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I went to see Macbeth last night in the Tennessee Shakespeare Company's new, permanent home. It was powerful. I'd been once before, and it was so visually alluring that I went back a second time to sketch. I sat on the front row and just went to town. They're a great, really professional company, and Memphis is so lucky to have them. I can't wait for As You Like It next month.
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I'm pleased to announce my holiday shows this coming season. I always have my own Open Studio, which will be with Melissa Bridgman again. I love spending the weekend with her and her gorgeous pottery. (Something always stays with me when she leaves. I'll be back at Tsunami again for their nicely curated, one day, manageable sized sale that I love. And this year, for the first time, I'll be joining MAC for five weeks at Crosstown Concourse. I've never done such a long show before, and I'll be curious to see how it goes with my stock. I'm excited to do a show at Crosstown, though, and it's a neat group, so here's to new things!
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Even though I'm primarily a painter/printmaker, I listen to a lot of writing podcasts. They translate well into a verbal medium, deal with creativity, and teach me some the publishing industry as I'm working on my Mr. Darcy picture book. There's a bit of talk about "morning pages," the early morning writing you do for yourself, not part of your regular work, just to loosen up in the mornings. This week I've been doing the sketcher version of that, drawing my morning tea.
It's been a week of some drawing, but mostly fiddly computer work, as I scan in drawings and text and assemble them in photoshop as pages for my book. I've wanted to have some bit of actual creative, painterly fun in the midst of it, so this has been a good way to start my mornings lately. I'm always trying to balance the journal/blog/social media/printing and packaging time I spend against painting or carving time, so this may not be a good fit for me daily. Often I wake up with a painting just dying to push its way out, and all I want to do is dive in. Doing a daily anything can be constrictive for me creatively. But I do enjoy these meditative sketches, so I'm leaving a paint box out on the counter at my breakfast spot for now (one of many advantages to living by myself), and I'll see if I can be more mindful about sketching instead of just looking at a screen when I am having some down time at meals.
It's been a week of some drawing, but mostly fiddly computer work, as I scan in drawings and text and assemble them in photoshop as pages for my book. I've wanted to have some bit of actual creative, painterly fun in the midst of it, so this has been a good way to start my mornings lately. I'm always trying to balance the journal/blog/social media/printing and packaging time I spend against painting or carving time, so this may not be a good fit for me daily. Often I wake up with a painting just dying to push its way out, and all I want to do is dive in. Doing a daily anything can be constrictive for me creatively. But I do enjoy these meditative sketches, so I'm leaving a paint box out on the counter at my breakfast spot for now (one of many advantages to living by myself), and I'll see if I can be more mindful about sketching instead of just looking at a screen when I am having some down time at meals.
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I've been mostly DOING Inktober even though I've been bad about posting here lately. Most days I've managed one ink sketch, but the majority of my work this past week has been tons of computer work (taking my attention from scanning for other purposes) to get the Mr. Darcy Goes Home book and the related counting book ready to send out. I've got a mid November deadline to be able to submit to my dream publisher without needing an agent first, so I'm working flat out to get it ready. I'll show a couple of reject sketches from that process here, but for now, a few more Inktober sketches to show what I've been up to around the edges.
Above is the Side Street Steppers. Below is one sketch as I was stopped at a train on my way to a printmaking demonstration at Dixon (I'll be doing several more of those) plus a quick sketch waiting in line at Home Depot, buying materials to shore up my floor to receive the type cabinet (see the last blog post).
Above is the Side Street Steppers. Below is one sketch as I was stopped at a train on my way to a printmaking demonstration at Dixon (I'll be doing several more of those) plus a quick sketch waiting in line at Home Depot, buying materials to shore up my floor to receive the type cabinet (see the last blog post).
I've been still practicing people when I get the chance, so at right are a handful of sketches from lunch at the Majestic downtown. Below is one quick page during last weekend. I almost never draw at dance weekends -- my only real vacation from art, complete and total, but I did do a few on Saturday, knowing it was Inktober and trying not to flake out completely.
Plus I always enjoy drawing treats, as a way to keep enjoying them, and also remember nice days I've spent with other people. Here is one of those, just to round things out.
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Paris has a surprisingly hot old time music scene, and I'm lucky enough to know several of the musicians there. Camille had invited me to go see some of her friends play, and I had a ball my next to last night there. Admittedly it was my crowd of folks, but it was also lovely to be out in a cafe (well, "Irish pub") and know five people. In Paris. It's good to feel I'm getting a set of friends there.
The band was great. The main pair happened to be Americans, though John Matthews has lived there for ages, and Ilon Moss did for a good while. They had the serious pipes to belt out a bunch of songs, unmiked, into a crowded bar. I was impressed. The bass player and guitarist (who also rang out some great Cajun songs) were French. It was such a fun evening.
The band was great. The main pair happened to be Americans, though John Matthews has lived there for ages, and Ilon Moss did for a good while. They had the serious pipes to belt out a bunch of songs, unmiked, into a crowded bar. I was impressed. The bass player and guitarist (who also rang out some great Cajun songs) were French. It was such a fun evening.
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I had a lot of things going the last week in Paris and didn’t get up the last sketches. I do still want to post these paintings from Auvers, though. I went back a second time because I wanted to paint more (and bigger) in the fields and because one special tree called me back, which will surprise no one who’s known me for very long. I took my bigger sketch book the second time (9x12”) and enjoyed being in the country a bit and did several watercolors in that same area where Van Gogh painted the crows over the wheat field.
This tree, arching over a narrow path, is what really drew me back. I did several different versions, and I never got it quite right, but I sure enjoyed trying.
This tree, arching over a narrow path, is what really drew me back. I did several different versions, and I never got it quite right, but I sure enjoyed trying.
After I’d painted a bit, I walked down to the other end of town to see Dr. Gachet’s house. Mavis and I hadn’t had the time and energy the week before. I’m so glad I did. He was an amateur artist as well as a doctor, and Van Gogh moved to Auvers to be under his care. Dr. Gachet was a friend of a number of artists, and he had two printing presses, one of which (the one Van Gogh actually used) is still in the house, and I was thrilled to see it. I had a lovely conversation with the docent, who is also a printmaker, as it turns out. We talked art about 25 minutes, all in French (she was patient with my mistakes, but I was proud of myself to have such an extended conversation, even with grammatical missteps). Once we got going, she was kind enough to remove the rope blocking the stairway and take me up to the attic art studio. Cézanne had painted there and had made Dr. Gachet move the skylight from the southern side of the house to the northern one, so there would be cool, steady light for painting. It’s a lovely space, and it was special to be there. I always feel humbled standing in the spaces where great artists have painted, and I always enjoy seeing other people’s work spaces.
Agata took my photo up there, and here is also the printing press. Just a gorgeous piece as well as art making magic.
Agata took my photo up there, and here is also the printing press. Just a gorgeous piece as well as art making magic.
The garden at Dr. Gachet’s is a lovely place. Small but quiet and with view out across tiled rooftops. Van Gogh had painted Gachet’s daughter there, and I found a bench in the shade to sit and enjoy the view, and I couldn’t resist painting as well.
It was a great day. I was exhausted when it was over, from travel plus five watercolors, but I was so delighted that I got back to spend more time there. It’s only an hour and a half from Gare du Nord, so it’s an easy day trip from Paris for anyone who has the extra time.
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I had been wanting to get to Auvers for a while, the town where Van Gogh spent his last few months, and my friend Mavis kindly accompanied me (and guided me through the mysteries of the suburban train system). It was a powerful place to be. Vincent and his brother Theo are both buried there (thanks to Theo’s generous wife who decided they should be together), as is the church that Vincent painted which I had seen in the Orsay. We spent most of the day there, wandering and looking and sketching. From the graveyard you can walk out into the fields where Vincent painted his late masterpiece of the crows. It’s a gorgeous spot, and I sketched it in my journal, just for the thrill of being there and also because after so long in the city, it was marvelous to be in actual countryside again.
The church was covered in scaffolding as they retile the roof, but I had to sketch it as well.
I also fell, not surprisingly, for a tree, just near the site of the crows. I sketched it once and then went back the next week (I’ll post these after) to paint it again. Mavis and I also went up to the small room where Vincent lived and then died. It was a bit of a crowded tour, but I got in the room before most of the group did and was able to stand in silence for a minute and also take this photo. It was a moving place to be.
I wish I’d been able to sketch in there, but being there was a huge gift.
Auvers is an easy day trip from Paris (an hour and a half or so from Gare du Nord), and I’m so glad I got out there.
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This is why I come to Paris. I see art and get excited about the possibility of working in new ways. I’ve been out playing around with the combination of watercolor, graphite, and ink ever since seeing the Impressionists in London exhibition. It’s not a purely Parisian inspiration. I’ve been following the work of Norwood Creech at home, and she mixes charcoal and watercolor and various paints on canvas. I also had a period some years ago of working with charcoal and gesso, which was great fun. Remembering that, I’m looking forward to getting back home and trying all this a little bigger. I’m so glad I brought a 9x12” pad this time. That’s larger than I usually work in watercolor, but I’ve been trying to up my size game this summer (which is helpful if I decide to pursue more illustration work), and the mixed media works nicely at that scale.
Two of these are water soluble graphite (done with a brush) plus ink, and the two colored ones also add watercolor to the mix. More to come...
Two of these are water soluble graphite (done with a brush) plus ink, and the two colored ones also add watercolor to the mix. More to come...
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I wrote my last post on the Impressionists in London exhibition as a general take on it. But I saved one crucial piece to talk about by itself. In a smaller side room, portraits the artists did of each other, was a fairly unassuming mixed media drawing (above) by William Orpen of a group of artists (Rodin, second from the left, being the main reconigizable one). I was totally enchanted with it. I love the misty, deftly light watercolor in the background, the mix of line and tone in the figures, and the quick ink lines that go over the graphite and lighter ink wash. I’ve been playing with my brush pens again lately, filled with Sumi ink in two different strengths, but I hadn’t thought to mix them with both watercolor and graphite. I also recently unearthed my water soluble graphite I found and had enjoyed a couple of years ago, but it’s easy for me to get enamoured of a new medium or technique and let older ones go. This spring and summer I was working in direct watercolor or with fountain pen and watercolor (a longtime favorite). This one piece got me wanting to work more in mixed media.
I was so inspired I did two pieces before I even got home. I started with one page in my smallest journal of the abstract sculpture by the Solferino metro station. This was what I had hoped. I kept the watercolor to a light wash and then mixed graphite and ink (the heavier tree branches) for the foreground. It was uncharacteristic restraint for me, and I was excited.
A few blocks later I stopped again and did this second piece in my bigger journal. The restraint didn’t go so well, and I ended up with much more watercolor than I had intended. It’s so hard for me not to cover the page in color. But I do like the depth of layering ink on top, and it’s hard to see here, but the graphite has a sparkly quality that also adds a richness. One place I was happy with the restraint was in the buildings on the right. They’re just sketched in with gray watercolor, no drawing of any kind first (all that direct watercolor practice was really good for me), and I was pleased with the contrast to the more full foreground. I’m not unhappy with this one, but it wasn’t what I was shooting for exactly. As can so easily happen.
Then that night I went back to self portraits. I used just the pencil and soluble graphite and the ink for the first one (no paint), but the next morning I did one where I laid in the initial “drawing” in just the flesh toned watercolor and then finished with graphite on top. No drawing, all brushwork, and I managed not to overwork it. It’s different than anything I’ve done, but I was really pleased with the outcome. Stay tuned for more watercolor and graphite mixes.
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There’s a flat out marvelous exhibition of the Impressionists in London at the Petit Palais. My friend (Memphis urban sketcher and now a denizen of Paris) has a dual membership and kindly took me — and then left me to make my way at the glacial speed I travel through museums. Double kindness.
I loved the show not only for the art but also for the history. It centers around the end of the Franco Prussian war when Paris was first under siege and then in the hands of rebels for a while. Needless to say, no one much buys art under dire, wartime circumstances, so a number of French artists (and citizens) headed for London for a while, and a few stayed permanently. It was good to read how the early arrivals assisted later comers, introducing them to patrons and getting them teaching jobs. There is such press about how cutthroat the art world is, and likely there are aspects of that in the high market places, but I have found such a supportive and warm environment in Memphis with people sharing opportunities and rooting each other on. It felt good to learn about this group.
There were a number of gorgeous things in the show. There was one small room of three exquisite Whistler nocturnes, and there were many truly lovely works on paper (which I’m always excited to see), both watercolors and prints. I did a copy of one understated portrait etching by Legros with the lightest and most delicate of horizontal lines, just a bit varied, as the background. He also left the shirt almost completely white, except for a few lines, bringing all the attention to the face. The grey of the patterned background played nicely against the open space and against the strong detail of the features.
But what truly gobsmacked me was the five Monet renditions of the Houses of Parliament gathered together for this show. Usually they are scattered across continents. Monet did them all from the same vantage point, the window of his room in the Savoy Hotel. As an artist, that is a stroke of both luck and genius, to be able to set up and paint from the ease of your room. He had been unsuccessful when he first went (as a refugee from the war), and two decades later, he wanted to return and show London what he could do. I loved that as well.
I always look forward to spending time with Monet’s five versions of Rouen Cathedral at the Orsay, and seeing these together was a similar experience. I tried to sketch them, but my small and dirty travel watercolor palette didn’t handle the pinks and yellows well. It was still a good exercise for me to sit and study them and truly see the variations and differences. Even when a drawing doens’t turn out as you had hoped (which is often, even for professionals), you learn a lot from the doing of it.
I loved the show not only for the art but also for the history. It centers around the end of the Franco Prussian war when Paris was first under siege and then in the hands of rebels for a while. Needless to say, no one much buys art under dire, wartime circumstances, so a number of French artists (and citizens) headed for London for a while, and a few stayed permanently. It was good to read how the early arrivals assisted later comers, introducing them to patrons and getting them teaching jobs. There is such press about how cutthroat the art world is, and likely there are aspects of that in the high market places, but I have found such a supportive and warm environment in Memphis with people sharing opportunities and rooting each other on. It felt good to learn about this group.
There were a number of gorgeous things in the show. There was one small room of three exquisite Whistler nocturnes, and there were many truly lovely works on paper (which I’m always excited to see), both watercolors and prints. I did a copy of one understated portrait etching by Legros with the lightest and most delicate of horizontal lines, just a bit varied, as the background. He also left the shirt almost completely white, except for a few lines, bringing all the attention to the face. The grey of the patterned background played nicely against the open space and against the strong detail of the features.
But what truly gobsmacked me was the five Monet renditions of the Houses of Parliament gathered together for this show. Usually they are scattered across continents. Monet did them all from the same vantage point, the window of his room in the Savoy Hotel. As an artist, that is a stroke of both luck and genius, to be able to set up and paint from the ease of your room. He had been unsuccessful when he first went (as a refugee from the war), and two decades later, he wanted to return and show London what he could do. I loved that as well.
I always look forward to spending time with Monet’s five versions of Rouen Cathedral at the Orsay, and seeing these together was a similar experience. I tried to sketch them, but my small and dirty travel watercolor palette didn’t handle the pinks and yellows well. It was still a good exercise for me to sit and study them and truly see the variations and differences. Even when a drawing doens’t turn out as you had hoped (which is often, even for professionals), you learn a lot from the doing of it.
Here is the Legros etching. I spent three hours in there and longed to do more drawing, but I was kind of tapped out and hungry, so I settled for two sketches (or six, depending on how you count them).
