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I want lockdown consigned to the dustbin of history, but I’d like to see virtual museums continue to grow.

Detail of The Night Watch super image by the Rijksmuseum. (It’s a nose.) Get that close to a painting in a museum and you’ll get thrown out or worse.

When I came home from Argentina, I expected lockdown to last a few more weeks. Now we’re talking about cancellations into next autumn. It seems like it’s going to be a long time before I’m able to spend a few hours aimlessly potting around a museum.

But museums have stepped up to the challenge of isolation. It helps that they were starting from a solid base. Most major institutions have been sharing their collections online, either in part or in full, for several years. For someone who learned art history from books and slides, this is a great resource.

Albidia, by Nicolai Fechin, c. 1920s, courtesy of the Philbrook Museum. No, I wouldn’t have driven to Tulsa to see it, but I did enjoy studying it online.

The Philbrook Museum of Artis located in Tulsa, OK. Twice a week I can join them to learn creative projects on YouTube, my grandkids can watch their storytime, or I can browse their collection or take a virtual tour on Facebook. I see that they own a lovely Nicolai Fechin portrait. It wouldn’t be worth flying to Tulsa, but it was interesting enough to ponder on my monitor. Tulsa is not the heart of American art culture, but its museum has responded quickly to COVID-19.

I chose the Philbrook Museum at random, but I think they’re pretty typical. Closer to home, I was planning (in my desultory way) to visit the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museumand the Clark Institute this summer as I crisscrossed Massachusetts to see my kids. Never mind; I’ll visit them online—the kids and the museums.

Two Guides, 1877, Winslow Homer. The only way I’m going to enjoy the Clark Institute’s superb collection right now is online.

Rembrandt’s The Night Watch is one of the world’s celebrated cultural treasures. It was twice damaged by mentally-disturbed vandals. Its home, the Rijksmuseumin Amsterdam, was closed for a long period of renovation. The painting itself underwent a massive restoration and is now visible under LED lighting to reduce UV radiation damage.

Still, the vast majority of artists, art historians, and art lovers will never have the opportunity to study it in person. Last month the Rijksmuseum published a 44.8 gigapixel image of it, which you can view here. It was made from 528 still photographs “stitched together digitally with the aid of neural networks,” the museum announced.

The image was made for scientific purposes, but it’s an invaluable resource for those of us who once visited museums to stand too close to the paintings just to peer at the brushwork. Best of all, it’s touch-screen sensitive.

Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross (The Gross Clinic), 1875, Thomas Eakins, is the subject of an excellent digital ‘close read’ by critic Jason Farago. Courtesy Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Art critic Jason Farago of the New York Times recently did a close read of Thomas Eakin’s Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross (The Gross Clinic), 1875, which lives at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It’s like being on a tour with a great docent—personal, informative, never didactic. You can watch it here.

I want lockdown to be consigned to the dustbin of history, but I’m enthusiastic about virtual museums. I hope they continue to expand. Great art is a cultural legacy as much as a commodity. It should be available to as many people as possible.

NOTE: My Tuesday Zoom class is sold out. If you’re interested I’m waitlisting another class for Monday evenings starting May 18.

Sunset sail, by Carol L. Douglas. Available through Folly Cove Fine Art.

I could avoid the struggle of redefining my work and teaching while in Argentina, but once home, it hit me at gale force. It didn’t help that I spent five weeks battling an intestinal bug. Every event, workshop and class I’d meticulously planned for this summer was either cancelled, postponed, or in limbo. Suddenly, I had no business plan at all.

Last week I accepted paintings back from two galleries that have quietly closed their doors. Both were suffering from pre-existing conditions, or what I’ve taken to calling ‘business co-morbidities.’ I’m seeing that a lot right now. This crisis may end up being like a spring ice storm that does Nature’s severe pruning. They’re scary but lead to a healthier forest. However, they also leave tremendous short-term damage. In human lives, that translates to heartache.

I’ve started spending Sundays listening to my friends preach. Bill Carpenter talked about how hard this shutdown is for kinesthetic learners. That’s me, so a piece of the puzzle slotted into place. Then our own Tommy Faulk talked about using this time to ask why we’re doing what we’re doing. Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe this time is a gift, an opportunity for a reset.

White Sands of Iona, by Carol L. Douglas.

Mary Byrom is weeks ahead of me in transitioning to teaching online. She listened carefully as I laid out all my frustrations. Mary’s a great teacher, so I wasn’t surprised that her solution was lucid and simple. I already had all the tools I needed; it was really a question of adapting them to this new medium of Zoom.

It took no time for me to put her suggestions into practice. Tuesday’s class (which was the last one of my current session) was a joy to teach. If the feedback I got is any indication, it was good for the students, too. So, yes, we’ll have another online session and hope that the need for social distancing is gone by the time it ends.

The Alaska Range, by Carol L. Douglas

We meet on Tuesdays from 10 to 1, on the following dates:

• May 12
• May 19
• May 26
• June 2
• June 9
• June 16

I’ve had two people joining me from out of town during the last session. That made me realize that you don’t need to be in Maine to take this class. That means my old students from New York or my former workshop students can join me. 

We still stress the same subjects as we would do outdoors:

• Color theory
• Accurate drawing
• Mixing colors
• Finding your own voice
• Authentic brushwork

We utilize painting protocols to get you to good results with the least amount of wasted time. That means drawing, brushwork and color. I’m not interested in creating carbon copies of my style; I’m going to nurture yours, instead. However, you will learn to paint boldly, using fresh, clean color. You’ll learn to build commanding compositions, and to use hue, value and line to draw the eye through your paintings.

Beach erosion, by Carol L. Douglas. Available through Ocean Park Association.

Watercolor, oils, pastels, acrylics and—yes, even egg tempera—are all welcome. Because it’s a small group, I can work with painters of all levels. The fee is $200 for the six-week session.

As with all my classes, this class is strictly limited to twelve people. Email me for more information and supply lists.

“Twins”
8×10 oil sketch by little ol’ me

I am featured in the Rochester Democrat & Chronicle’s “Artist Spotlight” today, which you can read here. Thank you, D&C.

I am painting this week with a much larger brush, relocating my studio to accommodate more students. I love to paint, no matter if it’s on a wall or a canvas. Back soon with another “how to paint” adventure!

Gwendolyn is a beginning watercolorist who is reengineering the world of plein air for her classmates (and for me). She has made her French easel more functional than I ever imagined possible. Look here to read her first entry, which explains her innovations to date. I plan to make one of her noodle brush holders tomorrow myself. Brava, Gwendolyn.