I’ve drifted back to painting still lives. I haven’t abandoned the abstracts, but improvising brushwork in response to actual subjects engrosses me.
I had two paintings going in my studio. I worked on them while standing at an easel. Since my injury and subsequent DVT, I can’t stand still for long sessions (swelling and muscle cramps bother me). I retreated to my bedroom and arranged two still life set-ups.
I finished the first still life today, an oil on panel painting of a bulldog statue posed before the back cover of a fine art book of nudes. The bulldog appears to feel uncomfortable with his surroundings…
The two images below show the first and last layers of the painting. The bulldog developed quickly, but the figure took a lot more time to refine. The rough surface and small size of the panel made finesse moves (subtle transitions and detail development) difficult. Near the end, I had to find a way to keep the woman’s face from dominating the composition. I softened a few edges and cut contrasts on her face and body to allow the dog to shine.
I arranged a second still life set-up on my dresser by sitting an old carburetor on the corner. The other objects on the dresser are everyday things left in place. Below are the initial stages of “Carburetor” (oil on canvas, 18×24″).
I’m working on top of a discarded self-portrait given to me by my daughter-in-law. I covered up the hand, hair, and trompe l’oeil stretcher bars in the second layer, but ghosts of the previous painting still show through. I’m thinking about incorporating some of the interference shapes and marks into the final painting.
If you’re trying to figure out the objects, there’s an alarm clock on the far left with photos and a DVD case in front of it, a pinecone to the left of the carburetor, a plastic bag to the right along with a red box and the backside of a piggy bank. The black vertical behind the carburetor is a lamppost. The left side of the still life is much more defined than the right, so I’ll target the rough spots when I get a chance.
You can see that painting is like keeping a guttering candle lit. I have to hope that the initial flounders will lead to something better. It means accepting that, for a time, ugly colors, half-formed, and misshapen objects make the painting suck. It means getting comfortable with open-ended questions about the best path forward.
I’ve recently discovered that obeying instinct works best. If drawn to an area, I work there until I lose interest. I develop another section when it attracts attention. I try to avoid working across the canvas like a general systematically conquering enemy territory. A scattershot approach keeps spontaneity and a sense of adventure present till the end.
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