The Flowery Cake Shoppe of Compromise

A compromise is the art of dividing a cake in such a way that everyone believes he has the biggest piece.

 — Ludwig Erhard

for Mick's mum
I talked myself into an ambiguous state in my last post. See, although it is just a painting in exchange for some canvas that Mick probably would have thrown away if I didn’t take it, I have to admit that I wanted Mick & Mother to really love the painting. I wanted him to feel that the debt had not only been repaid, but had been handsomely recompensed. I wanted to give him something that was a little better than what he was expecting.

When I sat down with a resigned sigh to start the painting, I knew that I would do my best to produce something that ticked all the conventional “Still Life With Flowers” boxes.

Untitled

As it turned out, I managed to strike a compromise between those conventions, my technical limitations, and my abhorrence of a certain kind of impasto oil painting with soft-edged, ruffle-daubed, faintly muddy-colored and impressionistic flowers. I was so out of my depth, tackling this subject matter, that I really thought long and hard about what I wanted, and how it should look.

When I am unsure of myself, I tend to splat a lot of gunky paint on, every color I have, aiming for “texture” and “interesting” messes, hoping that I will manage to “save” it all at the end by some well-placed motifs and a bit of stitching; these are leftover bad habits from the scrapbooking/mixed-media school of art that was such a rage for a few years. My approach is usually very heavy-handed and, yes, why not say it?…lazy. I’m too lazy to think things through, to pay attention to composition, values, line, and order; and the rare times when I do, I drop them all by the time I have the brush in my hand—and then spend as many hours trying to cover my mistakes up with yet more paint, ending with a really hopeless sludge of splatters and childish shapes, the color of mud.

Untitled

I was so determined to steer clear of this approach, here, and so I very atypically kept to a strict palette of about 5 colors. I took three separate photographs—two of flowers growing around the yacht club, one of an empty olive oil bottle in my kitchen—and used them to sketch an arrangement. I decided on liquid acrylics with some gloss medium for glazing, and aimed for a painting that evoked watercolours rather than oil paints, leaving areas of white canvas exposed to serve as the highlights, rather than painting them in later (which never quite works)…I wanted the whole painting to be simple, almost graphic, in its shapes and colors. I wanted clean hues, with lots of transparency and the illusion of light through glass and water. At the last minute I rejected the idea of patterned tablecloth or lace-curtain backgrounds, and I am so glad that I put a very pale, neutral background in, instead, as it doesn’t compete with the rest and the feeling of the painting remains one of clean spaces and light.

*breathes out in relief* Surprisingly (to me) the time I devoted to really thinking very hard about what I wanted, until I could see it in my head, and what I woud have to do to get that look, paid off in the end…because the washes were kept thin, translucent and minimal, the actual working time of this painting was about 6 hours, not counting drying time…and no time spent covering up, scraping back, or trying to right any wrongs with cheap tricks.

This experience has been another valuable lesson to me! I am pretty sure that Mick will be happy with it, and I am happy with the way it turned out, myself. Many big wobbling slices of pink and white cake for everyone!

Growing up with the right values…

A dancing fox spirit in form of a woman...

Fox Spirit

Color in a painting has tremendous emotional impact…I love using colors, so much that often all I can see is the dazzling juxtaposition of color—wanting to use them all…wanting that vermillion to sit and glow beside a deep bluish green, enjoying the way a reddish gold pulsates next to a stormy Payne’s gray—and forget to take care of my values.

Values are the spectrum of light to dark in a painting. It is the use of different values that gives an object in a painting its form, its depth, its solidity…not colors. To see this at work, open a photograph in a photo editing program, and turn the color saturation up to 100%. The result is painful to the eyes. With every color saturated and glowing brilliantly, the solidity and form of the painting recedes.

It’s important to remember that every tube of paint has a value…dark red and dark green may be on opposite ends of the color spectrum, but in terms of value they are both on the very dark end of the value scale. Too many colors of the same value will result in a heavy, uniform, rather lifeless and shapeless painting…and often, because the colors themselves are so different from one another, you won’t be able to see or understand why your painting seems so flat, so “washed out” or “dark” or “leaden”. Our eyes often become so overwhelmed by the interplay of colors that we become unable to accurately identify their values.
color oversaturation

Now desaturate the image all the way to black and white. Even without color, it’s easy to identify shape and form in the photograph. It still works. So if my initial pencil drawings (with paper standing in for lights, some sort of wash to indicate greys, and a heavy marking for the darks) don’t look balanced or clear, there isn’t much chance that adding color will ‘fix’ things. If anything, it’ll just make the illustration more confusing. A good thing to bear in mind. It pays to make thorough grayscale studies, if you’re in a hurry or don’t like scrubbing back, covering over, and strating from scratch too often.

values

I’ve started using a quick way to keep tabs on my values as I paint. I take my simple point-and-shoot camera, set it to black and white, and take a photo at every stage of the painting. You could then upload to a laptop for viewing, though I usually don’t bother…the viewing screen on the back of most Canon cameras (even the el cheapo ones) is usually big enough to look at the shot straight off. This allows me to keep an eye on what my values are doing. I can see right away if my painting is starting to get an allover dark treatment, if my subject is slowly disappearing into the background behind her with every burnt umber glaze I give her. I can see where a light outline might be necessary, or something needs to be brought back up to a lighter shade. I can also immediately see whether the way I have applied highlights and shadows to the subject makes it real, makes it solid, or if I have gone and put different shadows in all the wrong places, so that the light doesn’t actually come from one source, as it probably should. But even when I am not trying to paint realistically

—because painting is not about copying objects in the world so accurately that “it looks just like a photograph”…bah, what do you think a camera is for, then? Before the camera, sure, people wanted a way to document their lives, their wealth, their surrounds, and painters did that for them…but now that cameras are as common as sinks, painting has been freed from that slavish documentary role, and can finally exist for its own sake. Folks who think that ‘realistic’ determines whether a painting or drawing is good or not should go back to mowing the lawn or watching Find My family, and leave art alone. Rant over.—

…I keep an eye on values for the liveliness and movement within the painting. A dynamic balance of lights and darks, quietly leading the eye from one part of the painting to another, can give it that energy. Think Jackson Pollock. You could accidentally tip forward into one of his paintings, and might be falling forever…there’s so much space behind, inside his paintings.

All of which real painters know, and I’m not a real painter, so forgive me if I presume to spout off about some basic knowledge that I, myself, have only just stumbled upon. But if I didn’t know it before, maybe someone else will find it new, too. And these things can apply to any art or design that involves form and color…embroidery, for example. Not everything I’ve done was checked for values, and I still went ahead and made a ton of mistakes, even knowing about ‘the values thing’…like I can see in this painting that her big blooming rose of a head is the same value as the background wall…and her yellow skirt could have been a little lighter, or patterned to stand out from the background some more, too. I might make a few minor changes, but time’s a’flying, so I can only hope the next painting will be better.

Look, I made a hat…

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you shall above all things be glad and young

For if you’re young,whatever life you wear

it will become you;and if you are glad

whatever’s living will yourself become.

Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:

i can entirely her only love

whose any mystery makes every man’s

flesh put space on;and his mind take off time

that you should ever think,may god forbid

and (in his mercy) your true lover spare:

for that way knowledge lies,the foetal grave

called progress,and negation’s dead undoom.

I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing

than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance

e.e. cummings

So, you see, there really was a hat that I was working on…a pretty fancy one, too, with a golden cage and a fabulous bird inside it. The bird has built a nest of the dapper man’s hair (and probably poops all over his head, as well, but I won’t paint that. Heh.)

I started on this painting today, and it’s fairly galloping along. I have learned so much from the previous paintings about working with acrylics, I hope that the ease and speed with which I get my ideas down and start to flesh them out, now, is a sign that I am finally—finally!—understanding a little bit and gaining proficiency in this medium.

Christ, it’s about time, too, don’t you think? Crazy woman’s having an exhibit, and she’s bloody learning how to paint! Ridiculous.

Reading Monsoon Dervish…

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Started another painting this morning…it went pretty quickly and I managed to get quite a lot of the tougher bits done by the time the sun was setting in the West and I couldn’t see to paint anymore.

The picture above is just a detail…with my exhibit coming up, I have got to stop showing every finished painting on my blog, or there will be nothing left to surprise visitors to the opening night with!

Why, yes, I am being coy…there will be paintings you haven’t seen yet, so if you live in Darwin and are reading this blog, you want to get your butt over to the Woods Street Gallery, DVAA in the City on November 4, Friday at 6 PM. In the other gallery will be the super talented artists of Jackson’s Drawing Supplies, and you KNOW they’re always making amazing stuff (and god I envy that they work inside a yummy art supplies shop!) so this is a double-show you don’t want to miss!

*whew!* Okay, spiel done, back to this painting…

The reason I had to post even just a detail is that I am so pleased and proud of this “book made of ocean and sky”…with a tiny Kehaar (that’s the boat Kris has gone sailing away on) pushing through the waves. I also love how the waves spill off the book and onto an area of my writing desk. I struggled with this bit, because it was pretty much fantasy, unlike the other objects, which I could set in front of me and draw studies from. I have to say it has turned out almost as good as I imagined it, and that’s very unusual for me, so I am squealingly pleased. The book could only be Kris’ self-published Monsoon Dervish, an account of the 11 or 12 years he went sailing, from Darwin to Madagascar, Zanzibar, Sri Lanka, Hong Kong, Japan, Vladivostok, Pusan, Sarawak, and The Philippines, where we met.

I listened to Sting’s album Symphonicities while painting this…and got a shiver everytime I heard The Pirate’s Bride (because  I am missing my seafaring love, as always…you know I wouldn’t be painting something like this if I weren’t!)

Huntsman and quarry

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I too beneath your moon, almighty Sex,
Go forth at nightfall crying like a cat,
Leaving the lofty tower I laboured at
For birds to foul and boys and girls to vex
With tittering chalk; and you, and the long necks
Of neighbours sitting where their mothers sat
Are well aware of shadowy this and that
In me, that’s neither noble nor complex.
Such as I am, however, I have brought
To what it is, this tower; it is my own;
Though it was reared To Beauty, it was wrought
From what I had to build with: honest bone
Is there, and anguish; pride; and burning thought;
And lust is there, and nights not spent alone.

—sonnet from Huntsman, What Quarry? (1939) by Edna St.Vincent Millay

Painted this in one afternoon. I’m going through my “unrequited lust” stage, now…this always happens when Kris has been gone a month or two. Who would believe the dramatic episodes that a woman living alone can go through? Funniest part about it is that, on the surface of things, life continues in its normal way. I go to work, I meet friends, I shop for cat food and apple juice. But my libido is in turmoil, and my demented nights seethe with a sexual appetite that unnerves me. I tend to drink alone a lot, at this stage, and play a lot of velvety-voiced jazz, and dance in the dark with my arms wrapped around myself, and read feverish poetry, and fantasize. Some nights I feel like screaming with the frustration, and think that I must have an amorous encounter—anything! anything!—or throw myself overboard! I feel like a teenager. Or a cat in heat. Hence the painting, and the fragment of sonnet (that I painted from memory and have only just realized I got wrong…it’s “nightfall” not “midnight”).

It seems so ridiculous when I write about it, and right now I laugh at my histrionics, but believe me, I’ve spent quite a few sleepless nights staring at the moon this past week, thinking that if someone perhaps came along in the dark now, I might devour him. Would I? Not really…I still possess a shred of reason, and that’s always been enough to prevent me from doing something really stupid. But god, I ache for some serious lovin’!

The ground, so solid and dependable just a few weeks ago, suddenly seems like a soft, treacherous film floating on a swamp. It’ll pass, it always does (maybe it was last week’s full moon?) but until then, I tread softly! And paint, paint, paint…

Lady Luck…shining like a saint, tattooed like a sailor.

Lady Luck

Marita Albers just posted a new painting, Lady Luck, on her blog. I think this is just so beautiful…reminds me Russian icons, the circus, and the fantastic tales of Angela Carter…really, it’s this sort of work by Albers that I mean when I say that I would love to get my hands on one of her pieces; but I don’t think I can afford paintings right now, and so I trade my journals for her plush cats. Don’t get me wrong, I love my Mushroom Kitty! But it’s Marita’s paintings that burn with a lighthearted fire.

She’s got this painting at her house right now (so she says on her blog)…

I am seriously contemplating an art heist in her part of the neighborhood. But man! she’s got tough security! Her evil hench-chickens roam vigilantly around her garden and inside her house at all hours…

Cinderella the Chicken

Yes, the chook’s name is Cinderella, but I mustn’t underestimate the danger of this mission. Look at that mean eye! I need a fabulous fox assassin…

via midnight in the garden of evil knievel

Moulin D’Or…in thread and paint

moulin

Part of the set that includes the green camera embroidery is this work-in-progress embroidery of the old Zassenhaus Mokka Kaffeemühlen that my Dad gave to me 11 years ago.  I love it, and the steady crunching sound that it makes as it grinds freshly roasted coffee beans into a fine, fine powder.  Still works perfectly, though it must be around 45 years since he bought it in Germany.

I don’t know how I feel about the embroidery, yet, though I suppose it will look okay when more of the ground has been worked. The colors and pattern were chosen with less confidence than those of the camera, I felt.

moulin d'or

I wanted to explore other treatments of the same subject, so I started a painting today, as well…this as far as I got, starting at around noon today. Happy so far, though that pink horizon line is too far up. Already I like this painting better than The Sulking Chair. Trying not to be so heavy-handed this time…keeping the touches, the colors, the movements light, light, light…dancing over, just kissing the canvas…here, there…moving around and not brooding over any one detail.

(And yes, that is a tree on our deck…it’s about 2.7 meters (9 feet) tall now: a Moringa olifeira…Filipinos eat the leaves, they’re fantastically loaded with vitamins and minerals. I never make a soup or curry without throwing handfuls of the small dark-green oval leaves in. Yum!)

moulin d'or

picture of a contemporary Zassenhaus coffeemill in beechwoodNote: Zassenhaus of Germany is still producing its wide range of fine and beautiful Kaffeemühlen for the discerning coffee connoisseur, and each mill’s metal components are guaranteed for 25 years. German craftsmanship, what a wonderful thing in this Made-in-China-today-throw-away-tomorrow world.

I still like my 50-year-old one better, though…the wood has darkened with use, and the knob is shaped like a little mushroom.

12 Days of Painting on Flagler Street

And since I’ve got painting on the brain these days, here’s some painting news that has inspired me to try and work more spontaneously, more expressively, and to create pieces that dialogue among themselves, that converse with each other:

Up and coming talents,  Annie Blazejack and Geddes Levenson, mounted a show of 728 paintings all based on the idea of triangular numbers.  For twelve hours a day, twelve days straight, they churned out painting after painting beginning on Day One with (78)  nine minute paintings each and ending on Day Twelve with (1) twelve hour painting a piece, each time responding to what the other had created. Read More

This thrills me…it’s not just the 728 paintings—many of which look great, fresh, uncontrived and have this irresistible “of-the-here-and-now” edge—but what obviously must have been an energizing, exciting, amazing experience for the two artists. To work at that pace (78 nine-minute paintings!) and in immediate response to the ongoing work of a partner, must have opened each artist up so much…the faster and more often you draw from that well of creativity and playfulness, the faster the well fills and overflows, or at least that’s how I sense it. What a great way to evict the ego and start the flooding of ideas and images and expression!

*sigh* Love.

via Flagler Arts Space