In the Stu-Stu-Studio

I don't blog very much on weekends, either reading or writing, and I'm glad. I try hard to work in some studio time every weekend (though I'm not always successful) and that takes priority over blogging. Lately I have been more disciplined about getting into the studio because I'm edging my way up to launching a painting-a-day art blog. Toward that end, I have a number of small pieces I've finished lately, and the whole project has re-energized my painting, I think.

One reason is that I have found working in miniature (the two smaller pieces below are only 4"x5") to be very liberating. I feel a little more free to experiment and try new techniques, and if it doesn't work out I can just chuck it without a lot of hand-wringing. Some have worked out and some not, but I feel I'm settling into am approach that I like. The two small pieces below represent where I see the small still-lifes going. You may notice a narrative theme (heh).

These and others will be sold on a new painting-a-day blog (via E-bay) for the unbelievably paltry starting bid of $85. (they will be small, but the quality of the work will absolutely be equal to any of my larger pieces).

 

Like I say, this new emphasis has kind of jump-started my painting in general, which brings me to the landscape at the top of the page (called Nymph Lake). You may recall that my daughter and I did some hiking and camping in the Rocky Mountains this summer, around the Estes Park area. I took a metric ton of photos, but had no time to paint on the trip. I've been going through the photos over and over since this summer, culling and pondering and trying to get a handle on how I wanted to approach the subject.

I've always felt that my landscape work lagged behind my still lifes. They lacked confidence, I think, and a coherent approach. The technique and the subject (and my feelings about the subject) just very rarely clicked the way they did with the still life pieces. There was something that I felt in the landscape that eluded all my attempts to express it. For that reason, I was hesitant to start this Rocky Mountain series.

I think Nymph Lake represents a kind of watershed, a turning point in my landscape work, and it happened simply as a result of picking up a different tool; the pallet knife. I had only once before (in my college days) tried painting with a pallet knife, and the result was a famously and comically horrendous self-portrait, still legendary in my family and the stuff of some good-natured ribbing at our (too rare) reunions. Hey, families are the greatest source of humility one could hope to invent... I think that's part of their function, their God-ordained character. Your family knows you're not any flippin' genius.

The knife did two things for me that I think just happen to complement my strengths and challenge my weaknesses (in a good way). First, it more or less forced me to use more paint (which I had been wanting to do, but my attempts to do so with a brush always turned out muddy). Second, it made me give up, to some extent, my obsession with detail and helped me to focus on color and mass and atmosphere. My still-lifes are all about the interaction of light and form. The landscape (for me) is a different animal. It is more about space... like trying to paint the air. Again, atmosphere trumps detail and solid form.

As with all my work, I see a dozen flaws and things I might try to do differently next time, but overall I think this is probably the best landscape I've yet done, which is a big deal for an artist, because the whole idea - the thing that drives all the great painters that I know - is the constant feeling and hope that you're just about to do your best work yet. It's nice when it happens that way. Incidentally, this piece is 12"x16" and is not one of the $85 paintings (sorry!). I haven't set a starting price yet. Gotta think about it.

Comments

[Paul S.]

With the landscape, I can feel the mastery in it - that is, the vigorous handling of it. I absolutely love how you did the transparency of the water, showing the submerged logs, merging directly into the reflected blue and the water lilies. It feels very direct without that cloying heavy-handedness, or over-saturated precision you see in so many landscapes where the transparency of water, or the layers of grass, or the depth of snow, or any other difficult thing to depict becomes a mere technicality for the artist to mindlessly repeat or imitate in his vast ouvre of ability. And while this landscape is fresh it is also deep; most importantly, it resonates.

And the smaller ones, lets just say looking at them makes me want the subjects in front of me for real.

[e.]

Tim J.,

" I'm edging my way up to launching a painting-a-day art "

This sounds rather interesting; yet, could you really produce a painting-a-day without compromising the quality as well as the 'art'?

[Tim J.]

One of the things that drew me to consider the Painting-A-Day thing was that many of the artists I have seen doing it maintain a very high level of quality and creativity. The good artists do very good work very consistently.

The two small paintings above took only a few hours each.

The larger one took perhaps 6 or 7 hours.

The thing about painting is, the more you do it - and the more often you do it - the better you get. It isn't like an artist only has so much art in them. It's more a question of continually developing your skills, your perception, etc...

The painters I know and admire most paint every day (or practically every day).

[e.]

Tim J.,

I defer to you since, clearly, you're an artist whose expertise would know better.

It's just I don't see how one can produce these things each day without running into the errors committed by mass production.

The products that result may end up being but an inferior imitation to the art where much time and thought was uniquely devoted.

[Professio]

Tim,
When I first got to this post, I thought the painting was a photograph. After zooming in, I could clearly see it was a painting, but what a beautiful painting it is. Everything about it is great: composition, lighting, colors, but what I like most is how you were able to give the logs that waterlogged look and the water around them the murky haze you would expect to see.

Stunning. Awesome job.

[Adam D]

the paintings are fantastic! Congratulations.

[Thomas E. Vaughan]

The wine glass is rendered from a perspective that is peculiarly close to the glass. It gives the sense of being very close to the goods.

[J.R. Stoodley]

My two cents for the large painting is that the water struck me, in both the small version and when I clicked on it to see it bigger, as being sharper, clearer than what it was reflecting, which is interesting, though I don't know if it was intended or if it's just me that it looks like that to.

My two cents for the smaller paintings is that like many of the paintings with food and drink as their theme I could see them in a restaurant. I mean that in the best possible way. They would add class to an establishment and they have a way of stimulating the appetite.

[pNielsen]

Your observations on your landscapes in comparison to your still lifes are astute, and I'd agree with them. Your still lifes have always been quite a lot stronger in my opinion.

I quite like your strokes and technique in the landscape above, but feel the composition is still a bit lacking.

I really like the wine glass with cheese.

[ukok]

i love blue cheeses...oh yum, you can keep the wine as i'm a teetotaller, but i could happily gaze at a picture of cheese....yummy!

On a serious note. Your work is brilliant. One of my other arty friends also did the painting a day thing, well actually i think it was more a drawing/pastel a day thinking back, but it is achievable. I think it's important to set yourself a designated time period which you can comitt to, or otherwise you could let people know that you will do it for as long as you have the time and inclination...otherwise you could people saying 'hey where is todays painting!'

[e.]

Tim J.,

Hey, where is today's painting?!

[Bill]

Tim,

Can I just say that I enjoy all of your work, but that Guinness is inspirational. I'm verklempt.

Seriously though, great work and I hope you continue to find the obvious joy your work brings to you. I think a painting a day will serve you, and us, very well.

[Tim J.]

"The wine glass is rendered from a perspective that is peculiarly close to the glass. It gives the sense of being very close to the goods."

That's true, actually. I usually sit pretty close to my setup, and that can tend to give an exaggerated perspective. I'll have to watch that and make sure it doesn't become distracting.

[pNielsen]

Where's a link to the new blog?

[Tim J.]

I haven't actually launched it yet. I'll let you know, believe me.