Odogalisques

I will share a bit of history with green dogs. Here is Curvis, Cathy's dog, circled in red below. Curvis sits in the middle of the cul de sac at Bratton Circle, behind the Beacon restaurant in Oxford. He was a good dog, though I didn't appreciate him at the time. I was a highly distractible and confused law student who hadn't yet let go of the impulse to paint things. So when Curvis barked, which was often, I complained and became unruly. Neighbor Chris, always up for unruliness, joined me to hold Curvis and tint him with some green food dye color. It didn't make him bark any less. Later I did this painting. Apart from the carpet on the tin roof, and the garden stakes on the right, the interesting part is the patchwork of gravel, busted asphalt, and dirt. After putting in the shadows in an underpainting in deep blue, I did a series of quick strokes in cerulean blue, brown, and pale yellow. When it was over I "saw" in these strokes snakes  emerging from the painted gravel and the grass. In the middle of the cul de sac, I added Curvis. 

In this painting below, I didn't paint the actual dog green, just the image on the canvas. I started out painting Nash with a green forehead and torso, but couldn't make this work. Then I painted over it with the browns and maroons.  I am still trying to work out why the green and blue underpainting works with the top coats of fur.. Perhaps it is that the reddish brown complements the green and the brownish maroon is an analog to the blue. I'm sure there is a finer theoretical explanation for it buried in a book or a color wheel. For now I am just happy with the end result. 

I don't have a history with odalisques, sad to say, except for admiring those of Delacroix and Matisse. A couple of friends thought this scene owed something to Matisse, so I cooked up a pun. These dogs can't be called odalisques because these are boys, and not ladies of the seraglio. But they are lounging lazily around on cushions, they do get lots of attention, and the painting style is bright, flat, and filled with  patterns, like some Matisses. So, ok, they are dog odalisques, or odogalisques.

Several years later, my older daughter Meghan asked for a copy of this painting as a birthday present and I obliged. Not something I typically do, but I went for it. I like very much how it turned out.

I actually have a painting from my very earliest days that reminds me a little of this scene. It was of a Weimaraner named Wolfgang asleep on an easy chair in my teenage bedroom. It has a much more subdued palette (plenty of green, just none on the dog) and is the work of someone who had been painting less than 2 years.. 

Analog>Digital>Analog

This painting started on Passover/Easter during a weekend break from my DC travel. The owner was kind enough to allow me to visit his place in Eden for a night and I started a canvas while I was up there.  I had an afternoon and the following morning to get something begun. Turned out the morning light was striking so I had to start over in the morning. This was my first square canvas in a very long time, and it was fairly big for me, 36" by 36".  Here is the view.

At first I was a little under the spell of Hockney's California landscapes which I had seen at the Met early this year. I was using ultra-vivid colors and flat, cartoonish drawing. It was fun to explore for a little bit but it wasn't suitable for me so I pretty much abandoned it all in later work.

A nice aspect was having a trusted old friend quietly looking over my shoulder. Unlike with strangers, I was not defensive about making mistakes or having my privacy stepped on. And boy did I make mistakes. Still, a friendly presence was a great thing. It made me realize how solitary a pursuit painting generally is.

So I packed up what I got started and went to an event in Memphis and then back on the road to DC for more work, and the weeks rolled past without me being able to do much about it for quite a while. In fact, I did the Ft. Morgan overcast scene before I returned to this.

There still is a hint of Hockney's saturated hues in this palette and the winding bank of the lake. But that's about it. I did find a little time before my last trip to DC to work on some refinements at home in the studio. I liked very much the colors on the upper right portion of the scene and it was fun to add a tractor. However the painting had a chronic problem with perspective since nothing in the foreground gives you a clear appreciation of how far down the meadow and lake are from the vantage point. 

While I was traveling, I imported the above scene into a tablet app that I use for sketching and experiments. This was the first time I did an extensive try to complete the painting digitally. I had a good time working with it and enjoyed especially the watercolor effect. I learned a good bit about color mixing that helped when I got back home and worked on the canvas. I could do some reference color checks to see what is the best way to mix some colors. 

Here is where the digital piece stood when I returned from DC. 

With this digital study in hand I had a vision of what I'd like the final state to resemble and so I set about making a series of adjustments and changes on the canvas today. It was generally pretty straightforward. It was great to have worked through all the mistakes in a digital setting where I could erase my problems and start over.   So, with a few variations from the digital version, here is where the canvas ended up. 

This piece is a little more decorative than I usually do, but I still like the overall feel. To help with the perspective I worked the foreground with larger grasses and some stones to give it a different texture. I also added the tractor, the boats, and the fellow fishing from a kayak in the shadow. I used a tool to measure the height of a person on the tractor and then scale the pier and the fisherman.

Below is a video progression of the states of this painting.

Overcast

A strong northern wind swept over Bon Secour Bay under an overcast sky when I started this piece. Christina showed me the location, a path from an abandoned subdivision cul de sac to the north shore of Fort Morgan, near the State Park area. Pelicans, blue and white herons, and a kingfisher set off as I approached. My easel was shaky with a larger canvas (24 x 48) and also unsuitable to hold my regular palette and water, so I simply applied some blue and white directly to the canvas in the center of the sky, and dispensed with the palette.  I started out with a quick Sharpie sketch of the scene and then used a large round brush to work out the lines of the painting and the basic layers.  The round gives a nice graphic quality and the large version tends to encourage a more gestural approach to lines. It also can hold enough paint to do a longer line on a big canvas. This one is 24x48.

I worked out the overall composition just in blue and white longer than I normally would. In the process the landscape became deeper and deeper blue in more locations. I began to add some greens, again applying a quantity of green, orange, and yellow ochre to the canvas, this time in the corner. Instead of pre-mixing, I simply picked up some of the colors and mixed them in place. This produced a few good effects but it also made for some gaudy colors. 

A few people came and went, and I had one blue heron who stayed and watched me for about half an hour.  I had done about all I could after 2 hours and had to deal with the remaining paint on the canvas and so I simply spread the yellow ochre in stripes.  I also had to do something with the remaining blue and white in the sky, so I scrubbed that in. I liked the sky and the windblown look of the trees a lot.

Christina had gathered some wood and shells. I packed up. A side brace on the easel which had cracked earlier broke off. I pulled my things together and started down the trail to the truck. I heard a loud buzzing and a drone came into view overhead and in front of me appeared a team of nosy people in matching t-shirts. On the ferry back across Mobile Bay we met a Quebecois couple and I dredged up my rusty French to visit with them. 

Back home, I had to correct a compositional error. The waterline on the lake to the right was higher than the horizon on the right. I realigned the lakeside waterline by lowering where the fringe marsh entered the water. I also stressed the sharp vertical line on the left side of the lake and reworked the small bit of marsh grass jutting out in the right foreground. 

I used a mixing white thinned out with gel and a small amount of ultramarine blue to create a water surface. After several passes at this, I began to get something that worked. I turned to the bushes, marsh grass,  and trees. I was trying to avoid the gaudy effect of the permanent green that was causing me trouble in another painting I had started. I made a mistake I had made before, which is to do endless variations of green without making them work structurally or have internal logic. This was a particular problem with the fringe marsh grasses. Here is where things stood partway through the day. Still some glam green and a lot of chaos. This is the lesson for me:  nature is far less chaotic than we may perceive. Start with one place and work from point to point, and it becomes clearer.

Later I switched to a set of smaller bright brushes.  I consolidated the fringe grass green into a generally uniform dark green, instead of the permanent green light over ultramarine blue. I also reworked the reflections of trees in the water and the ochre fringe along the far side of the lake. I added in reddish brown trunks and branches to the trees and some earth tone debris along the foreground. Toward the end I lowered the horizon on the right side to open up the trees and emphasize the roughness of the woods. I did very little to change the far horizon or the sky.

This is another scene that stays in the mainstream of what I have done most of my life. I could fault myself for not reaching further, or I could notice that I got this done in 2 days and I was grabbed almost instantly when I saw it. There were few initial decisions to make.  I really enjoyed working with the paint on the canvas as a palette. I don't know how often I'll continue to do it, but it was very convenient.

Painting a Pluton

For close to 20 years, I have tried to capture a really good view from Whiteside Mountain near Cashiers. It's a great location for painting, because the perch is so uniquely situated. it's off the main trail, down between two large boulders and out over a rock face hundreds of feet in the air. 

Some time ago on a little site called Cowbird I described the geology and the experience of painting at this location.  Here is the link (you have to use the navigation arrow to move right and see the text). And here is the image. I like its fresh and loose feel and the sfumato edges of the distant mountains.. But I wish it were a landscape format. It also is tilting off to the right a little too hard, made worse by the off kilter photo.

Here is the view looking out to the east.

Here is an early stage and a final on an earlier version, now lost to the storm. These have nice soft treatments of the tree cover and interesting exposed rock faces, in the distance. But the horizon line was way too high in the scene and the nearby rock faces resembled waterfalls, as my curmudgeonly neighbor back home reminded me. 

More recently,  I began a scene out there and brought it home to finish. Instead of doing so, I set it aside for a considerable time and finally picked it up about a week ago. I'll skip the step by step and just say I tried to find a balance between the two prior paintings, freshness and perspective effects. Here is what I ended up with.

Put In

Again to Fort Morgan and again perched on the back of our pickup truck. I looked out over Bon Secour bay from a location where kayakers and fishermen put in and saw a clear well-lit peaceful scene. I did a sparse underdrawing in gray after putting in some vertical and horizontal thirds. When I started I thought the appeal was going to be the water and sky. 

 I painted paler and thinner colors in the water and middle distance and had darker and more opaque color in the nearest point to shore. Most of this was done with small to medium angle brushes.  For the sky and some of the water I used rounds and brights. This shot's poor quality is because it was taken in the back of the truck bed on the ferry heading home.

Back home the next day, I corrected the horizon and set to work on enlivening the water and sky. I was taken by the darker patches of water where the wind stirred up the surface into an interesting texture. I also wanted to have a vivid sky and so I did some loose brushwork with some unmixed colors. I did a fair amount of work on the nearest point of land, reworking it over and over. I also darkened the patch of shrubbery in the lower right but that turned out to be too much.. 

I deepened the cerulean blue in the sky and did some palette knife work to give the clouds some weight. I also spent a lot of time trying to get the foliage right on each of the strips of land. There is a risk in using the same brush to describe ever further away areas of the painting. The eye doesn't read these as being further away if they are the same basic width and length. I liked the water effect in this stage pretty well.  For scale, I added Christina putting in from shore, but it was immediately clear she and the boat were too small for the surroundings.

To bring this to an end, I had to replace the existing figure with Christina in the kayak coming to shore, eliminate the small sand bar on the left and the shrubbery in the lower right, and do a series of refinements on the sky, water, and greenery fringing the water.  With these changes I got to this point. 

This is another piece that was completed in the studio with less and less dependence upon a reference photograph.

Lately I have been checking the dynamics of the composition by flipping the scene horizontally. A number of times, I find myself more attracted to the flipped version. I am curious if others notice a preference like this as well. 

Bear Down

Sometimes it feels like a scene paints itself. All the work seems preordained and there aren't decisions as such. It just is a matter of putting the brushstrokes and colors where the moment tells you they belong. That is a great feeling and the work done that way has a sense of organic integrity and freshness that is unbeatable. Other times seem weighted down with many problems to solve or gaps between what I can do and what I need to do. I frequently used to paint over scenes that I could not figure out how to complete. So, anyone who has one of my pieces from my twenties possibly has two or three images, one atop another. Lately, I've tried to find a way through to the end, even if it's at the expense of the freshness of the observations at the scene. It's as valuable, maybe even more so, to work through all the puzzles and try new tools as it is to quickly knock something out. It's a matter of self-discipline to find a way to get what I need to make the piece work in some manner.

This painting took me a long time to finish, mainly because I had a hard time matching the tools to the image, but also because I didn't have a clear vision of the end state of the painting, which is pretty typical for me. I started out doing a ultramarine blue underdrawing on a cerulean blue background - 24" x 36". The original drawing got the shapes and volumes of the banks of the river pretty well.  This was painted on top of an overlook that required me to lug gear about a hundred feet up a very, very steep climb. To do the underdrawing, I had to leave behind everything except a brush, a tube of blue paint, some water, and the canvas.  On the way up I was stung by hornets, which put a dent in the old plein air mood.

(Photo: James Tucker)

If I could have preserved anything from the original it would have been something from the first pass at the river. I really liked the transition from brown to yellow ochre to pale ochre, all on top of that blue background. This set of deep blues reminds me of some of the late Cezannes that I like enormously. It would be fun to try this another time as a night scene.

On a second visit with all the gear, I put some paint into the spaces for the trees on the mountainsides using a single brush, leaving the blue underpainting in view. Some I did in the straight green and some darkened, but the overall effect resembled piles of cabbages. I lost the thread of the drawing during this stage. I avoided the hornet's nest this time, sparing myself what would have been a brutal tumble down Paint Rock.

Continuing with the brush, I reworked the right side of the mountains to replace the cabbage with patches to suggest the contours of the slopes in some places and some prominent details of the foliage in others. In all this the colors were just me putting paint up there, not something derived from observation. I was trying to step into a space that is unfamiliar for me, a little in the spirit of John Marin, like the stabs and angles in the lower right corner. This was not a successful step. But a few things started here that survived into later states. First, I reworked the horizon to create a "V" where the two mountains meet. Second, the rock outcroppings in the foreground and middle distance persisted. Third, a few of the efforts succeeded in making the slope shapes. But, all this is done in the crudest manner. The one place I still liked was the water and the island in the lower center of the river.

Getting stuck can make you do some absurd things. My next move was to drop almost everything   I had done to this point and try out some palette knife work with some odd choices for underpainting. Part of this goes back to how I painted one of my more successful views of Mt. Ste. Victoire. The other part may have come from a colored pencil workshop I did with a friend, where we used a random gouache color as a base for our drawing. I also wanted to try a flattened river surface- forget about trying to get the river to look like it's flowing. So, here's what that yielded. 

I almost would have called this last stage a finished product, if I had had the nerve. I liked pieces of this painting a lot, and wanted to work more expressively with a palette knife again. But something left me unsatisfied. It seemed too spasmodic, too easy somehow. Kind of funny considering how much had gone on before. So I lived with this version for a while, but I wanted to get the tree in. It felt like the composition would be incomplete without it. I knew that would be nearly impossible given how chaotic the painting of the mountains behind the tree would be. So I began to imagine a way to keep some of the palette knife and interesting underpainting while getting the crazier parts to tone down enough to let me put the tree in. First I used a thinned out dark green wash to darken most of the right side of the mountain. I also went back in on the rock outcroppings and rendered them in a more traditional style, and from there it spread over the right side of the mountain, and down to the river and the islands. Later I picked up a Sharpie and began to add lines to the rocks and the river.

So then the character of the painting shifted increasingly to a conventional representational work. But what was curious is how many pieces of earlier stages persisted. I added more detail to the mountains, the trees, and the river. I took out the clouds and replaced them with a blue sky.  At some point I remembered there was a railroad that ran behind the trees. I caught glimpses of it as I was painting up there.  I added a railroad line and, above it, a road for traffic. I had a lot of fun working with the deep red browns, blues, and greens on the left side.  With some additional work on the water and some Sharpie details, I brought this to an end. 

This place is called Paint Rock because there were Native American hieroglyphics found here. 

Here is the view from which I worked on this painting. This is another case, similar to the Wolf River painting, where, except for the tree in the foreground,  I depended less and less upon a reference photo.

Over a year later I reworked much of this painting in oils. I never could reconcile myself to that yellow ochre water, even though that’s what it was. I couldn’t render it so that it registered as water instead of a creek bottom or arroyo. So, later, I went over it one more time with oils using a blue and green palette for the water. Then I reworked the island and some key parts of either bank of the river. And I lightened the tone of the sky. Here is how that ended up. I liked the reflection of the left bank in the water and the pink rocks. I also liked the distant rock outcropping after the right bank takes a turn. Right about there it changes from NC to TN. I also like the ridgeline better.

Pruning

At the very beginning, I would take a sketch pad and a pencil or marker into some nearby woods, sit down in the brush, and draw what was right in front of my face without discrimination. I ended up with a lot of scenes of tangled bushes and grasses  as dense and chaotic as what I saw. There was no way in. Later on, I’d aim for the “perfect point of view" but there usually were flaws, things blocked, out of balance, or just unnecessary.  Getting to the point of leaving something out was a slow lesson for me. Like, years. 

Between the holidays, I went out to Delisle and did a scene of the Wolf River. It felt at first like I was regressing into old inspirations and themes- pine trees and bushes, but what I wanted was something to see between and through the pines. I started this one out with a gray under drawing and aimed to keep the colors thin and light. This is on a 24 x 30 canvas.

As I moved ahead all the underbrush in the foreground and middle distance began to tug at me urging me to pay attention to its chaotic half shaped tumble weeds and I went along for awhile even though it obscured the opportunity to express the freedom of travel on the river. This took me to something like this. 

By this time, my time on scene had run out. Back home at the studio I decided to do some pruning. It began by doing the sky and cutting into the tree and leaves in places. At first I did it in a lavender sky but that didn't work and so I went from white to full on cerulean with touches here and there of ultramarine. I put it in with a very small brush that felt a little like Van Gogh at first (regression, maybe, but always plenty to learn) but it didn't have that effect when finished. It felt like the blue was more intense than the yellow green of the trees and was overpowering it, an effect I struggled with in the Bryant Grocery painting. So I darkened the fans of pine needles. The piece came together when I realized I should just clear away everything blocking the house and the horizon. I used the yellow ochre and orange to do the reeds and middle  and part of the foreground. I did some softer greens for the far tree line and added a few blue strokes in the space between the yellow and green. And then I added a sky blue for the water which worked nicely with the yellows and oranges. I painted the whole house, eliminating the two trees on the left side. I used the blue in the canal to push back on and shape some of the clutter and blockage of the underbrush.  I liked the light browns in the trunk and was hoping to hold on to some of those colors along the way. This took me to this point.

I did most all of this without using reference photos. In the final push I added red browns into the trunks and branches, put some notches into the far marsh at the waterline, put in a small road and a figure on the pier in the middle distance and worked on the foreground bushes and saplings for awhile. I used charcoal to add some graphic accents on the pier and the tree trunks.  This got me to here, and here it will stop.