Summer on the Lake

The heat is unrelenting, no rain for weeks on end, and the algae bloom is thick.  But at certain times of day, when the warm sun is bouncing off the rock cliff, the water takes on a warm glow and contrasts nicely with the cool cobalt blue of the reflected sky.  The colors are quite different from just a couple of months ago, though different times of day will yield different results.

Dark Profile

Continuing to investigate the use of darks in oil paint, I mix thalo green with alizarin crimson to get the dark for the background, and then lighten some thalo for the green of the cap.  The photo snap does not do justice to the richness of the combination, but I think I like this dark as much as the dark from combining ultramarine blue with burnt sienna.

Transparent Darks, Opaque Lights

I find that the application of the dark undertones first - in this case a mix of ultramarine blue and transparent red oxide - in a thin wash, and then an overlay of cerulean and white for the lighter areas works wonders in creating the look of sun-washed skin.  I see that the symmetry is off a bit in the eyes and nostrils, but rather than muck with the transparencies I will move on to another painting.

Endless days of heat and sun and projects to do has left little time for making headway in the painting game, but I find myself curiously looking forward to winter.  That's a first!

Faces Old and Young

Ron 7x7 oil

Aging gracefully in the south of France, still dapper after all these years, still the bon vivant, the wit at dinner parties, the tap dancer, fine cook, flatterer of young and old.  We can always learn lessons from those among us living well.

Austin 7x7 oil

It was just yesterday that Austin was a young boy, eager and innocent, studying dinosaurs.  Now he is  headed off to college and life as a grownup.  But to his parents, he will always be their little boy, probably about this age, nine or so.  It is the curse and the blessing of parenthood: to retain that youth in our hearts no matter what Time may do to us all.

Plein Air Event

In honor of the local plein air event going on right now, I tried my hand at a couple of landscapes, the first in oils, the second in acrylic, and I see that I need to take the plunge and just buy some real oil paints and stop trying to work with these water-soluble oils that are too sticky and hard to clean up.  I see other oil painters who just leave their brushes in some solution or other and don't waste time cleaning and cleaning.  I've been worried about making my studio space (commandeered from a library/entertainment space) proper and undamaged.  Maybe I can figure out a way to keep the solvents from ruining everything.

Apologies to Mr. Sargent

oil 5x7

But then, Mr. Sargent had his own ideas about how he should look on the canvas:

In Sargent's self portrait, he is nobler, fresher, younger, a little more aristocratic.  I have painted him grayer, more tired, and my trademark splotchiness that can only portend the onset of a grave illness.

Uncle Ernest, or The Importance Of Remembering Ernest

Uncle Ernest

My grandfather’s brother, Ernest, owned a small ranch on the north fork of Little Butte Creek, while my grandparents had a large working ranch on the south fork.  The north fork was fast and cold, dropping through a dark canyon of steep slopes and tall firs.  Ernest had a cabin there, and he diverted water from the river through a channel in which he had a water mill for producing electricity.  I remember the burnt-out refrigerators and washing machines sitting around his property; his regulator for the power was not very effective.

My grandmother didn’t think highly of Ernest: she thought he was lazy and a “smooth operator”, not a compliment in those days.  It’s true that Ernest took a relaxed approach to caring for his land, and he did not run cattle of his own, spending a good part of the year in Arizona.  Sometimes he would come to our ranch to play guitar while Papa played the fiddle and Celeste played the harmonica.  I think he must have enjoyed his life a good bit.

Once when I was quite young he showed me the bullet lodged in his wrist; the doctors had been unable to extract it without doing damage.  He and my grandfather told the story of how when Ernest was 22 and Papa was 18, (around 1910, in Arizona territory) their father bought a gold mine from a fellow they called the Frenchman.  Apparently the Frenchman changed his mind and wanted the mine back, and a dispute resulted.  As the two young men were riding with their father up a canyon to the mine, the Frenchman ambushed them and shot my great-grandfather and Uncle Ernest.  Ernest, though wounded gravely in the stomach, shot back and killed the Frenchman.  My grandfather was arrested for murder and held in jail for a month while the authorities awaited Ernest’s recovery, so that he could give his version of the story.  Papa loved to tell us that he wore out a brand new pair of boots pacing in that jail cell, not knowing if he was headed for the gallows.  I still have a copy of the newspaper account of the events.

Two portraits

7x7 study from Curtis photo

Edouard Manet 8x10

I have always thought Manet was fascinating, clinging to a more classic style of painting, yet joining or even leading at times the Impressionists, loosening up his brushwork in later decades.  He broke with the tradition of painting biblical or historical themes and chose to paint scenes of common life, and yet his love of figurative paintings kept him grounded in the use of form, rather than letting loose with the light effects of Monet, et al.  They say he became so absorbed when painting that he took on an intense look, which I tried to replicate in the above painting.  Others who knew him also painted him, without making him look like a dangerous lunatic.

 Portrait of Manet by Fantin-Latour, from a group portrait

Manet self portrait

Quick Sketch

Edgar Allan Poe 5x7

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before…

Recently I have been caught up in too many different activities, with work, vacation planning, and a never-ending array of demands on my time, and I find it difficult to make time at the easel.  So I decided I might just as well use what little time I can squeeze in and do very quick studies like this one.  I plunge in with no preliminary drawing and slap some paint down, trying to get a resemblance in twenty minutes or so, not worrying about the brushwork or level of completion, and when the time is up, I am done.   Poe's face, looking deeply troubled, lends itself to caricature, and the simplest rendering finds some of that emotion.

Another quickie, 5x7

While these studies aren't great wall-hangers, they give me hope, since I am finding some improvement in my instinct for proportion and accuracy, with no measuring or fussing, just slap dash grab, trying to capture the essence.  I don't kid myself - I have a long row to hoe before the level of finish is what I would like, but as a carpenter, I understand you need to gather your tools before you start building a table.

Willamette River

This view of the Willamette River at Foothills Park was painted following a morning walk a month ago or so, when the trees were just beginning to show signs of life, and the last color of winter was allowed to shine in the rising sun.  In some ways, I still like my preparatory color sketch better:

And then, yet another face on the wall: