Blog

   During the course of the last two and a half years as I painted and drew my way to the M.F.A., I was often asked about whether I would teach painting and drawing.  Drawing I could fathom, but teaching painting seemed somehow out of reach.  I thought that perhaps it was because I have been drawing for so much longer than I have been painting, but everytime I contemplated explaining anything but the most rudimentary of processes, I started drawing blanks, particularly when it came to explaining how I went about the business of moving paint with a brush.

I honestly have no good idea, except that a good sound track seems vital.

    This portrait was begun when I was ill and pretty foggy brained, and when I came upstairs to look at it the day after I'd put down the bones, I stood in front of it wondering just how it had made its way unto the canvas. And a big, 4' x 5', canvas at that- two lifesize subjects and a grand piano.  Clearer brained, I set about trying to make rational decisions about my pallette, brushes, mediums,  but in the end it was to no avail- I just felt my way though the tubes and squished.  How to explain that to a student?  And so it continued today, but really, I have faith that somehow, it's just going to work out. Not exactly edifying explanation of technique, but maybe the thought that one can pull it off is the most important thing.  Still, this I know- it's merely impossible as a teaching methodology.                                                                                            

    Brought the big easel down to 111 Pennsylvania Avenue yesterday in preparation for painting in my studio away from home.  I'd hope to move down there a few weeks ago, but a bad case of pneumonia and a follow on reaction to an antibiotic thwarted me- the antibiotic gave a shake, and disallowed me lifting my arms.  No painting, not even any drawing for a few weeks.  I don't want to be in that position again any time soon.  I mean, I like reading, but just consuming and not creating was the most demoralizing experience I'd had in a long time.  

   Slowly but surely I'm recovering, tho' not as quickly as I'd like.  Managed to stretch a large 4' x 6' canvas, but then was wiped out.  Moved the easel, but then was wiped out.  Layed down the basis for a formal portrait, but couldn't contemplate painting for another hour, much less two.  That's turning out to be a good thing for this piece, I think- I've had to really assess what will make it work, and decided that it'll be all about the textures- the high gloss of the piano, the sheen of silk, the opaque darkness of wool, and then the essential humanity of the bits and pieces of exposed skin.

   I'll take the painting down to 111 next week, and start working on it there, in the fine north light of the front studio. Going to "work", instead of just shambling up the stairs to the studio, getting distracted by the dogs or the dust bunnies but painting in a fishbowl, as it were.  More later on how this experiment goes.