Encaustic Paint and Antiquity

Last Friday, November 20th, I gave a presentation with Mike Lesczinski (co-owner of Enkaustikos Paint) to a packed room of New York State art teachers at their annual convention. The topic of the talk was Interdisciplinary Studies and Encaustic Paint. I have a love of the ancient world, so this topic was right up my alley. I thought I would share a few highlights from the presentation that might interest those that like history and life in ancient times.

Let's start with Paint. Paint was important in the ancient world, especially Greeks. They painted everything – bright colors too! It's believed that the Greeks invented encaustic paint, many thousands of years ago. It is a simple formula that combines bee's wax, tree sap, and various pigments. The Greeks were known to use encaustics on their boats, temples, and statuary. One of the earliest references of the use of encaustic paint can be found in the writings of Homer. He describes Ulysses' warships as being painted red. If you were going the paint the hull of a ship - selecting a waterproof paint might be a smart choice. The alternative paint of the age was tempera – not so good immersed in water. Red pigment was available in the form of Minium (lead tetoxide) and Hematite (iron oxide). The Greeks probably when with the lead pigment since it wouldn't break down in sea water like iron oxide.

Red Pigment: Minium or Lead Tetoxide, mined in Spain 

near the Minius River, its Roman namesake.

To create color, artists have been using natural pigments since 40,000 BC. The first synthetic color was invented in 1725. Attempting to make red, they created Prussian Blue. A wonderful color that is also a medicine. It is still used today and has properties no other color possesses. However, if you paint with acrylics or water colors you are out of luck – Prussian Blue is not water soluble. By the way, Enkaustikos makes a very high quality encaustic Prussian Blue.

The Greeks painted (polychome) all marble statues using encaustic paint. Which had the added benefit that it could be polished after it was applied. Below is a krater (greek vase) illustrating encaustic paint being applied to a marble statue. Note the assistant heating the applicators in hot coals. Most ancient marble statues were painted and only a very few show any evidence of being colored.

I think many of us would prefer the aged

condition of marble statues (sans paint). 

Can you image Michelangelo painting David?

The most noteworthy example of encaustic painting came with the discovery of the Fayum Mummies. In 1887, British Egyptologist Flinders Petrie discovered the first group of mummies in a necropolis south of Alexandra, Egypt (about 100 were found, today they number to nearly 1000). The mummies dated back to the late 1st century BC to 3rd century AD and include a cross section of people living in ancient Roman times. What's remarkable is that the traditional gold idealized masks that were common for thousands of years were replaced with highly realistic portraits of the dead. The ideal became the real! These highly detailed portraits were painted on wood panels using encaustic paint. The paint is so well preserved that the portraits look like they were just completed. 

The mummies are a wonderful example of the fusion

of Egyptian, Greek, and Roman cultures. 

Quick history review: The Egyptian civilization dates back to 3,150 BC. In 332 BC, Alexander conquered Egypt (more like they surrendered) and upon his death, his general Ptolomy, took over as Pharoah. The Greeks then ruled for 300 years! Remember, Cleopatra was Greek and the last Ptolomy to rule Egypt. The Romans conquered Egypt by defeating Anthony in the battle of Actium in 30BC. 

So most of the Fayum mummies were of people living during the first 300 years of Roman occupied Egypt. Here's are just few pictures of what they looked like, the clothes they wore, how they styled their hair, and the jewelry with which they adorned themselves.

I've studied many of these portraits and I have noticed a common style or format to them. Most portraits are facing forward in an upright position with the head slightly turned creating a slight shadow, which defines the nose and creates volume. What is most fascinating is the eyes are rendered with a portion of the white of the eye showing under the pupil. And, sometimes the eyes are slightly larger than they should be. This gives the portrait a mysterious feel.  This dramatic depiction of the eyes has the illusion of the dead staring at the viewer. It is an arresting effect. A "knowing" look that makes you feel as if they were about to reveal their inmost thoughts or you caught them in a moment of contemplation.

Well as usual, I probably went on for too long. There are a lot of Fayum mummies to explore on-line. However, they are exhibited in many museums around the world including the Metropolitan and Brooklyn museums in NYC. They are amazing in person!

One more thing. Encaustic painting was highly prized in the ancient world. In fact, Julius Caesar purchased an encaustic painting from the artist Timomakos, probably to adorn a temple. And, he paid handsomely for it - 80 Talents! That's $3,100,000 in 2009 dollars. 

Odalisque and the Virgins

I just completed two new paintings, shown below. Both are experiments that are a continuation of the painting "Arks of Shadow and Light" now on exhibit at the National BAA Encaustic Competition in Ventura, CA (See Post August 4, 2015 "My Wooly Experiment"). Recently, I've been physically penetrating the surface of my paintings. This is possible since I am painting on cradled basswood panels. "No. 22" was painted first, then "Odalisque and the Virgins" a few weeks afterwards.

Pattern and repetition seemed to be a dominating element of theses paintings. In "Odalisque and the Virgins", I elevated the paint so it floated above the surface. You will recognize that this painting possesses the technique and energy of some of my past work if you focus on the surface layer. However, floating above a moving sea of abandonment are circular shapes of pure color. Twenty five different flat colors aligned in symmetrical geometric formation – casting shadows upon the expressive worn surface below.

Carey Corea, "Odalisque and the Virgins", 

Encaustic an Panel, 16"x16"

Carey Corea, "No. 22", 

Encaustic an Panel, 16"x16"

In painting "No. 22", holes are bored into the surface of the panel, filled with color. I am often asked how my paintings are created, so I thought I'll share a little bit about technique in this post. However, some questions that might be better asked are, "Am I moved?", "Does this speak to me?", "Can it carry on a conversation with me day after day?", "I'm I uplifted by viewing it?", "Does it possess meanings that are discoverable?", or "Is it a good investment?" No! just kidding about the last one.

I hope you like the paintings. I appreciate any of your comments. By the way, I just completed the first phase of my new website: careycorea.com please pay it a visit and tell me what you think.

Seeing RED

A few weeks ago, my wife and I attended the preview of "Red" at GeVa Theater in Rochester, NY. A wonderful one act play based on a fictional dialog between Mark Rothko and his young assistant. Brilliant! Go see it if you ever have the chance, you won't be sorry.

So with Rothko still bouncing around in my head, I came upon a New York Times article with the headline: "A Rothko Tops Sotheby's Contemporary Art Auction." A not very interesting 1954 Rothko, "Untitled (Yellow and Blue)" just sold for $46.45 million. Last year at this time, Rothko's "No. 21 (Red, Brown, Black and Orange)" sold for $45 million – a earlier work (1953) and a far superior painting. I mention these prices because Rothko suffered in poverty and was brutally criticized by art critics in his early years. The time frame of above mentioned play was around 1958. A period where Rothko had attained a level of financial success.

Mark Rothko, "Untitled (Yellow and Blue)" 1954

However, what really caught my eye was the auction of another abstract painting. Mark Bradford's "Smear" kick-started the auction. It fetched $4.4 million despite an upper estimate of $700,000. Wow! Big difference. Furthermore, this painting is brand new! It was dated this year (2015). Bradford is a young artist (by my standard) born in 1961. His work has always captivated me and seems to be rooted in an aesthetic and philosophy that resonates with my own. Here's his statement from the catalog:

"The conversations I was interested in were about community, fluidity, about a merchant dynamic, and the details that point to a genus of change. The species I use sometimes are racial, sexual, cultural, stereotypical. But the genus I’m always interested in is change." Mark Bradford

Mark Bradford, "Smear" 2015

Mixed Media and Collage on Canvas, 96"x72" 

How is an auction price of $4.4 million possible? I have no idea who purchased the painting. What is it that makes an artist's work suddenly valuable and desirable? What are people seeing or thinking?

In the play "Red," Rothko's bemoans the gap between his sensibilities and the public's vision. He yearns for an "empathic viewer" that connects with the multitude of hidden meanings/feelings that he has embedded in his color. He is shocked, bewildered and dismayed by the rise of the "Pop-Art" movement. He called these artists, "charlatans and young opportunists" and asks, "Are the young artists plotting to kill us all?" 

Well, Mark Bradford is a young artist that's not plotting to kill abstraction. In my opinion, he is one of the few artists that has decidedly climbed upon on the shoulders of giants of abstraction. And, I am thrilled that his work commands millions of dollars. Although it remains a mystery to me how it is possible.

If you are not familiar with Mark Bradford or his work – check it out.

Drips

A couple of years ago, I had a painting exhibited in a regional show at the Memorial Art Gallery in Rochester, NY and had a few paintings for sale in the Gallery's bookstore. My mother was viewing the paintings and commented that there were paint drips on one of my abstract pieces. My response was that I worked hard to make those drips. What I saw and appreciated and what my mother saw were two very different things, stimulating distinctly opposite emotions and thoughts. My mother is now 91 years old and until a few months ago lived her whole life in the house that she was born in. From her perspective drips were the bane of painting, any kind of painting. Drips were a sign of careless, sloppy work, and should be eliminated. This cultural perspective is reflected in our slang. Calling someone a "drip" meant that they were an annoying person. We don't want to be a "drip!"

So when did drips become an positive aesthetic in painting? And, how was it possible to reorient the traditionally held views on paint drips? Who dripped first? Now, if you google search for drips in art, guess what, you get Jackson Pollack. He had an influence, but I can't count him. He didn't make real drips, he used an innovative drip technique to apply paint. The drips I am referring to are drips that run from applying liquid paint to a vertical surface. Real drips! Purposeful drips! Splatters don't count either, different category. Motherwell made splatter paintings - close but no cigar. We can find a few real drips in Franz Kline's work, even Rothko's. But they were minor, you have to look hard to find them. Hans Hofmann got into drips in the 60's, too late to be innovative, plus they were weird. Well, what about de Kooning? He had paint flying all over the place. Yes, bold brush work, not too many drips. The exception was work that relied on loose washes. Washes created drips, unavoidable. However, most of these pieces with drips seem to be more like sketches and not in the same class as his paintings, which contained hardly no real dripping (thick paint).

Who made the drip respectable and beautifully important? Was it Robert Rauschenberg? I vote yes. Take a look at "Yoicks" painted in 1953. I love this painting! Drips are a central elements of this work. This is an influential painting. I have a board on my Pinterest page called Strata, it's filled with contemporary artists that paint in horizontal stripes - 60 years later.

Robert Rauschenberg, "Yoicks"

1953, Oil and Collage on Canvas, 96 x 72"

Collection: The Whitney Museum of American Art, New York.

Rauschenberg worked with non-traditional or everyday materials, in "Yoicks" case, a patterned fabric. By the way, he used enamel paint that dripped without much effort. His paint seems to assume multiple realities - it acted as a connector between collage and objects but also made a statement. And, that statement was amplified by the emotional content of drips. Intentional and purposeful drips! Color with the energy of drips as message not mistake! I am wondering, could drips relate to Rauschenberg's feelings about art? Art that is not elitist, overly polished, or exclusive to the upper class. Does a brush stroke of color with inseparable drips have the potential to symbolize common everyday life and include everyone? I think it might.

Robert Rauschenberg, "Bed"

1955, Oil and Graphite on Fabric,

75.5 x 31.5 x 6.5"

Collection: The Museum of Modern Art, New York.

Close-up, Robert Rauschenberg, "Bed".

Did these drips gave birth to a new aesthetic?

It must have been shocking to see this work when it was first exhibited. Considering the cultural perception of drips in 1953. Today, with the passage of time, drips are cool. What an impossible transformation! We owe a lot to Robert Rauschenberg.

Well, it's difficult to isolate my comments about Rauschenberg to simply drips. I hope I didn't overlook another artist that contributed to making drips a positive aesthetic in painting. If so, please let me know. 

Revisionist Thinking

Today, I reworked a recent painting (The Possessors of Circles, posted in April) that I completed in February 2015. It took three days and a night to revise. What made me do such a thing? The work was O.K. In fact, I noticed that it was even getting re-pinned from my Pinterest board. It is important to note, this was a revision not a paint over. And, this isn't the first time I went back and altered a finished painting. However, it is rare that I engage in such action. It is my practice to reflect on a work, sometimes for hours, until I am sure it is finished.

Here's what I think happened. I fell in love. I became attached to my technique. I have developed a way of working with encaustic paint that produces large beads and organic shapes of paint. The majority of the surface of this painting was covered with these gems. I usually try to balance this texture with providing smooth areas, creating a tension between the two. The trouble was that I was too successful creating an overall field of amazing surface. And, I could not bring myself to change it. No courage – fear of screwing up a good painting that seemed finished. Maybe it wasn't as good as it could be? I bothered me, but the irritation was only a mild itch, easily dismissed. Until now. I needed the feeling of joy that comes from perseverance and raising a work to its highest level.

Sacrifice was required.

I needed to give up what I previously believed to be valuable for something more valuable. I took out my scraper and began shaving off the rounded tops of the beaded mounds. Major surgery! I must have removed over 3 ounces of paint! About 40% of the surface was now transformed into raised, white, flat topped plateaus that seem to ripple across the surface. Some areas, where I cut deep, became smooth spaces with only a few pits that could be extenuated by infusing color into them.  The addition of an single color (Alizarin Orange), caught in the nooks and crannies, unified and actually enhanced the surface. The shaving process also revealed under-painting and created a surprising marble-like effect in some area.

Emboldened, I began better defining subtle areas, adding detail, and intensifying color. More important, another triangle emerged – creating the twin triangle motif that has characterized many of my older paintings. In a complex painting such a this one, these twin shapes temporarily anchor the viewer's gaze and their symmetry seems to create a calming effect. Adding that triangle was a significant addition! At the last minute, the letters "B" and "E" manifested themselves. These hidden letters almost always find there way into my work.

Here's the revised painting, side by side with the original. It's funny, but these subtle refinements makes me feel like the painting was reborn. However, at first glance, a causal observer might not see any difference at all. I hope you agree that my efforts improved the quality of the work.

Carey Corea "Possessors of Circles" (Revised) Encaustic on Cradled Panel, 30"x30"

Original version. Unfortunately, this photo 

is slightly warmer than the new one, not providing an exact comparison.

However, I hope you can see through that.

My Woolly Experiment

I have just completed a new painting titled "the Arks of Shadow and Light." If you are familiar with my work, you know that I paint with encaustics and I create a considerable amount of texture during the painting process. Encaustic paint has the ability to build-up raised shapes above the surface. I also paint on cradled panels. Sometimes they are made of birch but recently I've been using a special absorbent primed cradled Masonite made specifically for encaustics. Painting on a hard surface instead of canvas has its benefits. In this case, it permitted me to think about the painting surface in new ways.

My painting process almost always begins with black and white thumbnail drawings. This painting was no exception. Out of about 40 sketches, I picked one of the simple concepts. The sketch contained dashed lines forming a vessel or ark shape (a theme of some of my recent work). I sketch with a needlepoint V5 Pilot pen in a sketchbook of heavy quality paper. I also envision the sequence of layers of color and their thickness as I sketch. This is important because I paint in both an additive and subtractive process. Encaustic paint can be scratched or carved to reveal the under layers of color.

It's the dashes that I want to focus on for this post. I got an idea how to create them – an experiment was required! I did not want to mold them out of wax and then apply them for a variety of technical reasons. Instead, I made a visit to JoAnn's Fabrics to buy yarn and a big needle. What an experience! Most yarn is acrylic and acrylic and encaustics are enemies. Well, I finally found some wool yarn (on sale) the kind you'll knit a fisherman's sweater with and a package of repair needles.

Back in the studio, I freely drew the two arks in pencil, one made of dashed lines and the other in a continuous line. I drilled small holes into the panel at each end of the dashed gestural lines and laced the yarn in and out. The pencil lines turned into heavy raised woolly lines ready for the mystery of painting. No matter how much advanced planning one takes there is a point where one must let go of preconceived ideas and just paint. Some painters begin at that point but I rarely do. However, the best paintings are those where you don't force the work and you listen and feel the paint. An analogy just occurred to me to illustrate this reality.

An abstract painter is like a experienced sea captain tossed in a violent storm. The changing sea conditions dictate how he steers the ship and how much power to use. If the captain sticks to his planned route, more than likely, he will capsize the ship.

In the bottom portion of the painting you'll notice a red line of paint. This was add while the sea was tossing the ship around. I laced a long strand of yarn, and as I applied paint, bent it to parallel the slightly curved shape of the vessel.

I know some people take interest in how paintings are created, while others just want to respond to the finished work. I'm of the group that always seem to ask, "how did they do that?" Of course, there is no answer to that question. The best we can hope for is a superficial level of insight into materials and technique.

I hope you like "The Arks of Shadow and Light".

Carey Corea "Arks of Shadow and Light" 

Mixed Media, Encaustics and Wool on Cradled Panel, 16"x16"

New Work: Salt and Pepper

I finished these two paintings before embarking on a recent commission (see last post). Both are painted in encaustic and are 30"x 30" on a 2 1/8" cradled panel. I seem to be progressing in the size of the squares I prefer, 16" a few years ago to 24" and now 30". "Possessors of Circles" was the first painting and was predominately light colored with some areas pure white. The second painting, "Hidden Light" was the opposite. It was dark, maybe one of the darkest painting I have ever created. Every painting is a lesson. What I learned from "Hidden Light" was about the reflections of light on the heavily textured dark surface. When displayed under an overhead spotlight the surface of the encaustic catches the light and creates bright highlights and conversely produces deep shadows. The effect is dramatic and amplifies the pebbled contours of the surface.

I hope you like them.

Carey Corea "Possessors of Circles"

Encaustic on Cradled Panel, 30 x 30 x 2.125"

Carey Corea "Hidden Light"

Encaustic on Cradled Panel, 30 x 30 x 2.125"

Anatomy of a Commission

I agreed to do a commission for a good friend (Bob) who recently purchased one of my paintings. I usually say that I like doing commissions and that my background in commercial art has conditioned me for client interaction. Luckily, my friend is open to abstraction and has experience empowering artisans. The source of inspiration for the painting is a photograph of a Cape Cod bay near his summer home, taken when the light is low in the sky. Traces of the presence of man are only barely discernible ­ a few boats, a portion of a home, a boat dock. The overall scene is placid and quite beautiful.

Crows Pond, Cape Cod

This post has turned into a diary of sorts. Sorry for it length, but it took on a life of its own. The post provides a daily account of the work and a rare glimpse into the mind of the artist. It includes both thoughts and painterly actions instrumental in the creation of this commission.

This journaling is a first for me.

I made dozens of sketches before beginning. And the client requested a sketch before giving me the green light. Because of my preliminary thinking I was able to quickly send a black and white pen-line sketch with color and production notes. It illustrated how I cropped out the bottom half and part of the right side of the photo. I received the go-ahead. I had previously prepared the 30”x30” cradled panel by sanding the edges to avoid slivers when handling, applied blue painter’s tape to the cradle to keep it clean, strung a braided wire so that it could be hung on the wall while the work was in progress (taking off the easel periodically is a must), laid out the composition (converting the photo to a square format, deciding on a 2/3 to 1/3 sky to ground ratio), and roughed in the background colors with a light oil wash.

Thumbnail Pen-line Layout of the Painting with Notes

Day 2

I spent most of the day on the top 2/3 of the painting. I referred to the photo to capture the color of the clouds and the sky, which contributed to the feel of the scene. I fell into the trap of trying to replicate the color of the light and the shadows as they appeared on the clouds. I also tried to see the clouds and sky as compositional elements – seeing the space behind the clouds not as background but also as an equal element as if it had a life of its own. Things did not go well and at the end of the day I was kicking myself for engaging in a process that I am not accustom. In frustration I decided to change the game. I took a nail and carved a large ellipse that delineated the edge of the clouds and the sky. I began carving into other areas, repeating the shape I first created. Well, that did move the work towards abstraction, but did it violate the spirit that I was searching for? I decided to call it a day and went home full of frustration – pledging not to take on a commission that required a point of reference ever again.

Day 3

I awoke before dawn, for this was the time of the Fast for Baha’is, after prayers and reading about the meaning of the disconnected letters of the Quran, I decided to be inspired by looking at the abstract painting of my contemporaries. This would move me away from obsession with the reference, which was not working out and might lead me in a more abstract direction. I decided to not refer to the photo too much and work from memory with the images from Pinterest still in my head.

Things went better. However, I needed to simplify, so I scraped away the smaller shapes created on the previous day. This provided me with a square space that took on the element of reflection of light on still water. No mater how hard I tried I kept referring to the photo. I feared that if I moved to far away from the atmosphere in the picture, I would disappoint Bob. Furthermore, compositionally I have drifted far from the sketch that I supplied. Nevertheless, I forced myself to resist the tendency to realistically copy the photo – just paint! I made progress. I decided to take the painting home and view it in a different environment. This is a practice that is very helpful and has a variety of benefits. First, it lifts my spirits for the lighting in my bedroom makes every painting look better. And Second, I can better reflect upon it due to the nature of the environment. Solutions to problems always surface from this practice. After I hung the unfinished painting at home, I referred back to the photo. I noticed that the composition of clouds were different in the photo. I decided to replicate this relationship in the painting.

Day 4

I awoke realizing what need to be done with the “clouds”. Now this action is antithetical to the process of painting without external reference that I committed to the day before. Normally, I would sketch out a few ideas before heading to the studio. But today I started to write about the issues and concepts surrounding this commission (journal therapy!). I began by trying to explain the seemly conflicting feelings I have been experiencing. Here are some of the thoughts I recorded:

Fear. I am always concerned with making the client happy. And, if there is one thing I know is that most people have the tendency to identify shapes, color and line as known objects or scenes. They can’t help it. How much more when you have a photo that you know was used as reference. The certainty of this phenomenon had an overpowering influence on the painting process. I felt obligated to provide touch points for the viewer, retain the spirit of the image and at the same time create a new experience that possesses a higher level of significance. I am thinking that this might be an impossible task.

Solution. Continue to write, postpone painting. Writing requires focused thought. It is meditative. It releases ideas. It allows for discovery. It confirms action. I now know why Vincent van Gogh wrote so much. Writing facilitates the articulation of meaning and that’s what I need to progress to the next stage of the painting. I need to paint from a point of meaning rather than replication or impression. I will use the atmosphere of the photo, and even some compositional elements, but I need to paint them paradoxically as form and feeling and substance and spirit, as symbols with meanings. It won’t matter if it looks like the photo, but in my heart I know too much abstraction might bewilder the viewer familiar with the reference. Again, paradox and conflict! It has chained my hand from adding personal elements foreign to the photo.

To achieve a new frame of mind, I need to view the natural elements as symbols. Literalness is the enemy of wisdom – and also of abstraction. The clouds in the reference are not billowing water vapor filtering warm light but a sign or attribute of the Creator or of man’s folly. They are a symbol of detachment and source of life giving waters and conversely they symbolize ignorance and imitation that blocks and obscures the light of the Sun. The top 2/3 of the painting is a cloud symbol. It meets the earth at the horizon. I will attempt to honor that natural relationship. It may be the part of the painting that parallels the reference source. However, I now have decided to not with hold the painting of the glyphs of imagination that find their way into my work.

Think Deeper. One special quality of the reference is that it contains all the elements of what the ancient’s believed made up reality – Air (wind), Earth, Light (fire), and Water. These elements embrace in the reference photo – the unconscious reason why it uplifts our spirit. Each element can metaphorically be seen as divine symbols representing mystical stages of creation and therefore possesses the potential for deeper meaning and instill a sense of ecstasy. Once again I will attempt to paint these elements conceptually but not realistically as they appear in the photo.

See No Dichotomies. I need to appreciate the photo instead of viewing it as an adversary. Think unity. This led to the notion that the reference photo itself represents the concept of the relativity of reality. The photo created a “reality” by stopping time. The reality of the scene was different before the shutter snapped and it was different afterwards. In fact, in a matter of a few hours what was a once a beautiful scene would be a darkened space where shapes and reflections are only dimly discernible. These thoughts reminded me of an answer to a question, “to see requires illumination”. And, as the illumination changes so does reality. So I’m not just painting a scene, I am painting a moment. A moment that will never be repeated, and one needed to be present in order to truly experience it. This was not my moment it was someone else’s. And, I can’t replicate that, but I can provide a metaphor for that experience. I will try to elevate the work beyond the pleasure of scenic observation and create a new landscape of the heart.

It’s nearly 11:00 am – I must get to the studio.

Driving the studio I realized that I left my ipad, containing the reference, behind. I took my absent mindedness as a hopeful sign. With my new frame of mind I don’t need reference. Today, I will paint from an internal source. The first thing I needed to do was to rethink the large ellipse that I hastily carved the day before. Janice, my wife, responded negatively to it and I try to listen to her comments. This is another reason for bring the painting home in its early stages. Consultation in all things is beneficial; even in what is believed to be a solitary activity.

I began smoothing out what I had carved the day before and added a line of “clouds” near the horizon that was missing. In the process of working on the area of the ellipse, I felt that it needed to be brighter. I reached for Alizarin Orange, an oil paint that Williamsburg makes. It has the capacity to stain encaustics and when diluted it turns into an unusual bright yellow hue. I use oil paint to color the spaces between the highly built up encaustic paint – this allows the eye to mix the two colors. I brushed on the Alizarin Orange not realizing that the paint had not sufficiently hardened from my previous adjustment, which required a heavy fusing (heat after applying paint). The force of the brush smeared the beautiful little beads of paint created the day before. And once they are gone, they can never be recreated. After an inaudible curse, I carved a ring around the smear. Perfect! That’s what that space needed. The accident opened the door to adding my gestures and shapes that had no connection to the reference but added personality and mystery. I added a mound of paint where a space was, carved another shape and colored it a shade of red violet. I was on my way!

Janice was right, the sky was more cohesive with the carving (line) eliminated. The sky was still too active and variegated. I decided to add more gray to smooth it out. However, I had completely run out of Midtone Gray, which I was using as a base color. Midtone Gray is not just black and white mixed together. It is made up of the three primary colors plus white, so it takes on a complementary reflection when placed next to different colors. For example, it can look yellowish next to purples or bluish next to orange. I had to create my own gray or run to the store. I made my own and worked on the “sky”. Without the reference, it took on a darker tone. I am concerned that the brightness of the sky in the photo may have been lost. Maybe it doesn’t matter –we’ll see.

The painting needed more complexity in the square at the center of the bottom portion of the painting (the reflection area). It is a smooth area that had been carved away and scraped to reveal the layers of color like weathered antique fisherman’s buoys. It needed more excitement, like a controlled explosion. I masked off the area to prevent over spray and repeatedly whacked a brush loaded with orange paint against my adjustable wrench (that I use to pick up hot tins and loosen stuck oil caps) – this action splattered little droplets up from the bottom of the painting. When fused, they grew in size and I had to scrape many of them away. A thick line of light blue was added and then scraped away, revealing a few bands of the orange underneath – this produced a wonderful vibration.

The last thing I did was to add additional ladder forms. Now the bottom right shape change into a more pleasing proportion. Tomorrow, I will decide what to do with the squares that I carved into the edge. I am thinking that the “sky” may need lightening and more mysterious forms added to it (maybe more ellipses?).

Day 5

Saturday. Didn’t go to the studio. Stopped by Rochester Art Supply to pick up a few ounces of Midtone Gray after teaching my children’s class. Turns out they close at 3pm, missed it by an hour. At home, I perused the work of Sammy Peters for inspiration. I had just discovered him on Pinterest and pinned a few of his exhibition photos on my “artists that inspire” board. I began sketching more thumbnails of the painting. It amazes me how these tiny pen sketches can be so useful. A few lines can be loaded with meaning and intent, and act as the impetus for the next idea and action. I began sketching the painting at its current stage of development. I drew a square representing the painting, the horizon line 2/3rds down and three squares across the bottom and filled them in with gestures indicating proposed activity. I realized that I had unconsciously painted the 4 elements and partitioned them into rectangular shapes: Air at the top; across the bottom (left to right) water, light (the center square I previously called “reflection”), and earth. This recognition seemed to be a confirmation of my earlier thought process about the symbols. I was convinced that this insight would significantly effect the direction of the painting. Each of the 4 areas now has their own theme. The trick will be to unify them.

It’s 11:09 pm. Can’t stop thinking about the painting. Looking through some of the pins of abstract paintings I have made on Pinterest. I notice reoccurring shapes. It suddenly dawned on me that rarely squares and rectangles are found in nature. However, they somehow end up in the majority of abstract paintings – including my own. And, they will definitely find their way into this commission. What does this geometry engender?

Day 6

I began the day hopeful that the inertia of literalness had been lifted by the insights of yesterday. I’m thinking that the boat shapes I’ve painted in the “water” section are too literal but at the same time I am attached to the “ark” shape as a symbol. Again, conflict and choice.

As it turned out, I didn’t get to the studio today. My daughter Nicole’s going away party took all my attention (she’s going to Haifa for 2 ½ years to serve at the Baha’i World Centre). I decided to ask Bob (the patron) if he would like to read what I have written so far. He was on his way to Japan but enthusiastically agreed. I sent him everything written above in its rough form (no photo).

Day 7

Slow start to the day, needed to help Nicole get ready for her relocation. I am still thinking about how to paint the boats. While running errands with my wife, we stopped at the studio. She asked if the painting was done. I replied quickly, “No.” I told her what I planned to do to the water area and she suggested that I don’t change the water or the boats. It seems that my desire to move to the abstract end of the spectrum was not shared. This discussion made me reflect that my process of intellectually imparting meanings and symbolism to my work may make it unapproachable. For now, I will not add stripes to the water area as I intended and the boats will stay afloat.

I was showing Jan (my wife) how the painting changes dramatically based on the illumination source. I paint under overhead lights (Solux bulbs, closest to daylight). The heavy build-up of encaustic paint reacts to the overhead light in two important ways. It catches light on the smooth raised areas and reflects it as bright spectral highlights. This adds lightness to the surface and unifies it at the same time. The other effect is that the texture casts deep shadows. This has the effect of adding contrast. Consequently, the colors take on a greater level of intensity. The preferred way to view my work is with it lit from above.

I then turned off the overhead spots and we viewed the work in daylight. The painting dramatically changed. The sky blue ground now became visible and lighter, for it was no longer obscured by shadow; some of the clouds darkened (the highlights disappeared), others softened; and the overall impression became naturally flatter. Now, this isn’t bad, just different. Actually, I really like the idea that the reality of the painting changes with the illumination.

I got back to the studio around 4:30 for a few hours of painting. I made a few enhancements to the “earth” section – basically smoothing (by scraping) a square of texture. This adds drama and contrast. Then I added a stroke of dark pink over flatten green (drip included). Now this color has nothing to do with the “earth” section, but everything to do with the total work. It is an act that cannot be understood in the context of the reference or any figurative orientation. It’s genesis is in the realm of abstraction and operates purely as color and form against a textured green field. In the context of the painting it might be viewed as a visual virus attacking the vegetation of the landscape or conversely, a disruption switch that reorients the viewer’s thoughts and emotions away from a process of identification. More likely, it represents something unknowable and I am foolish to try to analyze it.

I believe the painting may be close to completion. I stripped off the masking tape and carved and fused the paint hanging over the edges flush with the sides. This avoids the tendency for a section of the paint to chip off if handled incorrectly. I am still conflicted about the “air” section only because the reference was warmer and lighter. I am satisfied that an emotional and intellectual connection can be made between the painting and the inspiration source. Or, at least there is in my mind, but I have be intensely intimate with this relationship for a long time. In the final analysis, the work must stand on it’s own. Like an individual – one would be ill advised to compare one’s self to others in order to determine your reality or worth.

Day 8

Busy helping my daughter today. However, after dinner I stopped by the studio and brought the painting home for further reflection and meditation. I hung it under the overhead spotlight. The painting looks so good under this light. Each bead of paint is accentuated so the surface takes on a life of its own. I decided to add a smooth dark green square on the left edge to subtly provide an added measure of balance. The sky is fine and doesn’t require warming.

Day 9

Exhausted after getting Nicole off to Haifa. Another day, living with the painting. Nicole made a few helpful comments before she left. After about 20 minutes of staring at the painting, I felt that the “sky” area was too figurative even though the color had migrated towards violet shades. It needed more of my mysterious shapes so that the viewer wouldn’t make a sky association so readily. This would allow someone to approach the work with a more abstract orientation. We’ll see what happens after I apply this thinking.

Day 10

I made the additions that were conceived the day before. I ended up repainting the “sky.” I just could leave it alone, even though it was beautiful. It was an active sky full of color. I decided to warm up the blue under-painting and add warm grey. I am being controlled by the reference. After about an hour of work, the results didn’t feel right. I began scrapping it off. I must have taken 2 ounces of paint off. This action produced a more level area. However, in the process of scrapping I pulled some spots away from the board indicating that I have an minor adhesion problem, probably caused by the light oil wash or the first layer not heated sufficiently. Tomorrow I plan to add a overall color, making the top portion of the work more of a field, this will simplify the overall painting. It will also permit rapid brush strokes that will add energy.

Day 11

I repainted to top 2/3rds of the painting closer to the color of the reference. However, I did not refer to it all day. These efforts weren’t working. I ended up going back to the original grays and violets but this time I felt the need for contrast so I went darker and introduced patches of dark blue. The “sky” area is still busy but more interesting. It is a great departure from the reference. Undaunted, I began adding mysterious small colored shapes then bold brush stroke of opposite colors. It is beginning to feel like an abstract painting despite my unfounded attachment to providing visual clues, obscure as they may be, to the reference. I brought the painting home for more reflection. I already have some ideas. I am thinking that it might be a good idea never to compare the painting to the photo.

Day 12

I put my hand into my coat pocket and discovered a paint sample that Mike gave me to try while I was buying paint at Rochester Art Supply the day before. Mike owns Enkaustikos Paints and he is always innovating. The sample is called Warm Pearl – a metallic white that has a shimmering luster to it. I am thinking that a bold brush stroke of white in the “Light” section would align with yesterday’s thinking.

The painting took on a bolder more colorful feel today. I don’t always listen to music when painting but today I replayed a J.S.Bach Violin Concertos CD and then some jazz standards. I add stronger violets to the sky area, carved more shapes, and lightened areas with a warm gray. The Warm Pearl didn’t work out the way I envisioned. Instead it evolved into a dramatic yellow green over blue brush stroke. One great feature of encaustic paint is that if you don’t like what you have done you can paint over it in a few seconds. Many of the colors are opaque and only one stroke is required. The Warm Pearl brushstroke made the blue then yellow green possible. I couldn’t have envisioned or achieved the final color without making the effort. I think most painters have learned that we need to be in action to receive the bestowal of confirmation.

Early on I painted two identical boat shapes in the “water” section. Today, I turned one of the boat shapes into a rectangle (a raft, if need be) and increased its color intensity with a stroke of bright yellow orange. This action was predicated by a carved a semicircular shape I just made. I didn’t want the twin shapes to possibly be interrupted as eyes.

Day 13

Couldn’t spend too much time painting today. I added touches of warmth to a few under-painted spots of light blue. The light blue only becomes visible in daylight and it disappears with overhead illumination. At times, I think I am painting two paintings at once.

The power to the studio was turned off this morning due to a downed electrical wire (ice damage). Without electricity I cannot melt the paint – oil or acrylic painters never face this problem.

Day 14

No painting today. This morning, I was reading an article that originally appeared in ArtNews back in February 1950. It was about abstract artist Hans Hofmann, one of my heroes during my school days. He is also celebrated for his commitment to art instruction. In the article, I noticed a common theme – many of the abstract painters of his era were always on the guard against intellectualism and virtuosity. Hofmann says, “At the time of making a picture, I want not to know what I am doing; a picture should be made with feeling, not with knowing. The possibilities of the medium must be sensed…”

Well, what does he mean? What kind of thoughts and techniques are antithetical to his painting process? I believe we cannot really separate thought and feeling, they are part of a continuum. However, most people see them as opposites and separate. So what is being expressed? Are we talking about preconceived thoughts or ideas that originate from a “knowing” modality rather than a “learning” one? If so, then I agree. Is he saying: the painter must embrace the unknown and sense the direction by feeling the paint. If so, then I agree. However, I do not think he is talking about thinking deeply about history, symbolism and reality as “intellectualism.” But if he is, then I strongly disagree.

What does this have to do with the commission? I ask myself a question based on Hofmann’s advice: have I inserted a “knowing” element into my painting process? And if so, is that the reason for feeling conflicted at times? Why have I struggled with the “sky?” Because I know what it looks like in a photo! And, so does the client. This awareness has created a tension from day one. It has taken over a week to burn away that blockage. It turns out that I have traveled from the known to the unknown – transported by sensing the color, form and texture of the medium (just like Hans instructed).

"Crows Pond", Encaustic/Oil on 30"x30" Cradled Panel

Day 15

Finished, on April Fools Day, 2015! I spent a half a day making adjustments in the sky, adding details, painting out bright orange stroke that I previously liked, then adding a strong red spot in the top left. Time to bring it home.

My wife approved. I feel good about the work. It will hang on the wall for a while just to make sure I have done everything I could to make it right. However, I can tweek a painting forever if I allow myself, so I’ll try to resist the temptation. The painting will be named after the point of inspiration:  “Crows Pond.”

This painting would have never came into existence without the provided image. I don't think I would have been motivated to record the daily activity if it wasn't a commission. I hope everyone likes the result.

Art is Bitten by Shark

I read the news today, oh boy… On the cover of the USA Today insert in my newspaper was a curious article with the headline: Record sums for artwork – Most expensive paintings known to be sold (in millions). In a gold frame with a little price tag, read the following:

“Nafea faa Ipoipo (will you marry me) Paul Gauguin $300 Sold: 2015

“The Card Players” Paul Cezanne $250 Sold: 2011

“Le Reve (the dream) Pablo Picasso $150 Sold: 2013

Two thoughts sprang to mind. Firstly, how do you justify these prices? And secondly, I need to change my name to Paul. There’s a pattern here, the top 3 most expensive paintings were all painted by men named Paul (Pablo is Spanish for Paul). Being named Paul must be the secret to getting the big bucks. Now, how can these prices be explained? And, what are the forces surrounding the paying of enormous sums for art today?

Let’s forget about the prices for Impressionists paintings for this post. Instead, let’s focus on contemporary art? Forgive me, but I am going to pick on British artist Damien Hirst to symbolize a sizable segment of the art world today. Damien Hirst’s career started with the now famous shark immersed in formaldehyde. It was the result of a £50,000 commission from Charles Saatchi in which Hirst was allowed to do what he wanted. Hirst simply hired people to catch the shark and put it in the fabricated tank. Later, there was a bit of a setback when a fin fell off, the liquid went murky and the shark turned green and wrinkled. No problem. Saatchi had his curators skin it, get rid of the decomposing body and stretch the skin over a fiberglass mold. Then he sold it to an American collector for around $12 million. 

Damien Hirst, The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living, 1991

Is this folly or am I unable to see great art that is worth millions? A clue to answering this vexing question might be found in the 1837 short tale by Hans Christian Andersen – The Emperor’s New Clothes. Take a minute and read it, you won't be disappointed.

http://www.andersen.sdu.dk/vaerk/hersholt/TheEmperorsNewClothes_e.html

This short story is both wonderful and brilliant! It is about status, symbolism, and their connection to art (fine clothes in this case); the ego and desire; genius con-men; belief in magic (superstition); self doubt and the preservation of power; the insight of the pure of heart; and the inability to change in the face of facts. As you know, in the story the Emperor is obsessed with clothes and wants nothing better than to show them off at every opportunity. It might be said that clothing became his identity and he used it to symbolize good taste, wealth and power. This made him venerable. One day two swindlers in the guise of weavers came to town. “…they said they could weave the most magnificent fabrics imaginable. Not only were their colors and patterns uncommonly fine, but clothes made of this cloth had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office, or who was unusually stupid.” Perfect! The Emperor paid them an obscene amount of money and the “weavers” went to work spinning air. (Isn't spin art sort of the same thing?)

Damien Hirst with one of his spin paintings. Before I was aware of Hirst's spin art, I used to use carnival spin art as an illustration of how easy it is to get seduced just by technique rather than balancing it with spirit, content and form. 

No doubt the spin technique can produce beautiful visual results but its value should be questioned. 

Back to the story. Curious as to the weaver’s progress but fearing his own exposure the Emperor thought, “I'll send my honest old minister to the weavers,… He'll be the best one to tell me how the material looks, for he's a sensible man and no one does his duty better.” When the most trustworthy and truthful minister saw nothing he was filled with self doubt and despair but responded, “Oh, it's beautiful -it's enchanting… Such a pattern, what colors!" The minister sounds like he could sell art. 

Are there swindlers in the art world selling works at prices not commensurate to there true value? Many people feel there are. If we follow the story we find that the "weavers" needed unwitting accomplices to work their deception. Trustworthy ministers went along with the scam, albeit without evil intent. In the art world, are there counterparts? Are some contemporary artists and powerful gallery owners the new weavers come to town? Do museums, art schools, magazines, and even some critics react like the Emperor’s ministers? In today’s crazy art environment, are art institutions like accomplices may be full of self doubt – fearful that they are unable to recognize an important new art form when it comes along. Does their acceptance of almost any new thing reflect today's art culture? More important, are they influenced by powerful art dealers?

It was Charles Saatchi, the gallery owner, who funded Damien Hirst’s shark project and help make his career. The relationship began after he saw Hirst's A Thousand Years, consisting of a large glass case containing maggots and flies feeding on a rotting cow's head. Hirst had recently graduated from school and said, “I can’t wait to get into a position to make really bad art and get away with it. At the moment if I did certain things people would look at it, consider it and then say 'f off'. But after a while you can get away with things.” God help me! What kind of art is founded on this point of view? It is akin to the thief who shamelessly states, "there's nothing wrong with stealing, it's only wrong if you get caught." Intention and sincerity are everything in both art and life. Shouldn't we resist the temptation to devalue noble attributes when establishing the criteria for quality art?

In the story, it is assumed that everyone in the kingdom was immersed in a culture of superstition, for everyone at court whole-heartedly believed in the power of the magical fabric. Today, the world’s art culture seems to be closely related to the one in the story. It’s a culture where art quality is indefinable and where poison and nourishment have become indistinguishable. It’s a world where anything can be art, anyone can be an artist, and where artists are convinced they must out do one another by creating the most shocking art imaginable in order to succeed (To this end in 2003, Chinese artist Zhu Yu eats a stillborn baby as his art exhibition). The importance of artwork today seems to be measured by who can pay the most for it. The high price comes with an added benefit, because the more you pay, the more powerful the art’s status symbol becomes. Can there be any other explanation why a museum in Qatar just paid $300,000,000 for a Paul Gauguin?

Paul Gauguin, “Nafea faa Ipoipo (will you marry me) $300 million, 2015

Side note: Damien Hirst eventually bites the hand that fed him by saying of his patron, “I'm not Charles Saatchi's barrel-organ monkey ... He only recognizes art with his wallet ... he believes he can affect art values with buying power, and he still believes he can do it.” Isn’t Hirst revealing art world’s dirty secret as well as how he became the wealthiest living artist in the UK (worth £215 million in 2010). Who was it that set these prices that made him so rich? Who bought or displayed his "artwork?” Not all museums have embraced his work – one venue rejected his art for fear they would have to clean the vomit off the floor.

Is the artwork of today's shock artists knit to art institutions the equivalent of the Emperor’s new clothes? Some critics think so and even say so. I am inclined to agree to a degree. Do you think that the collectors and museums that bought Damien Hirst’s collection of dead animals in glass cases, spin art, and dots might feel naked and ashamed in the future? I don’t think so. Remember the end of Andersen’s story.

After the pure hearted child blurts out the truth and everyone realizes it, an amazing thing happens. “The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, "This procession has got to go on." So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn't there at all.” 

It amazes me that we have the capacity to lie to ourselves and can hold contradictory thoughts in our mind without feeling troubled by them. One study showed that only 1 in 50 people change their minds when presented with facts that disprove their beliefs. In the end, the Emperor and his attendants went forward “more proudly than ever” as if the truth of his nakedness and the folly of being conned had never been revealed. 

Our egos can be extremely strong when it comes to self-image. I am sorry, but I can’t help using Damien Hirst again to illustrate this point. By 2009 Hirst was now both rich and famous. He understood the art market. For some reason he actually decides to paint with his own hand. He selects The Wallace Collection, a museum renowned for its collection of old masters and 18^th century French furniture, as the venue to exhibit his paintings. He explains, “…My new work somehow feels like they belong here with other works and objects from other times.” Success can blur your view of yourself and your abilities. In his statement, Hirst is linking himself and his work with Rembrandt, Rubens, Titian, Hals and French master craftsmen! This can mean one or two things. First, it's a manifestation delusional hubris brought upon by fame and wealth. Comparable statements have been made by other famous artists – Jeff Koons and Walter Keane, are examples. In Keane’s case he continued to compare himself with the old masters after it was proven he couldn’t paint.

The second possibility could be that it is a deliberate marketing strategy referred to as “rub-off.” This is used when you conflate quality and status to your product by association. It also helps create products as status symbols. A recent Cadillac Escalade ad ‘Evolution of Indulgence’ uses this device wonderfully.

It portrays the conveyance of the rich and powerful throughout history – the pharaoh, an Indian raja, a 18^th century monarch and culminates with you in a Escalade. The message is: own a Cadillac, and you’ll ride like a king and have the status of the powerful! Hirst is basically doing the same thing by exhibiting his painting where the masters once hung. Quality by association. Good strategy but it quite didn’t work. The problem was that almost every art critic seemed to disapprove of his paintings. One said, “To try to be accurate: Hirst, as a painter, is at about the level of a not-very-promising, first-year art student.” However, you have to give Hirst credit for trying. And, I bet the poor reviews didn't stop the wealthy from getting out their check books.

Hirst at his exhibit at the Wallace Collection venue

In the end, Hirst got his personal wish: “to make really bad art and get away with it.” Are you O.K. with that? Or do you think we should seek a higher standard, where it's not about the artist but the art. Art that elevates the spirits of the viewer through the power of its content and not its cost.