This just in....

First Day Out

Well, the first outside painting foray has been completed. None of the three of us had a bad first waffle, but my two friends out-painted me today. My only excuse is that my canvas was 16x20", and they were both painting on the heads of pins. Still, they both grasped the experience more handily than I.  

It managed to get up to 84 degrees Farenheit (29C) this afternoon, and was gloriously sunny, but the landscape is still largely dormant. We'll be back next week, when we'll no doubt see lots of changes. In a shaded pond area, the spring peepers were tuning up, and  TMB was much interested in two turtles sunning themselves on a log. All in all, a great day.

Maudslay

 Simultaneously, or almost, Bruce Trewin (a blog follower) was off with his plein air group to a vineyard site near Cognac, in France. Bruce has written that they were rained out today, but they had a good day in the studio. Here's a Cognac vineyard photo from the web:

Michael Ruple, another painter friend, was painting outdoors in New Jersey this afternoon. Michael reports that things didn't go so well. Still, there's next time! Here's a New Jersey photo since Michael hasn't sent one.

 I think it's great that we're all in contact and that, although we're all painting at locations very far apart, the fraternity of painters keeps in touch. Let us know if you were out today.

2012 Painting Campaign

Outside tomorrow!!!!!!

Well, today's the first day of Spring and, sure enough,  tomorrow several of us will be headed outdoors to paint. We'll go to Maudslay, where I'll be teaching the May workshop. But for now we'll just be stretching, after our studio hibernation, enjoying the nonpareil experience of painting with friends.

Bruce Crane had the right idea, in his very simple painting called Early Spring. Best not to try for some elaborate composition, some complex scheme, on the first day out. 

We'll try not to expect too much, realizing that tomorrow's sketches may turn out to be very much like first waffles. For this outing, fresh air and fellowship will be more than adequate reward.

Time's come, too, to remember how much we DON'T want to have Lyme Disease! Off! Deepwoods Sportsmen has the best rating from Consumer Reports.

And, of course, since we're now going to conscientiously avoid Lyme disease, why not skip skin cancer, too? I HATE greasy sunblock products, and my discomfort with them kept me from being a regular user. My dermatologist friend suggested this Neutrogena product. Now I forget that I have it on. Good stuff.

Okay, the Public Service Announcements are over. But please remember that this is serious stuff. Both these products are easy and effective ways to avoid a lot of subsequent grief.

Want to second this recommendation? Planning to be responsible this year? Why not leave a comment? Thanks.

Random Thoughts

Thinking about lobsters....

The advent of warmer weather always makes me think about lobster, and living on the New England coast one is never far from the offer of a wicked good lobstah roll. This thought has led me to remember a painting from many years ago. Rummaging through my archive, I've found a photo.

Donald Jurney, Lobsters, 1989

The tricky part, of course, was painting uncooked lobsters. But I very much wanted the wonderful oranges and blue-blacks. A bit of advice: if it's a warm day, and the lobsters are under studio lights, paint fast.

From the Studio

An Evening in Early Spring

Donald Jurney, An Evening in Early Spring, 24x30"

Here's a spring painting that hopes to catch the moment when day surrenders to night. One can hear the peepers as the light fades, and there is a dampness which is redolent of the scents of the emerging season.

From the Studio

Vernal Equinox... or New Year's Day?

Although the skies are still often gray here in New England, our non-winter is almost behind us, and the temperatures are teasing us to be painting out of doors.

But I'm still in my studio, being cajoled by others to get outside. Not yet. Not quite yet. For now I'm enjoying the memory of a certain slant of summer sun. Soon enough it will be time to paint that whisper of green that will cover the hillsides in spring.

Here's one of the paintings I'm currently working on, tentatively called The Descent to the Lake (24"x30"). Despite its unfinished state, about which I expect you to be kind, it's already making me smile in anticipation of summer painting.

Next Tuesday brings us the 2012 Vernal Equinox. For lots of landscape painters, though, it's really New Year's Day.

Workshop Thoughts

Scotland in September?

Aye, there's been some talk here of organizing a workshop in Scotland, for September, 2012. It's certainly appealing to me. Just the thought has reminded me, among other things, of how much I like the Norman Wilkinson railway posters from the 1930s. They are tremendously evocative of another time, and seem to bring the romance of Scotland alive.

We've spoken thus far of a week's workshop, somewhere in the period from 16 September to 10 October. At that time, of course, the colors are stupendous, and the hills and lochs are a painter's dream. I, for one, cannae wait.

So, do have yerself a wee dram, and think on it. Use the contact information on the workshop site, www.donaldjurneyworkshop.blogspot.com, to let us know if Scotland might be the right adventure for you.

Information about other upcoming workshops can also be found at www.donaldjurneyworkshop.blogspot.com

Please comment below.

 

Landscape 911

What's it All About?

A common problem, faced by most painters and especially by students, is understanding the important distinction between what their painting is a picture of and what it's a picture about. The two are rarely the same thing unless, of course, the painting is an assignment requiring just topographical accuracy.

John Constable, Barges on the Stour, Victoria & Albert

I often ask students why I should care about the painting they've just made. It's an especially difficult question when the painting has clearly been well-executed. Most of us are pleased when we have, with a certain accuracy, managed to get on to canvas the scene before us. But, except in the short run, there are few prizes just for

cleverness. It's cool, it's astounding...and then what? Once the skill has been duly praised, why should I care about the painting?

I don't engage with paintings because the craftmanship is high. I engage, as I suspect you do, with paintings that affirm ideas and feelings that I have, or which effectively challenge me to think in new ways. To this kind of painting we can return and return, always finding an invitation into the heart of things. The craftsman's painting, on the other hand, tends to pall with time. Its only merit is that often it was amazingly difficult. Do we really care? Yes, we admire the skill, the patience, the command. But then comes the dreaded question: what's the painting about??

How 'well' the artist paints is no answer at all.

J. A. Mc.Whistler, Nocturne: Blue and Silver - Chelsea, Tate Gallery

Of course, ideally, a painting can be technically superb and still be full of connection for the viewer on many levels. It's important to remember, though, that 'technically superb' doesn't necessarily mean  that the artist colored within the lines, or that every part of the painting is correct in drawing, perspective, etc. What technically superb means is that the artist has chosen a technique that exactly conveys what the painting is 'about'. It may be very hasty. We all know sketches that have a life and immediacy that is not about craftsmanship. These pieces convey their message without excruciating detail and painstaking brushwork.

 J. W. M. Turner, Cilgerran Castle Pembrokeshire, Tate Gallery 

Yet, confoundingly, these sketches really do depend on craftsmanship, too. But this is a craftsmanship so assured that it hides itself, never getting in the way of what the painting is about, never taking a bow, but standing in the wings while the idea, supreme, rules the stage and garners the applause.

Look carefully at the three images, one each from Constable, Turner and Whistler. There's nothing fancy here. There is no technique except that which quietly supports the idea. But they are as evocative, more than a century after they were made, as they were that first day in the studio. Each is a sublime portrait of a single idea.

Let me know what you think of them, and suggest others that show technique as the servant of 'about'.