There was a storm forecast for Toronto....15 centimeters of snow.... not much really, but considering the absence of a real winter this year..something special. No snow has come though, just slush, and grey. The sun still rides low in the sky at this time.....
I stood today in front of a blank canvas (a landscape due in March), listening to the cars wash through the slushy road below my window,..... and had one of those moments.... when the bright beautiful picture in the mind's eye is one thing, and the inert, passive, canvas is another. It just happens now and then, and it can't be pushed. There was someone banging on the heating pipes somewhere, and the smell of rusty water in the air.........
Time to go home.... pick up some popcorn on the way.... watch a movie with my family... have a fire. Tomorrow is a new day.
Free Play
Free Play #1 2012.
Starting with a warm chalky white base, the canvas was divided into rectangles and a small coloured square was painted. Then once that was set in motion another square was painted, with colour adjusted "just so" in relation to the first. On it went ....point and counter point. A painting like this is without any "meaning", and is really just paint as paint. Colour, pattern, and energy.
Snow Squall in the Beaver Valley, Ontario.
oil on canvas 60inches by 40inches. 2012. Loft Gallery, Clarksberg Ontario
Small Studio Ballet
Sometimes it is great to paint a big canvas, and I would like to go very big sometime, perhaps 8ftx8ft. Unfortunately my studio is very small. Yesterday after turning around and knocking a can of turps onto a newly finished painting (spent the day re-painting), I thought about moving, but then realized how attached I am to this place.
It is in an old office space above a major thoroughfare, with oak trim, and a transom that opens with a brass pole . The landlord puts nameplates on all the doors... "Richard Herman Studio" . It might as well say "Sam Spade, Private Investigator"... very quaint. The landlord has also been very good to this longtime tenant, and has allowed the sacrifice of the old threadbare carpeting to layers of paint. When the single large window is opened, Yonge street roars directly below. Also below is the old Capitol theater, now an events venue, and in the evenings Bar Mitzvahs or Wedding parties can can be heard in the halls. Work in this small space has to be choreographed. Large canvases are carefully moved, and the tools and supplies of the craft have to be efficiently organized. It gets messy quickly. Once I had a big warehouse space downtown, but those old building have all been turned into condos, and this studio is close to home and family. The walk home takes 15 minutes. I enjoy working in the evening when the other offices are empty, while listening to history books on cd. Currently listening is "America in the time of Lincoln", fascinating. This little studio is too small, but it is just fine.
It is in an old office space above a major thoroughfare, with oak trim, and a transom that opens with a brass pole . The landlord puts nameplates on all the doors... "Richard Herman Studio" . It might as well say "Sam Spade, Private Investigator"... very quaint. The landlord has also been very good to this longtime tenant, and has allowed the sacrifice of the old threadbare carpeting to layers of paint. When the single large window is opened, Yonge street roars directly below. Also below is the old Capitol theater, now an events venue, and in the evenings Bar Mitzvahs or Wedding parties can can be heard in the halls. Work in this small space has to be choreographed. Large canvases are carefully moved, and the tools and supplies of the craft have to be efficiently organized. It gets messy quickly. Once I had a big warehouse space downtown, but those old building have all been turned into condos, and this studio is close to home and family. The walk home takes 15 minutes. I enjoy working in the evening when the other offices are empty, while listening to history books on cd. Currently listening is "America in the time of Lincoln", fascinating. This little studio is too small, but it is just fine.
A Leap of Faith in 2012
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| #1 2012 60inx60in |
Right now I'm working on non-representational paintings. It would not be accurate to describe them as "abstract" because they are not abstractions of things represented. They are large canvases that are an exercise in colour relationship, division of space, line, and simplicity. The painting itself is the thing, not just a means of evoking something else. The physical presences of canvas, its scale, colour, and form, are the only point. It is very "pure" in that I am being mindful of any affectation or decorative tendency, and keeping only those elements that are essential to the integrity of the painting. Pull one element away and the composition collapses, add one too much and the composition also collapses. I am enjoying this very much and will post the work when complete. By doing something completely different it has shaken up my landscape work, and a series of winter landscapes just started feels and looks fresher because of it.
Ten Little Trees
Once a year I paint miniature panels (no bigger than 8in x10in) for Art Interiors in Toronto
The magic hour.
This week the rhythm of inspiration throughout a workday has really been distinct. Starting in the morning a canvas will not suggest much, and applying paint is awkward.. With some pushing the marks made will start to suggest something more, and there will be a spark. Once the canvas comes alive I need to step back and rest. Through the afternoon momentum builds. Yet, for some reason that big spark with energy and vision for the whole painting does not kick in until 10pm. From 10pm until 1am it can be pure magic, the kind of magic that makes it all worthwhile. I'm not sure why this is so. It might have something to do with the quieting of the street outside, or the basic silence of the night. This is not a convenient rhythm, but it is what I find myself working with.
A Mountain High
When flying into Calgary this week, I caught a first glimpse of the prairies as the aircraft banked. There was that space, that incredible golden light, and that undulating line of the prairies. I don't know why, really can't explain it, but a happiness, a sense of joyful space and light filled me. I have never lived on the prairies, and have no specific family roots here, but something always feels good.
During months spent painting the canvases for the show here, it felt a few times that this might not come together, so it is really good to see how well the installation looks. It clicks. There is also a very positive straightforward attitude at the gallery that is a pleasure to work with.
Right now I'm taking a break and am sitting with some chocolate cake and a coffee, in a cafe in Canmore Alberta, seeing the late afternoon sun rake the snow capped mountains directly above.
This is a nice moment, a good day. It will cycle through as sure as night follows day, I know that. But still, a high like this is just fine.
During months spent painting the canvases for the show here, it felt a few times that this might not come together, so it is really good to see how well the installation looks. It clicks. There is also a very positive straightforward attitude at the gallery that is a pleasure to work with.
Right now I'm taking a break and am sitting with some chocolate cake and a coffee, in a cafe in Canmore Alberta, seeing the late afternoon sun rake the snow capped mountains directly above.
This is a nice moment, a good day. It will cycle through as sure as night follows day, I know that. But still, a high like this is just fine.
Sculpting Clouds
Different paintings can take me to different places while in process. This is a sunny painting that naturally determined its own resolution from the beginning. It lead to a very fresh, open, and joyful state of mind.
A long view in Southern Alberta
This canvas has been on and off the easel for a while. It was finished two weeks ago, but sat there unhappy. So it has been reworked one last time. At 60in x 60in inches it is hard to photograph and is one of those paintings that is diminished in reproduction.
Need a break. Time to get the canoe out and leave the city.
Jumping into a Cold Lake
This morning is one of those times when the easel is intimidating. There is a big, 60in x60in canvas that is almost finished, and it has amazing potential. It could be finished by tonight, but it will require a leap and some luck to make that last spark of magic happen. In a way painting a picture is like "throwing a pot" on a potter's wheel. There is no guarantee of success, and a stable level of energy has to be sustained throughout the session, so as not to drop the thread of inspiration.. It is possible to paint myself into a corner and be left with a canvas that can't be resolved.
The interesting thing is, there is a moment of crisis like this toward the end of any painting that works really well. Because it means giving up certainty. It is that "standing on one leg then the other" moment before jumping in a cold lake. It can be so hard to just jump, but once in the water it is bright and alive. This canvas is at that point.... So I'm intimidated as I sit in the nearby coffee shop eating an egg sandwich and drinking an ice coffee. Half thinking of ways to avoid it. ""Maybe it is time to get a hair cut?"... "I should book that van for Saturday".. "It would be nice to write in the studio journal"..... "The dog needs her nails clipped".... " It's such a beautiful day... such a beautiful summer day". Ok then ...Jump
The interesting thing is, there is a moment of crisis like this toward the end of any painting that works really well. Because it means giving up certainty. It is that "standing on one leg then the other" moment before jumping in a cold lake. It can be so hard to just jump, but once in the water it is bright and alive. This canvas is at that point.... So I'm intimidated as I sit in the nearby coffee shop eating an egg sandwich and drinking an ice coffee. Half thinking of ways to avoid it. ""Maybe it is time to get a hair cut?"... "I should book that van for Saturday".. "It would be nice to write in the studio journal"..... "The dog needs her nails clipped".... " It's such a beautiful day... such a beautiful summer day". Ok then ...Jump
Ambiguity and the Eye
Projecting imagination onto the canvas makes use of a suggestive ambiguity. . Leonardo Da Vinci described how when he looked at a pattern of mould on a wall, and let the eye relax, he could see within the random contours and tonal variations, an entire battle of men on horses, down to the smallest detail. This is basically a highly developed version of a child seeing a face in a cloud, and it is the basic way forward when painting from memory and imagination.
Beginning with loose playful underpainting, a base image takes shape with the same suggestive qualities as that random pattern of mould. The only difference is that it points, generally, in the direction desired. Later, once dry, by sweeping and scanning over that base, things are seen, picked out, and further defined with another layer of paint. Then, when this layer is dry, the process is repeated. On and on it develops in this way, feedback on feedback suggesting its own emergence. This is all based on the same simple principle as seeing a face in a cloud
Beginning with loose playful underpainting, a base image takes shape with the same suggestive qualities as that random pattern of mould. The only difference is that it points, generally, in the direction desired. Later, once dry, by sweeping and scanning over that base, things are seen, picked out, and further defined with another layer of paint. Then, when this layer is dry, the process is repeated. On and on it develops in this way, feedback on feedback suggesting its own emergence. This is all based on the same simple principle as seeing a face in a cloud
Looking Northwest (bright patch of snow)
Not... quite..... there
This 6ft x 4ft canvas has been on and off the easel for several weeks. It is the Ontario spring, with green and cool rain. For some reason it has not yet suggested its own resolution. At the same time it has not gone off the rails enough to be dropped. Slowly it seems to be taking shape, and might just need one new element, something out of the blue..... Not quite there yet.
Just Sitting
For twenty years now I have practised meditation (sometimes intensely, sometimes half-heartedly), within both the Zen and Theravadin traditions of Buddhism. It was only after long struggle that the discipline of "just sitting" (shikantaza) yielded to truly just sitting...... bowing yielded to just bowing....... walking yielded to just walking. Bodhidharma, the grand old master of Zen, is said to have been asked by a Chinese Emperor.... "What is the heart of the matter?" His response was.... "Nothing Holy, Great space.""Nothing Holy, Great Space" means being on the spot, wide awake, without spinning anything. Both questions and answers are resolved at their original root. It is the simplest and most difficult thing to "do". From the perspective of just sitting, the story of "my life" is a self-enclosed dream of compulsion, endlessly holding this against that, endlessly reaching. Of course there will be this and that anyway, it is the stuff of daily life, but it is not an absolute. I don't think I would still be sane if all I ever knew was endless reaching, and I'm grateful to those who taught me the simple sanity of "just sitting".
Waiting for Play
Sitting in the coffee shop across the way from the studio. A new 6ftx4ft canvas has been drawn up, and is clamped on the easel at just the right height and angle. It is a Saturday and I am working until 5:30, which gives me about 6 hours of painting time. It is a good day in terms of energy, with the mind not too distracted by the always pressing activity of all that is not painting. The work being done today is monochrome under-painting. This involves the spontaneous free-play of wet-on-wet brush action, using warm grays and whites. Without colour to factor in, there is only light, shadow, and depth to evoke, which is very intuitive and fun. Once I get going it will roll through the afternoon..... once I get going. This cannot be pushed, or forced. Play has to rise on its own from within.... I can invite it, and set the conditions for it to flow, but that's all.
..... a stroll back to work.
..... a stroll back to work.
A Joyful Day
Busy spring bird chatter
filled my sleeping mind.
In that special moment of waking but not rousing,
body lying tensionless and heavy,
thoughts and feelings not yet stirred.......
.....Bird chatter... an distant plane .....a breeze across the cedar .
.....and today there was convection in the afternoon sky. The leaden winter clouds bloomed upward in the warm sunshine.
filled my sleeping mind.
In that special moment of waking but not rousing,
body lying tensionless and heavy,
thoughts and feelings not yet stirred.......
.....Bird chatter... an distant plane .....a breeze across the cedar .
.....and today there was convection in the afternoon sky. The leaden winter clouds bloomed upward in the warm sunshine.
Palette Key
The most challenging aspect of painting is colour mixing. When I was first learning the craft it was intimidating. Taking primary colours, and by combining keying them to anything seen or imagined, is a skill that has taken years get a natural feel for. I would aim and miss time and again, never quite hitting it, and settling for a different painting than the one dreamed of. Theory is no good here, colour wheels and so forth. Intellectual colour mixing has to give way to a spontaneous intuition.
The key discovery and understanding needed to open up colour intuition is that all colour is relative, all colour only exists in context. Without context colour does not exist. There was an experiment I did to while exploring this. I took a patch of bright red material and pinned it to a cork board wall, then stood back, taking in the the whole scene. In this context the patch of material glowed red against the brown wall and nearby blue chair. Next I stood close and carefully cupping my hands. shielding all visual stimuli but the red patch. Then, through concentration, I blocked all imagining in the minds eye. With this, the patch of red cloth was absolutely alone, the sole stimuli. At that instant of aloneness the bright redness vanished into neutral, and the cloth was colourless.
With this experiential colour sense, came the intuition of how what appears on the palette is not what appears on the canvas, and that just as a strong colour can be neutralized by the absence of relationship, an almost neutral grey can become an intense colour on the canvas, depending entirely on context.
With this experiential colour sense, came the intuition of how what appears on the palette is not what appears on the canvas, and that just as a strong colour can be neutralized by the absence of relationship, an almost neutral grey can become an intense colour on the canvas, depending entirely on context.
A bright blue on the canvas can, on the pallete, be mud grey. It is a magical thing.
Japanese Waves
Having fallen asleep in front of the TV the other night, I woke up to the live feed on BBC from a helicopter, of a tsunami sweeping across an agricultural plain, consuming villages and sweeping cars off roads. It looked unreal and hard to relate to. It is difficult to see the people when the physics are on such a scale, even though reason says lives are being washed away.
There is no compensation for people subject to this kind of capricious fate, but Hokusai's image of the "great wave" came to mind in a hopeful thought. The people of the island have lived with the Harbour Wave for centuries, it is part of their culture and identity. They can recognize this face of nature. It may be an awful force, but it is not an alien one. If such an event were to happen here (eastern Canada), there would be the shock of the alien, as well the shock of loss. Maybe Japan can hold this within its culture, better than any other country.
There is no compensation for people subject to this kind of capricious fate, but Hokusai's image of the "great wave" came to mind in a hopeful thought. The people of the island have lived with the Harbour Wave for centuries, it is part of their culture and identity. They can recognize this face of nature. It may be an awful force, but it is not an alien one. If such an event were to happen here (eastern Canada), there would be the shock of the alien, as well the shock of loss. Maybe Japan can hold this within its culture, better than any other country.
A Clunker
Every so often, not rarely, but not frequently either, I lay an egg in the studio. It is a funny thing.
Yesterday I came in with a clear idea, a clear inspiration, for a painting with a deep field of stepped back light, seen through a screen of trees. But when I picked up the brush, I could not make any magic happen. The paint was a dull paste that could never be light. The canvas was a flat surface that could never fall away into a world of light. I was all thumbs.
Still I persisted until the painting was finished. It is not a bad painting as far as things go, but it is a painting devoid of light touch, spontaneity. It is laboured.
Why does this happen? Why does the spark leave mind and hand? All I know it that it must happen now and then. Things cycle around.
Yesterday I came in with a clear idea, a clear inspiration, for a painting with a deep field of stepped back light, seen through a screen of trees. But when I picked up the brush, I could not make any magic happen. The paint was a dull paste that could never be light. The canvas was a flat surface that could never fall away into a world of light. I was all thumbs.
Still I persisted until the painting was finished. It is not a bad painting as far as things go, but it is a painting devoid of light touch, spontaneity. It is laboured.
Why does this happen? Why does the spark leave mind and hand? All I know it that it must happen now and then. Things cycle around.
An Early Painting Revisited.
"Bodhisattva" 48in x 48in
First Mountain/Prairie painting.
I am working on my first big canvas for Calgary @ 5ft x4ft. I don't think I've been so turned on by a subject in years. As a result the skills are at peak, and the paint is flowing with both control and spontaneity.
The monochrome underpainting was completed in one marathon session, down to the smallest detail. The sense of space has already taken hold. Sometimes a painting is like pushing a boulder up a hill and down the other side. The blank canvas gives nothing back until enough has been given for it take on its own reality, and start suggesting its own unfolding. This canvas has that already, and I hope it sets the tone for the whole show.
The only drawback is the cost in energy. I have to get into a high key before jumping into the work. Lots of coffee, and pacing, and talking to myself. I'm pretty fried by the end of the day. Anyway, another two weeks and it will be done.
The monochrome underpainting was completed in one marathon session, down to the smallest detail. The sense of space has already taken hold. Sometimes a painting is like pushing a boulder up a hill and down the other side. The blank canvas gives nothing back until enough has been given for it take on its own reality, and start suggesting its own unfolding. This canvas has that already, and I hope it sets the tone for the whole show.
The only drawback is the cost in energy. I have to get into a high key before jumping into the work. Lots of coffee, and pacing, and talking to myself. I'm pretty fried by the end of the day. Anyway, another two weeks and it will be done.
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