Plein Air Out and In

Deer Island, Redux

Last Friday was a hot day for the Plein Air Class. The temperature was in the mid-nineties, but it was the humidity that was crushing. Still, we're a hardy bunch and, although not everyone made it for the full four hours, a lot of good work was done on promising starts. I had announced that we would be at Deer Island, in the middle of the Merrimack River, between Newburyport and Amesbury, Massachusetts. I gave notice that I would be essaying a 16x30" canvas, and that I'd given the canvas a tone of transparent red oxide.

The spot I chose was where I'd been earlier in the week, painting with friends, and where I'd made the 8x16" oil sketch, below, demonstrating the use of sgraffito for grasses, which I wrote about in my last post. The proportions of the new canvas were roughly the same, but it was four times the size. I figured that I could work on one this large, out in the open, because I was already familiar with the motif.

This time making the grisaille, in the heat and the glare, was a bit of a challenge. The 8x16" sketch above was made slightly after mid-day, with the sun behind us. This time the sun was dead ahead, right in our eyes. Given the dark tint on the canvas, it was pretty well impossible to see what one was doing. But we soldier on! This is what the canvas looked like when I got it back to the studio:

I decided, this time, that I wanted a different color scheme and mood. I worked on it, most of Saturday, arriving at this stage:

This is when it gets really tough for me----and possibly for you, too. I'd left the security of the 'golden afternoon' image, without a clear idea where I wanted to be headed. I'd changed the whole sense of light and color, but wasn't really very happy where I'd landed. I particularly didn't like the growth in height of the near-most peninsula.

This is certainly deep-breath time. What may separate me from my students is that they often suppose, when they start to lose an image, that all is truly lost. I'm usually a bit more sanguine when dealing with my own paintings. In many ways it's very liberating to be able rethink a painting. After all, I can't hurt it any more than it's hurt already. 

So yesterday evening I pondered a bit about what I might do. The painting was safe in my studio, fifteen miles away and, anyway, I was only musing.  Then I remembered that I'd said to the Friday students that I might try to make a 'pearly' view, in the spirit of one of my first heroes, John F. Kensett (1816-1872).

But, of course, I can't paint like Kensett, making views of a crystalline clarity and shimmering atmosphere. He painted more carefully than I, and he was certainly more disciplined. But I can make a painting he would understand, even if it's something he couldn't condone.

The view in the painting looks roughly to the east, toward the Atlantic Ocean, maybe two miles away. I decided that a moonrise might be fun to try. I had the stage set already. There was still work to do reshaping the peninsulas, but generally everything was in place. Below is how far I got.

There's much work left to be done: subtle attention to reflections and to edges, work on the foreshore and more definition in the sky. But it's starting to have a personality. 
More when I've done more.

Plein Air, actually outside

Deer Island Plein Air Sketch

Part of why I failed to make more significant progress on Slater's Mills, yesterday, is because I went with friends to paint at Deer Island, in the Merrimack River, between Newburyport and Amesbury. Knowing that there would be long grass along the shore, I chose to tint an 8" x 16" canvas a reasonably strong shade of burnt orange (Old Holland Transparent Red Oxide).

At the site, I spent about an hour on the grisaille. As you can see, when I wiped out several bits I got right back down to white canvas. Usually I would let the tint dry overnight, and then paint in the field on a dry canvas. But this time the spontaneous decision to go to Deer Island precluded that. We work with what we have, oui? 

Nonetheless, because I didn't want the still-wet orange color to mix with the other colors which I would subsequently use, I decided to stop at this stage, and to wait for the surface to dry before I really began to paint.

This morning, it was entirely dry and I could begin to get some real color onto the canvas in the studio. If you're wondering why I wrote that I chose the orange tint because of the long grass, have a look at the post a few days ago about sgraffito. I knew that I could get some of the texture of the grass, warmed as it was by the afternoon sun, by scratching through my top layers. The newly-revealed, thin orange lines would give the effect I wanted.

There's still some more to do in the studio, but this begins to tell the story of this section of the Merrimack on a lovely July afternoon.

Happy Painting!

This Just In...

Spending the Day with Heade

Many will know the work of Martin Johnson Heade, who was born in Lumberville, Pennsylvania, in 1819, and died in St. Augustine, Florida, in 1904.


Although he also is known for paintings of hummingbirds and orchids, Heade's renown is primarily based upon his paintings of salt marshes. These marshes, along the Eastern seaboard of the United States, are filled during successive tides by salt water. Traditionally they were harvested for their hay which was made up into ricks, and balanced on piles throughout the marsh. It was these haystacks, diminishing toward the horizon, that became a principal motif for Heade.

He painted marshes in New Jersey, Rhode Island, and along Boston's South Shore. 









But he particularly seems to have been drawn to the marshes in Rowley, Newbury, and Newburyport, on Boston's North Shore.
Tomorrow being Wednesday, it's time for a weekly plein air painting jaunt for me and a couple of painter friends. This week we are heading out just a few miles from home, to the Newbury marshes. In particular, the site is the road approaching Kent's Island, the one-time residence of author John P. Marquand. There is a winding marsh stream, and even a haystack replica, photographed this evening by my wife.

We won't have a whole string of them to lead us into the distance, but we'll bring those famous artistic licenses with us, in case they're needed. It's both great fun, and very intimidating, to paint in the spots frequented by our predecessors. We have better quality materials, on the whole, and lots of creature comforts to bring along. The score thus being rather even, the wild card is talent. Let's hope we don't make fools of ourselves.

Below are a few more Heades, from the local area, to give you the flavor. It will certainly be a challenge tomorrow!

In the meantime, I expect that our painter friends in France will be out on Wednesday as well. Let's hope they get better weather this week. As for our New Jersey colleague, I'm not sure if he will be venturing forth. Do let us know about your adventures!

 A photograph of the marsh, taken this evening.

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