Two New Cardboard Prints; Serendipity Plays a Part

Split Circles, ink on Sansui SH8 paper; image size 10 x 6 3/4 in., paper size 19 x 10 in.

Sometimes we're helped along in a new endeavor by happy chance. Two things happened with with Split Circles that were unplanned but proved to be very useful. When I was mixing the color for this print, I pulled a proof on a long narrow piece of paper left from tearing down the sheets. I tacked it up to check the color (I wanted it to balance the slightly greenish tinge of the paper) and was surprised at how much I liked the format. I had planned this image to be printed on the usual rectangular formatted paper, but this scroll-like vertical seemed to suit the image very well. I would never have thought of it if it hadn't been for that serendipitous proof.

Split Circles, proof detail

On that same proof I'd inked the plate too lightly, so I got this more transparent effect on the shape, and I liked it! I haven't been able to reproduce that, but it got me thinking about the consistency of the ink, realizing that I needed to thin it more. 

Forest Green, ink on Gifu Green Tea Medium paper; image size 10 x 8 in., paper size 16 x 14 in. 

I took that understanding into the next print session the following week. It is a water soluble, oil based ink, so I keep a spray bottle of water at the work table, spritzing and mixing until the consistency seems right. I was finally able to pull prints without the annoying ridges of ink on the surface. This print is smooth and glossy.

Forest Green detail

Because the image has a lot of flat dark––I'd thought of it as opposite to Split Circles, with its very open form––I wanted to try getting a painterly effect to alleviate that flatness. Using a brush, I added some painterly marks of a lighter yellower green on top of the dark ink that was rolled on with a brayer.  Each print is slightly different, and I like how they came out. This print too has a slightly different format than previous ones: I've been tearing the paper down to a 4 inch border around each image, but Forest Green seemed to need a tighter cropping; at 3 inches the border becomes part of the conversation of shapes, larger it looked awkward. I'm trying to keep the print process open so there's room for these learning moments.

At the Wadsworth Atheneum: American Clarity

John Durand, Anne Billhop Farmer Jarvis, 1772

There is a strain in American painting that takes its essential character from the primitive, from a desire to grasp hold of things, to make them present and tangible. It's a reality that goes beyond the visual to the tactile. This was brought to the front of my mind last week when I visited the Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford, CT, on my way home from visiting my family. I hadn't been there in many years, so seeing the collections was a fresh treat. The museum has extensive holdings of American painting and decorative arts, especially strong in Hudson River School painting. But, except for taking a photo of a Kensett and a Heade in the landscape galleries, my heart and eye were drawn to the strongly linear tradition in American painting. I walked right by the big gallery with the huge history paintings––The Signing of the Declaration of Independence, etc––by John Trumbull, but was riveted by the colonial era artist John Durand's portrait. The color harmonies were beautiful, but it was the clarity of form that particularly interested me.

Durand, detail

The main forms were outlined, giving them a dramatic presence. Folds of clothing and drapery were stylized in a way that made them paradoxically both hard and lively. The flesh within its outlines also had life, like that in the figures in Quattrocento painting; brushstroke is deemphasized. In her book American Painting of the NIneteenth Century, Barbara Novak describes portraits such as this one by Durand as being part of a long limner tradition in which untrained artists "presented reality conceptually, as idea, and pinned it down with two dimensional surface patterns characterized by linear boundedness and equal emphasis of parts".

John Singleton Copley, Mrs. Jeremiah Lee, 1769; oil on canvas, 95 x 59 in.

John Singleton Copley is the greatest of early American painters, with his works that are classically simple in form and composition; they are portraits of clear character, powerfully present. This large portrait at the Wadsworth is a stunning achievement, with the forward movement of Mrs. Lee balanced by the view into an open landscape.

Copley, detail

In comparing this detail with the one above, we can see how Copley took the limner tradition and softened it, making the forms more volumetric, less stylized, although he still owes a great deal to that flat, conceptual tradition. I think of him as defining the American character in painting in his early career; when he moved to London in 1774 he began to make large history paintings, the most famous of which is "Watson and the Shark", completely different from his American work; linear gave way to painterly, and clear planar compositions became curves in space.

Ralph Earl, Colonel Samuel Talcott, 1791-92; oil on canvas, 71 1/4 x 53 3/4 in.

I really liked the clarity of this painting and the forceful presence of the man portrayed. Like the Copley portrait, it owed a great deal to the more primitive tradition of American portraiture. Novak describes Copley in a way that also applies to this Earl portrait, as practicing a "conceptual realism" in which "abstract knowledge is fortified by the stuff of empiricism....The object, as it were, presents itself, and the result is a 'higher coefficient of reality', making the real somehow more than real." 

Sarah Miriam Peale, A Slice of Watermelon, 1825; oil on canvas, 17 x 21 13/16 in. 

In her "portrait" of a watermelon Sarah Miriam Peale brings that fruit to solid and present life, each black seed tipped with its small highlight.

William Rice, Goodwin Tavern Sign, 1800-25

I couldn't resist including this marvelous lion in this post of more conventional paintings. His wise and charming face, with black ears and eyebrows, stares out at us calmly, the lines of nose and mouth continued down into the black chain encircling him.

Thomas Chambers, Niagara Falls,1832

The brilliantly colorful landscapes of Thomas Chambers (who I wrote about here, where you can see more images), go back to the primitive tradition in American painting. He worked mainly from black and white prints, but managed to achieve a gorgeous light and color.

George Catlin, Catlin the Artist Shooting Buffalos in Texas with Colt's Revolving Pistol, 1855; oil on canvas, 19 x 26 1/2 in. 

George Catlin specialized in paintings of the West, including many beautiful portraits of Native Americans. In this painting, he is showing one of the shameful aspects of American history, the slaughter of the giant buffalo herds, although he is here celebrating his prowess. 

Colt's Revolving Holster Pistol, 1835-36

But what could be more American than guns, unfortunately. The gun shown in the painting above was displayed right underneath it in a glass case, along with many other Colt weapons. Their first manufacturing plant was near Hartford and the Colt headquarters is now there, where the Wadsworth Atheneum is located.

Marsden Hartley, Movement #2, 1916

It is hard to argue for a purely American sensibility in the early 20th century, since so much was influenced by European painting. But the museum had an interesting collection of this period, with some beautiful paintings, and these three fit a theme of clarity. I love the subtle color of this Marsden Hartley painting, and the almost humorous circle at top, orienting the image as a portrait.

Stuart Davis, Still Life with Three Objects, 1925

It's interesting to think of this Stuart Davis painting in relation to limner tradition as in the first portrait shown above, though of course he is a modernist. I liked the simple presentation of objects as on a stage, like characters in a drawing room comedy.

Arthur Dove, Approaching Snow Storm, 1934; oil on canvas

A beautiful Arthur Dove, in which we sense a tossing movement of wind in a gray landscape. On this page and the next of the Wadsworth's website you can see some very wonderful small paintings by Dove in their collection that weren't on view. I think of myself as following in this tradition of American painting, so my interest is quite personal; it is not the only tradition, but one that seems an essential part of our history.

A New Textile: "Blue/Yellow Ground"

Blue/Yellow Ground, hand dyed wool on linen, 11 x 10 in.

After my last textile, which was illusionistic, with curving folds (see it here), I wanted to work on something very flat, hooked in straight lines. I decided to add a piece to my continuing Figure/Ground series, in which I attempt to make color and shape balance each other so that none take precedence. A little flip-flopping is great. When I first dyed the blue wool and looked at it in the pot next to the yellow, I realized it was too pale and gray to hold its own. So, it went back in the pot until I got a color that was more intense than my original intention, but I think balances the yellow. 

Blue/Yellow Ground, detail

One way I try to equalize the shapes is by outlining each one of them with hooking following its edge, as you can see here in the detail. If I left out the outline on one, it might seem as though it was visually behind the other. I'm hoping that we see the blue curved forms are as strong as the squeezed yellow shape and that neither holds the attention for too long. 

Here are four previous pieces from the Figure/Ground series. 

*And a little extra news: a Facebook friend has written a nice piece on me and my online art life for Art New England Online, which you can read here. 

Garden Visitors

The vegetable garden is home to many different creatures, insects and mammals, welcome and not. Sometimes amphibians and reptiles make an appearance, as this tiny surprise shows. I recently noticed a lot of hopping movement underfoot and bent down to take a look, thinking it was probably small crickets or grasshoppers. It turned out to be many itty-bitty toadlets, American Toads beginning their life away from the pond where they were hatched into tadpoles. At such a small size, the journey from the pond to the garden must seem quite daunting.

Another surprise guest was this sweet little Garter Snake who was sheltering under the eggplants which were covered with a row cover. The weather had been cool for a few days, so I covered the plants; when I uncovered them, there was this little guy. Garter snakes aren't aggressive; matter of fact he seemed interested in me, allowing me to take several photos and putting out his red tongue to smell me. He went wandering off, I suppose, since I haven't seen him again.

This very beautiful, humungous caterpillar is the most unwelcome of all insects in my garden. It is the dreaded Tobacco hornworm, often confused for the tomato hornworm; tobacco hornworms have a red horn, tomato hornworm's horns are black. Either one does tremendous damage on tomatoes, peppers and eggplants. If left unchecked they can eat an entire plant and leave only a skeleton of branches. This guy has to be the model for The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

It ate a huge chunk of this tomato. The gardener has to be vigilant about many garden pests, but this one is at the top of the list. It's green protective coloring makes it hard to find, but luckily it has very noticeable droppings. 

I saw this richly colored Eastern newt in the lawn in front of the house, its color almost startling; this vivid orange lasts only during the juvenile phase. It was small, 2 to 3 inches long, and was not happy about being photographed. I was sorry to frighten it, but I can never resist trying to capture images of the incredible variety of life in the small world around my home. 

A New Painting: "Shine"

Shine, egg tempera on calfskin parchment, 5 x 7 3/4 in.

It might have seemed, after my last painting, Candy Stripes (which you can see here), that I was headed in a very abstract direction. Nope. I still love playing with the illusion of form; I love the idea of going back and forth with different kinds of images. In this painting the strong yellow vertical and horizontal sets the stage for the curves of shiny black and the reflective backdrop.  

Shine, detail

I don't often aim to express surface qualities, but I couldn't resist the sparkle of this subject, bringing animation to manufactured materials. 

Beach Stories

This past weekend, sitting on a low beach chair, my legs in the sand, my eyes closed under the protection of a straw hat, hearing the murmur of family conversation but listening to the incessant sound of surf, I was reminded that I am never so relaxed as on a warm breezy day at the beach. There is something about the overriding whoosh of the sea that enters into the rhythms of my body, slowing and calming them. I am in the midst of reading Moby Dick, and think that because of it I'm having a tendency to think in metaphors about the seaside; Melville uses a tremendous amount of metaphor and allegory, whether writing about whiteness, or a doubloon, or a whale that's free or "tagged". Do our bodies, which are more than half water, yearn for the sea? 

Shells are moved and worn by the tides, left behind by a bubbly wave, pushed about by circumstance.

Once-living things are left piled along the strand, alongside a sea-weathered rock, which looks as though it was made of the sand it rests on, a compacted sandstone; it is a transformative process, like alchemy changing one material into another, just as the shells will break down over years and become part of the sand.

Another piece of rock tells a different tale, of small animals adhering to the rock and leaving their imprint.

The seagulls are a joy to watch as they waddle about on shore, or take to the air where they become soaring, graceful creatures. On the sand they are very amusing; last summer I spent an afternoon sitting quietly among them, noticing the differences of coloration of feather and beak, laughing at their attempts to grab a little something to eat.

There are always some plants that manage to thrive under what seem to be the most adverse conditions: in a bit of sand between rocks, doused by salt air and water. They are a lesson in perseverance.

The geometry of slat fencing plays off beautifully against the green and sandy dune it is protecting, but it is also a reminder of the wildness that came before.

And the marks of human carelessness are unfortunately always in evidence. Will we ever learn?

The Fantastical Fauna of Early Egyptian Art

Palette in the shape of a pair of turtles, ca. 3650-3300 BC; graywacke, 6 x 6 5/16 in.

The artists of Egyptian antiquity had a marvelous sensitivity when it came to picturing animals. I've always been moved by the birds and cattle and wildlife in low relief carvings (you can see a couple of examples in this blog post), but I'd been mostly unaware of the sculpture that came before the Dynastic Age, before the Pharaohs. The Metropolitan Museum of Art mounted an enlightening show which I was lucky enough to see this spring, titled The Dawn of Egyptian Art; it's on view until this Sunday, August 5th. I just treated myself to the catalog, and photographed these images from it. Although there were human figures in the sculpture on view, it was the animal carving that completely delighted me. Can anyone fail to be enchanted by the pair of turtles with their surprised eyes and small feet projecting from the large simple curve? 

Guinea fowl-shaped palette, ca. 3650-3300 BC; graywacke, 7 5/8 x 5 13/16 in.

The early Egyptians lived in small villages along the Nile, with their burial sites, in which these objects were found, on higher land. Palettes were used to grind minerals into paint for outlining the eyes. Some of the palettes were used before being placed in tombs, but others were not. The form of these pieces seems so modern, as though they were sculpted by a 20th century artist. The shapes are satisfying, and also tender, and amusing.

Cow's head with horns, ca. 3650-3300 BC; graywacke, 3 16/16 in.

Picasso? this is close to the simplicity of Picasso's bull's head made with a bicycle seat (with holes in it) and handlebar.

Elephant-shaped palette, ca. 3650-3300 BC; graywacke, 8 1/4 x 5 1/2 in.

During the Predynastic period there were sufficient rains to encourage a wide range of wildlife along the Nile and up into the lower desert and the Eastern and Western deserts. There were elephants in Egypt during this early period––they were found in elite burial sites in Upper Egypt, Hierakonpolis––but when the climate became drier during the time of the Pharoahs, they moved south.

Amulet in the shape of an elephant's head, ca. 3650-3300 BC; ivory, blue frit; 1 7/8 in. 

This piece is startling in the clarity of its curved lines and round eyes.

Hair combs with ostrich, giraffe, antelope, wildebeest, ca. 3700-3300 BC; bone or elephant ivory; heights from 3-7 1/2 in. 

These beautiful hair combs, surmounted by animals of the desert, were probably worn by women at a special event. I like how each of the animals appears to be standing on a small hill, integrating the shape of the animal with the curve of the comb.

Frog shaped jar, ca. 3400-3300 BC; limestone inlaid with shell, lapis lazuli, and turquoise; 3 5/8 in.

Frogs were plentiful along the river; as the yearly flooding receded, many young frogs were seen in the mud, so they became a symbol of fertility and rebirth. It is therefore assumed that frog shaped jars contained a substance used at childbirth. This is another charming creature.

Jar in the shape of a squatting bird, ca. 3300-2900 BC; limestone inlaid with shell, 3 3/4 x 4 7/8 in.

In a show full of lively and amusing depictions of animals, this little bird might be my favorite. It is probably a duck, perhaps sitting on a nest. The tilt of the head with its inlaid eyes give the bird such a bright presence that it seems it could get up and fly, or at least waddle away. 

Ibis-shaped vessel, ca. 3300-2900 BC; red limestone breccia; height 5 1/8 in. 

The ibis is a more formal bird, carved in a complexly patterned stone, the body of the jar echoing the shape of its body. 

Jar in the shape of mating hippopotami, ca. 3650-3300 BC; limestone; 5 x 2 1/2 in.

I love the stylized heads of these two hippos, one raised, one lowered, with lines across their snouts. The catalog informs me that the mating and reproduction of animals was very important to the ancient Egyptians, so it's not surprising to see an image like this. The first image above, of the dual turtles, may also be a mating pair.

Ceremonial Palette (The Four Dog Palette), reverse, ca. 3300-3100 BC; graywacke, 12 5/8 x 6 3/4 in.

A few hundred years later, in the Early Dynastic period, the sculpture becomes more sophisticated, closer to what we think of as typical Egyptian art. There were ceremonial palettes in the show that were just spectacular (as always, you can click the image to see it larger). Elegantly detailed, with refined and flowing lines, these pieces were transfixing.

Ceremonial Palette (The Battlefield Palette), reverse, ca. 3300-3100 BC; graywacke, 12 5/8 x 11 5/8 in.

Both palettes I've illustrated have a central palm tree flanked by animals. I'm always amazed at how much volume and living presence Egyptian sculptors were able to show with such delicate low relief. Like the earlier work above, so much seems to depend on a sensitive, felt line, which has its beginnings in the outlines of the simple forms of gray palettes. 

Blueberry Custard Tart

It is blueberry season, and time to think of muffins and pies, jam and tarts. It's so nice to know that these delicious little globes are very healthy to eat. A favorite blueberry dessert is a tart from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. It is very rich, but not overly sweet, using only 3 tablespoons of molasses, so the taste of the berries stands out. You first pre-bake a buttery shell, then line it with berries and add the custard, made with sour cream.

For the 9 inch tart shell
1 cup plus 2 Tbs flour
1/4 teas salt
1 Tbs sugar
5 Tbs chilled butter, cut into small pieces
A mixture of 1/2 teas vanilla and 3 Tbs water

1. Stir flour, salt and sugar together in a bowl, then work in the butter using two knives, your fingers, or a dough cutter until it is in fine crumbs. Mix in enough vanilla water for the dough to pull together. Wrap in plastic wrap and put in the refrigerator for 15 minutes.
2. Roll the dough into a 9 inch circle and set in pan. Using the hell of your palm, press the dough up the sides. Move longer pieces as needed to fill thin areas. The sides should be thinner at the bottom and rise slightly above the pan, which helps for shrinkage when it's baked. 
3. Place tart shell in the freezer to harden.
4. Preheat oven to 400º. Put frozen shell on a sheet pan and bake until set and starting to color, about 10 minutes. Prick any large bubbles that occur while baking with the tip of a knife. 

For the filling
1 pint blueberries
1 Tbs flour
3 Tbs unsulfured molasses
1 teas finely grated lemon rind
1 egg
2/3 cup sour cream or creme fraiche
1/2 teas vanilla
1/8 teas nutmeg

1. Toss berries with the flour, molasses, and lemon zest and arrange them loosely over the bottom of the pre-baked shell. Mix the remaining ingredients together and pour over berries. 
2. Preheat oven to 425º. Bake until custard is browned and puffed, about 35 minutes. Let cool before serving to grateful guests, or to yourself and your family! 

A New Cardboard Print: "Four Shapes"

Four Shapes, ink on Gampi smooth paper, from cardboard plates; ed. 5;  4 pieces, paper size each 14 x 12 1/2 in., image size variable, ca. 3-5 x 6 in. 

Four simple shapes, four colors, on four sheets; three shapes tilting, and one, a vertical oval, standing stalwart.

Blinky Palermo, 4 Prototypes (4 Prototypen), 1970; portfolio of 4 screenprints, sheet each 23 5/8 x 23 5/8 in.

The inspiration for this work came from the first work I'd seen by Blinky Palermo (images here; my blog post on textiles of mine he inspired here). I saw them in the mid to late 80s on 57th St., a set of prints that stopped me in my tracks. I loved their offhandedness, the classic forms made irregular. He's an artist I think about a lot; I even named my male cat Blinky in his honor. 

Above are details of the four shapes individually, though I see each of the four as part of one piece. I think I would frame each sheet individually and have the four abut each other, rather than framing them together in a single frame, which is how the Palermo work was shown. They are individuals, yet part of a whole. 

This is the palette with the four colors for Four Shapes. I began by mixing the green for the oval shape, warming the cool green ink with lots of yellow and some red, with white to lighten it. When I mixed the remaining colors, I added some of the green to each of them, red to the blue and yellow, etc. In this way, I moved the colors away from their primary expression to something more harmonious, yet still lively. I'm happy with this work; it makes me smile.