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...