Category Archives: Painting

On Equity

Ice Pops   Oil on Linen, 30 x 24 inches, private collection

There’s something special about this painting, what exactly that is I don’t know, but everybody loves it, even I love it, and honestly if I had the formula for it I’d be cranking them out as fast as I could (I’ll admit it: I tried).  I’ve given this some thought, and my conclusion is it’s never one thing that makes a painting hit the mark, such as the subject, atmosphere, color palette, technique or whatever, rather I’m thinking it’s more the effect of an ensemble performance by the selfsame players, a performance which mysteriously rates rave reviews.

IcePops

To be fair, I should mention that the girls had an entirely different response to the painting, which is the story I’m here to tell.

The girls are friends of my brother’s family, and neither they nor their parents knew that I had done anything with the snapshots I had taken two years earlier.  I had been given permission that day to photograph them and spent about half an hour following them around the back yard while they swung on the swings, threw the baseball around, dug in the sandbox, and ran here and there just for the fun of it.  When we were done with all that, mom gave popsicles to the girls in thanks for their cooperation.  The camera came out again, too, just for fun.  The girls were fairly oblivious throughout the proceedings, still too young to ham it up, or mug or preen for the stranger behind the camera.

Before I had an opportunity to present the newly finished painting to the girls’ family, I had a postcard made of it which I sent to my brother.  The image was eventually shown to the girls who said upon first sight, in effect, ‘Hey, how come she got two treats and I got one?’ and, vice-versa, ‘Hey, how come I got two and she got one?’   Which is an angle I hadn’t considered whatsoever while doing the painting.  In fact there was only one popsicle split between them that hot summer day, and Madeleine was painted holding a second pop for compositional reasons and not as a slight to Anna, who anyway could have been holding her other half at her side behind Madeleine’s back, couldn’t she? if she also had two?  I mean, if we take the painting to be ‘real’?

Not to make a big deal out of it, but isn’t this a painfully familiar scenario?  Aren’t we always seeking what’s fair and square?  We people, we adults?  Isn’t that what we truly value?  Where there is equity the mind is put to rest, there is no wishing things to be different than they are because all is well: I got mine, you got yours: even Stephen.

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Making Connections

Amelie    Oil on Linen, 18 x 24 inches

This work recently won a nice award for oil painting at the Ridgewood Art Institute (New Jersey).   A painting must stand on its own without the artist having to explain it, but how this one came into being is interesting to me, maybe you’ll find it interesting, too.

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Several years ago I was commissioned to do a double portrait of Katie and her older sister.  They arrived at the photo session in undershirts, blouses, sweaters, and jackets.  As the shoot went on I began thinking that I might like to paint the girls in matching dresses with a lower neckline, so I got some Degasshots with necks and shoulders exposed.  Whenever I stumbled on these photos in the intervening years, the photo of Katie kept prodding me to some other image I couldn’t remember for the life of me.  Then last Fall I got it: her pose was similar to the pose in Degas’ sculpture ‘Petite Danseuse de Quatorze Anz’. Note  in the Degas how the model thrusts her head out with shoulders thrown back, quite similar to Katie’s pose.  Also unusual is that the young dancer (cast in bronze) is fitted with an actual tutu below the waist, which explains why a tutu ended up hanging on the rear wall of the painting.  The various fabrics in the costume were fun to paint, and I especially enjoy the small detail of the flower ornament on the tutu front being repeated in Katie’s barrette.

I decided the title had to sound French in a nod to Degas.

Jessie

Jessie Don’t !!!  Oil on Linen, 36 x 24 inches

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Everybody loved Jessie, excepting the small animals that he regularly ran to ground (or tree).   A tall English Setter, he had the good fortune to have loving owners, a large family of friends in a safe community about a hundred miles north of New York City, and almost unlimited countryside in which to race about.

In keeping with his breed, he was a strong personality with a mind of his own and the energy to tear off in an instant.  Here he is at a moment of distraction: should he heed the voice of his master, or make a run for it?

I had so much fun piling the paint up to indicate the intensity of strong light pouring down on his coat.  It took me nearly an hour to decide exactly where to place the squirrel in that block of green, and how to make the squirrel look like he just realized he was in a heap of trouble!

Good Company

Several weeks ago an artist friend, Susan Donnell Budd, emailed that a painting of mine she owns is in an important exhibition of dog paintings at the Morris Museum, in Morristown, NJ.  Surprised, flattered and thrilled, I found more than 100 works on view celebrating dogs in art from the nineteenth century to the present day, focusing on sporting dogs and hounds, plus dog portraits.

Paintings by British luminaries such as Emms; George, Thomas and Maud Earl (a favorite of mine); Muss-Arnolt; Americans Osthaus, Ettinger and Megargee; among others; and a handful of contemporary artists are represented, including my friend Susan.

The exhibit advisor was William Secord, a NYC gallery owner who specializes in dog paintings and is an expert on the genre; the books he’s authored are must-reads for the dog lover and must-looks for the dog artist willing to learn a thing Imageor two.  My painting in the exhibit, titled “Something Only the Hounds Heard” (20 x 24 inches, oil on linen), depicts a tableau I witnessed one morning when out with the Essex Hunt Club (Peapack, NJ).  The entire field of over a dozen riders and 30-some hounds were resting at a crossroads after an ardent but thwarted chase through early autumn color.  The hounds were still pumped, and I enjoyed watching them mill about: athletes at halftime.  Then of a sudden all eyes and ears snapped towards a nearby wood, yet I hadn’t heard a thing myself (they hear four times as far as we do).  What a moment.  The next day I started sketches for the painting.

The Dog Show: The Art of Our Canine Companions
At The Morris Museum through December 14