for paint's sake
I'm painting alongside my students in the portrait class I teach on Mondays. And so today, an hour or so into working I put the tattoos in. Margaret laughs when I bring home paintings of tattooed people. She says that I am too squeamish to get a tattoo, myself, and so I vicariously live out my secret desire for tatoos by painting people like Dan. She might be right. James Fenimore Cooper wrote his powerful series of books about early, raw America, while living safely in the confines of genteel Paris- books like the Last of the Mohicans and the Deerslayer. Pretty funny.
Two hours in, day two, and creeping up on the likeness. Paint still thin, a bit timid, as light is yet to come.
Searching for more light. Slathering it on like the spackler that I yam.
I'm really learning how to paint with paint, for paint's sake. If I do say so myself, this painting glows from a distance, and is enjoyable up close. I really feel that I've been growing as a painter these past months.
dan
Dan, 10" x 14", oil on linen
Dan Acosta, one of my very favorite models to work with, is back in my studio. One of my portrait students is painting Dan, and I'm working alongside. Here's a two hour sketch. I think the reason that I like painting Dan so much is because he's such a wonderful, unpredictable blend of opposites. He looks like a bouncer (he is), but he is as soft spoken as a librarian. He looks like an acid metal guitarist (he is), but he is really fond of classical painting. He looks like he fights on a professional wrestling circuit (he does), but he is the biggest momma's boy out there- I know, I met his mother, and she adores him, and says he is the kindest son.
Dan's got the right idea- before he came to my studio the other day, to pose for this sketch, he had been at a professional wrestling match, smashing people into the floor. I'm kind of jealous- there are many times that I'm at various arts clubs and councils and galleries, and alas, I never get the opportunity to smash some of those people into the floor.
the three most beautiful things
The three most beautiful things are- the flow of light over a violin, the underside of a young woman's chin where it meets her neck, and the way that the ears of a young child glow orange-red when the sun sets behind him.
There, I've settled that elusive question of beauty, that has plagued the poets, artists, and writers, and philosophers throughout all time. What a great blog, huh?
margaret and quinn
day two progress, Margaret and Quinn, oil on linen, 14"x 24"
She washes syrup off of their hands, she folds their little shirts, she takes their temperature, she throws snowballs at them, she lifts them, she consoles them, she spanks them, she consoles them, she sings them songs, she buys them trains, she turns on their movie, she orders them to bed, she lets them plant the baby carrots in the garden, she teaches them the difference between parsley and oregano, she teaches them song lyrics, she walks with them to the bus stop, she answers their questions, she searches for their dropped toys on dark streets, she rides them along in the bike, she bakes them cider doughnuts, she makes them Christmas toys, she blasts Billy Joel in the car to drown out their crying, she races them along the beach, she listens to their concerns, she builds them model rockets, she moves the beach umbrella to cover them when the sun travels across the sand, she paints them a wooden toy, she makes them hot chocolate, she sorts their socks, she prays for them, she laughs at their jokes, she cries when their fevers rise, she whispers at night, she pulls the covers over them, she kisses them on the forehead, she closes the door, she checks on them throughout the night.
in progress
I worked on this painting with the model a bit more. The model has a really kind manner, and is well suited for painting of this sort. Initially, I planned to put my wife into this composition, but she's pretty busy with our three boys, and was unable to do so composition this involved.
I plan to bring my youngest baby into the composition, though he has been a bit sick lately. He's okay, but the doctor just told us that he has a double ear infection. The way that my wife holds our baby on the couch at night, and the way that Quinn reaches up to touch her face. Lately, I am so moved by the way that a mother is a covering to her children. In the book of Luke, Jesus says "... how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings..." What beautiful imagery. I'm hoping to get these things into the painting.
blue violin
Blue violin, oil on linen, 34" x 14"
As I head to the studio in the morning, I wrap my violin around my right shoulder, my bag of books and brushes around my left shoulder, and I call from the front door to my boys. They each give me a kiss on the cheek, a hug, and then I say "Don't forget to put the jellyfish on top of the ironing board, so that the papaya can be in the dinosaur's nose", and they say "Don't forget to smush the duck inside of the gingerbread man, so that the jellyfish can be, umm, can be made into jelly," and then both of my boys laugh really hard. It's a sacred ritual, to seal our final farewells with something absurd. And then I head off to the studio. But not without one last call from my little boy, Evan.
"Dad, don't forget to bring the violin home from the studio" Evan screams from the front door, as I get into my truck. He knows I'll be doing a painting of the violin in the studio, and he wants to be sure the violin comes home with me in the evening.
Things are somewhat busy these days, with two boys running around full tilt, and the third little boy wanting to run around full tilt. I get very little time to myself, and so where I want to maintain the activities I love, I've adapted. I pour the pancake batter, and I pick the violin off of the kitchen table, and I play two jigs. I can't play three jigs, or else the pancakes burn- just two jigs, at dancing speed. I play the violin while my boys clobber each other with fire engines, in the backyard. But most importantly, I play the violin for them at night, when they go to sleep. I start out with "Amazing Grace," in some sort of bluegrass, double stop style. I then go into Irish reels, such as the Longford Spinster; then an Irish air, An Spailpin Fanach. I usually wrap up in twenty minutes or so,, with a tune which my friend Helene, a French fiddler, taught me. It is a brooding, enigmatic, slow, Eastern European dirge that sounds like it was woven from Jewish, Celtic, and Slovakian threads. And by the end, my boys are asleep.
In the quiet of my studio, I held the violin up, and watched the light flow over the form. The violin received all of the blue from the skylight, and the blue of the sky dialogued with the sonorous red of the wood. It was magnificent. And as I began to paint, I listened to Mark O'Connor play the violin.
Please click on the following link, to listen.
margaret and quinlan
How do you paint a mother and child, embracing? Quickly, very, very quickly. I only had about an hour to work on this, today. Though it's only a scratched in idea, I am pleased with the direction. Looking forward to working on this in upcoming weeks.
woo hoo!
So, this painting won the "Al Barker" award at the Salmagundi Club! I entered this and four others into the Junior Scholarship Exhibition. I found that there blue chair in a garbage heap a few years ago, and it's payed my mortgage bills several times now.
a friday
So, in order to flesh out enrollment in my classes, I made up a flier on photoshop this morning. Then, I printed up a few dozen color copies at Staples, and headed to Main Street in Islip. From the hardware store, to Starbucks, to the local pub, all of the stores gladly hung my flier in their windowfronts. "Sure, Kevin, we'd love to put this flier up. You some kinda artist or somethin?" "Bewildered brush wielder, if you will."
The slough of fliers having been duly disseminated, I was able to put another two hours of painting in. I love painting children, they are not self conscious, or at least not self conscious in the manner of an adult. What a breath of fresh air. So, here's six hours progress.
the interchange of hues
two hours progress
four hours progressThis is the daughter of a friend of mine. Yesterday, I asked my friend if she might pose for a painting, just for the fun of it.
As I began this painting, today, I recalled a passage of an old book which I read years ago, written in 1879 by a Scottish author. "Ginevra was still a silent, simple, unconsciously retiring, and therewith dignified girl, in whom childhood and womanhood had begun to interchange hues, as it were with the play of colours in a dove's neck. Happy they in whom neither has a final victory!" from Sir Gibbie, by George MacDonald.
The interchange of hues, as it were with the play of colors on a dove's neck- I can't think of a more beautiful metaphor. Ah, to paint like this.
