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Itā€™s not the brushes, kiddo

Brushes are ordinary; it’s what you can do with them that is extraordinary.

Home Port, by Carol L. Douglas, 18X24, oil on linen.
At Castine Plein Air, Ken DeWaard did a small boat painting that I thought was darn near perfect. (I donā€™t have an image of it, but you can see it at Camden Falls Gallery.) One of the things that struck me was the fluid brushwork. My brushes are getting frayed, so none of my flats are still flat, and many of my rounds are splayed. And, frankly, I abuse them, tossing them in my hot car and forgetting to clean them. Iā€™ve had trouble with my last batch of Robert Simmons signetsā€”the ferrules are looseā€”so Iā€™m interested in experimenting with something else.
I asked Ken what brushes heā€™s using. ā€œSome Rosemarys, and some cheap synthetics,ā€ he answered. That made sense. In oils, the trade off with synthetic or soft animal hair is that you get better control, but they carry less paint. You canā€™t be rudely aggressive with them. But if you want lyrical linework or detail, or want to glaze, theyā€™re unbeatable. I’ve been messing with a Princeton Snap! brush this month. Synthetics have come a long way.
What I was working on while painting with Ken DeWaard on Monday. Another day and I think I’ll be well on the way to finishing.
Monday, Ken and I painted together in Rockport. I took the opportunity to look at his brushes. Theyā€™re a saturated, half-hardened messā€”even worse than mine. If he can paint that beautifully with those cudgels, I need to stop grumbling about my brushes.
Albrecht DĆ¼rer was arguably the most facile brush-wrangler who ever lived. Whether it was in watercolor, as in the Young Hare, or in oils, as in his many self-portraits, he could seemingly lay down every single hair on man or beastā€™s head. He was famous for this skill all over Europe.
He was in communication with the major Italian artists of his time, including RaphaelLeonardo da Vinci, and Giovanni Bellini. His relationship with Bellini was more than merely professional. DĆ¼rer visited Venice twice and developed a friendship with the older man. Bellini was the most famous member of a prestigious family of artists and very influential. He was no slouch with the fine brush himself.
Self-Portrait at Twenty-Eight, 1500, Albrecht DĆ¼rer, courtesy Alte Pinakothek, Munich
By DĆ¼rerā€™s second visit, Bellini was at the end of his long life. He extended many professional courtesies to DĆ¼rer, not the least of which was introducing the younger man to his own noble Venetian clients.
One day, after carefully examining the head of one of DĆ¼rerā€™s saints, Bellini asked to use the brush that had creating such lifelike hair. DĆ¼rer handed the old man the brush in question. Bellini tried it and failed to produce anything fine. DĆ¼rer took the brush back, still loaded with Belliniā€™s paint, and painted a lock of hair so marvelous that the older man said he wouldnā€™t have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes.
Doge Leonardo Loredan, after 1501, Giovanni Bellini, National Gallery, London
This story is apocryphal, but makes a true point. DĆ¼rerā€™s brush was ordinary; his abilities were extraordinary. Brushes influence our mark-making, but they donā€™t control it. Strength, age, experience, personality and patience all play roles in how we lay down paint.
DĆ¼rer, by the way, was inordinately proud of his own hair, painting his ringlets in several wonderful self-portraits. I have the same ringlets as that cocky young man had five hundred years ago, and Iā€™m almost as vain about them as he was. But Iā€™ve never painted a self-portrait. Perhaps this winter I should rectify that.

Art career, interrupted by life

Hard work has to be balanced by leisure, delay by activity. Thereā€™s a season for everything.

Tilt-a-whirl, by Carol L. Douglas

A reader sent me this reviewof On Doing Nothing: Finding Inspiration in Idleness, by author and illustrator Roman Muradov. I found the review so stressful that I think reading the book is in order. Of course, I donā€™t have the time right now, but Iā€™ll get to it.

This came on the heels of a conversation with a former workshop student, a woman who is in some ways my doppleganger. She works incredibly hard, and feels both guilty and bored if she sits still for long. She wanders around in shapeless old clothes, because it would be wrong to spend her resources on herself. Right now, sheā€™s in a slough of exhaustion. I can relate.
More than they bargained for, by Carol L. Douglas
I pointed out the story of Mary and Martha from the gospel of Luke. Jesus was visiting, and Martha was overwhelmed by the preparations that had to be made. She asked Jesus, ā€œLord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!ā€

ā€œMartha, Martha,ā€ the Lord answered, ā€œyou are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.ā€

Of course, Martha is exactly how we both roll. Periodically, I find myself having taken on so many responsibilities that thereā€™s no room for reflection. Iā€™m tired, hurting, and cranky. Thatā€™s when I know itā€™s time to shed something and try to enjoy the space Iā€™m in.
Why do I work so hard? I had years of delay in my art careerā€”years when I needed to work elsewhere to earn a living, when I was raising my kids, had elderly parents, and was sick with two different cancers. Itā€™s my season to work hard, but Iā€™m still fine-tuning exactly how to do that without killing myself. My son-in-law calls me a ā€œbinge worker.ā€ That needs fixing.
Headlights, by Carol L. Douglas
Josef Pieper’s Leisure, the Basis of Culture argues that culture is born of contemplation, and contemplation requires time spent sitting around. Of course, I read this book in high school, when I had the energy to eagerly absorb new ideas. I remember my father telling me that he no longer read for pleasure. ā€œI donā€™t have time,ā€ he lamented. Of course, what he really meant was that he didnā€™t have the necessary energy and peace. Thinking requires a refreshed mind.
At any rate, back to Pieper. He got his ideas of leisure from Aristotle, who said ā€œWe work in order to be at leisure.ā€
ā€œFor the Greeks, ā€˜not-leisureā€™ was the word for the world of everyday work; and not only to indicate its ā€˜hustle and bustle,ā€™ but the work itself,ā€ wrote Pieper. He described compulsive work as ā€œthe hard quality of not-being-able-to-receive; a stoniness of heart, that will not brook any resistanceā€¦ā€
Beach Haven, by Carol L. Douglas
Joseph Pieper was a German Catholic philosopher. He said he would have devoted himself entirely to social sciences had the Nazis had not come into power. From 1934 on, it was impossible for a Christian to speak in public about social issues. That gave him an enforced period (including a spell in the army) to reassess his priorities and develop his great thesis. It wasnā€™t until middle age that he was able to take a position at a German university.
All of which comes full circle to the importance of delay, interruption, and periods of inactivity as celebrated in Muradovā€™s book. Had Pieper been able to take a university chair right after completing his studies, he never would have written Leisure, the Basis of Culture. For those of us whose art careers have been frequently interrupted by life, thatā€™s an important lesson.
Next up, a watercolor workshop aboard American Eagle, June 10-14, and my annual Sea & Sky workshop at Acadia National Park, August 5-10. Email me if you have any questions.