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Category: plein air

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Such fine paintings

Mist, by Daud Akhriev
I needed to see some inspiring landscape today, since I’m busy hemming dresses and baking cookies for my kid’s wedding. Providentially, I received a link to this slideshow of Frenchboro Island (ME) paintings by Daud Akhriev.
Clarity, by Daud Akhriev
The Maine coast was not (believe it or not) designed primarily for tourists; it is above all a working waterfront, with equipment that is—if we’re honest—rather homely. Akhriev is so inventive in his compositions that he doesn’t need to romanticize that industrial grit out of his landscapes. The surge and motion and energy of the working waterfront is all there.
Akhriev was born in Kazakhstan in 1959. He graduated from Vladikavkaz Art High School and the Academy of Fine Art in St. Petersburg (then Leningrad) Russia, under the tutelage of Professor/Academic Piotr Fomin. Following his graduation, Akhriev moved to the United States, where he lived and worked for 20 years.
Harbor Afternoon, by Daud Akhriev
Currently he lives in Andalusia, Spain, and is an exhibiting member of ASPAS and ESPES. He is a signature member of Oil Painters of America.
His Russian training is apparent in his paint handling, which hews to their tradition of sparking, energetic brushwork. It’s also apparent in his superlative drawing skills.
One more workshop left this year, and it starts next Sunday! Join me or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!
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Falling apart

American Landscape with Indian Camp, by Ralph Blakelock, showing the damage that can result from tinkering with technique.
Yesterday I mentioned the deterioration in Albert Pinkham Ryder’s paintings. He was not, by any means, the only painter whose work has suffered over time.
Prior to the 19th century, painters had a limited range of materials at their disposal: vegetable oils, waxes, plant gums and resins, and eggs, milk, and animal hides. Pigments were made by either grinding minerals or extracting dyes from plants and insects.  Some of the extracted pigments turned out to be fugitive (meaning they aren’t light-fast) but generally those old paintings are in remarkably good condition.
The 19th and 20th centuries were a period of constant modification of materials. Some changes have been inarguably for the better—for example, there would have been no Impressionism had there not been an explosion of new pigments in the mid-19th century.
Holy Virgin Mary by Chris Ofili. Now, seriously, how does a conservator preserve elephant dung stuck to a canvas? (And in this case, does it really even matter?)
Whenever I visit the modern collection at the Albright-Knox Art Gallery I am struck anew by how badly some of their paintings have aged.  20th century artists had no reason not to use the tremendous variety of synthetic materials that industry was creating—synthetic media, plastics, adhesives, and drying agents. As the definition of what constituted painting broke down, artists also incorporated materials the ancients would have understood to be ephemeral or beneath their calling: dung, straw, paper, urine, blood, etc.
Woman, by Willem de Kooning, 1965. He definitely experimented with obscure additives to keep his paints open longer, but so far scientists haven’t actually found any mayonnaise in his paintings.
Willem de Kooning, for example, allegedly mixed house paint, safflower oil, water, oil and egg in with his paints. Some surfaces of his paintings remain soft and sticky fifty years later, which has to present a bit of a problem for conservators. Anselm Kiefer has used lead, sand and straw in many of his paintings.
Mildew attacking orange paint in a Clyfford Still painting.
Learning to paint in the 1960s and 1970s, I used a medium made of equal parts varnish, turpentine and linseed oil, with a few drops of cobalt drier thrown in. Having seen the ghastly cracking of fifty-year-old paintings made with this medium, I decided that medium shouldn’t be a DIY project. Better to trust the scientists who work for the reputable paint manufacturers.
Another technique I discontinued is underpainting my oil paintings in acrylics. Certainly, oil-over-acrylic won’t delaminate the way acrylic-over-oil will, but who can say how the two paint systems will interact over time? I think it’s fine to paint in oils on acrylic-primed canvas, but any part of the painting that shows through (and that includes the toning) should be done in oils.
It was trendy a few decades ago to dismiss the archival aspects of painting, to embrace the ephemeral. If, say, de Kooning is the equal of Rembrandt, why would we not want to see his works survive for the ages?

One more workshop left this year, and it starts a week from today! Join me or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!
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Rye Painters on Location, 2013

Regatta off Milton Point, 24X20, oil on canvasboard. A terrible photo of a decent painting.
Rye Arts Center’s Painters on Location is back and in fine form. I love this event—I get to see good friends, paint serious plein air, and then attend a swank little reception and auction. In general, Rye Arts Center does as much as is humanly possible to take care of its artists, and we appreciate it.

Brad chatting with another artist.
This year I painted with my pal Brad Marshall. It made for a great time and for better paintings from both of us—I think—since we coached each other over the rough patches. I saw Linda Richichi, Marilyn Fairman, and Kathy Buist, and met some new friends. (If I have any twinges of regret, it’s that Bruce Bundock sat this year out; he’s buried prepping for a portrait show at Vassar.)

Painting with Marilyn Fairman and Brad Marshall. Marilyn was blessed by a seagull shortly after this photo was taken; mercifully, it missed her canvas.
This year, I had an anonymous telephone bidder putting in bids for my auction piece. I can’t say that’s ever happened before, and it lent a fun twist to the evening. Since painters have collectors, I thought I’d guessed who the anonymous bidder was, but it turns out my guess was wrong. Now I’m just baffled. But if you know, don’t tell me; I enjoy the mystery.

Painting with Brad on a luminous autumn day. Perfect!
One more workshop left this year! Join me in October, 2013 at Lakewatch Manor—which is selling out fast—or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!

My painting in its frame.
The bidding public. Rye supports its arts center.
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Honey, I’m home!

The Delaware Water Gap, 9X12, painted on another stopover along Route 80.
Well my rig’s a little old,
But that don’t mean she’s slow.
There’s a flame from her stack,
And the smoke’s rolling black as coal.
My hometown’s coming in sight,
If you think I’m happy you’re right.
Six days on the road and I’m gonna make it home tonight…

(Six Days on the Road, by Earl Green and Carl Montgomery)


The beauty of traveling from New York City to the western part of New York is that you can bypass much of the state itself. In addition to cheap New Jersey gas and the absence of New York’s exorbitant tolls, traveling via US 80 allows you to pass through the Delaware Water Gap, which is surely one of America’s unsung natural wonders. I have often stopped to paint there, and I always stop to walk a little way along the Delaware River.

The Delaware Water Gap looking picturesque today.
Today the park rangers were stringing plastic tape preparatory to closing the park entrances, in anticipation of a government shutdown tonight. It’s an absurd gesture, since most of the costs of the park—mowing and maintenance—will continue whether or not we travelers are allowed to stop or not.

They’re ready to close the park entrances in the case of a government shut-down tonight. Pity, this.
I wasn’t going to paint today in any event. But it is a transcendent autumn day with glorious clear, golden light, and puffy clouds. The Poconos are at their peak of autumnal color, and the far hills vibrate violet-blue. Some days aren’t meant to be painted; they’re meant to be remembered.
The Poconos are at peak color right now, but it’s hard to take photos while driving.
One more workshop left this year! Join me in October, 2013 at Lakewatch Manor—which is selling out fast—or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!
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Seven Days of the Group of Seven—Frank Johnston (1888-1949), FH Varley (1881-1969), and Arthur Lismer (1885-1969)

As you’ve probably realized, there were more than seven Group of Seven painters, and I’ve devoted more than seven days to them. I love them because they combine the freshness of impressionism with a love for the northern landscape. Here are the last three…


The Shadowed Valley, by Frank Johnston
Born in Toronto, Frank Johnston also worked as a commercial artist for Grip, Ltd. He exhibited with The Group of Seven only once, in their first show at the Art Gallery of Toronto (now the Art Gallery of Ontario) in May, 1920. 
Johnston was an extremely fast painter, which allowed him the luxury of many one-man shows. In 1921, he moved to Winnepeg. He resigned from the Group of Seven shortly thereafter, explaining that there had been no rupture, but that he wanted to exhibit on his own.  
Stormy Weather, Georgian Bay, 1920, FH Varley

Born in Sheffield, England, FH Varley studied art in Britain and Belgium. He immigrated to Canada on the advice of his friend and future Group of Seven co-member, Arthur Lismer, to work at Grip, Ltd.

Varley was an officially designated war artist during WWI, and is primarily remembered for that work. He accompanied Canadian troops in the Hundred Days offensive from Amiens, France to Mons, Belgium. His combat paintings were based on his experiences at the front.
Isles of Spruce, 1922, Arthur Lismer
Varley’s childhood chum Arthur Lismer also studied art in Britain and Belgium. He preceded Varley in coming to Canada (in 1911) to work for Grip, Ltd. 
Lismer was also an Official War Artist during WWI, although he was stationed in Halifax, not in Europe. From 1916-1919, Lismer was President of the Victoria School of Art and Design (now the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design).
Join me in October, 2013 at Lakewatch Manor—which is selling out fast—or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!
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Seven Days of the Group of Seven—AY Jackson (1882-1974)

I’m off to Maine and Rye! I’m leaving some of my favorite landscape paintings for you—works by Canada’s mighty Group of Seven painters. I love them because they combine the freshness of impressionism with a love for the northern landscape.

The Edge of the Maple Wood, 1910, AY Jackson
As a young boy, Jackson worked as an office boy for a lithographer (there’s a trend here) after his father abandoned his six children. It was here that Jackson began his art training.
In his early 20s, Jackson worked his way to back and forth to Europe on a cattle boat, returning to settle in Chicago, where he took classes at the Art Institute. By 1907, he’d saved enough money to go to Paris to study painting.
On his return to Canada, he achieved recognition but no financial success, until The Edge of the Maple Wood was purchased by Lawren Harris. Jackson began corresponding with Harris and JEH MacDonald, which drew Jackson into the Group of Seven orbit.
Frozen Lake, Early Spring, Algonquin Park, 1914, AY Jackson
As the most traditionally-trained of the Toronto painters, it’s no surprise that Jackson is in some ways the most conventional among them. But it would be a mistake to dismiss him for that. Jackson evokes the bracing atmosphere of the northern woods like nobody else, and he scrupulously avoids the Art Nouveau stylings that sometimes impinge on Group of Seven paintings. He’s brutally honest about what he sees; the shadow in the foreground of The Edge of the Maple Wood, for example, is not there for compositional reasons.
Join me in October, 2013 at Lakewatch Manor—which is selling out fast—or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!
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Seven Days of the Group of Seven—Lawren Harris (1882-1974)

I’m off to Maine and Rye! I’m leaving some of my favorite landscape paintings for you—works by Canada’s mighty Group of Seven painters. I love them because they combine the freshness of impressionism with a love for the northern landscape.


Winter Landscape with Pink House, 1918, Lawren Harris
If Tom Thomson was the artistic godfather of the Group of Seven, Lawren Harris was its beating heart. I adore the man, and not just for his absurd hair.
He was born into a wealthy industrialist family, and had the excellent education of a coming man of his time, including foreign study in Berlin. After the requisite dabbling in Theosophy and marriage and children, he became interested in art. Being wealthy, he was able to travel across Canada to paint; being generous, he sponsored trips for other Group of Seven painters.
From the North Shore, Lake Superior, 1927, by Lawren Harris
Harris’ was an artistically-restless soul; he evolved constantly, from the heavy-impasto paintings of Algoma and Georgian Bay to his simple, silent, ethereal depictions of the Great White North. By the late 1930s, he was painting pure abstraction.
  
Join me in October, 2013 at Lakewatch Manor—which is selling out fast—or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!
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Seven Days of the Group of Seven—Tom Thomson (1877-1917)

I’m off to Maine and Rye! I’m leaving some of my favorite landscape paintings for you—works by Canada’s mighty Group of Seven painters. I love them because they combine the freshness of impressionism with a love for the northern landscape.
The Jack Pine, 1917, Tom Thomson
I’m well aware that Tom Thomson was never a Group of Seven painter—he died before the group was formed. But his was the artistic force that set them on their path.
As a graphic designer with Grip, Ltd, Thomson was in a position to influence a generation of artists. He himself was largely self-taught. His career as a painter was shockingly brief—he started painting seriously in 1912, and was dead five years later.  In that short time he produced hundreds of small field sketches.
The Drive, 1916, Tom Thomson
Many of Thomson’s major paintings began as field sketches before being expanded at his studio, an old utility shack with a wood-burning stove on the grounds of the Studio Building, an artist’s enclave in Rosedale, Toronto. Thomson sold few of these paintings in his lifetime.
Thomson disappeared during a canoeing trip in Algonquin Park on July 8, 1917. His body was discovered in Canoe Lake eight days later. Although the official cause was accidental drowning, there have been questions raised about his death ever since.
Join me in October, 2013 at Lakewatch Manor—which is selling out fast—or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!
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Seven Days of the Group of Seven—AJ Casson (1898-1992)

I’m off to Maine and Rye! I’m leaving some of my favorite landscape paintings for you—works by Canada’s mighty Group of Seven painters. I love them because they combine the freshness of impressionism with a love for the northern landscape.
Housetops in the Ward, 1924, AJ Casson (he did versions in oil and watercolor)
 AJ Casson went to work at age 15 as an apprentice at a Hamilton, Ontario, lithographer. The value of that apprenticeship is apparent in his painting: he is a consistently brilliant designer.
Lake Qushog, 1925, AJ Casson
The first public exhibition of his work was at the Canadian National Exhibition, in 1917. As an engraver, he inevitably found himself in the Group of Seven’s orbit and was encouraged to sketch and paint. Through the 1920s, he painted in his spare time alone and with the others. He was formally included in the group when Frank Johnston left in 1921.

Join me in October, 2013 at Lakewatch Manor—which is selling out fast—or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!
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Seven Days of the Group of Seven—Edwin Holgate (1892-1977)

I’m off to Maine and Rye! I’m leaving some of my favorite landscape paintings for you—works by Canada’s mighty Group of Seven painters. I love them because they combine the freshness of impressionism with a love for the northern landscape.

Nude in a Landscape, 1930, Edwin Holgate
Edwin Holgate was primarily known as a portraitist and for his outdoor nudes. He was considered the “eighth member” of the Group of Seven. He was invited to join the group in 1930.

Fish Houses, Labrador, Edwin Holgate, wood engraving
Holgate integrated his figures in his landscapes by making no distinction between the human form and the other natural forms. The flesh of this nude is as immutable as the rocks behind her. This is true also of the monumental fisherman in his woodcut.

Join me in October, 2013 at Lakewatch Manor—which is selling out fast—or let me know if you’re interested in painting with me in 2014. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops!