Playing

I thought I should try painting something a little different.

Other than the fact that, as far as I'm concerned, I'm still on a painting vacation, I've been wanting to take a shot at painting a dinosaur. If this is an area I might want to do more often, I'd probably still paint landscapes, but they'd contain ancient kinds of plants, and I'd have dinos instead of deer or bunnies roaming around.

The big challenge is: I have a certain casual knowledge of dinos as well as plants from the Jurassic amd Cretaceous epochs. But I'm not an expert. Going into this genre would require me to learn a lot more about ancient life forms than I know now.

And on a pragmatic level, I honestly don't know what the market is for dino paintings. Like any other subject, I'm sure I'd do better if I could afford to make inexpensive prints that parents could buy for their kids -- or even for themselves. But who knows -- I've seen a lot of dino art that is intended to show, as accurately as possible, the flora and fauna of distant times past. NO impressionism, NO semi-abstract: just detailed images that are sharp from edge to edge and top to bottom, running afoul of some of the conventions of classical realism.

So, my approach for now is to play around with a few dinosaur paintings, and we'll see where it all leads!

The image above is the painted outline of my first-ever dinosaur: it's a Utahraptor, found in southeastern Utah. They stood about 7'/2m high and thus were the size of the "velociraptors" in Jurassic Park (velociraptors were actually 3'-4'/1m high). The painting size is 8" x 10"/20cm x 25cm.

Jean-Léon Gérôme

Yesterday the Wiffee and I visited the Getty Center in Los Angeles to see the Jean-Léon Gérôme exhibition. He was a 19th century French painter known best for his romanticized images of the Middle East. (You can see many of his works at Jean-Léon Gérôme).

His paintings are stunning. On the one hand, they appear photographic, yet they're better than photos, plus he blurred edges of everything except the important subject. The images still look detailed, yet the subject pops out of the canvas with its sharp edges, brilliant contrast and color.




Above is one of Gérôme's paintings: Pollice Versa! (Thumbs Down!) (If you've ever seen the 2000 movie Gladiator with Russell Crowe, you've seen this artwork brought to life on screen in the opening moments of the film -- the director obviously knew about this piece!) Seeing the painting up close and personal, it's amazing how much detail Gérôme put into it, especially with the numbers of people in the stands of the Circus Maximus. It appeared to be the most popular work in the exhibit.

The description cards along side each work often mentioned comments made by the critics of Gérôme's time. Reading them made me realize how biased and subjective critics were then, as they are today. As an artist, I could see how hard Gérôme worked on his paintngs and how incredibly skilled he was in creating them. One of the bios on the walls mention he sketched eight hours a day, over and above painting and, later, sculpting. No wonder he was so good! I should take the 8h/d habit as advice for my own artistic development.

Seeing paintings of this caliber makes me realize how far I need to go as an artist, but it also demonstrates comments I've seen on artists' forums: artists who paint as Gérôme did would have a hard time surviving today. It takes a long time to work that way, and the painter would have to settle for low production while asking high prices -- a situation galleries don't care for. They want artists who can crank. This may account for all of the modernistic art we see so much of today. They can be made relatively quickly, and with the right kind of promotion, convincing and marketing, might even sell for lots of money.

In short: exhibitions like Gérôme inspire me and discourage me at the same time. Funny how life can be like that, huh?

Thoughts of Days to Come

Here I am, on the computer, feeling just a little guilty because I'm not painting.

Just a LITTLE guilty. I figure I'm on vacation, and working on the computer is the only thing I'm doing right now.

I applied for unemployment a few weeks ago, and I heard this week I'll begin receiving benefits since I was, in a sense, laid-off from my part-time teaching position at the community college.

I'm done painting for the art shows that are coming up next month. A few pieces still need to be framed; however, I've got more paintings than frames these days, and I can't afford to buy more right now. In a few cases, I'll pull paintings from some frames and use those frames on other, newer work. Some artworks were done on edge-wrapped canvases; thus, they don't need frames. And one of the show organizers said I could put small paintings on panels (1/8" thick) into clear plastic envelopes and display them as though they were unframed prints.

So I should be OK. I've been working hard seven days a week for most of the days and almost all of the nights. I'm tired. I need down time.

I'll have to wait until next month to find out if the college will want me to teach again starting in January 2011. We don't have many job openings here in this mostly-rural desert town, so if I don't teach again, I'll have to try and find a way to sell art without depending on expensive shows. The Internet to the rescue?

Finally, I'll want to see if there truly is a market for the style and subject matter I prefer to paint. If not, I'll have to come up with something else -- or quit making art to sell. It would be art for personal enjoyment.

We'll see. Interesting times ahead.

The Autumnal Woods

With two shows coming up, I was thinking about making a couple of paintings showing the desert under the full moon.

We-e-l-l-l ... feeling like I need a break from painting for a while, I decided not to burden myself with additional paintings to do right now. Besides, I can't afford to buy frames for the paintings I already have, let alone for any more new pieces.

So I reworked a painting that I actually started in 1999. I was never entirely happy with it then, so I set it aside, figuring I would work on it more...someday. "Someday" came in 2004, when I made some significant changes to the scene, including removing a small waterfall that appeared almost in the middle of the painting. But I STILL wasn't happy with it!

So it sat around in it's rather ornate gold frame, stashed away out of sight. It needed more work, and I was tired of looking at it and wondering what to do with it.

Fast forward to 2010. I finally worked on it some more, and although it isn't as well-done as it could have been (which would have involved painting it out and starting all over again!), I think I finally got it to a point where I'm essentially happy with the piece now!

The title is "The Autumnal Woods" and was inspired by a painting by 19th century artist Thomas Moran:





The detail shows a frog that appears right below my name in the copyright notice. This little guy is 1/4" (6mm) long on the painting!


It's not the desert, but not everyone wants desert paintings. Let's hope somebody will want a fall painting!

Potboilers

An artist friend sometimes makes references to "potboilers," which he defines thusly: "pictures painted with sales as their motive, to keep something in the artist's soup pot... "

I think all artists paint potboilers; in fact, some well-known artists produce nothing BUT potboilers, essentially making the same artwork over and over and over again ad infinitum because they know they will sell.

Other artists, myself included, prefer to branch out a little more than that, perhaps to our detriment, professionally speaking. But I do have a few potboilers of my own.



These are scenes I've painted a number of times, albeit in different sizes and atmospheric conditions. I even once painted the piece on the left as it appears by moonlight.

The scenes are in Joshua Tree National Park. These images tend to be well-received, especially if they are "suitcase-sized" -- small enough for a visitor to pack into a suitcase to carry home, wherever that is. In this case, both paintings are 8" x 10"/20cm x 25cm, and if they're unframed, they could easily be packed and carried away.

I painted these views from pictures I took in the early 1980s. These sites look a little different today:



The spot in the painting on the left is now a fenced planter surrounded by a parking lot. The largest of the Joshua trees has long since fallen over (they do that, unfortunately), and trash dumpsters are now between the clump and the rocks.

I haven't had time to go back and locate the other scene, but a paved road now exists in that area, and I'm sure it also looks different today.

In any case, scenes like these seem to speak to Joshua tree lovers, and as long as I keep sizes and prices reasonable, I normally can hope these potboilers will sell. We'll see: they'll be in the September show at the Twentynine Palms Art Gallery.

Needin' a Break

I belong to a number of online forums for artists. One of these leans toward artists who do most/all of their selling at outdoor art shows.

Several times on this particular forum, I've expressed dismay at how the art business in general is going downhill, but especially in this economy. Others have since joined in, but this post sounds very much like some I wrote a few years ago:


I am 50+ and due to the art SELLING business I feel like an old old 50+. I never thought I would be making less money with 2 refined mediums then I did with my crude art 30 years ago.

For the first time in many years, I am worried about paying for booth fees ... Like most artists, I am a survivor and an optimist. The problem is I am not sure any more if I will survive and pessimism has started to creep into my soul. For the first time, I do not think our industry will bounce back when the economy gets better. I just don't see people buying "situms" and "wall pretties" with any sort of enthusiasm again even when they have money.


My last art show effort was early in 2007. After that, it became obvious I was essentially flushing my money down the toilet. (In case you never heard, we artists rent our spaces at $200-600 or more for the duration of the show). And at the last outdoor show, I didn't sell a thing. I lost the entire bundle.

For a variety of reasons, I think I need a serious break from art. Not that I want to quit art, but I do need to get away from it for a while.

I had planned on doing that this summer, but I was offered two separate one-man shows in September. So I've been trying to make enough paintings to fill both shows, but it's been tough to face those blank canvases. I'm burned out these days -- I'm sure it hasn't helped that I've been painting full-time for almost ten years, and the sales, slow in the beginning (as I'd expect in any new business), have dwindled to almost zero.

A break will be a good thing -- at least I hope so. I did offer to make some bibically-themed paintings for our church, and I still want to do that. But I won't put myself under pressure to crank out paintings any more because a show is coming up and I've just GOTTA work myself into the ground to get ready. Enough!

I expect, too, that I'll still produce paintings, but at a much slower and comfortable rate. No more working far into the night, all day, weekends and holidays -- which is how it's been for me while in, and since, grad school, which I finished in 1986, for cryin' out loud!

Most importantly, I want to improve my quality and work at doing figurative work, which is definitely a weak area in my background.

Here's to better art -- and art buyers. Someday.

"Mojave Spaces"

Another day, another week, another ...

It is SO easy to get sidetracked by other things. Unfortunately, sometimes those "other things" are still necessary and must be done, but it's hard when an artist dude needs to get paintings done for two one-man shows and that artist sometimes has trouble getting motivated to paint, anyway. The hot and muggy weather we've been having lately doesn't help, either. (A "dry heat." Bah! Humbug!!)

But I did manage to finish a new painting of Joshua Tree National Park. Mojave Spaces is one I'll put into the "surreal/mystical landscapes" show this September. Size is 11" x 14"/28cm x 36cm.