week, the challenge was to paint what’s outside your window. We have lots of windows and I often paint what I see through them. It was fun to do it yet again.

Do We Paint What We Love or... Love What We Paint?

2011-05-31T09:55:00.000-05:00

Rupunzel is an open studio 20x20 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

I love to paint rim light. It doesn’t matter if it’s a landscape or a figure, a horse or a house. I seek out rim light en plein air and in open studio. Why do I paint this same thing (though admittedly with different subjects) over and over?
Is it because I love the way it looks and want to explore it or is it because I feel competent painting it? In short, am I painting what I love or do I love it just because I think I can paint it in an okay way?

[Rim light is when an object is primarily in shadow but is outlined in whole or in part by light. Rim light often appears if you paint from the dark side of an object.]

I believe I love to paint it for both reasons. I do think I can often pull it off (perhaps because I paint it so often!). But I choose to paint it because I love the drama it imparts and also the anonymity. Paint something from its dark side and you lose the details. You generalize the specific and play up the contrast. Contrast often equals drama. And lack of detail makes it mysterious. The subject becomes not the exact thing painted but the light itself. The subject becomes light, shadow and reflected light.
I wonder what you, other artists, might love to paint and why. And of course, I wonder what you, art lovers, might love to own!

No Invitation to the Party...

2011-05-26T23:38:00.003-05:00

The Card Players a 14x18 oil by Shirley Fachilla

Some paintings invite you in. There’s a path to walk, a glance that makes you a part of a crowd or an open book to read. Others, however, exclude and instead of offering the viewer a way to become a part of the action, offer a glimpse into a closed world. You’re welcome to watch but not participate.

Watching, of course, can be fun. Cezanne’s intense Card Players don’t invite us to take a hand but kibitzing their play is perhaps more enjoyable than sitting down at the table.

The communion between Berthe Morisot’s mother and babe is a vision of the maternal bond, and Vermeer painting his muse a lesson in visual art.

My card players are part of a closed world, too, each trying her best to outfox the others and with no time for us, hangers-on.

Detail from The Card Players

All Keyed Up!

2011-05-23T14:46:00.000-05:00

One of the Domestic Arts a 24x12 open studio by Shirley Fachilla

Yes, my subject looks quite calm, even serene, but her values are all high key. Please let me explain. First a definition of value: in art, value refers to the lightness or darkness of a color without regard to its actual hue. Think of a black and white photo; it’s nothing but value.
The value range here is all in the higher registers to borrow a musical term. There isn’t much dark; it’s mostly medium to light. That’s the definition of a high key painting.
The lightness of high key work often creates a happy, carefree mood. Impressionist Cassatt loved high key as did most of her fellow Impressionists. In fact, the lighter values of the Impressionists may be one reason why most people like Impressionist art.
It, however, is not my natural range; I usually like it darker with more contrast. (Dark with contrast makes for drama, often a very good thing in a painting.) But in this open studio session, I opted for the lit side of the model which was virtually shadow-free. I needed the challenge; I’ve painted the dark side more times than I like to admit!

I couldn’t let a post of a model knitting go by without a link to Vermeer’s Lace Maker bent industriously over her work, a figure with still life, all in less than 80 square inches!

An Old-Fashioned View

2011-05-20T08:29:00.000-05:00

Red Clover, Pink Pond is an 8x8 plein air by Shirley Fachilla

My little painting is of an ordinary Tennessee field and pond. It’s different from a hundred other such views only because of the red clover spread out like a blanket on the hillside.

The landscapist, John Constable, also painted ordinary scenes from his own little corner of the world. In fact, his insistence on painting what he saw is one reason he’s now considered one of the greats of landscape painting. In his day, imaginary and romantic views of far-away places (often places the painter had never been or that didn’t really exist anywhere) were standard fare.
Ironically, many of Constable’s paintings now seem quite romantic to us. Whether it’s a double rainbow over Stonehenge or a rickety hay wagon, his paintings can appear rather sentimental to modern sensibilities. But take a look at some of his oil sketches and you’ll see a Constable as fresh and compelling as anyone painting landscapes today.
By the way, there were telephone poles along that road in my painting. I took them out. I can’t decide if I did it because it messed up my composition or because it messed up the old-fashioned look of my view!

Stuck in the Middle...

2011-05-17T11:04:00.000-05:00

Just a Little Blue is an open studio 20x16 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

For all intents and purposes, she’s smack in the middle of my canvas. Ask any landscape or still life painter; a focal point (i.e. the primary subject is the focal point) shouldn’t be in the middle.

This middle business may be almost always true for landscapes and still lifes, but it isn’t always true for figurative or portrait. If you have a single figure in a symmetrical pose, the figure may work best in the middle.
To create another composition that works as well, I’d have to shift her, crop her almost in half and perhaps leave the other half of the canvas empty. Hmm, then I might have a Degas composition. Very tempting! If you’ve read this blog much, you know I do so love Degas.
This particular subject was inspired by Carolyn Anderson who said that the middle is sometimes the only place for a figure, especially one facing straight toward viewer. (Here are two quite different examples of just what Carolyn was talking about: a Bouguereau and a Chuck Close.)
Though Just a Little Blue isn’t looking at you, she makes up for it by being such a well-balanced girl. And by the way, she wore a black camisole under her white, semi-transparent shirt; it made for an interesting painting challenge.

The Things I Learned in Carolyn Anderson's Workshop

2011-05-09T22:06:00.000-05:00

Art Deco Girl is a 20x16 oil by Shirley Fachilla

Never shorten a neck… reserve a brush or more for your darks (misplaced white can destroy one’s values)… watch your angles.

Great things to know, but not the most important lessons I took away from Carolyn’s workshop.
For me, the lessons that resonated were:
Light and shadow define our visual reality. Light flows like a river and is the great unifier. Painting isn’t filling in the spaces. There should be a meaning behind each brushstroke.
The important lessons I only partially understand. I guess I’ll be trying to implement them from now on in every painting I do.
Art Deco Girl was painted on the second day of the workshop.

A Form of Tribute

2011-05-06T11:09:00.000-05:00

Vroom, Vroom Building, a 6x8 oil by Shirley Fachilla

The building has fallen on hard times. Mostly empty and very neglected, it sits on Charlotte Avenue in Nashville, Tennessee and seems to watch traffic vrooming by. But once it was on the cutting edge of design. When it was modern and new, my father spent some hours there. It was probably boring meeting time for he was a district civil engineer for the State Highway Department, and this building was its headquarters.
Now it’s on the list of Historic Nashville’s most endangered historic buildings. I painted it for the organization’s fundraiser, but I also painted it because of my dad, because he loved his job of building roads and bridges. I guess you could call it a tribute to him. Robert Genn did a newsletter about painting as a form of tribute. You might find it interesting whether you make paintings or appreciate them… or perhaps do a bit of both.

Coloring inside the Lines

2011-05-02T21:18:00.038-05:00

Staying inside the Lines 14x11 oil by Shirley Fachilla

I had a request to write about what Carolyn Anderson had to say about edges. (For those who didn’t see the last post here, I’m just back from an outstanding Carolyn Anderson workshop.)

An edge definition might be handy. To a painter, edges are those transitions between one color and/or one value and another. Think of a coloring book. The lines defining where to put one color and where to end it are a painter’s edges. The lines in a coloring book are also a primer on how not to handle edges when you’re a grown-up artist.
In representational paintings that attempt a “realistic” version of the world, there would be few "hard" sharp edges (think knife and cliff edges). And they would be used to call attention to something the artist considered important within the canvas. “Soft” edges (think folds in chiffon, shiny windblown hair) would be the usual rule with the very fun vanishing edge functioning as a way to marry one form to another.
Now Carolyn really said none of the above. She talked about edge variety and explained edges with pictures rather than words. She did this, I think, because edges are a nuanced skill. There are many different kinds of edges within the broad categories of hard and soft. Lots of soft edges without variety create a dull painting; lots of hard edges make a confusing one. To discover how to go about making the right edge, an artist needs first to study how it’s done in many good paintings. Carolyn used Sargent, Sorolla, Fechin as some of her examples. There are, however, some beautiful, illuminating and educational words about edges, on the first page of Carolyn’s website.

Staying inside the Lines was done from one of Carolyn’s assortment of photos while at her workshop. One afternoon we worked from photos rather than from life. I loved and envied her many great photos of ballerinas.

The Carolyn Anderson Workshop... "Smoke and Mirrors, Baby"

2011-04-26T22:09:00.001-05:00

Demo Painting by Carolyn Anderson

Workshops are like continuing education classes for artists. They’re completely voluntary, so the artist may choose exactly the kind he or she wants. Sometimes artists select a workshop to acquire a particular skill, but usually it’s less about skill sets and more about the instructor. Painters go to the workshops of artists they admire.

I just attended a Carolyn Anderson workshop in Scottsdale Arizona. Carolyn did all the great things expected in a workshop. She painted demos, gave individual attention, and dispensed practical advice. She also talked about art and painting in a thoughtful, and I think, profound way. It was rather like going back to college, not to the classroom, but back to one of those all-night sessions where the big questions are explored: Life, Death, God and our place in the universe. I’m afraid I’ve made it sound stuffy and pretentious. It was neither. It was thought-provoking and illuminating.

As I recall, the discussion began with the very basic but often overlooked fact that painting is illusion; in Carolyn’s phraseology, it's all “smoke and mirrors, baby.” Representational painters, and a huge chunk of abstractionists, make the two-dimensional seem like three. We are conjurers who call forth depth where none can exist. We also, and this can include abstract expressionists, make paint seem to be all sorts of other things: water, metal, flesh, to name a few.

Sometimes, we pretend that what we paint is really, really real. Trompe d’oeil and photorealism are examples. When this works as it should, while trying to amaze (ex: “gosh, those grapes look real enough to eat”), the artist is saying much more about the nature of reality and our perception of it.

More often, we admit to the illusion. We let the viewer in on the trick from the beginning. Art critics like to talk as though this letting the viewer in on the trick is a recent thing. But it isn’t. Rembrandt, for one, did it repeatedly several centuries ago. One of my favorite Rembrandt paintings is a figurative of his lover wading in a shallow stream. Her painted tunic looks more real than my laundry, the painted water more real than that flowing from my tap. At the same time, both look exactly like what they are… paint. Rembrandt did the parlor trick with his knowledge of form, edges and values. He let everyone in on his illusion by applying the paint so thickly (impasto) that its true nature can not be denied.

Recognize the illusion, acknowledge the smoke and mirrors and the artist is ready to say something more, quite often something that can’t be put into words at all.

For some beautiful words, be sure to read what Carolyn wrote and quoted about edges on the home page of her website.

Oh, Just Be Square!

2011-04-21T20:55:00.020-05:00

Model Boats a 6x6 oil by Shirley Fachilla

Noted colorist Camille Prezewodek recently sent me an email. We’re not really buddies, but I took a painting workshop from her a couple of years ago and have been on her email list ever since. Camille’s email was all about the square format. She thinks it gives a painting a contemporary look and feel. I quite agree as would the legion of daily painters who frequently paint square canvases, often tiny 6x6’s.
As you’ve probably noticed, your computer gives you the choice of printing “landscape” or “portrait” on an 8x11 page. These tags came about because for centuries, most landscapes were done in a horizontal format (longer than high) and most portraits in a vertical one (higher than long).
Do the unexpected and change things up or in the alternative, go square, and it makes your painting seem fresher, newer, in short, contemporary. Even better it can make folks look twice… or at least look longer! Something every painter likes.

The above is very square and tiny, a 6x6 of the boat pond at NYC’s Central Park.

Stood Up by Johnny Depp

2011-04-18T21:13:00.001-05:00

Spanish Sword is a 20x16 alla prima open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Contemporary artist Dan McCaw advises painters to decide in the initial stages of their work whether it will be a “light” or a “dark” painting. He means whether light values or dark values will predominate on the canvas. According to Dan, one or the other must for a successful painting to emerge.

Note: value to a painter means the lightness or darkness of a color rather than its actual hue. An example of pure value would be a black and white photo, no color just gradients of light and dark. But all paintings and photos contain value as the underpinning of their color.

Caravaggio was a master of dark. He was a tremendously influential painter in his day, despite a low work output and personal difficulties that included murder charges. His paintings were usually very dark in value (and often equally dark in subject and mood) with slashes of high-contrast light. They radiated drama and intensity; other painters were mesmerized and immediately tried to paint like him. Some of us still do try.

Spanish Sword qualifies a dark painting. Our wonderful model came dressed as a pirate carrying a very real and very beautiful Spanish sword… thus the title.

Bare Ruined Choirs

2011-04-14T22:16:00.000-05:00

Bare Ruined Choirs, an 8x8 plein air by Shirley Fachilla

This is a chapel in the Mt. Olivet Cemetery in my hometown of Nashville, Tennessee. Mt. Olivet is on the National Register of Historic Places. It’s a beautiful cemetery, filled with famous and not-so-famous Nashvillians, some of whom had both grandiose and quirky notions of what their final resting place should be.
And though the cemetery is immaculate, this chapel has been abandoned and deserted for some time now. A new more accessible chapel was built in 1996, one with plenty of parking. For awhile this one was left open and became a repository for beer cans and other more embarrassing rubbish. Now there’s a chain link fence around it and it’s been left to fall apart in solitude.
I thought of Shakespeare’s “bare ruined choirs’ when I first saw it on a brilliant spring day filled with new growth and promise. (Not to seem more literate than I am, I remembered the phrase but not the author.) The new for the chapel was the new grass growing in its gutters. According to Historic Nashville, it’s one of the city’s most endangered historic buildings. Sadly, I can only agree.

Women in Hats with Flowers

2011-04-11T16:18:00.033-05:00

Day Dreaming Gardner, a 24x20 oil by Shirley Fachilla.

Sometimes they masquerade as goddesses. Rembrandt painted his wife as the goddess Flora in hat with flowers.

Then sometimes queens pretend to be commoners complete with chapeaus and posies. Louise Vignee Le Brun’s portrait of Marie Antoinette shows her hatted with blossoms decked out as Marie’s idea of a shepherdess.
Women in hats with flowers are definitely favorite painting subjects and have been, I’m convinced, since ancient times (though I looked and couldn’t find a Pharaoh’s queen crowned and with lotus blossoms on the web).
The tradition continues with contemporary painter Dan McCaw’s wonderful women who glow from within, surrounded by light and flowers and of course, shaded by big brimmed hats.
All the lovely ladies seem to be gently telling us to gather our rosebuds while we may, for time it is a’ fleeing.

Day Dreaming Gardener is my woman in hat with flowers. She’s an open studio painting done ala prima measuring 24x20.

Van Gogh and Levitation

2011-04-04T21:54:00.000-05:00

A New Roof for an Old Friend an 8x8 oil by Shirley Fachilla

Van Gogh’s Church at Auvers is a portrait of a church made of bricks and mortar. But the painting reminds me more of a rocket launch. Caught from an unusual perspective, with several of its verticals aiming to converge at some point far above it, the church looks as though it’s ready to levitate right out of this world and into the next.

Van Gogh, perhaps more than any other painter, caught the both spirit of the Gothic style (light, air, and soaring space) while imprinting it with his own vision. His church is both beautiful and a bit scary. It’s a relatively small church; just think what he might have made of a cathedral!
The building in my painting was once a church; and while I painted it, I thought of Van Gogh’s Church of Auvers. Perhaps its was the vivid colors of sky and building or the particular perspective, that made me picture Van Gogh’s painting in my mind’s eye. Mine has a two-color roof because it was in the process of getting a new one. You may be able to see one of the workers just visible on the roofline

Room with a View

2011-03-30T22:27:00.000-05:00

Girl in Eyeglasses is a 20x24 oil by Shirley Fachilla done in open studio.

In my open studio, there’s a wonderful bank of windows. They’re up high; and from them, the view consists of the mechanicals usually hidden on the roof of a large building (vents, heating units and such). These windows let in a silvery north light that we use sometimes instead of artificial floods.
I love those windows. Occasionally, I'll cheat and lower them so I can include them in my paintings as I did here and in Girl in Eyeglasses above.
I think in a painting the view outside the window often isn’t so important. It’s what a window suggests that is… all the possibilities, all the other worlds awaiting us. Oops, now you know, I’m a romantic at heart.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art is having a small exhibit about the Romantics of the nineteen century and the windows they included in their canvases. It features painters that aren’t very well known here like Adolph Menzel and includes other more familiar artists like the melancholy romantic, C.D. Friedrich.
Wish I could go to NYC and look out those windows, too.

They're Going to the Randy Higbee 6 Squared Show!

2011-03-27T21:58:00.015-05:00

Where the Grass is Greener 6x6 oil by Shirley Fachilla

I am quite happy to say that these two are on their way to the Randy Higbee Gallery in Costa Mesa, California. They are going to a show composed entirely of 6x6 paintings, and they’re going to be in the company of a lot of other small, square paintings by artists that I very much admire.

Who knows maybe the grass really is greener in California, and they’ll have a really, really good time.

The artists’ reception is April 16 at the Randy Higbee Gallery, 102 Kalmus Drive, Costa Mesa, California. The show runs through May 6.

"Almost Home" Revisited

2011-03-23T12:48:00.001-05:00

The Daily Paintworks Challenge this week is dedicated to helping the people of Japan. DPW has asked that artists submit a work with the theme of "Home." All work is on the auction block with 100% of the proceeds of each auction going to a charity or non-profit presently helping Japan. Many wonderful paintings have been submitted.
I put up Almost Home originally posted here on this blog. I painted it on an icy twilight looking at the view from my studio window. As I worked, I thought of the comfort and security that's bound up in our idea of home.
I nurture the hope that all those displaced by the tragedy that has engulfed Japan can in time find that comfort and security once more.
Almost Home is a 14x11 oil with a starting bid of $95.00. Visit and see all the entries.

The Head of My Enemy

2011-03-21T16:04:00.026-05:00

The Head of My Enemy 7x5 oil by Shirley Fachilla

Sicilians are famous for their long memories and slightly less famous for their ceramics which are vibrant in color and strong in design. One of their very traditional ceramic pieces is the “head,” a full-color ceramic human head made into a flower pot. According to the story I was told, a ceramic head always portrays an enemy. Sicilians do not lack for enemies.
Over the centuries, Sicily has been invaded multiple times; unsurprisingly, many of those invaders have made the enemy list. The Spanish invasion and occupation is considered one of the worst. As you might guess, many of those pots, like the little one I painted here, bear Spanish faces, beautiful Spanish faces.
In Sicily, you can find all sorts of heads, big and little, factory-made and hand-crafted. Mine was hand-made in Caltagirone and signed by the artist. It was intended for the tourist trade to be sure; but as discussed earlier, tourist art can find its way into museums. Right now, however, our Sicilian ceramic head is quite at home in our living room.

People Who Need People

2011-03-15T22:07:00.000-05:00

The Amish Way 14x18 oil by Shirley Fachilla

In 2009, Nashville had an exhibit called Paint Made Flesh. I thought it was wonderful with my favorite work being one by Eric Fischl. His paintings often show people in dysfunctional relationships in the suburbs, sort of a John Cheever of visual art. During the exhibit, Eric gave a talk about the future of figurative art, seems that some think figurative painting has had its day.
Eric thinks not, or rather he enjoys painting people so much, he hopes not. He opined that the future of figurative painting lies in compositions of multiple figures. This brings me to The Amish Way above with its five figures. And my rather fragmented thoughts about the subject. Back in the Renaissance and later, multiple figures in paintings were the norm. It seems to me that the solitary figure (other than in portraiture) is more a modern phenomenon. We have gone from Luncheon of the Boating Party to The Scream in short order. Did we stop painting people interacting with others for a reason? I, never being short of opinions myself, have several theories, none with much to back it up and all too long for a blog post.
Suffice it to say, paintings that include more than one figure are more difficult to do. They are harder in terms of composition and simply because they tend to be more complex, people interacting with others… a complexity in art as in life.

Maybe the Last Lincoln

2011-03-11T10:48:00.000-06:00

Maybe the Last Lincoln 5x7 oil by Shirley Fachilla

This is my entry in the Daily Paintworks Challenge. This week's was set up by Raymond Logan, one of my favorite daily painters. For those unfamiliar with the "challenge" concept, it's something blog artists do to promote community and to be honest, promote both themselves and other daily painters.

It works like this: an artist will set up a painting opportunity on the web, either an idea (for example, paint something red) or an image (in this instance a photo of Abraham Lincoln). The painter will then issue an invitation to other artists to create and publish on the web their interpretation of the "challenge."

The DPW Challenge changes every Saturday. That's why my Lincoln maybe the last Lincoln... for this particular challenge.

My painting serves another purpose as well. I'm preparing to do several plein air, Civil-War themed paintings. Lincoln is certainly an excellent introduction to the spirit of that time, and the photo Raymond chose of him a wonderful glimpse into the man.

All the World's a Stage

2011-03-07T22:04:00.000-06:00

All the World's a Stage a 20x29 oil by Shirley Fachilla

If all the world was literally a stage, then up-lighting would be a commonplace. But most light, natural or man-made, illuminates from above. Stage footlights are a wonderful exception.
Why wonderful? Because for a painter, up-light changes a subject with a simple relocation of the light source (an easy thing to achieve in a studio). Use up-lighting and the usual shadows disappear. The painter gets to explore the form and shape of their subject in a very different light and thus from a very different perspective.
Seeing the human face in that different light can be equally illuminating for the viewer. Toulouse Lautrec, Degas, and a painter you may have never heard of, Everett Shinn, knew all about that illuminating different view.
No stage lights were involved in my painting just a simple readjustment of a flood in open studio.

The Dreaded Artist Statement

2011-03-02T18:47:00.056-06:00

A Place at the Table 24x12 oil by Shirley Fachilla

We like to think our work speaks for itself. However, artist statements can be quite important. Did Vermeer really mean for his Milkmaid to be seen as sexy, even promiscuous? And what the heck is the meaning of Botticelli's iconic and beautiful Birth of Venus? Neither Vermeer nor Botticelli explained so we'll never know for sure.
I had to write an artist statement for my painting A Place at the Table, because it was required for the Green Show, but I'm glad that it was because I truly needed to explain myself and it.
So here it is:

The plate, the pond,

The glass, the tree,

the field, the patch of sunlight beneath the chair...

these objects in my painting echo one another in shape and sometimes color. They are meant to draw a connection between our world and the world outside us. They are meant to suggest that we should make a place at our table, in our everyday environment, for the natural world that surrounds us. If we do, perhaps Nature and the world will keep a place at its table for us as well.

The Green Show, Artist Reception, March 6, 3-5 pm, Harpeth Hall, Marnie Sheridan Gallery, 3801 Hobbs Road, Nashville, Tennessee.

Johnny, non!/ Jack, oui!

2011-02-25T12:56:00.000-06:00

Jack in Cut Glass 12x9 oil by Shirley Fachilla

About a week ago, my husband and I were in wonderful Paris. Every once in a while, we would try to find a Tennessee connection... or more accurately, a Tennessee recognition among the French we met.
Sadly, Johnny Cash isn't a name Parisians find too familiar. Elvis, however, was always a known personage as was my dad's favorite, Jack Daniel's Tennessee whiskey. Our boutique hotel's bar carried the very best Jack, Jack's single barrel. Another sported Gentlemen Jack on its shelves. Black Label was in evidence just about everywhere else spirits were sold. Amazing! There may be more Jack in Paris bars than Nashville ones. Of course, in Lynchburg, Tennessee, home of the Daniel's distillery, there are no bars at all!
My painting isn't a Parisian still life. It was painted in my house with a bottle of Black Label and my great grandmother's cut glass.

Driving Smart on the Appian Way

2011-02-21T22:42:00.000-06:00

Driving Smart on the Appian Way is a 12x12 oil by Shirley Fachilla

When my husband and I went to Rome, we rode the bus to the Appian Way, that ancient Roman road traveled by Caesar, Cicero and Augustus more than two thousand years ago. There, on Via Appia, parked in front of a charming Roman villa was a Smart Car, a mini-marvel of fuel efficiency. And I thought if more of us drove smart, lived smart, thought smart, in another two thousand years another pair of tourists could admire this ancient road on just such another beautiful spring day.
Driving Smart on the Appian Way is one of the paintings I'll have in the Green Show in the Marnie Sheridan Gallery at Harpeth Hall School in Nashville, Tennessee.
The Green Show is all about thinking, living and yes, driving green. There's an artist's reception from 3 to 5 on Sunday, March 6. And the show will hang through April 12. If you're near, please drop by and see some new green.

"Cut and Dried"

2011-02-19T21:11:00.003-06:00

Cut and Dried 7x5 oil by Shirley Fachilla

As Julie Andrews might have sung, these are a few of my favorite things. But I painted them not because they are beloved, but because of their color. I wanted to paint precisely the silvery green of the eucalyptus leaves, the translucent turquoise of the vase and the metallic shimmer of the scissors.
Of course, I didn’t. Painters almost never do. Instead we approximate the colors we see in our light-filled world with our oils, acrylics, watercolors and pastels. We create an illusion within the confines of our canvas and paper with color and value harmonies that ring true in the painting, but which can not completely capture everyday reality.
In my attempt, I did use a tube of turquoise bought for a Karin Jurick workshop and found it the closest approximation to the blue of my vase. And I used Abbey Ryan’s wisp of eucalyptus for inspiration when painting mine.

The Girl with the Heart Tattoo

2011-02-13T12:31:00.040-06:00

The Girl with the Heart Tattoo 20x18 open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla

detail

This painting just seemed right for a Valentine posting because of the heart and also because of the colors, very warm, very pink. I've included a detail to bring attention to that heart tattoo.
For anyone who isn't a mystery fan, the painting title is a play upon Stieg Larsson's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Larrson was a Swedish novelist who died suddenly in a car crash before knowing of the tremendous recent success of his trilogy revolving around Lizbeth Salander (the girl with the tattoo). I've read all three of those books and so want to know of her further adventures.
Supposedly, there is a fourth book. It's been reported that Larrson wrote the beginning and end with a detailed outline for the yet-unwritten middle. His heirs are battling for rights to that unfinished manuscript. So maybe someday, we'll get to know what happened next to Lizbeth Salander.

My open studio girl is far from perfect in anatomy, but I like her anyway for her warmth... and her tattoo!

The Stories We Tell: Desire, Part III

2011-02-07T11:51:00.000-06:00

The Redhead an open studio oil by Shirley Fachilla

The story of desire can be as chaste as Botticelli's Venus or as voyeuristic as Susanna and the Elders. One of the most famous paintings about lustful temptation is the fully-clothed Madame X by John Singer Sargent. Sargent saw it as his ticket to fame and multiple portrait commissions; the subject, Virginie Amelie Avegano Gautreau saw it as a celebration of her status as the "It Girl" of Paris. Parisians, on the other hand, saw it as quite shocking, a much too graphic invitation to regard the socially elite Ms. Gautreau as a sex object.
After its display, Sargent left Paris never to return as a resident; Virginie slipped from her social pedestal and because something of a recluse. Sargent later recovered and achieved the fame and commissions he sought and the painting has become acclaimed as one of the best portraits ever painted.
My redhead may have something of Gautreau's pose and cool demeanor and to me, a bit of her rather icy allure.

Work in Progress... Studio Work

2011-02-03T21:48:00.000-06:00

Yipee! I'm getting a new studio space! I've enjoyed online blogging tours of studios and thought you might enjoy one as well. The new studio is around 450 square feet, about quadruple the space I have now.

Part of the studio has a very high ceiling. I can crank up my easel without being concerned about poking a hole in sheet rock.

There's a rather large closet for storage of paintings and supplies...

and a whole wall of adjustable shelves (formerly a bookcase) for ditto.

The studio is on two levels. There's a loft area which opens up the possibility of some clever live model poses.

The flooring is kind of clever, too. Susan Harlan, an artist friend, suggested taking out the old tired carpeting and painting the plywood subfloor. Very cheap, extremely functional and it will be a breeze to put in new carpeting when it isn't a studio anymore. But I do hope it will be a studio for a long time to come.
P.S.It's probably more photogenic now than it will be when I move in all my stuff!

The Stories We Tell: Faith, Part II

2011-01-30T22:47:00.000-06:00

A State of Grace 20x24 by Shirley Fachilla

For centuries, faith was a major theme of Western art. Our museums are filled with religious paintings and sculpture that we see as masterpieces of art. The works of Rembrandt, Michelangelo, Reubens, to name only three masters, are largely devoted to religious subjects.

Francisco Zurbaran, friend of Velazquez and follower of Caravaggio, was painter of faith with a vision particularly appealing to 21st century eyes. Zurbaran painted monks, usually as solitary figures bathed in strong light, surrounded by dark shadows, often in the throes of some sort of religious trauma. His emphasis on the individual and the individual experience makes his work seem modern. Of course, his emphasis upon religious devotion makes it seem very alien to our more secular world view.

My monk, subject of A State of Grace, was done in open studio with a remarkably kind husband of one of the artists posing.

Snow Days

2011-01-27T21:48:00.000-06:00

Almost Home 14x11 oil by Shirley Fachilla

Multiple snow days have made many of my painter friends as happy as school children (the white stuff has been a rarity here during the past few winters). They brave the roads and the cold to paint woods filled up with snow a la Robert Frost. You can see some of the beautiful results here, here and here.
Me... well, I'm much less intrepid. Cold fingers, toes, noses and thoughts of cars in ditches make me brew another cup of tea and turn up the music in the studio.
Did Monet paint in the snow? Sometimes at least, he painted the snow outside while tucked inside as I suspect Sisley may have painted some snowy days from his front yard very close to his inside fireplace.
For my snow, I took a page from Monet's extensive playbook and painted the view from my front window at twilight. Titled Almost Home, it reminds me of the relief I have felt to be almost home on more than one cold and icy night.

The Stories We Tell: Power, Part I

2011-01-24T22:29:00.000-06:00

Power Tie 20x24 oil by Shirley Fachilla

One of the most enduring painting themes is the story of power. Kings, emperors and presidents want to be shown as worthy of rule in their portraits. The desired look seems to be regal, strong, often bejeweled and always above the fray.
But sometimes the story told is definitely not the power story intended. Velazquez's Pope Innocent X is considered by many to be the greatest of all portraits. But it's great not because the Pope seems omnipotent, but rather because he's shown as all too human. Did Innocent realize that Velazquez's work let everyone who looked see him honestly?
And then there's Charles IV of Spain. Goya as court painter shows us a royal family of decidedly ordinary, quite dull-looking individuals distinguished only by their clothes. Could King Charles have failed to recognize that rather than ennobled he was reduced?
Though the guy in my painting does wear a power suit and tie, I suspect he's just interviewing for the job. He was painted from life in open studio.

The Glass Maker's Art

2011-01-17T18:32:00.060-06:00

Patiently Waiting for Flowers 8x8 oil by Shirley Fachilla

In my home town of Nashville, we had a Chihuly summer of glass. Dale Chihuly is perhaps the foremost glass artist in the world today. He has a prodigious output and a marvelous sense of invention which is never stuffy or staid. Though it may sound like coals to Newcastle, Chihuly glass has in past years decorated the canals of Venice. In 2010, it decorated Nashville.
His glass was part of the stage set for Nashville Opera's Bluebeard's Castle; it was on display in the Frist Art Center; and it decorated the ponds, gardens and mansion of the Tennessee Botanical Gardens at Cheekwood. We lined up to see his work lit up in the gardens during the summer nights.
Glass making requires, for many of its steps, quite a bit of physical strength. To get an idea of how much strength, you might read Through a Glass Darkly by Donna Leon. It's a contemporary mystery set on the island of Murano where Venetian glass has been made for centuries.
Patiently Waiting for Flowers has as its subject a tiny hand-blown glass vase. The vase isn't in the style of Chihuly but is hand-made and beautiful all the same.

Ancestral Dreams

2011-01-10T21:20:00.000-06:00

Ancestral Dreams 20x20 oil by Shirley Fachilla

George Catlin painted over 500 canvases of Native Americans and he painted them twice, once from life and once from his sketches and memories. He had wanted the government to purchase the life series. Instead it was bought in its entirety by a private collector who stored them away from public view. This was when Catlin began to paint them all again.
What strikes me most about the collection is its sensitivity. His men and women are usually shown in standard portrait poses with great dignity rather than great drama. Each is a portrait of an individual not a stereotype.
I've read several different versions of Catlin's original impetus for the series. One is that he was inspired by the Indian Removal Act passed in 1830, the year he began his travels in the West.
My portrait, Ancestral Dreams, is an open studio work of a lovely Cherokee/Scotch American. If her ancestors traveled the Trail of Tears charted by that act of 1830, they managed to find their way back.
A final small and sad irony, Catlin's paintings are now a part of the Smithsonian Collection bought by the government from the estate of the collector, not from Catlin, the artist.

Playing Hard to Get

2011-01-03T22:10:00.000-06:00

Dreaming of Italy 20x24 open studio oil

There's a painting by Degas that has at its center a sumptuous bouquet of flowers. The lavish arrangement fills the space. But the flowers for all their exuberance, play second fiddle to the woman at their side. Pushed to the right, cropped and much smaller than the posies, the woman still controls the canvas.
How does she do it? First, by having a strong and interesting face. But second and more importantly, she does it with her gaze. She isn't looking at the viewer or the flowers but stares at something beyond the frame. You simply have to look along with her and in the process, look intently at her. It's as though she's playing hard to get by ignoring us and the flowers, and as any Cosmo article would tell you, thus garnering all the attention.
My painting borrows a little of the Degas composition though the bouquet is much, much smaller! The diptych shown in the background of my painting, as my title implies, reminds me of an Italian landscape.
For more talk of Degas, see my post here.

Cowbells ring. Are you listening?

2010-12-28T19:05:00.000-06:00

Probably many of you have participated in a "dirty Santa" gift exchange. Everyone brings a gift but a white elephant kind of gift. And because one man's trash is another man's treasure, sometimes a white elephant becomes a thing desired.
So it was with the cowbell above. It's real; it's old; and though I've never seen a cow wearing one, it seems very much a part of where I live. Somehow the bobble-head we brought as a present never made the transition to desired!
Cow Belle is an 8x8 oil.

In 2011, may you also find treasures in unexpected places.

Happy New Year...
Bonne Annee et bonne sante...
Gelukkig nieuwjaar...
Kul 'am ua antum bik hair...
Feliz ano Nuevo...
Kali hrona...
Shana Tova...
Yin nian yu kuai...
Felice Anno Nuovo...
Ein gluckliches neues Jahr...
S Novym Godom...

Please excuse the absence of pronunciation marks and any misspellings!

Idealized Reality

2010-12-20T20:31:00.000-06:00

The statue fragment in the above painting is what's left of Poseidon, an over-life-size marble that once decorated the exterior of the Parthenon in Athens. Or rather it's a cast of Poseidon's torso; the original is in London and is one of the famous Elgin Marbles. This Poseidon can be found in my hometown, inside our full-size replica of the Parthenon. Even though he's made of concrete rather than Pentelic marble, he still has the power to inspire.
He's an excellent example of the Greek love affair with idealized reality. Some 2,500 plus years ago, Greek artists abandoned the stylizations and conventions of Eastern art and began their pursuit of the real.
They wanted to recreate what our eyes see. This necessitates all sorts of tricks and illusions on the part of the artist. And though the rules of perspective probably weren't formulated (the rules had to wait for the Renaissance), foreshortening, the creation of form and mass, the illusion of depth and distance were all part of the Greek artist's bag of tricks.
I said that the Greeks wanted to reproduce what our eyes see. Actually they wanted to create a vision of reality perfected, where the real is always beautiful. It's a goal artists are still pursuing 2,500 years later.

Admiration Society is a 14x9 oil. By the way, passing viewers often reach up to touch Poseidon; they simply can't resist.

The Culinary Arts

2010-12-13T11:05:00.000-06:00

Ezra Pound was a poet.. Ezra Pound Cake is a blog written by a chef who majored in English Lit. The recipes posted are nicely different with a meatless category for vegetarians and lots of pastries and cakes to try this holiday season.
Ken Auster is an artist. If you've ever eaten at a Ruby Tuesday, you've probably seen some of his paintings (at least, my Ruby Tuesday is decorated with them). Ken was helped in his restaurant commission by having a culinary school nearby where he had permission to paint the students. In his work, Auster eliminates detail, simplifies shapes, goes for dramatic design, uses impasto and has a definite sense of humor.
Mark, the model for the above painting, is a real chef who's married to a painter friend. (It's good to have connections!) The Culinary Arts is a 24x20 oil done in open studio.

There's a Rumor Going Round...

2010-12-06T21:32:00.000-06:00

Rumor has it that the Impressionists didn't like or use black. Ah ha, it's rather easy to squash that particular bit of gossip. Simply look at almost any Manet.
Hmmm, what's that? You say Manet wasn't really an Impressionist? Okay, you have a point. But of course, Degas and Caillebotte were surely Impressionists with a capitol "I." And they used black a lot.
Okay, okay. You're right. They used black when painting people and manmade things like buildings and hardwood floors, stockbrokers and ballerinas. Perhaps, as you say, black for these kinds of things would be a special exception to any rule.
But Monet, Claude Monet, the primo Impressionist, sometimes used black as well and used it for landscapes! Ah yes, though many beautiful Impressionist landscapes haven't a stroke of black, others surely do.
Lots of my landscapes haven't any black either; but some do, like Junk Trees above. It's a 12x9 plein air of a much-maligned species, the hackberry tree. Hackberries grow fast and grow just about everywhere in Middle Tennessee. They're not "good" for anything like building or burning so they only rate as junk, though beautiful junk.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

2010-11-28T21:04:00.000-06:00

Edouard Manet, as much as any fashion-conscious denizen of Manhattan, loved black. He used it to shape his compositions, create his forms (often quite flat ones) and engender high drama.
His friend and sister-in-law, painter Berthe Morisot, tried to persuade him to paint in the lighter hues of the Impressionists. But though the Impressionists were both his friends and his great admirers, Manet followed his own muse and continued to explore the many uses and advantages of black.
Right now at the Frist in Nashville, Tennessee, we are lucky to have a splendid exhibit from Musee d'Orsay. Along with numerous other masterpieces, the exhibit gives us a cornucopia of Manets in which Edouard shows us the depths and wonders of the non-color black.
My painting, Like a Melody also uses black for composition, contrast and drama. It's a color needed in almost every palette... even the impressionistic.
Like a Melody is an 18x14 oil done in open studio.

A Sense of Place

2010-11-22T21:34:00.000-06:00

Visual art and the written word can both give a wonderful sense of place. Read Faulkner and you'll come to know Mississippi without setting foot there; explore the poetry of Robert Frost and you explore New England. Read Donna Leon (my current fav) and you'll feel both the present damp and the ancient splendor that is Venice.
Paradoxically, I think it may be harder to capture a place in a painting than it is to capture it with words.
But in my part of the world, Middle Tennessee, there are many superb visual artists who succeed in painting the beauties of this place and in capturing its special feeling.
To prove my point, on the right side of the blog, I've added links to landscapists and plein air groups that specialize in painting Tennessee and the southeastern United States. I'll mention one specific painter among the many that I find especially adept at conveying not only the look but the feeling of my state. Kevin Menck can paint a field and make it so real and immediate that I know it's got to be just down the road and around the bend.
My Cold Thanksgiving is a plein air 18x14 oil; its place is a century plus farmhouse here in Middle Tennessee.

My Kind of Town...

2010-11-15T21:41:00.001-06:00

Even a flood can't keep a city of bluegrass and honky-tonks down. This is a very slightly modified skyline of my hometown, Nashville, Tennessee.
Cityscapes are hard. I love them, but really don't like to do them. The perspective, figuring out just how to do all those little windows, I find very difficult.
But there is a painter who made cityscapes look easy. In the 1700's, Canaletto painted his hometown of Venice over and over. It's said he painted many outside, on the spot rather than in the studio, making him, I suppose, one of the true plein air pioneers.
Canaletto had a fluid brushstroke and a wonderful way of capturing light. Most of his paintings were done for wealthy English tourists. Now they hang in museums, an unusual end for a travel souvenir.
Another master of the cityscape, William Wray, also possesses a fluid stroke and a great way with light. But rather than beautiful Venice, Wray paints the urban blight of Southern California and makes it quite beautiful as well.
My View from Metro General is an 8x16 oil.

Let's Hear It for Negativity!

2010-11-08T21:23:00.000-06:00

Negative space, that space surrounding each and every object in a painting can be wonderful. Velasquez turned it into painted air so real it's almost breathable. Vermeer infused it with the softest of sunlight. Van Gogh used brushstrokes to transform it into motion and energy.
Surround a figure with negative space like Hopper and the mood will turn solitary. Eliminate negative space by bringing the figure up close and personal, as Klimt often did, and there will be instant intimacy between viewer and subject.
In my painting, the chair and the parasol leave the model with almost no negative space to call her own. But she doesn't seem to miss her bit of breathing room; in fact, she's rather like a seatmate on a bus, very busy ignoring us all.

Paper Parasol is a 20x20 oil. The girl was done in open studio; the parasol was finished later in my studio.

The Last Picture Show... for the Chestnuts... this year

2010-11-02T10:53:00.000-05:00

My city is blessed with an array of urban parks, one very special one is Radnor Lake. It's in a rather ritzy residential area and is protected enough from the city so that once you enter its grounds, you enter a quiet zone. Sounds heard are forest noises plus the occasional voices of others enjoying the park along with you.
For years, the Chestnuts (plein air painters for the land) have painted pretty pictures as a fund raiser for Radnor. The Radnor/Chestnut show is happening this coming weekend. Nashvillians can support their park by purchasing a reminder of its beauty to hang on their wall. Paintings will be on display Friday, November 5 through Sunday, November 7, from 8 to 6 daily at the Radnor Visitor Center, 1160 Otter Creek Road, Nashville, Tennessee.
Just a Walk in the Park is an 10x8 oil. Most paintings in the show will be of the very lovely lake itself.

The Hierarchy of Paint

2010-10-26T20:50:00.000-05:00

For several centuries, paintings were ranked according to subject matter. History paintings were at the top, followed by portraiture, genre, landscape and lastly still life. "History" subjects included Greek and Roman mythology and Biblical themes as well as history that might be found in a standard textbook.
Rembrandt who lusted after both fame and social acceptance often painted "history" even though his forte was character study and portraiture his bread and butter. The Night Watch, which began as a group portrait commission, became in his hands more like a history painting and in so doing, changed the standard for painting multiple folks forever. Meanwhile still life occupied such a lowly spot in the hierarchy that even women could make a living creating them.
Today history painting is a rare thing indeed, displaced by the Impressionists, then buried by Abstract Expressionism. But still life, once the stepchild of fine art, has enjoyed a prosperous existence with practitioners ranging from the renowned Giorgio Morandi to the present online Carol Marine.

My oil still life, Teapot, Short and Stout, is a humble nod to those long-ago women painters of pots and flowers who received such grudging respect.

Seeing Red

2010-10-20T14:35:00.003-05:00

There's a story I've read about a couple of famous and now long-dead painters. Both had work accepted in an exhibit, a very important one, and their paintings for the show had been hung side by side. One painting completely dominated the other, not because it was technically better but because it was simply a more dramatic design.
A day or so before the show officially opened, the overshadowed artist removed his painting and shortly thereafter rehung it with one change, his piece now included red... where no red had been before. The tables were turned. The painting with red now was the one that attracted every eye.
Yes, there's a reason fire engines, fireplugs, stop lights and stop signs (as well as sometimes the dresses of pretty women) are red.
Though I can't remember the names of the painters involved in the above story, I can direct you to two paintings that use show-stopping red in entirely different ways. In The Red Kerchief, Monet uses red as accent, as a color "alien" to the rest of his canvas. In the amazing Red Room, Matisse uses red almost as a neutral to make every other color in his work pop with intensity.
My Stairway in Amalfi is a 24x20 oil.

On Neutral Ground...

2010-10-13T22:29:00.000-05:00

Black, white, grey and sometimes brown... these are the neutral colors that many artists love. We love them because they can impart both harmony and drama as the more colorful often do not.
Rembrandt was a master of the neutral palette, using it to make his own self-portraits into dramatic character studies even though he was quite an ordinary-looking fellow. James McNeill Whistler actually titled his most famous painting, Arrangement in Grey and Black rather than its more popular name, Whistler's Mother. That maternal skin glows amid all the surrounding neutrals just as an open yellow umbrella glows on a grey rainy day.
Make neutrals by mixing complementary colors and you'll create a bouquet of beautiful soft greys that suggest all the colors of the rainbow. Sometimes this leads to vocabulary confusion with one artist referring to a color as grey when another (often me) sees it as really blue or maybe pink or orange.
Whistler's Great, Great Granddaughter is my bow to the ways of James McNeill. Done in open studio, it measures 24x20.

A Last Minute Invitation...

2010-10-11T20:12:00.000-05:00

I mentioned in the previous post that my painting Lonesome Dove was to be auctioned at the Blue Moon gala here in Nashville. Actually, I also had several other paintings for sale at Blue Moon which is usually a one-night shindig benefiting the Tennessee Land Trust.

This year, the Trust has extended the show and invited the "neighbors," meaning anyone who wants to come. If you like traditional landscapes (we started with 350 pieces) and/or antebellum plantation houses (antebellum Glen Leven is the setting for the show), you'll have a good time. It will be from 3 to 7 p.m. Sunday, October 17, at the Glen Leven Estate, 4000 Franklin Road, Nashville, Tennessee. This is about 15 minutes tops from downtown Nashville taking I-65 and exiting on Harding Road.

Unlike most sales, painting sales often save the best for last. The most beautiful, the painting that touches you heart, can be found at the very last minute of the very last day. Come to Glen Leven and see what I mean.

Springtime at the Century Farm is a 14x11 oil now at Glen Leven. {The painters of the 350 landscapes are members of the Chestnuts, plein air painters for the land. More about them later.}

Aw Ma, Do I Have to Study?

2010-10-06T16:10:00.022-05:00

Studies are those little paintings and/or drawings that artists make to prepare for a more finished and usually larger work. They're useful to figure out values, juggle composition and plan color palettes. They have a lot in common with homework. But most painters find them much more fun than their teenage attempts to solve for "x" in algebra.

I had a revelation about my studies a few months ago. Mine are not about capturing the exact color of what I see. They are about creating color harmonies. Because I tend to push color, I risk discordant colors and values. A study helps me avoid that. Sometimes it helps by showing me what not to do in the larger painting.

As you can see from the above twosome, it also helps me refine my composition. And as I see in looking at this post, the colors seem quite different between the two. The colors in the larger are actually very much like those in the study; unfortunately, my camera wouldn't see it that way.

To see some lovely value studies, visit Laurel Daniel's blog and while there, browse around to look at more of her work as well.

Lonesome Dove (above) is of a Tennessee Land Trust property and will be auctioned at the Blue Moon gala held in Nashville each year to promote and fund the work of that organization. It's a 9x12 oil; its study is 5x7.

Mud and the Skin of Venus

2010-09-28T16:14:00.012-05:00

"Give me mud and I will paint you the skin of Venus." Eugene Delacroix.

When I painted as a teenager, I was taught that there was a formula to create the color of flesh. Later, I forgot this "formula" and subsequently wasted a lot of time trying to rediscover the right combination to mix the color of our skin.

Now I recognize that there is no magic mixture. Our skin (whatever its shade) is so reflective of light that almost anything goes. It becomes a prism for the colors and the light surrounding us both in life and in painting.

So yes, the earth colors, the "mud," used by Delacroix and Titan can make the creamy skin of a Venus. And the saturated cadmiums used by many of today's artists can become the colors of our flesh as well. To see a contemporary kaleidoscope of skin colors, just visit Karin Jurick's 100 Faces.

Somebody's Dream is one of my more straightforward forays into the color of flesh. It's a 20x24 done in open studio.

Lost in Translation

2010-09-22T17:04:00.010-05:00

I once saw an exquisite Rubens' drawing of a beautiful woman with long curly hair. The woman had what appeared to be a large, upside-down, black funnel on her head. What do I remember? The funnel-hat (which I could draw now), not really the woman at all.

Of course, sometimes a work is so wonderful that it rises above obscure or absurd inclusions. Such a painting is Pieter de Hooch's Maternal Duty. A contemporary of Vermeer, de Hooch was sometimes less skilled in perspective and proportion. But with this painting, his passages of light, his color, his gesture are all quite marvelous. Today almost no one would guess that the mother is picking lice from her child's head (a necessary practice even in spotless Dutch houses).

My painting has no funnel or (ugh) lice, but smack in the middle is a very unusual... birdbath! I bet you had no idea what it was. I so loved the maple and then the composition that I included an object I knew almost no one would understand.

Japanese Maple, Cheekwood plein air 8x10.

Three Amigos

2010-09-14T17:26:00.005-05:00

Two friends and I are having a show and sale of our paintings in this lovely (yes, lovely describes it) old barn which belongs to Susan Harlan, one of the friends. Neither Gale Haddock (the other amigo) nor I have ever done anything quite like this before.

It's both exciting and intimidating, sort of like throwing a party and inviting way more guests than you've ever invited before.

The event happens this Saturday, Sept. 18, from 10 in the morning til 7 in the evening. The address is 1312 Lewisburg Pike, Franklin, Tennessee. It's off Exit 61 on I-65 south of Nashville and is easy to find if googled.

To borrow the phrase everyone seems to use in blog invitations, "if you're in the neighborhood," please come. It promises to be a good time.

Paintings above by: left, Gale Haddock; center Susan Harlan; right, me.

First Day

2010-09-10T15:13:00.009-05:00

There's a picture on my studio wall that I love; it's a print of Peter Hurd's painting, Eve of St. John. Hurd was a noted "Western artist" though, sadly, he seems now to be known primarily as Andrew Wyeth's brother-in-law.

Hurd began his career as an illustrator, and I think Eve shows those roots with its strong sense of narrative. To me, the story it tells is one of becoming, like a "coming of age" novel or autobiography. I find it to be mysterious and haunting; it's a work I look at often.

After I finished First Day , I realized I was trying to tell a coming-of-age story, too. First days are always a beginning, when everything promises to be a surprise and nothing is sure. Growing up sometimes seems a series of first days... except for those times growing up when you think you might die of boredom!

First Day is an 18x14 oil done in open studio.

Under the Art Umbrella

2010-09-06T21:36:00.009-05:00

Painters love umbrellas. Our beach scenes have them; city scenes ditto. Our women carry them to keep off the rain and when it isn't raining, to keep off the sun.

I can't fully explain the passion for parasols. Shape is part of it, that regular gentle curve that leads the viewer's eye to just where the artist would like it to go. The potential for unexpected color is another. A pop of orange can be excellent when at sea or in a painting of a grey, rainy day.

Umbrella advantages can be subtle as well. Faces shaded by umbrellas are often lit by soft reflected light with shadows that take on the color of the umbrella itself. The most famous painted lady with a parasol, Monet's wife, is such a mix of shadow and reflected light that she almost dissolves into the sky and clouds behind her.

My lady is warding off the last drizzle of a Manhattan shower; there's really more sun than rain in her forecast.

NYC Shower 8x8 oil on panel.

Two Part Harmony

2010-08-29T15:24:00.010-05:00

Diptychs got their start in ancient times when the literate wrote on hinged, waxed, wood tablets that could be folded to protect the words from nicks and marks. In the Middle Ages, those hinged pieces of wood protected sacred images rather than words. The two wooden panels became three and the triptych became the standard altar format.

Today any painting composed on more than one panel is called a diptych, triptych or polytych respectively. Together the panels should form one coherent composition, but they should also make sense (and be a good painting) if viewed separately.

Two Part Harmony is a stacked diptych born of necessity. I was painting at the beautiful Century Farm of the previous post and had no canvas tall enough for the scene I very much wanted to paint. But I did have two 8"x8" squares. So the rusty water tower and old-fashioned flowers could co-exist, just as they do in life.

Almost Plein Air

2010-08-24T17:59:00.012-05:00

This is a little painting done from a very bad photo and my better memory. I had just finished a marvelous morning with friends painting at a Tennessee Century Farm. As I was packing to leave, I noticed an old gnarled apple tree that reminded me of one of my all-time favorite works, Childe Hassam's Peach Blossoms - Villiers-le-Bel.

Hassam was an American Impressionist and a great artist. He did Peach Blossoms (a gnarled old peach tree in bloom) early in his career, but I think it's the equal of any of his later canvases. It's very Japanese in feeling, a wonderful mix of strong design, exquisite brushwork and a beautiful palette of color.

Now a bit about our Tennessee Century Farms. They are exactly what the name implies, farms that have been continuously worked by the same family for more than 100 years. This one is also a Tennessee Land Trust property; its owners have protected it from development now and in the future, to truly preserve a very special place.

Old Apple Tree is a 5x7 panel, more about the Century Farm next time.

A Different Perspective

2010-08-18T10:36:00.007-05:00

Since the marvelous Cezanne and Van Gogh, perspective has become a much more fluid concept than it once was. Now sometimes playing by the perspective rules is important; sometimes not so much.

It's more than okay when Cezanne's apples seem to spill right out of his painting because his table looks tilted. And Van Gogh's bedroom wouldn't appear nearly as inviting if its perspective was not skewed as though asking us to come in and take a nap.

Dufy playfully ignored most of the guidelines. The contemporary Dan McCaw tinkers so subtly in the interest of design that his rule bending can almost go unnoticed.

In Sidewalk Artist, I toyed with perspective, too. I wanted the viewer to see her chalk drawing because everyone in the painting is oblivious to both it and its artist.

Sidewalk Artist, Florence 12x12 oil.

Why I Love Degas

2010-08-11T17:22:00.005-05:00

Do I love Degas because he painted beautiful tutus, gorgeous jockey silks, and frilly silly hats in millinery shops? No, none of the preceding. I love Degas for very different reasons. I love his painted women in all their complexity and humanity, and I love his compositions.

His paintings have designs as daring and fresh as any before or since. He doesn't balance; he crops and cuts people, horses and things as though they were in a snapshot, but one taken by a master photographer.

Symmetry is not his style. He might shove everything to one side and leave the rest of his canvas empty or have the center of his painting depict nothing more than a bare wood floor.

Just Passing Through (above) is my homage to Degas. Slightly off-center, with her adult cropped to one lone hand, my little girl is just passing through the world like us all.

Just Passing Through 18x14 oil on panel.

The Way In

2010-08-04T14:15:00.008-05:00

Something an artist often wants to give a painting is a "way in" for the viewer, that is a place for the viewer's eye to enter the picture plane and then travel through the painting. As you might guess, this is often done in landscapes. Sometimes it's literally a road; but it can be a stream, a flow of color, a stretch of light or shadow. For many beautiful entry ways, you might visit Julian Merrow-Smith's Postcards from Provence.

Figurative paintings can invite the viewer in as well. One interesting figurative method is eye contact, a look from a painted eye that seems directed at the viewer.

My favorite eye-to-eye painting is Georges de la Tour's The Cheat with the Ace of Diamonds. In that work, a card cheat steals a glance at you, the viewer, while pulling the ace from behind his back. Georges liked the device so much that he did it again; but this time, the card was the ace of clubs.

The Way In, 10x8 plein air oil on panel.

The Bottle Labeled "Drink Me"

2010-07-29T10:26:00.009-05:00

As Alice in Wonderland discovered, physical size can be extraordinarily important. It can often be just as important with two-dimensional art. Some subjects clamor to be large; some are content to be smaller and more intimate.

An example of a large painting that needs its bigness is The Diver by Jasper Johns. Over 7 feet high, it's a dark presence that overwhelms in part with its size. To me, it needs to be seen in actuality to be appreciated.

When you look at paintings on the computer or in a book, any shrinking in size should be taken into account. Not only is impact lessened, but big paintings will appear both tighter and busier than they really are.

The painting above is a tiny 8x8 inches and wouldn't work as well if made much bigger. If I do another using the same reference, it would be both larger; and I think quite different in its mood.

Nimbus is an 8x8 oil on panel done during the Karin Jurick (master of the small) workshop in NYC.

Somewhere over the Rainbow...

2010-07-22T15:58:00.006-05:00

"Pushing color" is an art expression that describes amping up the intensity (artists call it saturation) of color in a painting. One of the criticisms of the Impressionists, back when they were considered rebels, was that their color was too vibrant.

Saturation has only gone forward from Monet. Intense, vivid color is something contemporary eyes expect. Images in magazines, movies and on television all push color, sometimes to the max. The trick for the artist who also pushes is to keep harmony in the midst of the intensity. If he/she doesn't, it's a discordant confusion. Of course sometimes, that may be exactly what the artist intends.

The pink trees and rainbow sheep above are examples of color pushing that's meant to be harmonious. And though the colors are exaggerated, it was spring, the trees were sort of pink, the sheep sort of glowed.

Sheep's in the Meadow 20x24 oil. Displayed through Aug. 5 in the Leu Gallery at Belmont U. in Nashville, TN.

Woman at the Window

2010-07-14T16:45:00.003-05:00

"Woman at the Window" is a painting from my open studio. If you're unacquainted with the term, open studio means a bunch of artists getting together and painting in the same studio and (usually though not always) painting the same thing or same person. It's a way of sharing costs but has many other benefits as well.

First by painting from life, you gain practice in converting the three dimensional into two. Even more importantly, painting from life lets you see colors and values missing from even the most accurate photograph.

Second, you have a deadline. The session will end, the model will leave, the set-up will be dismantled. You simply haven't the time to over think or overwork. Voila! You just may capture some freshness, some spontaneity on your canvas.

Woman at the Window is a 20x20 oil done in open studio.

"What's in a Name?"

2010-07-08T14:38:00.019-05:00

According to the poet, "a rose by any name would smell as sweet." That's good because naming a painting is quite hard for most artists. Some choose not to name at all so as not to influence the viewer's perception. Hence the amazing number of Untitled's out there. Others simply describe their painting as Cecilia Beaux did in "Man with Cat" or label it with the subject's name, "Madame Georges Charpentier," the title of Renoir's complex portrait of Madame, her children, their dog, and a few treasures from Madame's Parisian apartment.

Then there are the artists who let someone else do the job. For instance, Andrew Wyeth's wife, Betsy, named most of his paintings.

Perhaps the most dangerous, but potentially the most fun, title is the witty one that suggests layers of meaning. It's dangerous because it can be just too, too cute, imply something the artist never intended, or simply miss in the wit department. One practitioner of the last method who seldom if ever misses is the contemporary artist Carol Marine. The fruits and vegetables in her still lifes burst with character and personality that's often reflected in her titles.

What's in a Name? is an open studio 14x11 oil.