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…