The Artwork of Judith Reeve

Sometimes I only have a vague notion of my next image. It comes to me sometimes in the middle of the night or driving in the car. But it keeps coming to me again and again slowly taking shape and becoming clearer in my mind. These images are just as important as the ones that appear like a bolt of lightning in all their dynamic quality and clarity. Sometimes these more subtle images speak more about an unconscious aspect of ourselves or sometimes it is something that is so common place that we fail to notice it right before our eyes.

I find it is helpful to keep notes of these things. Slowly and imperceptibly images form upon these thoughts. It is perhaps like making soup. You begin with a base and you keep adding to it until it starts to carry the aroma that you have been savoring,yearning to taste. This aspect of my creative process is why I named my blog attentive equations- the equation being the multi-faceted assortment of material that becomes the basis of an image and to a greater degree a lineage of one’s artistic vision.

I have been musing over a design for a lithograph, one that has the character of a spontaneous observed moment. If one knows anything about lithography it is not what I would call a spontaneous process. It takes a lot of planning. A sketch directly on the stone takes a skill that I have only seen by say Whistler or Anders Zorn. There is no room for error. A mistake is permanent and can only be corrected by starting over and regrinding the stone. But there is something pure about the free print and Whistler was truly able to capture it. One of his images at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is a sketch of the artist’s sister with a friend having an intimate conversation in a parlor. It was briefly sketched but contained in its brevity a touching moment of intimacy between both the friends and the artist- they feeling free to express themselves in his company. It is this quality of authenticity that intrigues me- a common place yet genuine moment.

These common yet alluring moments of discovery are what was calling to me in the middle of the night. My daughter has really become a generator of inspiration for me . A child’s intense interest in all things no matter how common place they are has captured my imagination. It is not too often that there is something right before one’s eyes that holds a key to unlocking the inherent intensity of life itself. The child contains in his or her being an intense love of life and experience. And this, itself, seeks expression.

My image for the lithograph went through many stages before I could actually pinpoint this as the quality and expression I was after. And as it appears now, it may continue to develop further and emerge as a different type of image in the future. But I have to allow it to change and reach its eventual fruition within myself as well as within the image.

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There is a dynamic relationship one needs to have with nature. Avoiding passivity is essential to being an artist. One needs to be in an active state of being that can allow nature to speak something new each and every time we approach it.This active state I call dynamic receptivity. My mentor, Deane G. Keller, use to profess that the creation of a piece of art sprung from a combination of two things- “what you know and what you see”. One must approach nature with an openness to the new, that which appears before our senses as true, but one must also approach it with a knowledge that has been searched for and appropriated as one’s own.

This knowledge can be divided into that which can actively be sought after and that which alone can only be intuited. There is a physical and sensate understanding to nature that can be acquired. We can come to know the physical make-up of matter, i.e. anatomy of a person as well as of a tree or horse. We can search for the properties of light and color; the science of clouds and the atmosphere as well as the very materials that we use to create a work of art. I often think of Rodin’s sculpture of the “Centauress” (1887) in Philadelphia. It is a piece that expresses our material being profoundly- It depicts a woman bound physically to a horse, her legs being that of the horse and she is struggling and reaching upward to seek her freedom from her bondage with matter. It depicts what we know of matter but it seeks the flight of spirit that goes beyond our material understanding.There is the physicality of nature but it is the dynamic ascension of the spirit that  brings life into matter. The french philosopher, Gaston Bachelard states that, “By becoming conscious of his power to ascend, a human being becomes conscious of his destiny as a whole. To be more exact, he knows that he is matter, a substance filled with hope.” ( Bachelard, Air and Dreams, p.60)

This later type of knowledge can only be found intuitively. It is empathy for all things expressed in and through the material. It includes also the artist’s own personal vision. One can receive training, to a certain degree , on the physical side of matter- we learn how to render and seek out anatomical landmarks, but as regards to our personal vision and our ability to bridge the gap between ourselves and another man through empathy, takes an intuition that cannot be taught. Empathy is a gift. And our receptivity to the emotions of another being must spring from within. Experience of life can open up a sense of empathy for others but it is primarily a sympathetic emotion that is called forth within us through an intuitive understanding of the other- the other being a person, an animal, a situation or event or an experience within nature that speaks or reflects our own self. This reflection of ourselves that we observe in nature, ie. identifying intimately with another, becomes a part of the artist’s personal vision. It is these intimate experiences linked together that come through an artist’s work that we call  an “artist’s vision”.

A place of receptivity, on the intuitive side, is reverie. In reverie we come to intuit that which exists but remains unseen. Reverie brings forth hidden things that at the present moment we have no awareness of- things that are unconscious that are seeking consciousness. Art is as much about doing as reflecting. It is a life of reflection that finds its materiality in the creative act. And there is nothing in the world without emotional content, whether it is evoked by an object in nature or that object becomes a place for the transference of the artist’s own state of being. An artist doesn’t seek to just copy nature but to render that which is within and without containing in the image an understanding of one’s self and the world.

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“You can’t draw a head until you see it whole. It’s not easy. Try it. When I first realized this it seemed that I had to stretch my brain in order to get it around a whole head. It seemed that I could go so far, but it was a feat to comprehend the whole. No use trying to draw a thing until you have got all around it. It is only then that you comprehend a unity of which the parts can be treated as parts.” (Henri, The Art Spirit,p.107) As Henri states, it is difficult to comprehend the whole head- its form as well as its expression- to see it all at once and not a summation of various parts.  The gesture of the head and its whole attitude hinges on one’s ability to comprehend the head in its entirety and is imperative to an accurate rendering of the individual. There are many portraits that achieve a likeness but very few that capture the spirit of the living being, a freedom of spirit expressed in the very rendering itself.

The rendered head is a double mirror. It contains the character of the sitter, their spiritual makeup in all its complexity, as well as the idea of the artist’s attitude toward humanity. In a sense it becomes a reflection of two spirits- sitter and artist. The sitter presents themselves but the artist presents their own perception not only of the individual that is before them but also of their very personal attitude toward humanity itself. As I said in my last blog, one does not only paint nature but also that which is contained within the soul of the artist-In the act of rendering nature, the artist cannot separate themselves from the creative act.

This duality becomes more complex when we reflect on the ideas of someone like Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. He believed that every individual is split down the middle- that we all contain within ourselves that division that is within all of humanity as well as nature. We are all divided and capable of the greatest good as well as the greatest evil. (Solzhenitsyn, A World Split Apart- Nobel Prize Lecture) This idea has been further expressed by Herman Melville’s Ahab- his scar running through his face and his entire body- he is literally split down the middle. This knowledge adds to the inherent complexity of rendering an individual. A portrait now becomes a meeting place of two dualities. A formidable task to say the least.

When I reflect on this, I often think of  Gericault’s portraits of the insane. He not only depicts their outward character but also the division that lies within them and in a sense, has caused the fracture of their mental state. Gericault also reveals to us his intense love for humanity and the connection he feels to these broken individuals. He gives us an intimate portrait of the insane in all their fragility but also his own comprehension that he himself has the possibility of falling victim to this division as well. These insane individuals exist within each of us- they are the unconscious part of our own being.

Today, commercial portraits present the flawless individual. There is little acceptance in the contemporary sitter of their weaknesses. Whereas in the past, people accepted to a certain degree the knowledge of their own frailty- of our unity with the rest of humanity. Portraits were a place to reckon with ourselves- think Velazquez and Hals- there was always room for self-reflection both for the artist and the sitter. In a sense it was the  moral responsibility of the artist to reveal in a physical way what he intuited in the individual.

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“Art is autobiographical…you cannot put more into your art than you yourself contain.” This quote by Jonas Lie places great responsibility on the artist. One is called not only to be exceptionally skilled as regards to one’s craft but more importantly,  to be an exceptional individual. In the act of creating one cannot remove one’s own being from the process. The two are intertwined and inseparable. One can only paint what one knows in the true sense of the word. What is within dictates one’s selection of what to create as well as how that image will find its shape and form. But more importantly, what is within, as revealed through the image, will lay bare to the world that most intimate part of our human nature. That part of our humanity, our personal geography, will present itself in a way that is beyond our will, our ability to control.

When we look at artists in history, is it not an inner transformation revealed in their work that we seek? A deeper connection between the world and ourselves? One is not so interested in how they were viewed in their own time but what do they reveal for me here and now. Does their work have efficacy? Does the image have a transformative power or is it mere beautiful technique?

The more profound the image the greater the connection is between Nature and the inner life of the artist. Both revealing more of one another-the artist showing an insight into Nature and Nature unveiling the inner life and convictions of the artist. These convictions of the artist become exposed in their work in the process of creation and by the subsequent feelings that emerge. Through his sympathy with nature, the artist creates a  bond. This bond or contract with nature is the image. Images act as guide posts. The image linking us back through history and giving us the ability to dwell momentarily with the artist, sharing in his humanity. The image also, becomes a  visual hallmark of recognition that touches us deep within our being and allows us to say ‘yes’- to give our personal assent- an elan.The journey, of both the artist and the viewer, acts as a moral and spiritual reinforcement. “I do not attempt voluntarily to symbolize nature, but in portraying nature to impart to my work a suggestion of that which is within, and that which is beyond.” ( Jonas Lie, as quoted in”Jonas Lie-Painter,” Index of Twentieth Century Artist 1 ,( August 1934): 225.)

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Fawn's Leap

When one works with any subject one needs to depend greatly on one’s memory.  Memory holds things fast. Only memory can retain what is lasting- all superfluous details melting away when one no longer has the subject before him. As the writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn put it, “own only what you can always carry with you: know languages, know countries, know people. Let your memory be your travel bag.” This comes from a man who memorized in detail his own novels to prevent their discovery by the communist authorities during his exile in Siberia. He learned how to retain that which was most important to him- his own creative acts.

Memory identifies that which leaves its mark upon us- a movement, a gesture, an insight. “Painting is the intermediate somewhere between a thought and a thing.”  ( Sydney Smith)  I think this quite profound. Does  not memory in a sense occupy this place where the artist in the creative act vacillates between what is observed and the thoughts and emotions provoked by the thing itself?

Plattekill Falls

This week I painted some falls in a deep ravine. The light of the sun entered the ravine in a dramatic fashion creating a direct shaft of light that traveled quickly across the end of the ravine where the falls were located. It was a beautiful and dramatic vision of the falls. But this view was ever changing, constantly in flux. I had to choose the moment I wished to paint as well as retain in my memory that moment that most affected me- constantly attempting to capture what it was that created the drama within myself as well as in reality. Henri states, “the most vital things in the look of a face or of a landscape endure only for a moment. Work should be done from memory. The memory is of that vital movement. During that moment there is a correlation of the factors of that look. This correlation does not continue…The special order has to be retained in memory… Memory must hold it.” ( Henri, The Art Spirit, p.27)

The flux of life itself makes it difficult to hold something fixed in the memory. All things change from moment to moment. But one of the greatest assets of memory is that by becoming conscious of that which is retained, we come to know ourselves more intimately and come to understand what our real connections are to the world. What we carry with us is an insight into our own geography.

Painting itself is a confluence where memory and experience converge. From these two forms of human activity emerges the image, that which will remain beyond our own personal investment. One informs the other-the multitude of memories that we have effect the present, shaping and ‘coloring’ our present experience. I like to say memory and experience together create ’significances’. As a painter this is what I hope my images present- the materialization of that which affects me deeply on more levels than I am conscious of and in a sense would find it difficult to explain. These  ’significances’  symbolically identify the nature of my being and my capacity to retain what is most important. Through memory, experiences manifest these ’significances’. And this is the ‘ exceptional’  moment to be held on to. Reverie and dreams connect us with our memory and the storehouse of these ’significances’, allowing our experiences to have greater depth and tie us emotionally to the present moment. The late poet, Robert Creeley states in his poem Caves,   “…Memory is the cave one finally lives in, crawls on hands and knees to get into.” ( Robert Creeley, On Earth, Last Poems and an Essay, p.30)

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Clouds

Lately, my painting has focused mainly on the complexity of color temperature. I’ve been seeking a way to simplify my initial block-in by concentrating on color temperature as the key to unlocking the nature of my subject. Color temperature is one of the most difficult things to differentiate in a subject rendered from life. Value is something more easily understood but temperature is the thing that really gives vitality and life to a painting. Henri states in  The Art Spirit, “Form can be modeled in black and white, but there are infinitely greater possibilities in modeling through warmness and coolness of color.” ( Robert Henri, The Art Spirit, p.62.)

In my last blog post on color temperature, I wrote about Sargent’s use of a simplified value structure evident in his mural work at the Museum of Fine Art Boston and the Boston Public Library. This two value structure in the lights and in the shadow can later be built upon.  Within this two value structure, Sargent focuses on a simplified temperature relationship, where a cool and a warm balance one another on the light side and on the shadow side of the subject. A cool and a warm linked to two values. This simple beginning used in the murals gives them life prior to their being fully rendered.

I have also observed this simple structure of value and temperature in clouds. It is especially evident in denser lower clouds such as a cumulus cloud. There is great form in these clouds since they are low enough to receive directional light from the sun giving them an evident light side and shadow side. Although there is this evident form, clouds remain primarily unified as compared to the general landscape. There is a subtle shift of value but most of its form is achieved through color temperature.

By observing these cumulus clouds, I have found that there is basically two values and two temperatures on the light side as well as the shadow side. The denser the cloud the more evident this observation is. On a large near cloud the lights are cool with a warmer half-tone and the shadows are cool with warmer reflected light.  On the shadow side-a cloud is cooler along the shadow edge and in the denser areas of the cloud where light cannot penetrate the density. Areas that appear warm on the underside are areas of less density where some of the sun is filtering through. The same holds true for the light side- the denser the cloud the more brilliant the light side and in the less dense areas, a warmer tone  will appear.  That is why very thin clouds will appear as a general warm tone.  These observations are for near clouds and it must be noted that for far clouds  the temperature is reversed- the lights slowly move toward the warm as they approach the horizon line. There is also less differentiation toward the horizon line- the values become closer still.

One can also observe that a cloud does not stand alone and it is perfectly unified with the sky. Where a cloud is warm along an edge the sky presents a cool and where the cloud is cool along the edge the sky presents a warm. The ever changing flux between a constantly shifting temperature allows for a clear presentation of form with the most variety possible. “At times secreted in the appearance of a simple tone there is a gamut of color, a shifting across the spectrum which keeps the thing alive, illusive, and creates the mystery of depth.”(Ibid.,p.42). Allowing temperature to be a guiding principle early on creates a simple feeling of form and identifies the quality of light enabling the artist to concentrate on the power of the image.

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Ben in the Clouds

“One cannot step into the same river twice.” This quote by Saint Augustine leaves much to meditate on. Although he was referring to the passage of time and its constant progression, I often think of it in reference to re-approaching the same subject matter. An artist needs to have the ability to see all things for the “first” time.This is relatively easy when one travels, but it is important to have that similar vision toward what immediately surrounds you. One has to allow the subject to tell a new story each time one approaches it.

The first time you see a landscape or a figure there are things that immediately present themselves and one sees fresh. The next time may be quite different. What at first appeared one way has taken a new direction. One is taken down a path that one could not initially perceive. I find that subjects I enjoy re-approaching present deeper themes that resonate with some intuitive part of myself and it is only by constantly seeing it again that I come to know that theme more intimately.

There are times when I find a model or a landscape that can easily transform into new themes.  These times reflect the artists interior journey. Such subjects contain within themselves that illusive part of nature that is seeking material form – always tempting the artist to pursue it, to try another road.

I find I can no longer paint still lifes. The attraction is no longer there primarily because I find them static. I am more interested in things that are more fleeting and temporary – the change of seasons, the light of a particular day, people and their expression of soul, the emotions , the classical beauty of the figure. These things sum up the fragility of all things in nature bound to more enduring qualities.

Re-approaching many subjects one begins to see the over-arching themes, the connection between all things. When one paints things again and again one defines the landmarks, the map of these things. The artist acts as a cartographer of a hidden world. Lately, my interest has been on the child and the creative and imaginative genius that lies within. I am fascinated by their energy and creative spirit. They are inherently imaginative and express perfect freedom in a world that is not yet divided. A perfect unity of beauty and integrity of being- all comes naturally.There is a certainty in a child that is profound yet fleeting. A day will come when all of this may change as they adapt to the realities of the world. I feel I am compelled to paint it now, this fleeting state, because there will be no other chance to revisit it.

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Plattekill Falls

This past week I had the opportunity to paint some of my favorite subjects in the Catskills- waterfalls. There is something so sublime about falling water no matter where it is. That is why man has been fascinated with it since time immemorial. He has incorporated it into gardens and architecture and public squares. Just the sound of falling water transports the mind and the soul elsewhere, somewhere deep into our interior, creating a stage for contemplation.

As I hiked through the forest, I found myself fascinated and drawn by the sound of rushing water compelled to seek it out and bear witness to it’s awesome nature. There is something so pure about finding the falls deep in the woods. It feels like a sacred place where one should proceed only if one is in a proper state. Otherwise, the gods may look unkindly at you and instead of bestowing a blessing, one leaves with a curse.

As I set up to paint, teetering on rocks or perched like a bird between a tree and a fallen log, I found myself full of deep concentration. The all encompassing noise creating a bubble of isolation that made painting feel full and complete. As I focused on the falls I found that although they were rushing headlong over a cliff there was a feeling that they were simultaneously immobile. This immobility being the key to its sublimity -simultaneously a torrent and a pause. A place where oppositions unite or come together. Difficult to paint, yet containing all that one desires to paint- to have something immediate joined simultaneously to something more eternal. Even when I felt I could not take my image any further, I found it difficult to pull myself away- so transfixed I was by the space.

On one occasion while painting, a storm came up and rolled through the clove. I heard it coming and knew I would not be lucky enough to avoid it. And I was right. It came down in such a deluge that I was quickly soaked to the skin- an appropriately purifying rain. I thought surely my painting had not survived but a little work with a hair dryer back at my friends cabin, helped take most of the water off. Although the stretcher bars warped, the canvas itself remained intact.

The journey was a beautiful adventure into nature, an encounter rarely felt in our everyday lives. Although I returned to my daily routine, there is a place that remains timeless and I know where it is.

painting at Ashley Falls

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Oil study of baby

One of the most difficult aspects of painting is how to begin. When I look at paintings in a museum, where one only has the result to look at, I try to fathom where the artist began- how did he or she initially lay-in the painting. Sometimes it is helpful to look at studies or incomplete work or late work where the artist was less concerned about his public.  Last week I went to the Museum of Fine Arts Boston and I had a chance to examine Sargent’s mural decorations for the rotunda in the museum. They are studies and are part of his late work. They have a wonderful brevity to them in part because they would eventually need to compliment the architecture but also because Sargent knew well how to begin and how each piece would be resolved.

What struck me about the studies was the limited scale of value. There appeared to be only two values on the light side and two values on the shadow side. Unity of value was paramount. But what was also interesting was that the two values had opposing temperatures. There was a warm tone and a cool tone on the light side as well as the shadow side. And this seemed to be the key to achieving form and a sensation of luminosity. Sargent appears to have blocked- in the painting laying in a warm tone on the shadow side and then adding a cool tone for the shadow edge or core shadow; And on the light side laying-in a cool tone and then warm half tones. The lay-in seemed to keep temperature a priority.

When examining the study of Perseus, another aspect became evident and that was Sargent’s use of colored edges. These colored edges also had opposing temperatures. Sargent used a red edge (an edge that was within the confines of the figure) on the light side of the figure running along the cool flesh tone, so that the cool tone was heightened by the warm red edge. On the shadow side he used a cool blue colored edge running along the warm reflected light to heighten the sense of form. This colored edge was also of a deeper value which also aided the form by turning it quickly into the background much like Manet’s technique to turn a form. Much of this more obvious technique was applied in a more subtle fashion in the final mural paintings. But it was also evident in one of Sargent’s most beautiful nudes, Nude Study of Thomas E. McKeller ,which was hanging in the lower rotunda. This painterly piece carried the same hallmarks of the mural studies.

On the upper level of the rotunda hung one of my favorite paintings by Abbot Handerson Thayer, Caritas depicting a young woman with arms outstretched and two children below her. This completely worked painting contained similar traits as the Sargent’s. Observing the two children, one could see that Thayer layed-in the figures, maintaining a unity of value with opposing temperatures. The male child was blocked-in in two temperatures on the light side and two on the shadow side- On the light side a cool green and a warmer pink (complimentary tones) and on the shadow side a green and a deep ocher.  Thayer also used colored edges but not quite like Sargent. Thayer used a cool viridian edge (this edge being part of the background) running along the figure on the cool light side acting as a halo effect rather than as a way to heighten the temperature through opposition ( this is especially evident on the young woman’s left shoulder and arm). On the shadow side he used a deep warm red edge ( this edge being within the figure like Sargent’s) to heighten the cool reflected light ( this is evident on the young woman’s extended right arm and hand). These edges of red and green were complimentary. On the female figure all was completely worked out beautifully and on the children with the utmost brevity, the two extremes evident side by side, each heightening the sense of the other.

These paintings provided much reflection on how one should begin a piece and carry it forward. Robert Henri hinted at similar things concluding that temperature had a greater functioning power to achieve the sensation of light as opposed to a constant change of value. Henri states in The Art Spirit, ” the effect of brilliancy is to be obtained principally from the opposition of cool colors with warm colors, and the opposition of grave colors with bright colors.” (The Art Spirit, p.57; see further discussion on Henri’s sense of temperature in my piece titled, Color Temperature and the Super Color, and A Theory of Colored Edges)

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