Sketchbooks and Nocturnes

24 x 25"     Oil on Linen

My studio was in chaos. I had spent the last few days varnishing and framing paintings to go out to exhibits, taking others off their stretchers to be wiped out and resurfaced, and reorganizing the shelves where I store my sketchbooks and dry colors. There was a large stack of frames on one side of the room and a stack of stretchers on another, the walls were closing in on me, my studio was getting smaller. And I was becoming desperate to paint. The paintings that I had already started were not satisfying, one from my video of nature and two small landscapes from my memory and imagination. I needed to paint from life but the table I use to set up still lifes was filled with stuff from my various projects. My easel was in the only clear space in the room so I sat down and stared at the mess in front of me. I decided to embrace the clutter.

The subject matter for my painting was a stack of sketchbooks, two nocturnes, one hanging on the wall, the other propped up on some bubble wrap, leaning against the wall and the other painting, a clear plastic box of screws, a post it notepad, a roll of blue painter’s tape, a pencil, a screwdriver, a writing pad, and a yellow invoice for some framing supplies. I was out, way, way out of my comfort zone. It would have been just a pile of clutter were it not for the light coming in from my window.

The cool north light brought unity and harmony to the collection of objects before me and I was able to see them for what they were. The nocturnes were inspired by two extraordinary evenings. Each of the sketchbooks represented important times in my life; several held drawings that I did at the Art Students League while teaching there, the leather bound volume I bought on a painting trip to Florence, and I took the portfolios to a variety of life drawing sessions over the years. The odd assortment of objects that had been carelessly left on the table were things I used to prepare my paintings for exhibitions. This was not clutter, it was my life...

 The Violinist

22 x 28"     Oil on Linen

I was introduced to classical music when I moved to New York to study painting at the Art Students League. Carnegie Hall was just down the street, and I got a job there working the concession stand to help pay my rent. I was able to watch many of the concerts and fell in love with Mozart, Beethoven, and Brahms, especially their violin pieces. I saw many of the world's greatest violinists, Itzhak Perlman and Pinchas Zukerman, Isaac Stern, the savior of Carnegie Hall, and many others, and was fascinated to watch as they played these masterpieces. The violin was often tucked under their arm as they walked on stage, but when they raised it to their shoulder and rested their cheek on the base of the instrument it became a part of their body. The bow was held gently but firmly, and as it moved across the strings it seemed to be caressing a lover. The fingers on the other hand moved with incredible dexterity sometimes pressing powerfully on the strings sometimes floating above. Their concentration was all consuming. It was something I always wanted to paint, and finally did...

 

Onions

30 x 24"     Oil on Linen

In portrait painting the artist often does his best work when he is painting his friends, so too in still life painting. These onions came from my garden. I was there when they went into the ground. I pulled out the weeds that grew up around them and watered them when it got too dry. I watched as their tops grew from spindly to tall and strong. When those tops began to weaken I pulled the bulbs from the ground and brought them into my studio to dry. I've known these onions their entire lives. Onions is not so much a still life as it is a group portrait of old friends...

Still Life with Van Gogh's Irises

30 x 36"     Oil on Linen

There is a common practice in the history of art of artists copying the work of other artists that they admire. If you were to visit the Louvre on any given day in the 19^th century you would certainly come across an artist or two making a copy. Van Gogh made copies of works by Delacroix and Millet. Picasso made many copies of works by Velazquez. Rubens copied all of the works by Titian in the collection of Phillip IV on a visit to Spain. It is a way for one artist to get inside the head of another artist, to see how they think about color and composition, to follow the rhythms of their brushwork and understand how they apply the paint to the canvas.

I have always loved the way Van Gogh painted irises and never fail to visit the version he has in the collection of the Met Museum when I am in New York. Recently I decided to make a copy of that masterpiece. Instead of making a stand alone copy, however, I decided to incorporate his painting into one of my still lifes. It was my way of not only getting into his head but also inviting him into mine. Vincent and I had many lively conversations as I worked, about space and form and luminosity, about design, about brushwork and mixing color, about rhythm and motion and vitality. I copied his way of working and showed him mine. We discussed the work of other artists and he questioned my use of books about Rembrandt and Van Dyck and suggested one about his friend Gauguin might be a better choice. In the end he was very complimentary about what I had done and I thanked him for his contribution to the piece. As we parted company we agreed to work on another painting together in the near future…

 

 Autumn

24 x 30"     Oil on Linen

Some paintings speak to you, others sing. There are portraits with whom you can have a conversation, still lifes that tell a story, landscapes that take you on a journey. But Autumn is not like that, it is not a narrative painting, it is visual music. It is not a painting that you read, it is a painting you listen to. A romantic art song, think Schubert or Schumann, written for a baritone. It is luminous and melodic, moody, with rich vibrant color. You can hear the rhythms of the leaves as they blow in the breeze, and let harmonies of the grass, trees and clouds wash over you as they express the beauty of the autumnal landscape...

 Foggy Moonrise

16 x 16"   Oil on Panel

The weather report said it was going to be a foggy night, but, no matter, I wanted to go out and see the moon. I turned off all the lights in the house and stepped outside. It was like stepping off the earth and into a cloud. As I walked away from the house it disappeared into the fog. The trees that I knew to be in front of me had lost their form, lost their shape, and were now just dark tones at the bottom of the cloud. I was living in an abstract painting, there was no foreground or background. Except for the fact that my feet were still attached to the earth I could have been floating in space. I watched as the density of the fog ebbed and flowed, sometimes allowing the trees to be more visible, sometimes less. It was such an intense experience that I had completely forgotten about the moon. Not a sound could be heard, even the crickets were quiet. It was not so much an eerie silence as it was a peaceful calm. Suddenly there was a gentle breeze, the fog thinned a bit above the dark tones of the trees, allowing the moon to make a brief appearance. I watched in awe as it struggled to be seen, radiating moonbeams through the misty shroud…

 The Muse

20 x 16"   Oil on Linen

In Greek mythology the muses were inspirational goddesses. In modern usage a muse is a literal person that serves as someone's source of artistic inspiration. There have been some famous muses who posed for many different artists. Jo Hiffernan was a muse for Courbet, Whistler, and Rosetti. Audrey Munson was the inspiration for works by Daniel Chester French, Alexander Calder, and the Piccirilli brothers. Helga Testorf, on the other hand, posed solely for Andrew Wyeth for 15 years.

I met the muse in this painting when I was teaching at the Art Students League of New York. She would pose for my class from time to time over the years. I always enjoyed painting her while giving critiques and working on my student’s paintings. We became friends yet I had never done my own painting of her. When the covid pandemic began the school was closed and in person classes were moved to online classes. During the online classes I worked in my studio as the students worked from their homes. One week Leslie was assigned to my online class. I was thrilled to finally paint my friend and longtime muse. Her natural beauty and amiable disposition made her a marvelous source of inspiration. There was much more to her, however, than the eye could see. I knew her to be warm and sensitive, intelligent and quick witted, strong yet vulnerable. Instead of jumping in and throwing a lot of paint around, I decided to take a slow, deliberate approach. I wanted to focus on drawing out her character rather than filling in the canvas. All my attention was on my muse. I used a palette that was warm and sensitive, allowed my brushwork to be intelligent and quick witted, and applied the paint in a manner that was strong yet vulnerable…

 

Nica

20 x 16"   Oil on Linen

When I paint a portrait I am not just copying what the sitter looks like, or simply trying to capture the sitter's character, I'm painting the relationship between myself and the sitter. My goal is to express what it is like to share a space with this person. We are breathing the same air, often conversing and listening to music, spending precious time together. There is an amazing companionship, an intimacy, a connection between the artist and sitter that is unique and intense. When a viewer looks at my portrait next week, next year, or in a museum 400 years from now, I want them to take my place, to feel like they are sharing the space with the sitter, making eye contact, spending precious time together, having an intimate relationship. If that happens I have painted a successful portrait...

 

Spring Landscape with Apple Blossoms

16 x 24   Oil on linen

The Vermont landscape is very different than the French landscape that inspired the Impressionists. The atmosphere here is heavier and the foliage darker and richer. But there are certain times of the year when the lightened palette of the Impressionists is appropriate. In the Spring the young leaves on the trees are subtler and more delicate, the apple blossoms are soft and graceful, and the morning air is refreshing and invigorating. As I stood outside painting, I could easily imagine Monet or Renoir painting next to me.....

 Arielle

20 x 16   Oil on Linen

I like to listen to what I’m painting, to hear what I see. Being a romantic it often sounds Brahmsian or Chopinesque. But when Arielle came to pose for me I heard something quite different. It was more intense, a bit startling, like Stravinsky. There was a rhythmic energy to her pose. As I composed my painting it came to me as shapes and patterns rather than forms and dimension. The colors were harmonically dissonant and more chromatically intense than I usually paint. My brushwork came in quick, punchy strokes instead of my customary long legato lines. I continued to listen as I painted and tried to keep control of the orchestra of colors playing wildly on my palette. I may have been dancing with the devil, but my painting had a fresh, modern liveliness…not unlike Arielle herself.....

Quoddy Head, Maine

24 x 34 Oil on Linen

A few years ago, quite a few years ago, I had a yearning to paint the sea, to paint waves, really big waves. So I packed my landscape easel and headed off to Maine, to Acadia National Park. It's my favorite place for seascape painting, partly because it is so beautiful and partly because it is public. There is nothing worse than finding a beautiful place to paint and then have someone tell you "You can't paint here, this is private property." I stayed a few days and painted even though it was misty the whole time and consequently no big waves. Then proceeded to drive up the coast hoping to get out of the persistent fog. I stopped in Lubec because Quoddy Head State Park was there and I could stroll along the public coastline. The fog had indeed gotten thicker but I was determined to paint. There is a lighthouse there that is situated on the easternmost point of the United States, I sallied forth and set up my easel. The fog was now so heavy that I couldn't see the lighthouse but I decided to work anyway thinking that when the fog burned off I could dash in the lighthouse in a few strokes. All I could see in front of me was my easel. I thought of Philip Glass and how, with the wide range of notes available to him, he would pick out a few notes and repeat them over and over and over again, and I thought with all the beautiful colors on my palette I was now repeating the same few tones over and over and over again, and my mind began to see shapes and patterns in the dense fog and I tried to get that variety in my painting as I repeated those few tones over and over and over again, and then the shapes and patterns became rocks and a footpath and I realized the fog had softened to mist and I had a few more tones and colors to work with, Philip Glass gave way to Claude Debussy and there were delicate melodies and harmonies, and the endless repetition became a tone poem. Everything was lovely and peaceful and wonderful even though I never saw the lighthouse and there never were any waves, any really big waves.....

Sunflowers

24 x 24   Oil on Linen

One might ask why professional artists rarely paint sunflowers any more. Van Gogh did many wonderful paintings of sunflowers. Monet was also a great sunflower painter. Van Dyke painted a self portrait with a large sunflower. But now professional artists seem to shun this amazing flower. I suspect it is because it is a favorite subject of amateur artists and perhaps they fear it might diminish their standing in the art world. Fear not my fellow artists! The sunflower is one of the finest portraits you could ever paint. Its lively petals dance in joyful rhythms, their color radiates with unmatched brilliance. They are proud entertainers, almost begging for attention and applause. So go for it, paint something grand and glorious, something worthy of being called a sunflower painting.....

Landscape with Rainbow

20 x 24   Oil on Linen

I went to a concert a few nights ago and they were playing a piece I had never heard before, Theodore Dubois' Quintet in F Major for Oboe, Violin, Viola, Cello, and Piano. Vassily Primakov was at the piano and it was a thrilling performance. I often close my eyes when I am at a live event so I can feel the vibration of the instruments and let the music wash over me. This time, however, I watched as they played. As they began the first movement, allegro, the musicians all glanced at each other as they played, looking for a connection to each other and to the piece. In the second movement, canzonetta: tranquillo, the connection was there. The third movement, adagio non troppo, was intensely beautiful. The final movement, allegro con fuoco, was played with an appropriate fiery energy. The eyes of the oboist were large and alive, the violist was often lifted from his seat by the fury of the music and Primakov was indistinguishable from his piano. Their hands flew and their hair bounced on their heads. I was fascinated by how the body language helped express the music and wondered how the body language of the artist could help express what they were painting. Often when I watch artists paint there is no excitement in the process. Each color is carefully mixed and placed on the canvas. But I remember watching my teacher when he gave critiques in the classroom and he was quite lively. Some colors were mixed gently and lovingly on the palette and applied tranquillo to the canvas. The shadows were applied adagio, but not too slowly. The middle tones came faster, allegro, and the biggest lights were mixed in big impostos on the palette and applied to the canvas with fire and power. He lunged at the easel, his hands flying, he was indistinguishable from the canvas.....

By the Brook

8 x 12   Oil on Panel

There is a brook that runs through the center of town called the Flower Brook. It is the pathway for rainfall and snow melt to find its way from the mountaintop, down through the Mettowee valley, to the Battenkill River. In some places it takes a narrow path, trickling over some rocks. Other spots are wide and deep enough to do a little fishing. In the middle of town there is a dam creating a waterfall which sends the brook to run under a bridge on the main road and behind the general store as it continues its journey. There is a spot that I am particularly fond of, not far from the road but secluded and quiet. I like to go the there on hot summer afternoons to cool my heels and watch the dog fetch sticks as she swims in its gentle current. Today was one of those days. I left the dog at home, however, and instead took my easel to spend the afternoon painting by the brook.....

On the Pond

34 x 36   Oil on Linen

I kept a journal for a year, faithfully recording my life as an artist. Here is my entry from

Saturday February 20:

I couldn't tell if I was dreaming or awake. I was at the scene in my painting, at the pond. I could feel the crisp cold air and the warm sun on my face. The kids took no notice of me at first and the two young lovers were in their own world too. I watched the clouds roll in and took notice of the movement of the branches on the trees. It was all so vivid, so alive. This is how I want it to be in the painting. One of the kids gave me stick and asked if I wanted to pass the puck around with them. I joined in and became part of my own painting.

I woke early and took our dog, Mika, out for her morning snuffle. I fed her, started a fire in the basement and one in my studio, and turned up the gas flame in Elizabeth's studio. When I got back to the house Elizabeth was up and ready to start her day too. We chatted and had breakfast together. For 31 years this has always been the way we start our day. She prepares her breakfast and I gather mine. We sit and discuss the events of the previous day and world events, and share how we see the day going forward. Once the day gets started events can take on a life of their own so we always take a little time each morning to enjoy each other's company.

Finally I'm in the studio with a full day to work. After my semi-dreamlike night I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my painting. I worked hard, but lovingly, on the young couple, trying to make them look like they were in a world of their own. And I worked on the kids, the ones I was playing with just a few hours ago. I wanted them to be alive, in motion, focused on their play as they moved through the crisp cold air. It took all my talent and training to bring them to life. It was a good day, I had a brush in my hand.....

Fruit and Flowers (original version)

Fruit and Flowers (revised version)

24 x 30   Oil on Linen

It doesn't always come out right. You have something to say, something to express, but there are times when you’re not understood. No matter how hard you work to be clear you just can't find the right words, the right phrase, the right color, the right brushwork. You do your best, you finish the piece and send it out into the world. The thought, the idea, the concept you want to get across is out there for the world to see but no one responds. You try it in another venue, and then another, but there’s still no response. In time the piece returns to you. You look, you listen, you read the piece for hours on end. Finally you begin to edit, to rewrite, to repaint, to simplify, bring out subtleties, create more harmony, more luminosity, add depth and richness. You find a way to build character and breathe life into your work. Sometimes it comes easily, other times you have to work long and hard to say what you want to say.  Fruit and Flowers didn't come out quite right at first. Now, after being lovingly reworked, it is ready to go back out into the world again. Ready to speak, to be understood, to get a response.....

(click on the image to get a larger view where you can get a better sense of how the painting changed)

Winter Harmony

20 x 24   Oil on Linen

John Adams, our second present, was raised with strict Puritan values. Hard work and uncompromising morality were the foundations of good character and the guide to living well he was taught. The arts were to be cautiously appreciated as something to refine one's taste but could also lead to laziness, corruption and debauchery. This view softened when he was living in Paris as the American envoy to France during the American Revolution. There he began to grasp the power of the arts and the importance of culture. He enjoyed the concerts and museums so much that he feared he might be neglecting his negotiations. He redoubled his focus on his duties but in a famous letter to his wife Abigail he wrote "I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture in order to give their children a right to study paintings, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain." He came to believe it was worth the hard work of generations to produce a magnificent piece of music, a beautiful poem or a great painting.....

Standing Nude

22 x 14    Oil on Linen

Yesterday in class I saw a student reading a book simply titled Perspective. "Is that about perspective in art or on life?" I asked playfully. "What's the difference?" another student inquired. "Well," I said, "one is a particular point of view, the other is viewed from a particular point".....

Early Morning

16 x 16   Oil on Panel

I never knew my grandteacher, Frank Vincent DuMond, but my teacher, Frank Mason, would talk about him and how his love of nature affected his painting. "Don't make the greens in your landscape look like arsenic" he would say, "it should look like something a cow would want to eat." He didn't want any harm to come to the cows, or to the birds. "There needs to be air between the branches of your trees so the birds can fly through them" he would tell his students. One day a student brought in a painting to be critiqued. It was a landscape with a large tree in the center and some odd black dots under the tree. "What are those dots at the bottom of your tree?" DuMond asked. "Oh," the student replied "those are the birds that couldn't fly through my tree".....

Erica

24 x 20   Oil on Linen

The surface of the canvas the artist works on is known as the picture plane. For many years, centuries actually, artists painted their sitter or landscape or still life as if it were receding from the picture plane. When the painting was framed you felt as if you were looking through a window or doorway at the subject of the piece. More recently, the past hundred years or so, artists have built their paintings on the picture plane. This brought the subject of their works right up to the face of the viewer. I can see advantages and disadvantages to both approaches. In my own work I've taken a different path altogether, I choose to ignore the existence of the picture plane. Instead I see my canvas as an empty space. This lets me to enter into the space beyond the canvas and also bring my subject as close to the viewer as I choose. Because the picture plane is no longer a window, or barrier, between the artist and the sitter I am able to occupy the same space as my sitter. I can talk with my sitter, reach out and touch her, engage with her, laugh with her, paint a more intimate portrait.....

New Beginning

10 x 18    Oil on Linen

I can describe every representational painting ever created in five words: light on form in space. Now, of course, this is a very basic description and does not take into account the subject matter and its story or content, or the emotional impact, or even the technical merit of a piece. It does, however, describe the inspiration for most paintings, nature. Whether an artist is painting a portrait, or a figure composition, a still life, landscape or seascape the inspiration for his work of art is a form, occupying a certain space, revealed by light (generally a single light source). The artist is free to manipulate this subject matter in whatever way he chooses. Some add to or subtract from the objects of their observed subject while others manipulate the composition on their canvas to create a more pleasing picture. Others flatten or distort the subject, while some create impressions of what they observe. No matter what the artist does, or how he chooses to express it, he is still essentially painting light on form in space.....

Still Life Con Brio

20 x 24   Oil on Linen

Still Life Con Brio didn't come to me in a flash of inspiration. It began with my gallerist suggesting I do a painting demonstration at her gallery. It was to be done in the Christmas season so the idea of having red and green dominate the color scheme was a given. The music of the piece began to come to me. I like to think of the time spent conceiving a painting as its opening movement. The thoughts for this piece developed at a good pace, not too slowly, not too fast, an andante perhaps. The second movement, the demonstration itself, was an adagio con anima. I began by slowly expressing my thoughts and philosophy of painting. Slowly but with life, with feeling. That movement had a long cadenza of course so I could show off my technical skills (you can watch a short video of this movement on Vimeo). I came back each of the next two afternoons to work on the painting while chatting with a friend who watched as I worked. Now I was free to paint at my own pace, allegro con brio. The paint came flying off the brush at a lively pace, expressing the objects in the painting with vigor and vitality. Portraits of each object in the painting began to emerge, then each took its place, harmonizing with the others to create a gorgeous ensemble. The colors were bold and beautiful and the brushwork virtuosic. I was at my easel and nothing else in the world mattered.....

Winter, Gibbous Moon

16 x 16   Oil on Panel

A new year is about to begin. Over the course of the past year I have been thinking about beginnings and the original beginning, creation. Being raised a Catholic my conception of creation comes from the bible. I've mused on the similarities of creating a work of art and the creation story in Genesis. In the beginning, says the bible, there was a void, and God separated the heavens and the earth. My empty canvas is also a void and I decide what will reside in that void and what will not. Next God separated the darkness and the light. I also create lights and darks to illuminate the middle toned void on my canvas. Then God separated the land from the sea and created plants and animals to inhabit them. As I compose my paintings I also decide what plants and animals will inhabit them. Finally God creates man by taking dirt from the earth and breathing life into it. When an artist paints he takes dirt from the earth, mixed with linseed oil, and breathes life into it on the canvas. On the seventh day God rested. That's the hardest part for the mortal artist, there is so much to be painted and so little time.....

Variations on Cezanne's Still Life with a Plaster Cast

30 x 24   Oil on Linen

The idea of variations on a theme has always fascinated me. In music there are variations on an original theme like Bach's Goldberg Variations. There are also variations on a theme by another composer like Rachmaninoff's variation on a theme by Paganinni or Beethoven's variations on Mozart's duet from Don Giovanni "là ci darem la mano." These variations generally begin with simple changes in key or tempo and then go off into marvelous and ingeniously complex manipulations of the original theme. In painting there is a tradition of one artist copying another's work like Rubens' copies of works by Titian or Picasso's interpretations of paintings by Velazquez. But these are wholesale reinventions not variations. So I assigned myself the task of doing multiple variations within a single work by another artist. A theme by Cezanne seemed like a good choice, I chose his Still Life with a Plaster Cast (now in the Courtauld Institute of Art, London). I could have approached the problem by playing with technical elements such as color and composition but instead decided that my variations would be stylistic. The plaster cast, for example, is a more classical rendering than Cezanne's version. The blue draped chair on the left (part of a painting in Cezanne's version but a real object in mine) is painted the way Matisse might have handled it and the floor is reminiscent of Van Gogh's approach. The deep shadows in the upper left hand corner are rendered with multiple glazes à la Titian. The apples on the table represent various artistic styles while the onions return to the way Cezanne himself rendered them. For the paintings stacked on the floor I've introduced cubist, abstract expressionist and religious themes. All of these variations are held together by my own artistic hand and philosophy. I've never seen a painting approached this way before, perhaps I've invented a whole new genre of painting.....

After the Rain

10 x 12   Oil on Panel

The reason I prefer to create plein air oil studies rather than work from photographs is this: the oil studies, no matter how unfinished they may be, are a richer, fuller interpretation of the landscape before me. Photographs are like simple, unadorned declarative sentences. No adjectives, no adverbs, just a record of what fit within the parameters of the lens. When I'm standing outside painting, however, I can express what is going on outside the parameters of my canvas. I can see the clouds moving into my painting and feel the breeze on my face. I am aware of the moisture in the air, the birds singing and the joy of seeing the clearing in the distance. I am not just painting the scene before me but painting the experience of being in that place at that time. Monet's paintings of his gardens are great paintings, not because they accurately describe his garden but because they make you feel as if you are actually experiencing what it was like to be in those gardens. Rembrandt’s portraits are masterpieces, not because he can paint a better likeness than anyone else, but because you feel like you could speak to the sitter. Rembrandt recreates the experience of being in the same space as the sitter. Photography is very good at recording what is in front of you, but painting is able to express the experience of being there. Photography speaks, a painting sings. A good plein air oil study can take me right back to the place I was standing when I did the sketch, I can hear the birds and feel the breeze.....