figures and Matisse

I am experimenting with figure painting and how I might turn a sketch from life drawing into a painting. This is a new piece and as I painted it, I was thinking of Matisse and his wild use of color and curved lines for figures.

22 x 30 acrylic on BFK

Here is an inspiring video showing many paintings of Henri Matisse. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I have!

steps toward amazing

90 second gestures

90 second gestures

Gesture drawings are fast impressions of a pose or a mood, a quick map of the twist and weight of the pose. I think that these drawings are fun. Whimsical. Charming. Gesture drawings are my favorite kind of figure drawings.

15 minute drawing

20 minute drawing

When drawing the longer poses, I still want to capture the energy of the gesture drawing and then correct the shapes and angles of the drawing to match the model's pose. It's hard to know when enough is enough. In the 20 minute drawing, I was especially concerned to get the right alignment of the head to the shoulders and knees. Somehow, that made the model look more like an old fashioned television antenna! I wonder if she gets good reception...

25 minute drawing

I continue to look at ways to vary my mark making. All of these are done with the same piece of charcoal, the trick is to vary the pressure, to use both the side of the stick and the point to get a different character in the line. In the 25 minute drawing above, the model moved her head as I drew so that it sank lower to her chest. I smudged the old position out and drew in the new position as I saw it. These corrections make this one of my favorite drawings.

Figure drawing feels like jazz to me. It's all about improvising and responding to what's going on in the room and in me.

Chick Corea and Gary Burton "Eleanor Rigby."  The melody is well known (especially to Beatles' fans), but when these two musicians wrap themselves around it, amazing!

doing differently

"Automatic marks are deadly to a painting or a drawing." Bill Park, 2013

These words continue to bounce around in my mind, days after the workshop. They stick with me because they apply so directly and uncomfortably to my work. Both with painting and with drawing, there are times when I stop observing and let my know-it-all rational brain take control. Instead of looking with fresh eyes, concentrating as if I'm completely unfamiliar with the subject, I start thinking things like, "the hip juts out here like this, the calf curves out like so" and my marks look different. Unconsidered. Boring. Deadly.

To hold the focus of mindfulness takes a lot of concentration and determination. And self-awareness.

From start to its current state, this painting has been an exercise in doing differently. I began with an intention to create texture within a blue/green/gold color field. My first orange figure marks started with a monoprint from another painting. I followed what interested me, and kept things moving with energy and excitement. No automatic marks.

One of the most exciting benefits of taking a good workshop is coming away with new ideas. The challenge is to not slip back to old habits and automatic ways of doing things.

Doing differently. I like it!

Melody Gardot does it with "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." That's what I'm talking about. I have never seen a cello played like a guitar before this!

that's how the light gets in

acylic on canvas, 28 x 22

During the course of a great workshop, I am so busy and electric with new ideas and wild energy, I do not stop and really take in what I have done. It makes the post-workshop days feel luxuriously lazy and contemplative.

I just completed "Painting the Figure," a five day workshop with Bill Park. Into the studio, I unloaded my trunk full of art stuff and hundreds of drawings and spread out my 15 paintings. I am excited by what I see. A new notch up in my understanding of the figure and a freer approach to painting.

acylic on BFK, 30 x 22

I enjoy the complexity of the paintings and the layers of exploration and play. I even like the drips! The painting (above) was an exercise in messing up a piece by painting gestures over the top of the subject.

acrylic on canvas, 28 x 22

As I look around at the work I just finished, I feel a sense of new light on a darkly shrouded subject.

Leonard Cohen "Anthem."

discovery means you don't know ... yet

acrylic and ink on paper

Sometimes I can create a space in my studio where everything vibrates with playful experimentation and discovery. What you see is a portion of a larger piece that is a work in progress. It feels like much more will happen. But I don't what. Yet.

Reminds me of these guys:


Bela Fleck and the Flecktones "Blu-Bop."

monsters under my bed

22 x 30, Sumi and charcoal on BFK

The feelings of desperation and unhappiness are more useful to an artist than the feeling of contentment, because desperation and unhappiness stretch your whole sensibility.   

Francis Bacon (1909 -- 1992)

Santana "Put Your Lights On."

kitchen's full

Company of Women, 22 x 30, acrylic

When I was growing up, holidays were bustling times with lots of people and lots of food.  Prior to sitting down at the table to eat, the group was often divided by sex. The men were out in the garage looking at the newest car, or in the den watching the football/baseball/basketball game.

The generations of women crowded in the kitchen. Sometimes there was room for little girls, too. We watched the rolling of dough, the snapping of beans, the give and take of advice and community. I loved those times when I got to wear an apron and help. Participating in the company of women made me feel grown up and special.

The grandmothers have long passed away. Some of the mothers, too. The little girls have grown up and some of us have families of our own. And I am a grandmother now.

But inside the heart of this grandmother is still the little girl with flour on her fingers, trying to pinch pinwheels from the leftover pie crust.

Cat Stevens "Oh Very Young."

practice, etudes and figure drawing

Jennifer, 90 second gesture drawings

Practice makes a lot of sense to me. When I was just seven years old, I started a lifelong love affair with piano and practice was required. It's funny, I always enjoyed practicing. I liked the discipline of it. I liked the alone time. I liked figuring things out, spotting the hard parts, making notes along the way to guide me and to make it flow.

As I advanced in my piano skills, my practice pieces changed. At my peak, I was practicing with pieces like this Chopin Etude (Op 10 No. 4). It was a sure way to limber up creaky fingers and get blood moving!

With art, practice looks different from scales, arpeggios, and etudes. Practice in art for me looks like lots of figure drawing and figure painting. Each session seems to limber up my creaky observation skills and to get the blood moving toward interesting, dynamic, and more accurate drawings.

Jennifer, 90 second gesture drawings

Looking at these drawings today, I can see that I need to sort out the proportions of the model's behind. With music, I could slow things down, make notes of better fingering solutions, and isolate the trouble area for more practice. With drawing, I will not be able to slow things down, but I can use more sight-size measuring to increase my accuracy.

Jennifer, 90 second gesture drawings

Figure drawings are the etudes of art practice.

painting in the sunshine

Although at 58 degrees it wasn't especially warm, it was still delightful to get out in the sunshine and paint en plein air. In just about another week, these trees will be covered in light pink blossoms.

The Beatles "Good Day Sunshine."

oil in the studio

Mum, 12 x 9, oil

A rainy day last week provided the perfect opportunity to have a friend join me at my studio to paint a still life. You can see Roxanne Clingman's beautiful painting here.

I only recently got back from a road trip to California. The travel time inspired my enthusiasm to practice more with oil paint and put to work the good instruction I have received from Thomas Kitts, Eric Jacobsen, and Elio Camacho.

Speaking of California, I completely enjoyed my time at the Santa Barbara Museum of Art. I saw paintings by early California plein air and Impressionist painters, including work by William Wendt and Collin Campbell Cooper. Just around the block from the museum, at a small art gallery, I was thrilled to see work by Joseph Goldyne. Seeing good art makes me even more excited about making art myself.

Music to paint by on a rainy day: Erik Satie "Gymnopedie #1."