9/25/2012 4:10:08 PM
Some paintings I will never sell. This one was painted at Kensington Metropark in August of 2012. It was a picture perfect evening spent with my father, George Wright.
My dad suffered from Alzheimer's disease. As sad as that is I consider myself supremely lucky. As the disease progressed it dissolved his memory, his speech , his ability to walk and even the names of his children and grandchildren. As these parts of my father faded what was left was the core of a man who was kind and considerate. As he sat wheel chair bound he would worry that others were not comfortable or he would offer to share his food so that no one would go hungry. As his capacity to live an active life shrank his appreciation for beauty became a source of joy. When I would push him in his wheel chair he would gesture towards flowers or clouds lit by a sunset so the appreciation of beauty could be shared. He could still walk and speak when I painted this landscape. We sat together on the side of a hill while I painted the sun setting across the water. At one point he walked away and I heard "Wow, will you look at that!" He was standing about 20 feet behind me and was enthusiastically trying to find the words to say what the painting meant to him. "You got it" he kept repeating with a big smile. No award ever meant more than impressing my father and sharing that evening with him.
My family continues with his gracious ways. My daughter and I were in NYC this weekend for the Pastel Society of America reception when my father passed away. They stayed silent know there was nothing I could do. We had a great time in NY and my family shared the news with us when we returned. My fathers legacy of compassion continues to thrive in my family. They put my happiness in front of their own grief. In the midst of sadness there is the gift of his kindness that continues beyond his death. I love you dad.
9/12/2012 7:46:52 PM
Interpret, Don’t Copy
The first time I heard that remark, I thought, “Huh?” I spent so much time painstakingly reproducing every inch of a painting to look exactly like the photo or the set up. I took great pride in my ability to render but my art suffered for lack of editing. It also affected my enthusiasm; copying is tedious work.
Plein air painting was my first introduction to the power of interpretation. When painting outdoors nothing stands still. The light moves quickly, clouds cover a blue sky, or someone comes along and buys the pumpkin you were working on. It took me two years before I got the hang of it. At that point I shunned all photographs and insisted on working only from life, which is great training but not very helpful when you do portrait commissions of young children. How could I bring the freshness of plein air to photographs?
I took a workshop with Carolyn Anderson. Watching her demo from a photograph of a figure, I was stunned at how she managed to capture the character and gesture without replicating the reference. “Interpret, don’t copy” rang though my head and I had an “ah ha” moment. The painting is mine and exists separate of the actual subject.
We do not paint “things.” Artists are magicians. We arrange the visual elements of shape, value, edge and color on a two dimensional surface to fool the viewer into thinking it is recognizable. As long as I am true to the physics of light on form, I can change elements to enhance what I want. Museums are full of paintings where the subject was interpreted. Fredrick Church was a great interpreter of the landscape. Erupting volcanoes are notorious for not being still and Church did not have an iPad to view his photos on!
Fredrick Church "Cotopaxi" at the Detroit Institute of Arts. I got to visit his home and studio in New York on my return trip from the Adirondacks last June.
Lately I have been on an interpreting binge. Taking from the reference what I want and then adding what I feel will enhance what drew me to the subject. Maybe I’ll push the gesture of a figure into more of a twist. Maybe I can accentuate the light by saturating the color at the edge of a shadow, or stretch the values to the extremes of the medium. Interpretation is a lot more fun than copying.
Plum Shine 8x10 Pastel Turnaround 12x17 Pastel VIC Rocks 11x14 Pastel
