My week at grown-up art camp

For the third year in a row, I'm spent a summer week immersed in plein air art-making, away from home, to re-inspire the artist within.  (I'll link posts about my previous years' experiences at the bottom of this post.) 

I was enrolled in a class called "A Sense of Place", with teacher/artist Vera Iliatova.  The intensive workshops are held on the beautiful green campus of Bennington College in North Bennington Vermont, in a program through Art New England, sponsored by MassArt.  The oil painting above was my final painting of the week.  It's just 10' square, and by the time I had set up my easel and mixed the colors I needed, I had very little actual time left to paint, maybe an hour at the most.  Yet, looking back on a week's work, I think this little painting is my favorite of the week, the most representative of "me".  Not sure the photo accurately represents the colors.

I can't say enough good things about the course I took.  Vera challenged the 10 of us in the class, and we worked like crazy, painting well into the night.  She gave us frequent and valuable feedback as we worked, and referenced numerous artists that related specifically to each of us, for us to look up.  She was kind and funny and I felt like I learned so much.  Our first class meeting was Sunday evening, after arriving, unpacking, and eating dinner, and I was very surprised to find out we'd be painting on this first night.  The painting we started that night became a nightly "20 minute challenge".  (Though I spent WAY more than 20 minutes a night working on it).  

First night (pictured above): we mixed a color (mine was made from burnt umber, ultramarine blue, a touch of black, and some white) and painted it on our entire canvas.  We used paint rags, fingers, and brushes to remove paint and add texture, responding to the environment where we painted. 
Second night (also above): we used one color of paint that had been used the first night, and with white, made a value scale of the color, and used it to alter the previous night's painting.

Third night: we used a color to superimpose contour line drawings of two shapes that "spoke to each other".  I was inspired by the construction cones and such right in front of our studios, which are basically garage bays. 
Fourth night: we used a broken line of a complementary color to create a space or shape to enclose the two shapes.  Mine is the little orange house. 

Our last night instructions were to 'bring forward' some of the original painting, and then to do whatever we needed to bring it to a conclusion.  I was dying to add some orange and white to the cones and sawhorse, so that's what I did.  Above is the final image from the challenge painting, but I'm afraid the photo has a poor color rendition. Looking at it now, I think I may still add another layer, very linear, with a dark brown.

Meanwhile, on Monday morning, we did a one-session painting with specific color limitations.  It was VERY HOT that day, over 90 degrees, so we didn't venture far from our studios to find a subject for our paintings.  We chose a color that felt like the color temperature of our chosen subject, added white to make it a mid-range color, and again painted our entire canvas with the color.  I picked a sunshiny yellow (cad yellow lemon).  Then we used were instructed to select ONE red, and ONE blue, and wiped off and painted into this wet base color.  I really enjoyed the challenge of this process; I'll do it again.

The afternoon was hot, so we watched some slides, drew from books in the library, and later began a 'composite' painting project to work on almost every afternoon.  I'll share my painting later in this post.

On Tuesday, it was pouring rain.  We set up our easels on a porch and patio of the music building, and painted.  Color limitations: one blue (black or payne's gray could sub for a blue), and two yellows and two reds, one warm and one cool.  I used black for my blue, since there was no blue in the sky anyhow!  Here's my painting from the morning.  My reds, I think, were alizarin crimson and cad red medium.  My yellows were I think yellow ochre and cad yellow light. 

We used the same palette of colors in the afternoon, and since it was still rainy, the model that the teacher had scheduled, to pose in the environment, posed on the patio where we all squeezed in to paint. 

After dinner, as the rain ended, the sky went through some spectacular changes.  I painted this little painting of the landscape behind the construction trailers which were parked right in front of the studios.  The next day, when the sky was cleared, I discovered there was a whole mountain there that was not visible when I painted!!  Three paintings in one day!

Wednesday, Day three, in the morning, I painted a bunch of buildings whose colors and shapes had intrigued me.  I used a similar palette, but used ultramarine blue rather than black.  I should note, after my previous two years painting on campus, I was wary of the abundance of green, and made a commitment to seek out other colors this year.  As an unexpected result, all of my paintings include buildings this year. (Afternoon was spent working on the composite project).

Day 4 in the morning I painted these buildings below.  The blackish spot in the sky is something that unfortunately happened transporting the paintings home. I'm going to fix it, or add a cloud if I can't match the color satisfactorily.  (Afternoon was spent working on the composite painting).  The painting has a quietness not in my other paintings, and I rather like it.  I enjoyed the challenge of mixing the various whites/grays for the different planes of the buildings. 

Friday, Day 5, was the final day to paint; I did the little painting at the top of the post.  I was really smitten by colorfully dressed workmen on the roof (who sadly left shortly after I began painting!) and the sun light on the pinkish-red tarps.  Here's a photo of the scene.

And I also finished the 'composite' long-term painting.  Here's the steps I took for this piece: first step was washes of paint to cover the canvas, without a real plan in mind. 

The next day I added some clouds and these shapes, after doing drawings in the library of antique-looking flying machines.

I hated it at this point.  So the next day I took a rag with mineral spirits and wiped much of it off, leaving vague suggestions of the shapes, and repainting much of the sky.  I started adding flying machines, and a network of lines.  Here's the final piece. 

On Friday evening, we had a 'studio  tour', where all the classes displayed all their work.  My final little painting was still very wet and I wasn't sure it was finished, but I displayed everything else.  Saturday morning concluded with a final critique session. 

It was a fabulous class, and I feel like I'm learning so much about color and about creating a sense of place in my paintings.  I don't want to stop, but there's a huge problem: what in the world do you do with so many oil paintings?  At the end of one week, I brought home 9 new oil paintings!  How can I paint more??  (Actually, it wasn't 9 paintings, it was10.  There's also this little canvas that I was using to use up the extra paint on my palette each day.  Not sure what I'm going to do with it; I'll probably keep adding layers and seeing where it takes me.)

I am so inspired by oil paint.  Today in yoga class, during our final relaxation exercise, I found myself planning a painting, and everywhere I go I see compositions and color I want to use in paintings too. 

But I have one major hurdle beyond the problem of what to do with the growing pile of paintings, that is really frustrating me.  My mind is eager, but my body is not cooperative.  (I talked about this a bit in last year's post too.)  I  am dealing with some spinal degeneration, and have had a lifelong problem with my feet.  On top of it all, I had a few incidents that made my body even more tender.  For example, as I was leaving home, I stopped to get gas in my car and forgot the hose was still in my car.  I tripped over the hose, launching my body over it and crashing on the ground on my side.  More than a week later, my hip still aches and my shoulder is in crisis, and I'm worried I won't be able to kayak or swim again any time soon.  And then there's the trunk of my car, that refuses to open at inopportune moments, such as my arrival on campus with a car full of suitcase, bedding, canvases, easel, and painting supplies.   That meant I had to unload my entire car by crawling in and out through the back seat.  Not good for my back.  By the end of the week, my feet, back, hips, and arm were in pain, and it has taken me a few days to begin to recover.  Plein air painting is physically demanding, but I absolutely LOVE being out in the fresh air, and I love the challenge.  How can I do this again next year without the negative impact on my body?  I'm so frustrated....

To see  my post about last year's class, click HERE.
To see my post about the my first experience at Art New England, in 2016, click HERE.   You'll see a photo of the 'garages', our studios, in this post.

A few weeks of nature photos and such

Ugh.  I'm failing at blogging.  Here's a bit of an update on life since my last blog post.

We made a visit to Boston to visit our son and his fiance on Mother's Day.  Behind our hotel was a nature park where there was a pair of nesting swans!

On Mother's Day, we strolled around "Porchfest" in Somerville (where our son lives).  Lots of live music of all genres on porches and front yards all through the neighborhoods.  Free and fun. 

We took a leisurely drive home (ever since our car accident on the Mass Pike two years ago, we prefer the 'scenic route'.)  This time we made a pit stop at the lovely Bridge of Flowers in Shelburne Falls MA.

Since then, I've been in my kayak a few times, and of course brought my camera with me.  I've seen loons, both real and wooden, and a brand new dragonfly emerged from it's nymph casing on my kayak.  That's the dragonfly below, and also at the top of the post.  It is brand new!

And I happened on a nest of redwing blackbird eggs, when I was rescuing bottles and cans I saw in the reeds near the lake shore.  I hope mama comes back to these eggs!

 On a walk near our camp, I came across this oddity, below.

I've taken some strolls around Hovey Pond, a mile from my home.  

And a few days ago, my husband discovered a baby bird living in a tree in the abandoned house next to our home.

We saw it's mama feeding it.  But as of today, it appears the baby has spread its wings.  The tree is vacant.  I hope the fledgling is doing well!

Moose sighting in North Bennington Vermont....

Meanwhile, I set up my easel in the backyard where I've been experimenting with my oil paints, trying to get to know the properties of my colors better.  It isn't done.

An art education conundrum

For the first 9 years of my teaching career, I taught high school, including an advanced Drawing and Painting class.  I don't think I  could do that any more.  I've seen a lot of  high school artwork over recent years, and as I look at my own personal artwork, and how I approach it, what I'm realizing is that I am philosophically light years away from what high school art programs have become. 

When I completed the painting in my previous post (detail shown above), I got a compliment from another art teacher, mentioning the vibrant colors, and referring to it as 'painterly'.  This, to me, was the ultimate of compliments, and what I aspire to.  I've always loved rich color, energetic paint strokes, and a sense of movement and energy in my artwork. It is, ultimately, my reason for painting.  Sometimes I'm more successful than other times, but it's definitely my thing.  The painting below, by the way, is a painting of my son when he was a college student (he's 29 now).  It includes collage of broken glass, weird rubber toys, yarn, and cutouts from magazine pages, and was developed from a photo I took of him, since he wasn't willing to sit for a portrait.

I think I've probably previously shared most of the paintings in today's post, but anyhow, they are here to back up my point.  And actually, this topic is something I've discussed here on the blog before.  Check out this post from March 2016.  I'm probably repeating many of the same thoughts today.

So what exactly is my point?  A lot of the high school artwork I see nowadays is derived from photographs, particularly making use of phones.  (That is not necessarily a criticism, though I'd love to see more high school work from life.)  As with the 2 paintings above, I've certainly worked from photos too (I use only my own photos), but I use them as a reference point, as a basis for my personal expression.  My goal isn't an exact replication of the photograph.  When possible, I prefer to work from life, as with the still life below, at least until the flowers started to wilt.

The high school artwork I am referring to is usually impeccably rendered, meticulous in detail.  I look at it and say "Wow, I'm impressed.  I can't do that", and then I think "but I don't even want to do that!".  It impresses me to see this work, but it doesn't EXCITE me, doesn't MOVE me.  And the thought of making this meticulous artwork leaves me cold.  It isn't artwork I'd be excited to create.

I've seen high school art shows where the work shows extensive talent, sure, and a lot of impressive skill, but the pieces seem to be more graphic design than expressive artwork.  Where are the visible brush strokes, the emotive color, the energy, and the personality?  I miss these things.  They are the reason I am particularly moved by paintings by Kandinsky, or Matisse, or Kokoschka, or Chagall, or Kirchner, for example.  Again, let me refer you to this old post.  I've said it all before, and maybe better!

When I taught high school art, my students spent a lot of time working from life, whether a still life setup, or using a mirror, or having someone model.  It was the days long before cell phones, so nobody was taking a picture of the still life or  model for reference.  It meant there was much more exploration involved with figuring out how to represent and interpret what they saw, rather than depending on a version of what a camera lens sees. 

I realize a lot of my personal feelings about this were developed in my college painting classes  in the 70's.  We worked from life probably 90% of the time, and expressive interpretations were encouraged.  We drew and painted extensively, working with gesture, and contour, and "endless articulating cube studies" to develop our perception.  I do not recall ever being asked to reproduce a photograph as a painting or drawing, though I do recall assignments to re-create works from other artists, as an exercise, not as a pieces for exhibition (I chose a Gauguin, and a Hans Hofmann).  It was a valuable learning experience, discovering the layers of color, the arrangement of the composition, and how the artist interpreted form.  We also did self-portraits in the the style/technique of an old artist.  (Somewhere I still have my multilayered Rouault-style painting of myself.) It was a valuable exercise.

 

So anyhow, I'm thinking that I'm a bit of a throw-back.  Yet maybe that's not a bad thing.  I'm eliciting positive responses to my most colorful recent painting, so maybe I'm on the right track?  When someone gets excited by my use of color, and calls my work 'painterly', I'm thinking they aren't seeing enough color or loose brush strokes in other art, because I'm sure there should be many who could do it so much better than me.  I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Plein Air Painting at Art New England

Just about a year ago I posted about my experience attending the Art New England program at Bennington College, where I took a Landscape Painting class and oil painted for the first time in almost 30 years.  (You can find that post HERE.)  I've done a little oil painting in the year since then, but I felt like I was floundering without the guidance of the teacher and the peer group.

So this past week, I returned to repeat the experience. We first met with our class and teacher on Sunday evening, and from Monday through Friday, we painted every morning, and every afternoon.  And I actually painted a couple of evenings, too.  We had a final group critique session on Saturday morning, and headed home.  The images in this post are my paintings, and the locations where I painted.  The rest of my class was incredibly talented, and it was very humbling.  But I don't feel that I have permission to share their work with you here on the blog. 

 Just above are two beautiful locations on the campus, and directly below are the paintings that I created at those locations.  Both were done in 3-hour sessions.

 Last year, I photographed a trio of fire hydrants that had me intrigued, and I had it in my head that this year I would paint them  (papa, mama, and baby) at a time of the day that they were casting nice shadows.  So I was very disappointed to discover that the trio was gone, and I went on a search to find another interesting hydrant.  Here's the hydrants from last year.

And here's what I found and painted. There's a partially hidden greenhouse to the right side of the hydrant, and I planned to paint it with the hydrant, but the lighting was wrong, so I chose a different direction.  It's a good thing that the triple hydrants were gone, because I absolutely NEVER could have painted three of them in three hours!  The structure and therefore the drawing is way too complex. 

 Here's the not-so-finished painting.  I still plan to go back into it.  I want to bring up the highlights  on the hydrant, and add some depth to the negative space. 

Here's another 3-hour painting done on the campus. 

We spent a day and a half a the Park McCullough Historic House and the beautiful grounds.  I wanted to paint in the garden, but when we got there is was very hot and I decided to find a place with some shade to set up my easel.  I saw these horses in a field on a hill (the photo is zoomed in), and decided they'd be fun to paint. 

 The horses were in the lower right of the scene as I was painting it below. 

 But evidently nobody told them to stay still.  So here's the painting as it looks right now.  I think I'd still like to make some changes.  But no horses....

The next day I found a lovely little lily pond in the garden, and nestled in to paint.  It was more complex than I'd expected, so instead of doing a different painting in the afternoon, I worked on the same painting all day.  Here's the location where I was set up. 

While I was working, I was entertained by a croaking bullfrog.  After a while, he sat on a rock by the pond and posed for photos.  He's definitely a prince! 

 I was also visited by this lovely Eastern Tiger Swallowtail.  What a beauty!  My finished painting is at the very top of this post.  Well, I'm saying that it is 'finished' for now.  I still would like to do some corrections.  And maybe add the frog on the rock?

I also painted a couple of evenings.  Both paintings were done fast, in rapidly changing light, and both will be getting some edits from me in the coming weeks. 

My biggest challenge of the week was the last painting I did. I went back to the hidden greenhouse that was near the fire hydrant and set up my easel.  I worked on the painting for a full day, standing at the easel in the hot sun.  

 Here's the painting as it looks right now.  I'd love to drive back to Bennington in the coming week, to keep working on it. I want to bring some detail into the foreground, and also do some more work on the greenhouse. 

 The last morning, we had sort of a critique session.  

Here's four of my pieces on the wall.

It was a super-productive week, and I'm inspired to do more painting, but unfortunately my aging body has not been cooperative.  I think standing all day painting the greenhouse on a hot sunny day really did me in.  I'm already struggling with spinal degeneration, and having injections for pain management, but since I've been home I've been in tough shape.   I'm hoping to resolve it in the coming weeks, because I despise having to curtail my activities because of my spine!