Face

12 x 14
pastel

Finding Andrew

Opening day at the Seattle Art Museum of their exhibit "Andrew Wyeth: Remembrance." I was there with friends, Celeste Bergin and Carolyn Rondthaler. Seven paintings. Each one stunning. Mostly Helga but one of Betsy sleeping in a field with her hat covering her face and their dog nearby. Another of a building and a winter tree, reflections in a cold pond.

The Seattle Times has a review of the exhibit here.

No photography allowed in the museum, but I sat on a bench and watched people looking at the paintings. Some would hover near the descriptive label and spend a lot of time reading about the art and hardly any time looking at the art. Some just walked through the exhibit in a daze, not looking or reading, but watching their partner.

But others got as close to the painting as possible (without setting off alarms or bringing guards to warn and point). How did Wyeth do it? How did he make the hair look real and slightly dirty? How did he paint the smooth skin, the shapely muscle beneath and the sturdy bone all at once?

Beautiful. Light filled. Subtle. Lonely. Quiet.

I will think more about Andrew Wyeth and his work. I am so glad I went to Seattle see these seven paintings with my own eyes. It was water to my artist soul.

Morning Light

Sitting Room
12 x 14, pastel

Death of the King ... of Pop

My sons only knew him as the disturbing caricature of what he became, a celebrity whose appearance was odd and whose behaviors were odder.

But, I grew up with Michael Jackson the star. I knew all the words to "ABC" and "Ben." I danced to "Thriller" and "Beat It" and his other hits. No trip to Disneyland was complete without a viewing of Michael Jackson's "Captain EO," with its theme of how music can change the world. When he was good, he was amazing! His concerts were always sold out. And everyone of my generation tried to Moonwalk.

Rest in peace, Michael Jackson

For the first time

Cresap Bay corrected

Cresap Bay plein air, original

Up until now, I have made it my policy to not touch up my plein air paintings once I get them back to the studio. That idea came from my desire to go out into the landscape and paint beautiful paintings in situ. Plus, if I were to enter a plein air painting show or competition, the requirements usually state that the work must have less than 10% done in the studio.

The result of this practice so far is a large accumulation of mediocre and terrible paintings.

The more I paint, the more I realize that each painting is part of my learning process, a marker for my artistic progress. My personal grade book where I keep track of things for myself only. Who else would be interested in such dull facts, anyway?

I propped up my Cresap Bay painting, from June 16, on the viewing ledge in my studio. I looked at the painting and looked at it. And saw plenty of things that bothered me. And, I decided to change them. After all, I reasoned, it was not a strong painting as it stood, so why not see if I could possibly improve it.

The first thing I changed was the value of the middle ground land forms. I felt like there was too much value shift from the farthest away parts and the middle parts. And, the middle and near land forms were too close in value.

The next thing I changed was the value of the water. I remember while I was painting it the first time that there was more value contrast between the "No Wake" buoy and the water surrounding it, but my hand kept going for the lighter colored pastels. So, I darkened the water in the foreground and middle grounds considerably. That allowed the contrast with the buoy to stand out more.

I need to look at this painting for a while and decide what I think of it now that it has been changed. But, I think it is improved. What do you think?

Buoy

Anchoring Buoy
12 x 14, pastel

Watercolor sketching

Do you know about the Tacoma Narrows Bridge?

Nicknamed "Galloping Gertie" because of this disaster in 1940. You won't believe what you see.

Today, the bridge has just received a beautiful makeover and addition. We motored under it at 9 kts at slack tide.

From the water at Budd Inlet

With art as with literature, point of view is one of the keys that creates interest. I am lucky to have some time on a boat, but first a quick watercolor sketch from the transient dock at Swantown in Olympia, Washington.

From this vantage point, I watched the crows and gulls dig mussels from the boggy tidal flats and then drop their treasures to crack the shells on the rocks below. Great sport for all but the bivalves!

In the Studio yesterday and today

Yesterday was a good day. I painted en plein air at Cresap Bay with my friend, Suzanne. When I came home to my studio, I painted the piece you see to the left. From a photograph I took in the Woodland Bottoms. I like this painting. It has a crisp fall feel to it, just like the day I took the photo. Yes, yesterday was a good painting day.

On the other hand, today was a tough one.

You've heard the word "homicide" to describe the action of killing another human being. If that human is your father, it's "patricide." If your mother, "matricide."

What do you call it when you kill innocent paintings? I am going to have to think of the right word for that, because it describes what I did today. I killed three paintings. In fact, it seemed that I could do no right in the studio.

I will not post crime scene photos of these grisly murders. I will just let you imagine the mayhem of gross dismemberment of value, composition, temperature, color harmony, and so on.

I'll take out my shovel and bury these bodies in the yard.

And hope for a better day tomorrow.