Sunday, February 19, 2012

Good Hands

I grew up crazy for two things: drawing and horses. Living in a small New England city, one was for dreaming, the other to illustrate the stories of dreams. Part of growing up is getting to live your dreams. I have had that. The drawing developed into painting and training at a small school (Swain in New Bedford) that believed in basics. Most of my adult life has included horses. Of course as a subject, horses are grand. Love painting them. But there are other points where knowledge of horses and horsemanship relates to painting and the skill it requires.

“Good hands” is a term horseman use to recognize when a rider’s sensitivity with a horse is readily apparent.

Always when you get on a horse, you are training it, for better or worse. Pick up a brush and how, what you practice becomes a consideration. I have been working on a large, for me, painting on panel using a medium I like. It is a resin, Venice turp in this case with stand oil and spike, usually a medium sure to make a small work glow. Yet I am using it on a large piece and have been pleased with the results.

Things cycle through fads, what’s the newest and greatest, what’s the recipe used by the masters. And this holds true for painting as riding. And in both fads will hold sway.

In the horse world, often riders are looking for the perfect bit, that piece of metal that goes in a horse’s mouth and gives the rider control...like a medium. Snaffles, pelhams, full bridles, the terms may sound strange to a painter as would, stand oil, damar, spike oil, balsam to a horseman. Venice turp? A painter might mix it with linseed oil, a horseman would paint it on hoofs.

All these things are used to get a required result. And another thing that I think translates to each skill? The hand.

With a horse, you may indeed have a bit a horse likes better and that should be considered seriously. More, though, is the hand holding the reins, some are just better than others. Anyone may be more comfortable with one bit over another. Me? I am better with a snaffle or a pelham over a gag bit or a full bridle. (Annie will get this, lol!) For mediums? Give me a resin - balsam, Venice - with stand and a good turp, I will get results.

There is not doubt that, like a properly bitted horse, the right medium will enhance one’s ability to produce the painting one wants. So, it is good to be facile with different mediums when painting a picture, as with bits when training a horse. Knowledge of tools is good. But....but....it does all come down to the hands....and the brains behind them. The magic of the masters, equine or art, is not so much the tools used but the sensitivity of the hands through the brain.

It is not the mediums used, but the skill given. In riding the snaffle is considered a soft bit to the horse. But it can be as cruel as anything in a ham-fisted rider who has no feel for creature at the other end. As any medium, what happens at the end of brushes determines the beauty of the painting.

It has been said that good hands make the horse, perhaps the painting as well.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Reformed Radish / Jane Rowe

My intention to paint the oversize radishes from Joe's garden went from a morning studio exercise of 20 minute timed sessions to a finished painting. I'll try to describe how and why I ended up putting a frame on it and hanging it in a gallery instead of leaning it against the wall or wiping it down.


Image sent to Soupbones Gallery bloggers.


Reformed Radish, oil on panel, 12"x24"


With nothing particular in mind, but having a desire to put brush to canvas, I found myself casting about the refrigerator for veggies to place in a shadow box. There they were--Radishes, really large radishes, about 12 inches or so long--.no leaves--stark, colorful things, wonderful. I headed to the studio with my find. An aside to all this is that my husband Joe grows a lot of veggies and has a CSA. I frequently find unusual things from his garden in our refrigerator or he leaves little offerings of things he's found on our property in my studio. When my studio is in order I find them promptly, when it's not, it can take me days to find his contributions. So now, back to the radish painting. I put the radishes in a shadow box, spent less than a minute placing them and adjusting the light and proceeded to lay paint out on my pallet. I just wanted to paint--not create a masterpiece. No time to waste and I squeeze out ultramarine blue, titanium white viridian green, cadmium yellow light and dark, cadmium orange, alizeran crimson, and violet dioxazine--block in with burnt umber. Got it ready and working now, set the timer for 20 minutes, then another 20, then another 20, then no more timer. After an hour break or so, back to the easel to take a look. At this point I think I sent an image to other soupbonegallery bloggers. Comments back: you didn't think much about the background did you--oh right, and correct, I didn't; two lovers dancing in space or something like that--what? Yes, they are somewhat suggestive of anatomical parts that shall go unnamed, but what's that? an idea, Oh no, here I go in another direction. I'm reading "Caravaggio A Life Sacred and Profane" by Graham-Dixon and re-reading "The Body of Raphael Peale"by Nemerov, both of which artists, I find inspiring. Caravaggio for his bold compositions, disregard for convention and his use of light and dark. Raphael's Venus Rising from the Sea-A Deception is one of the first paintings I fell in love with as a child and his paintings of roasts and chops delight me. Alright, so now I working the radish idea in my head and talking to Peale and Merisi. They suggested that I add fig leaves, though I'm sure neither one of them would have utilized the convention. Hmm, fig leaves--its the dead of winter, but okay let's see what I can find. Lo and behold, lots of very brown, wet leaves piled under the trees. I need green leaves, bright fresh green leaves and to a garden book I go. A week or so later and after a lot of thought and angst, I'm back in the studio. Time to paint the fig leaves. An hour later, I'm done. Sign it and throw a frame on that thing and take it to the gallery.