Old World Swine

Cut Pears - Revised

I made some small but important adjustments to the drawing on this piece, which you can compare to the previous version, if you care to.

Sometimes you have to live with a painting for a at least a few hours or days (or even weeks) before certain things become apparent. In this case, I thought that a few fairly minor changes could strengthen the image, so I made them, even though it required a little work. Removing paint can be a dicey proposition, but as the pigment was still fairly wet, it wasn't a huge problem.

I have a worn down, fuzzy brush that, when moistened with turpentine, makes a fairly good tool for removing unwanted paint... sort of like an eraser. Then it was a matter of painting over those areas to make the corrections.

It can be a tough call, at times, whether to just let a painting go (it never wil be perfect), or to wade back in and make some changes. Thrashing, overworking or just general purposeless fiddling will ruin a painting. However, if I see something I can do that I know will strengthen the painting, I never want to be afraid to go in and take the risk of maybe making things worse.

I got ahead of myself and posted this one before I had really had the chance to live with it long enough to see it. Seeing a painting from different angles, different distances, in various kinds of lighting, is an indispensible part of the process of assessing its strengths and weaknesses. You may spot something important just walking by (in my case, probabably on the way to the fridge).

Cut Pears

 
Oil and alkyd on wood panel - 8"x10"

Lent is coming just as I'm (again) getting very interested in painting food of all kinds.

Oh, well. Painting food is one way to enjoy it without moving into a new pants size, and at least pears are healthy. My Relaxed Fit jeans have been growing tense and irritable, as it is.

What I'm Mostly Up To Right Now

Like I indicated in my last post, I've been doing a number of commissioned portraits, lately, and this is one. It is work I enjoy a lot.

I was so glad that the customer let me paint this particular image (from a photo). She had submitted several, but this had a wonderful atmosphere to it. The others would have turned out well, but this has a little something extra that makes it a work of fine art as well as a commercial portrait. The little girl seems so serene, lost in her own thoughts... and importantly, she is not looking at the viewer, so it seems much more like a painting and less like a painted copy of a posed photo.

I have had some others that I have been very pleased with, and that the customers were very pleased with, but this is one for the portfolio.

These have kept me busy and have generated some needed income and, as I say, I enjoy the work. Between this, church and family activities and The League of Bearded Catholics... I'm kept hopping.

Finally, a New Still Life

One thing and another has kept me from still life painting for a while (doing commissioned portraits, mainly), so I'm glad to be back at it, at least in a small way. This is 8" x 10", oil on panel, and destined for a gallery.

At least in terms of composition, this is headed toward where I want to go. I have always liked the idea of objects that pass beyond the picture boundary, and I think some of my best pieces have been composed that way. The self-contained central tableau of much traditional still life I find a bit confining, now, and a little artificial. Too tidy.

Besides, this gives the sense that the main subject of the painting is just part of a much larger universe, which is the truth of any depicted scene, even if it appears to be complete in itself. Allowing objects to pass out of the picture (cutting them off, as it were) reminds the artist and the viewer that what appears in the picture is only a tiny, briefly captured sliver of the world.

It also makes for more interesting composition in an abstract sense.

Pope B16 Talks to Artists

How do you get an invite to something like this? Meeting with the Holy Father in the Sistine Chapel. Wow.

Indeed, an essential function of genuine beauty, as emphasized by Plato, is that it gives man a healthy “shock”, it draws him out of himself, wrenches him away from resignation and from being content with the humdrum – it even makes him suffer, piercing him like a dart, but in so doing it “reawakens” him, opening afresh the eyes of his heart and mind, giving him wings, carrying him aloft. Dostoevsky’s words that I am about to quote are bold and paradoxical, but they invite reflection. He says this: “Man can live without science, he can live without bread, but without beauty he could no longer live, because there would no longer be anything to do to the world. The whole secret is here, the whole of history is here.”

Read the whole thing, if you get a chance.

(Hat tip to reader Jim Janknegt, via Facebook)

Here They Come a-Caroling...

Ignorance & Want

I wouldn't ordinarily post on anything related to Christmas this early in the year... goodness knows, I've just now put the yacht into dry dock and hung up my seersucker suits. But I see in the news that the garn-teed Christmas blockbuster A Christmas Carol came out this past weekend, and is making big at the box office, though not as big as some studio execs had hoped.

Personally, it's not one I'm all hopped-up to see. Dickens' A Christmas Carol has been interpreted so many times, and there are so many versions that I already enjoy, that one more just isn't of much interest unless it offers to bring something really unique and special to the table. As I'm not one who is normally bowled over by special effects as such, I'm just kind of ambivalent about this new Robert Zemeckis movie. I haven't seen it, though, so there's always a chance I might change my mind.

One of my favorite versions is a couple of major epochs behind in terms of animation technology, but is one I still find stunning in many ways, simply because of the expressive artistry.

The one I'm talking about is the Oscar-winning, animated version directed by Richard Williams, and executive produced by Chuck Jones (though you might never guess it), released in 1971. I remember seeing it as a boy on a black and white television, and I was absolutely dumbstruck by the artwork.

Williams and Jones and their team of animators made a tremendously beautiful film by forgetting about making a pretty or a happy-Jingle-Bells-y kids' film. They stripped all the modern holiday fluff from the more stark passages of Dickens' tale and let it be itself, and yet brought their own interpretation to Dickens' powerful visual metaphors. I only wish that it was longer, like feature-length... instead of being only 28 minutes.

Much of the film is more or less conventionally animated, but many scenes appear to make full use of the most basic drawing tools, exploring the raw emotive power of charcoal or pencil. I only recently re-discovered this animated version, and was almost disappointed that it was in color. I may just go to the MENU button on my TV remote and turn off the color, if I can buy a copy on VHS.

Meanwhile, you can watch it on YouTube, which I consider to be like a promo for an eventual DVD release. It is also available on VHS through Amazon.

Finished Commission

 
 

This is the finished painting of the project I posted about on Friday. Just my usual amateur photo skilz. There is some surface glare and the colors aren't quite "on", but close enough for jazz.

Though it was different than a lot of the commissions I've done in the past, I was taken with the subject right from the get-go. What I like is that there is so much going on, so many layers of meaning in what is, really, just a family snapshot. If Norman Rockwell had painted this picture, we would have had to listen to critics yammering about how it was a cliche, a staged and sentimental paean to a vision of America that never really existed.

Except that it did exist, and in some places and families it still does.

The two gentlemen in the picture are the patron's grandfather and great-grandfather, and the great-grandfather is seen reading the scriptures aloud. For the purposes of this post, we'll just call them Father and Son.

One thing that strikes me about the image is that it runs counter to the modern myth that the lot of the children is inevitably to rebel against the parents. There have, shockingly enough, always been families wherein the children really wanted to grow up to be like the parents, where adulthood meant to the young something solid and enviable, and where the old were venerated because they were old. There was mutual affection and respect between this Father and Son that is appreciated and even cherished two generations later.

There is so much great subtext here, but I hate to blather about it. It's a bit of family history that also gives a glimpse into national history, and maybe all histories, which seem to run in cycles, after all.

The New Dappled Things is Here!

The new Dappled Things is here!... This is the kind of spontaneous publicity I need! My name in print! That really makes somebody! Things are going to start happening to me now!

How do I know all this? Well, I got an awesome message from Dappled Things. How did I know it was an awesome message, even before I read it? Because the title line read "An Awesome Message from Dappled Things"!

To wit:

Dear Tim,

 

The new issue of DT, the one featuring your painting, is now online! Thanks again for sharing your work with us. I thought maybe you might want to use the humorous message below to tell your readers about the new issue.

 

God bless,

 

Bernardo

 

------------------------------------

 

Hi, this message is all about ninjas Dappled Things,* THE NEW ISSUE OF DAPPLED THINGS. This message is awesome. My name is Bernardo and I can’t stop thinking about the new issue. This issue is cool; and by cool, I mean totally sweet.

 

Facts:

 

1. Dappled Things is made by mammals. Rational mammals.

2. Dappled Things is awesome ALL the time.

3. The purpose of Dappled Things is to flip out and kill bad writing.

 

The new issue’s weapons and gear:

 

1. Fiction by best-selling science fiction writer John C. Wright, as well as an interview with him that you will LOVE—if you know what’s good for you. “Oh, what’s the big deal?” you foolishly ask. Fine, I’ll give you a sample. But if you don’t like it, there’s no hope for you, and you need to go away and read some Dan Brown. Here is a totally sweet passage:

I first noticed the angel across the platform when I went in to buy my ticket. Admittedly, the sight made me nervous. I nonchalantly tried to keep him in view and I even bought a newspaper so I could hide my face while staring, just like a spy in a bad sitcom.

2. Killer stories by Tony France, Fiorella de Maria, and Gerald C. Matics.

3. Ninja outfit Sweet new cover design.

4. Essays that will explode your brain with their awesomeness, like Michael L. Ortiz’s “Some Remarks on Autism and Catholicism” or the second part of Eileen Cunis’s “On the Vocation of the Christian Artist.” In his sweet essay, Mr. Ortiz, who has Asperger Syndrome, gives us a window into his mind:

The first thing that some people notice upon meeting me is that I do not make eye contact. This is not because I am shy or devious; eye contact simply overloads my senses and makes me unable to think. To me, eyes are like the sun, which blinds by its excess of light. Furthermore, faces refuse to resolve themselves into recognizable composites for me: they remain mere assortments of features. . . . Sometimes I fail to recognize acquaintances, and sometimes I mistake strangers for friends. I once recognized my wife’s nose from a distance in a crowded public place, well before I realized that my wife was attached to it.

If you don’t think that sounds like a TOTALLY COOL essay, then go away and sit at the loser’s table, ’cause you obviously don’t have a clue.

 

5. Poetry and art so absurdly strong that they’ll leave you weeping like a little girl. Yeah, that’s right. Run to Mommy.

 

The new issue is so crazy and awesome that it flips out ALL the time. I heard that there was a copy of the new issue that was eating at a diner. And when some dude split an infinitive, the copy killed the whole town. (Metaphorically.) My friend said that he saw a copy totally uppercut some kid just because he didn’t understand that beauty is the enjoyment that comes from the contemplation of being.

 

And that’s what I call Ultimate Literary Power!

 

If you don’t believe that the new issue of Dappled Things has Ultimate Literary Power, you better get a life right now or it will chop your head off! (Intellectually.) It’s an easy choice, if you ask me.

 

Also, the new issue (and every issue) is soooo sweet that you need to buy a subscription now for all of your friends. I can’t believe how good it is sometimes, but I feel it inside my heart. This issue is totally awesome, and that’s a fact. It is fast, smooth, cool, strong, powerful, and sweet. I can’t wait to read all of it. I love Dappled Things with all of my intellect (including my aesthetic sense).

 

Q and A:

 

Q: Why is everyone so obsessed about Dappled Things?

A: Dappled Things is the ultimate paradox. On the one hand, it doesn’t care for the fads and fallacies of contemporary culture, but on the other hand, it’s at the cutting edge.

 

Q: I heard that ninjas the editors of Dappled Things are always cruel or mean. What’s their problem?

A: Whoever told you that is a total liar. Just like other mammals who love good writing, the editors can be mean OR totally awesome.

 

Q: What do issues of Dappled Things do when they’re not killing fallacies or flipping out?

A: Most of their free time is spent flying, but sometimes they build cathedrals. (Ask Matthew Alderman if you don’t believe me.)

 

If you are ready for Ultimate Literary Power, then come to our website now. Don’t come if you liked Confessions of a Shopaholic. (SERIOUSLY.)

 

Sincerely in Christ,

 

Bernardo Aparicio García

President, Dappled Things

 

* Editor-in-Chief’s Note: The hardworking, fun-loving, and (figuratively) nunchaku-wielding staff of Dappled Things takes no responsibility for injuries incurred by a too literal reading of the comparison of utterly awesome literary writing’s effect on the mind to that of ninjas on the body. Any resemblance to actual ninjas, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Commission in Progress

Spotty blogging this week is because I have been busy getting some of my work into an area gallery (finally), and because I have been working on a commissioned portrait.

Since I don't have anything very earth-shaking to say today, I'll just leave you with the pictorial evidence of progress on my commission. The painting is from a photo provided by the patron, which is something I am happy to do if the photo is good enough to make a good painting. I have turned down some commissions of this kind because there was just not enough there to work with.

The photo has what I think is a kind of Norman Rockwell-ian charm to it, and the image as a whole - without, I think, overstating - is kind of iconic. Like Rockwell's paintings, it depicts a piece of American life that most will agree has been disappearing, and that cynics like to think never really existed.

I'm anxious to finish this one, so I had better get back to my easel...

Berried in Work

Berries and heavy cream... and a little sugar.

Sorry for the light blogging over the last week or so. I have been hustling making contacts and doing self promotion, trying to scare up something like a steady income with this art gig. That end of the art biz has always been difficult and not something to which I am naturally inclined or motivated to do. I have to stir myself up and put on my salesman hat... or my plaid Herb Tarlek coat, as it were.

But, I have had some encouraging response and have finally taken the step of being represented by a gallery. It only a small, local gallery, but showing locally is an idea I like, even if I add some better known and commercially successful galleries as I go... which I need to do.

I'm also taking steps to move toward more explicit religious imagery in my work, and stepping into a role as a Catholic illustrator and fine artist. It is what I have always wanted to do (since I became a Catholic, anyway), and I'm a little surprised at myself that it has taken me this long to get started. I can count the number of truly religious images I have done on one hand. I expect that Paul N. and some others will have an opinion on that, and I look forward to hearing them.

Suffice to say that I do believe there is a meaningful and healthy difference between religious art and non-religious art, between craft, design, illustration and fine art, and that there is an important role for each and all of these things (and a great deal of potential overlap, as well). Saint Francis said, "Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.". To do explicitly religious art and illustration is simply to recognize that sometimes it is necessary to "use words", to speak plainly and openly, even as one tries to preserve the mystery and profundity that should characterize such work.

Simultaneously, my thinking about the direction of my still life art has been undergoing a change and I have been stewing and mulling and meditating on that, getting the creative equivalent of a deep breath before taking the plunge into articulating a different point of view... actually, articulating in a more mature and fully realized way a point of view I have carried with me since I was a graduate student. More on that soon.

Anyway, the pictures above illustrate what we did this past weekend. We took Darling Daughter and went berrying, getting about eight pints of organic raspberries in an hour-and-a-half of delightfully leisurely picking. Perfect afternoon for it, and the great thing about picking your own berries is that you get to play The Berrying Game.

Oh, you can buy berries in the grocery store, but then you don't get the entertaining challenge of spying out the really good, ripe berries. You don't get to weave your hands in and around the thorny branches, like some kind of leafy, pointy version of Operation (Bzzz!). You don't get to learn anything about the habits of bees, or get to develop your Bee Whispering skills. You don't get to race anyone to see who can pick faster (though if you spy out the last pint of berries at the grocery store, you may end up racing someone who also spied it).

More than just a great time or an afternoon's distraction, our berry picking excursion was the kind of fully-orbed human experience that becomes a meaningful memory (if a small one). I like to think it cancels out and heals a little bit of the time I have spent channel surfing or aimlessly poking the cold ashes of the internet in the wee hours.