Taking The Wanderer from the textured canvas of the last post to the finished painting above required multiple layers of paint and a relaxed wrist. While the composition itself is quite structured, I wanted the brushstrokes themselves to seem loose and spontaneous, creating a kind of thought portrait. The idea for this painting arose from a recent drive around the UAH campus (which I realized I have been haunting in some form or another since 2003) during which I was enjoying the day, the trees, the turn of the roads, and thinking of my wanderings and musings, my strong leanings toward classical intellectualism, reason, and order-- traits which many consider to be somehow opposed to artistic expression, though I find far more artistic inspiration and even passion in reason than in undisciplined emotion. The Wanderer is a flight of fancy and an exploration of memory, a multi-layered and heavily textured image which, rather like nature, is both wildly organic and strictly methodical at the same time.
I used some of the white areas left on the canvas by wax as delineations for the figure and her fancy collar [above], just as rivers can influence the outlines of states and nations.
In other parts of the painting, the original wax drip image shows faintly through thin layers of watery paint [above] or creates inconsistencies in texture and small bubbles underneath the design [above and below].
Artists have probably experimented with controlled drips of paint or wax since before the time of Jackson Pollock, and while I tend to shy away from "trendy" techniques and anything that might be construed as "conceptual art", if I want to develop a textured background for a new painting (or if a controlled drip seems relevant), I might try something different from my usual methods and materials. In this particular case, I melted wax recycled from used-up candles and carefully dripped the liquid onto the canvas. Some of the wax was from old presents, or from friends' candles, making the process oddly nostalgic. After the wax dried, I used acrylic to paint the entire canvas. Next, I started to scrape the wax from the canvas with a knife. . . whatever bits of wax were affixed well enough to resist the scraping were allowed to remain, leaving a yellow-and-white motif with a few bumps here and there [above photo]. The way I intend to finish this canvas will make it almost unrecognizable to the viewer, but this carefully-constructed backdrop will give the final painting a suitable texture and subtle depth. Making the pile of scraped wax look like an artistic design [below] also proved an interesting photographic experiment.
Despite threats of stormy weather, Thursday evening turned out to be wonderfully mild, a fine summer evening to set up a display on the vibrant grass and watch others watch art as the skies shifted lazily from cerulean to bright orange and rose.
On the 17th of this month I will be participating in my first art festival. While I am often reluctant to stand outside all day in Alabama's summer heat (and risk warping my canvases in Alabama's summer humidity at that), this year's Sidewalk Arts Stroll events are being held in the cool of the evening, so I have little reason to avoid the opportunity to interact with other artists and art-lovers in attendance. There are many preparations involved in displaying work at a festival, and I have already had special prints (72 in all, which I have signed and labeled) and a handout with extra information printed for the event [above photo]. I look forward to an interesting new experience and a pleasant evening!
[For more information on Huntsville's Sidewalk Arts Stroll, visit this link.]
I have been working steadily these days on both art-related projects and in general, and therefore have two new paintings to mention in this entry (as well as a painting in the works currently on the easel, of course).
Big Spring Park [above] is now complete! I wanted this painting to stay cool and peaceful yet glow a bit, so I worked on lights and darks rather than stark color contrasts, and experimented with different consistences of paint in thin, smooth layers for texture.
View of Five Points I was a colorful rendering of the most recent reinvention of a pleasant older neighborhood; View of Five Points II [above] gives a nod to the construction and early history of the neighborhood. The palette is simple and the faint reddish-brown first layer is exposed to mimic red mud stains and the sepia tint of old photographs.
Taking The Wanderer from the textured canvas of the last post to the finished painting above required multiple layers of paint and a relaxed wrist. While the composition itself is quite structured, I wanted the brushstrokes themselves to seem loose and spontaneous, creating a kind of thought portrait. The idea for this painting arose from a recent drive around the UAH campus (which I realized I have been haunting in some form or another since 2003) during which I was enjoying the day, the trees, the turn of the roads, and thinking of my wanderings and musings, my strong leanings toward classical intellectualism, reason, and order-- traits which many consider to be somehow opposed to artistic expression, though I find far more artistic inspiration and even passion in reason than in undisciplined emotion. The Wanderer is a flight of fancy and an exploration of memory, a multi-layered and heavily textured image which, rather like nature, is both wildly organic and strictly methodical at the same time.
I used some of the white areas left on the canvas by wax as delineations for the figure and her fancy collar [above], just as rivers can influence the outlines of states and nations.
In other parts of the painting, the original wax drip image shows faintly through thin layers of watery paint [above] or creates inconsistencies in texture and small bubbles underneath the design [above and below].
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