C. Whitman, P. Rivers and students
Arts and Science Council Grant, 2006
Student David French works on the Frazier Park Mural, 2006
The Merode Altarpiece is in a small room, and lordy, what an impact! I think it could hold a room 5 times the size. The color is so intensely beautiful...it's one of those paintings that give you a lump in your throat, and you feel yourself being drawn back to it when you try to move on.
The Age of Rembrandt at the Met was crowded, and a bit of a yawn, as it was primarily work from the Met's own collection. Though it's always a treat to see Vermeer, and I do like Rembrandt, you just couldn't get close to them for the crowds. The new Greek and Roman galleries are very nice, and I'd never gone through the Etruscan gallery before. There was an Ab Ex show that was kind of nice to see, though it was primarily from the permanent collection...but after years of looking at them, I've been taking a break for a few years, and I'm pleased to say I was able to look with fresh eyes. The Neo Rauch (sp?) show---you know, it was charming in it's way, but kind of slip shod in other ways---and I can't remember it very well now that it's been a week ago. But, boy that Merode Altarpiece is probably drowning out those images anyway....
Oh my, but I do love those Rembrandt soft pastels! I have never really worked a lot with pastels, but these will make me change my mind...they are like butter, blending so softly and grabbing the paper beautifully. This is a perfect example of how using better and more expensive materials really can make a difference. I have always tended toward materials in the mid-price range because I don't want the materials to become so precious I feel inhibited and unwilling to explore. But, I think I will invest in more and better pastels in the future.
The third picture is an oil sketch (about an hour or so) done several months ago, though I just took a slide.
I love the idea that objects can transcend their materials and appear to be something totally different. I guess I get a childish sense of delight from this---and maybe more----an appreciation of mastery, I guess.
My mother gave me a set of whittled flowers last Christmas. I have forgotten the type of wood, but I have divided the group and have placed some in my studio. It seemed a natural thing to paint them with some left over paint on the palette. I like the way it stands tall. I have been wondering about the significance of shadows----like in Limbourg's Book of Hours, they signify a turn from preoccupation of the spiritual self to a consciousness of more earthly things. A cast shadow can tell so much---time of day, type of light---morning, afternoon, etc.
Back to transcending materials...while I appreciate it, I have no desire to create trompe l'oeil paintings. I love the surprises of paint too much to want to have complete control over it. Like when an edge appears unexpectedly. Or when the abstraction of brushstrokes is just pure fun.
I do enjoy painting realistically sometimes...there is a certain magic to making something look real. But it's that sense of play that keeps me coming back to the studio. The idea that I don't know what's going to happen, and sometimes my time there is spent mapping new territory.