The Oil Painting Blog : pastel

Join the Controversial Conversation

MaureenSharon — Tue, 21 May 2013 04:43:00 GMT

The moment the June issue of The Artist's Magazine hit the newsstands we started to receive a deluge of letters of protest and of praise. The cause of controversy was an article I’d written on the work of social realist Max Ginsburg, whose beautiful Swing graces the cover. Ginsburg’s immediate subject is the city of New York but the incendiary work in question shows the horrors—both physical (on the enemy/victim) and moral (on the warrior/perpetrator)—of war.

I invite you to join the conversation, as our September issue will feature our readers’ letters and Max Ginsburg’s response. Also in the June issue are articles on nocturnes in pastel (Stan Sperlak), improvisations in acrylic (Robert Burridge) and still lifes in both oil and pastel (Claudia Seymour), plus answers to your questions on using water as a medium for acrylic, advice on entering art fairs, and, as always, much more.

--Maureen

Seeing Double?

Patricia Watwood — Thu, 16 May 2013 03:34:00 GMT

I just finished a very interesting commission. I've shared my oil painting, Pandora, on Artist Daily before. It was one of the central paintings from my 2012 exhibit at Forbes Gallery. I got a lot of positive feedback on that painting--and then got an inquiry from a collector, "Is Pandora still available?" Happily I had already sold it, but the collector and I started talking about doing a second version, and the historic tradition of multiple versions of successful paintings. We both agreed that a commission of a second version would be a great project.


These two images are so similar, you could do a search and find for small details. I even have to look twice to figure out whether they are the same or different. Pandora by Patricia Watwood, 2011, oil on linen, 30 x 26.

I'd never done an autograph copy of a fine art oil painting before, and I did not want to just make a copy of the first painting. How could I make another one and create the same level of quality and freshness, rather than a technical repeat that wouldn't have the verve of the first? I think we've all seen 2^nd and 3^rd versions of famous works by artists in museum exhibits, and there's often a sense that the first is the best one and the others are derivative. So, my challenge was to make a second version that was every bit as "first rate" as the original.

The collector and I agreed upon some basic working strategies. For one thing, I would not copy the original oil painting, but re-create the painting from life--particularly by doing the figure work again from the live model. I would also re-set the "still-life" objects that create Pandora's seat--the pile of junk around her in the foreground. I recreated the set-up and placed the objects so that the composition would be an improvisation on a theme, rather than a rote repetition of the details. Lastly, I made the picture at a slightly different size--two inches larger in each direction.

To proceed, the first thing I did was make a full-size black and white copy of the original painting (from a photograph of the artwork), and transfer that to the new canvas. I rubbed soft pastel on the back of the paper copy, and scribed the lines on the front with a pencil to transfer the drawing. Next, I did my underpainting (in my usual limited palette) by copying the original painting. After that was mapped out on the new canvas, I set the original aside and began to finish the second painting on it's own, referring to the first only to check general color and value consistency and design.


		Pandora 2012 by Patricia Watwood, 2012, oil on linen, 32 x 28.

In the end, I was very pleased with both the process and the result of the second work. Repeating the composition caused me to reflect on how a personal visual language has been developing through this work, and others I'm making in this vein. I was no longer asking myself: "How should I do this?" and "Where should this hand go?" I could dwell on larger questions like: "What is personal and meaningful about these things I'm painting?" and "How can I give this more deftness and grace?" I'm learning that this is one of the great boons of working on a series--that you can dig deeper into the "why," and explore variations rather than building the machine from scratch each time. I made the figure just a bit bigger--and learned how just a small change in scale can change the impact and technical handling in the figure. There were a few passages that I kept almost exactly the same, and that gave me confidence that "Yes, I did like how I solved that problem last time." Like anything we repeat, practice makes perfect. The second painting went very smoothly, and I felt increased confidence in the execution and result.

I'll leave you with a word of praise for the art collectors out there, who play a crucial role in the development of an artist. I have been lucky enough to work with a few collectors who are deeply committed to cultivating art and talent. When you have a patron who is both setting a high expectation, and trusting you to be your best self, the outcome can be optimal for both parties. Collectors who buy the work of living artists get to go to "Art Heaven," and this direct support of artists makes the world a better place for all of us who strive for the continuance of excellence in the arts. So, thank you, dear collector.

--Patricia

Is It Ever Too Late to Start Painting?

bberlin — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 18:20:00 GMT

Not if artist Claudia Seymour has anything to say about it. This year I had the pleasure of meeting Seymour at the Salmagundi Club in New York City to create two three-hour DVDs with her, including this year's The Art of Painting Flowers in Oil.


Spring Things by Claudia Seymour, oil on linen, 2011, 18 x 24.

Meeting Claudia initially was a daunting proposition. Before we met I did my research to discover that she paints a fantastic array of floral still lifes using both oils and pastels. I called her office, and was told to meet her in the lobby of the prestigious Salmagundi Club, where she is currently the president. It was an honor to meet her at such a lauded organization. The 141-year-old club has been a meeting place for artist-members such as Childe Hassam, William Merritt Chase, and Howard Pyle. If you're ever in New York it is worth a visit to see their many ongoing, and free, art exhibitions.

As Claudia entered the club I found myself getting quite nervous. What made things worse was as she welcomed me into the club, she immediately tripped over a piece of my equipment. "Now," I thought,"I'm done for." But aside from me tripping such a distinguished woman, she had the grace to give me a warm welcome with a bright smile, and we hit it off immediately from there. After we spoke for a bit on her painting instruction workshop, she told me something I was shocked to find out. Seymour's work is exhibited in numerous galleries around the country but she didn't pick up a brush until she was in her 40s!


		Notes for Two Horns by Claudia Seymour, oil on linen, 2005, 24 x 22.

I was shocked that such a well trained artist could have been painting for only...well, I won't say as a gentleman never reveals a lady's age. But it just proves that at any age, with a little time and commitment, you can really dive deep into your craft. Claudia certainly has.

We've just finished filming The Art of Painting Flowers in Oil, in which Claudia takes you into her painting practice and shows you how to compose a still life painting, light your still life art, and really think about everything you need in order to create a really beautiful artwork. I can't wait for her next workshop dealing with floral arrangements in pastel, coming 2013. But most of all, working with Claudia has made me think about whether it really is ever too late to start painting. What do you think? When did you start painting, and do you think it has made a difference concerning where you are now with your artwork? Leave a comment and let me know,

--Ben

Ben Berlin is the video guru of American Artist magazine.

Is It Better to Learn From One Artist or From Many?

Austin R. Williams — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 03:50:00 GMT

While I was working recently on American Artist's new special issue, The Complete Painter's Handbook (order now!), I had a little debate with myself. The question at hand: If you are working to learn how to paint, is it better to focus on following the practices of one artist, or to learn painting from many?


	Down East Reflections by JC Airoldi. Airoldi is one of the professional artists who shares advice on painting in the upcoming American Artist special issue, The Complete Painter's Handbook.

The Complete Painter's Handbook falls squarely into the second camp. It features dozens of artists sharing advice on how to paint in oil, watercolor, acrylic, pastel, and numerous other media. Some artists' are featured in long articles; others drop by just to share a few words of encouragement and offer a painting tip or two.

The thinking behind this style of learning is that diversity of opinions and methods is crucial for an artist-student. I think it's a terrific way to learn, because everyone can find something new that fits with his or her practice. And if you're really eager to learn, there's a lot here for you. Whether you are a growing artist who needs a little more refinement to bring your fine art to the next level; an artist with experience in one medium looking to learn how to paint in another; or someone who has only recently started painting, there will be professional artists whose advice can help your art progress.

But this isn't the only way to go. There's also the school of thought that the best way to learn to paint is to apprentice yourself to a great painter (or devotedly study the books, DVDs, and teachings of one artist) in order to master one approach to oil painting, watercolor, etc. The goal, of course, is not to just emulate that artist's style but to equip yourself with strong enough tools that you can build an accomplished and original practice of your own.

So what do you think? There's certainly value in both approaches--it's important to try many things and also to pick something and stick with it. But which is paramount? How do you prefer to learn? Leave a comment and let me know!

--Austin

Painter's Magic 8 Ball--All Your Burning Questions Answered

Austin R. Williams — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 19:03:00 GMT


Winter Radiance by Claudia Seymour, 2005, pastel, 15 x 11. What sort of fixative, if any, should pastel artists apply to finished works? "Used properly and sparingly, fixative is a godsend," says artist Claudia Seymour. Our experts agree—but they also offer words of caution about using the right materials in a safe environment.

Have a question about painting? Get it answered in the pages of American Artist.

Have you ever wondered whether a specific combination of mediums will work well with a certain type of paint? Not sure about the best way to frame or present your artwork? Need advice on repairing a damaged piece?

Every month, American Artist features a Technical Q+A column, in which our art experts suggest solutions to problems like these. And we want to answer your questions!

Group of Trees by Gilles-Francois-Joseph Closson, oil on paper mounted to canvas, 14 3/4 x 19 1/8.

Mounting paper to canvas used to be a common method painters would use to increase the price at which they could sell their works. But doing this without damaging the work can be difficult.

Post your painting queries, questions, stumpers, and riddles below in the comments section, and we'll submit them to be answered in a future issue of the magazine.

We are going to address as many of them as we can, so feel free to ask technical questions about any part of your artistic process, in any media.

--Austin

Finishing My Oil Painting, Leaves of Grass

Patricia Watwood — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 17:55:00 GMT

Notice the chalk lines drawn over the figure to assess and check the proportion and length of her limbs.

I have finally finished my oil painting, Leaves of Grass, which I have blogged about previously. In all, the painting probably took nearly 2 months of time. In an earlier post, I shared the drawing and small study I made in preparation. I transferred the drawing, worked up the underpainting by copying my study, added narrative details from several different sources, and then went back to working from life with my model, Leah.

But before I finished I had a few steps left: After the first wash of color is on the canvas, I continued in "underpainting" mode with the model, truing up the drawing and reassessing the form and structures. I sometimes use a bit of chalk or pastel and draw construction lines or correction marks on top of the dry paint. This is a great tip on how to "edit" your drawing. Using simple lines in red or white pastel, I note the skeletal landmarks (and their symmetrical partners on the other side of the body), the lengths of the parts of the body, and the axis of the gesture and major forms.

The finished version of Leaves of Grass.

By notating the simple construction lines, you can reveal errors in proportion and parallelism and make corrections. The chalk lines can either be completely wiped off using water or solvent, or you can just incorporate the powder into the oil paint when you work back into it. The correction lines will sit on top of the canvas, like a transparent layer, which is useful in helping you analyze and consider changes without getting bogged down.

--Patricia

For more painting instruction from Patricia, check out her latest DVD, Figure Painting: Realistic Skin Tone.

How To Transfer a Study to a Large Canvas

Patricia Watwood — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 03:49:00 GMT


Study for Leaves of Grass. All works by Patricia Watwood.

With the image of a female figure reading in the summer grass in mind, I began to develop my oil painting, Leaves of Grass. I started with a preparatory drawing. I work with models and from life as much as I can, only using photographic reference when absolutely necessary for practicality.

Models brings their own presence, and sometimes, I have to be patient for the right pose to arrive, or begin with one thing and let it evolve as I work and learn more about the arrangement based on my familiarity with it.






	In the final composition, I adjusted the model's foot position from flat on the ground, as it was inthe drawing, to resting on the ball of the foot, giving the whole pose a freer, more fluid feel.

The early studies are done quickly, so that I can feel free to change things around, and be open about how it will unfold. I spent about 1½ hours on the drawing, and then forced myself to switch to another project so that I wouldn't get locked into my image too quickly. The more hours I invest in any particular picture, the harder it is to break it down, revise it, or throw it out altogether, so I stepped away.

The next thing I did was to transfer the drawing I made to a canvas, to begin an oil study. I liked the pose and the figure so far, and felt ready to move forward in developing it. Here are the steps to transfer a study to canvas:

1. To begin the large painting, I like to transfer the drawing, and copy the information from the study to the large work. This saves me a lot of time by not having to re-draw, and also saves on model fees! I took my small painting and laid tracing paper over it. I traced all the principle lines of the composition, in graphite pencil, reducing the design to a simple linear graphic. You can see that the lines are very simple and in some areas (clumps of grass, for example) there's very little information transferred. In those passages, I will just copy directly from the painted study to the large canvas.

2. Next, I take the tracing paper to a photocopy store, where I get the drawing enlarged. At some stores, you can do this yourself on an oversize black and white copy machine. Some places will do it for you, and you just tell them what the finished dimensions should be. The paper is three-feet wide, on a roll, so you can enlarge the drawing quite a lot, and the machine can enlarge up to 400%. I have had good success enlarging drawings in this manner. I have made photocopy enlargements of original drawings as well as tracings.

3. The next step is to take the photocopy and rub pastel on the back of the paper so you can transfer the lines. I put the paper on my studio window and rub NuPastel (dark red or sienna) on the back where I see the lines. In an area with a lot of detail, I tone the whole area, but if it's a simple line I just trace the line. Next, you tape the paper in place on your prepared canvas. Then, I draw over the lines on the front of the photocopy with a graphite pencil. Make sure you press hard enough to press the pastel onto the canvas. I usually lift up the paper and check to make sure I can see it (if not, press harder or rub on more pastel).

4. When that is done, I set the photocopy aside (tape it to a cardboard or foam core board), and fix the transfer lines on the canvas. To fix the lines, I use a small brush--a round with a good point--and redraw all the lines in paint. I will mix raw umber or burnt sienna with a bit of white, and just a touch of medium. Then I thin the paint with my solvent so that can paint the lines fluidly. I compare the painted lines to the large photocopy as I go to be sure I have drawn the lines accurately. Sometimes I will compare with the study or original drawing to make sure I retain the likeness of the original. Once all the lines are redrawn in paint, I let it dry overnight. Once the lines are dry, I begin the underpainting.

Have you worked the same way? What have you found along the way? Do you have any tips to share with the community?

--Patricia

For more painting instruction from Patricia, check out her latest DVD, Figure Painting: Realistic Skin Tone.

Oil Painting: Daniel E. Greene: Gleaning Inspiration From Formative Experiences

American Artist — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 11:29:00 GMT

In the Fall 2007 issue of Workshop magazine, we presented Daniel E. Greene's approach to teaching drawing and painting in art-school classes, short-term workshops, and filmed programs. Here we reproduce the article from the November 2007 issue of American Artist that focused on an exhibition of still-life and figure paintings inspired by the experiences and objects of the artist's childhood.

by M. Stephen Doherty

It’s Thrilling
2007, oil, 44 x 72.
All artwork this article
courtesy Gallery Henoch,
New York, New York,
unless otherwise indicated.

Daniel E. Greene is a master painter of portraits, still lifes, figures, and urban scenes executed in pastel or oil. Many of his noncommissioned pictures are based on personal experiences, including a series of New York City subway paintings that took him back to some of the locations he discovered in the 1950s, when he moved from his hometown of Cincinnati to study art and establish his career. His latest series of paintings is based on an earlier time in his life when, as a child, he was captivated by board games, an amusement park, and organized sports. “I loved competitive games that challenged me physically and mentally,” he remembers. “I did well at those competitions, and I think in many ways they prepared me for the problem-solving aspects of being an artist. Painting can be thought of as a similar process of acquiring knowledge, planning strategies, maintaining stamina, and facing challenges.”

That series of paintings, which is currently on view at Gallery Henoch, in New York City, uses game boards, balloons, toys, stuffed animals, signage, and orchids both for their identities and their visual impact. For example, a game board represents aspects of gamesmanship and also serves as an abstract pattern of shapes and colors that work in concert with the figures and objects painted in front of them. The collection of forms also introduces the theme of contrast that has always interested Greene. He continually juxtaposes objects that are animate and inanimate, new and antique, smooth and textured; but the recent paintings go further in contrasting the emotions of boredom and excitement, disappointment and achievement, risk and security.

Dartboard &
Balloons
2007, oil, 42 x 66.

“I first started using game boards, dolls, and other childhood memorabilia in my paintings about 20 years ago, but I didn’t make them the focus of a series until I began working on these paintings about two years ago,” Greene explains. “I placed orchids in front of game boards within square-format paintings to contrast beautiful, living, flowing plant material against well-worn geometric patterns; and then I expanded the scale of the work with nude figures against boards enlarged way beyond their actual size. Eventually I allowed the pictures to become more autobiographical by pulling in images from my recollections of the Coney Island amusement park near Cincinnati.”

Greene documented the development of several of these paintings, including It’s Thrilling. “I visited an amusement park in Connecticut with my family, and I was struck by the images of garishly colored stuffed animals, crudely painted signage, bored attendants, darts, balloons, and colored lights—all of them associated with games of chance and skill,” the artist explains. “I remembered how exciting all of that was to me as a child, how my daughter was reacting with the same enthusiasm, and how the carnival had remained much the same as when it was depicted in drawings and paintings by such artists as Edward Hopper, Reginald Marsh, and Isabel Bishop. I imagined how I might respond to these scenes of isolated, lonely figures engaged in a business that was intended to be amusing, challenging, and rewarding. I was especially intrigued by a game in which contestants would earn points by rolling balls, with the number of points being used to determine how fast they could race cars occupied by ghosts. The person who won the most points and moved his or her car to the finish line first would win a prize.”

Whack-A-Clown
2007, oil, 54 x 54.

FOCUSING ON THE race of ghosts, Greene made replicas of the moving cars and positioned them on a board, hired a carpenter to construct the players’ booth, and asked one of his daughter’s friends to pose as the attendant. “I was determined to create these new paintings from life, not photographs,” the artist explains. “I searched the internet to locate appropriate stuffed animals, and then by chance I found a bag of them my daughter won at the very same amusement park. It was tedious painting the graphic designs on the booths and the signage above, and it took me a long time to determine where to position the stuffed animals and how to paint portraits of each of them.”

Greene indicates that one of the devices he used to resolve these kinds of compositional issues was to make a quick painted sketch of the objects on sheets of acetate, move them around the canvas, and then decide on the best placement. “It seemed a little curious to be assigning so much importance to toys, but a realist painter has to be willing to paint everything with the same degree of attention and detail,” he says. “They may have been stuffed animals, but they functioned within the pictures as colored shapes that would catch the viewer’s eye and contribute to the context of the ideas being explored.”

Wheel of Fortune
2006, oil, 54 x 54.

It was actually difficult for Greene to replicate the crudely painted signs in the various carnival booths depicted in the series of paintings. “My inclination was to make them more polished and precise, but that would have been inconsistent with the graphic images that are part of a carnival,” he describes. “In most cases, placards were painted decades ago by amateur sign painters to identify the individual booths and to encourage people to compete for prizes.”

The crudeness and harsh colors of the carnival became even more pronounced when Greene developed the paintings Ring-A-Ghoul and Whack-A-Clown. “I actually had to add some unfamiliar paints to my palette to replicate the day-glow orange, iridescent blue, and shocking purple of the bears in Ring-A-Ghoul,” he reveals. “And I spent many hours painting each of the pegs and their cast shadows on the spinning wheel included in Whack-A-Clown. The combination of shapes, textures, and patterns in that painting were unlike any I had ever combined into one picture.”

In recalling the creative process involved in each of these new paintings, Greene points out that for the past 25 years he has documented every aspect of the development of his art. “I keep careful
records of the canvas, board, paper, colors, preparation, mediums, model, preparatory studies, starting and ending dates, and hours of labor involved in each of my paintings,” the artist says. “I
recommend that every artist keep such records for his or her own benefit. I frequently refer to my notes when I want to recall how I achieved certain effects in a painting, where I got the still-life material, who the models were, what medium I used to modify the paints, what varnish I applied once the picture was dry, and where the paintings were exhibited and perhaps sold.”

Ring-A-Ghoul
2007, oil, 54 x 54.

Although some of the detailing of the carnival paintings was tedious, Greene relished the opportunity to paint portraits of the models and to create convincing images of such objects as the balloons in Dartboard & Balloons and the clothing worn by the man in Wheel of Fortune. “I particularly enjoyed painting each of the balloons because several were translucent enough to reveal the numbers underneath, while others reflected the colors and shapes of the nearby balloons,” he explains. “And I decided I wanted to paint a portrait of the young man in Wheel of Fortune as soon as he arrived at my studio in North Salem, New York, to model for one of my summer workshops. He was actually wearing that orange shirt and the decorated jean jacket, and I thought they characterized the kind of rebellious, free-spirited drifter who would take off to join the circus. His pensive gaze also suggested the contradictory emotions of a man who is supposed to be enticing people with a game of fun, excitement, and reward.”

In addition to including a captivating portrait in Wheel of Fortune, Greene used the opportunity to develop an elaborate border along the top of this oil painting. “I have long been fascinated by the decorative elements in Russian icons and gold-leaf decorations,” the artist says. “On some level the antique boards and well-worn signs serve a similar decorative function in the carnival paintings.”

Greene was able to take the carnival artifacts to another level of expression in the painting Dartman by including several menacing images. “On one level, the painting uses a standard portrait device of positioning a figure against a warm, brown background,” he describes. “But when you consider that the man is holding sharply pointed darts used to pop the balloons and penetrate the red-and-white wheel, and that there is a folk-art game in which contestants use a pistol to shoot metal objects extending from a man’s mouth, you recognize that games often involve a level of violence and destruction. I suppose one could extend that recognition to include the current video games that treat violence as a form of entertainment.”

Dartman
2006, oil, 68 x 68.
Private collection.

Greene created the paintings included in this current New York exhibition on single- and double-primed Claessens linen and Fredrix No. 11 single-primed linen using the Daniel E. Greene line of oil colors manufactured by Jack Richeson & Co., as well as a few tubes of paint made by Winsor & Newton and Grumbacher. His standard medium is a mixture of 1/3 stand oil and 2/3 turpentine; but he does occasionally use a gel medium such as Maroger, as well as an oiling-out medium made with a higher percentage of stand oil thinned with turpentine (5 to 1, 4 to 1, or 1 to 1).

About the Artist
Daniel E. Greene is a former instructor of painting at the National Academy and the Art Students League of New York, both in Manhattan. In 1969 he was elected to the National Academy; in 1983 the Pastel Society of America elected him to the Pastel Hall of Fame; in 1995 he received the John Singer Sargent Award from The American Society of Portrait Artists; in 2001 he was awarded the Gold Medal from the Portrait Society of America; and in 2003 he received the Gold Medal from the Salmagundi Art Club, in New York City. Greene is the author of Pastel and The Art of Pastel (Watson-Guptill Publications, New York, New York); he is the subject of six instructional videos and DVDs; and he has endorsed sets of pastel and oil manufactured by Jack Richeson & Co., as well as brushes manufactured by Silver Brush Limited. For more information on Greene or his art supplies, visit his websites at www.danielgreeneartist.com and www.wallstreetart.net. For more information on Gallery Henoch, where Greene’s paintings are on exhibition from October 11 through November 4, visit www.galleryhenoch.com.

M. Stephen Doherty is the editor-in-chief and publisher of American Artist.

To read more features like this, become an American Artist subscriber today!

Oil Painting: Daniel E. Greene: Gleaning Inspiration From Formative Experiences

American Artist — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 16:45:00 GMT

In an exhibition opening this month in New York City, Daniel E. Greene presents still-life and figure paintings inspired by the experiences and objects of his childhood. Those paintings allowed him to explore the themes of challenge, contrast, and competition.

by M. Stephen Doherty

It’s Thrilling
2007, oil, 44 x 72.
All artwork this article
courtesy Gallery Henoch,
New York, New York,
unless otherwise indicated.

Dartboard &
Balloons
2007, oil, 42 x 66.

Whack-A-Clown
2007, oil, 54 x 54.

Wheel of Fortune
2006, oil, 54 x 54.

Ring-A-Ghoul
2007, oil, 54 x 54.

Dartman
2006, oil, 68 x 68.
Private collection.

M. Stephen Doherty is the editor-in-chief and publisher of American Artist.

Oil Painting: Cecilia Beaux's Legacy

American Artist — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 11:08:00 GMT

An exhibition at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, in Philadelphia, aims to present Cecilia Beaux for the great painter she was: one of the most accomplished among men and woman alike.

by Lynne Moss Perricelli


Self-Portrait 1894, oil, 25 x 20. Collection National Academy Museum, New York, New York.	Harold and Mildred Colton 1887, oil, 55? x 41. Collection Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

At first glance, Cecilia Beaux (1855–1942) appears to be a woman typical of her time in that her family relationships to a great extent directed the course of her life. However, a look at Beaux’s life shows that, instead of adopting the conventional roles of wife and mother, the artist focused on developing a career and went on to become one of the leading society portraitists of the day. But, as curator Sylvia Yount argues in the catalogue that accompanies the exhibition “Cecilia Beaux: American Figure-Painter,” she was never merely a society portraitist. “Beaux’s interest in exploring the line between portraiture and figure painting, at a time when the latter genre was widely regarded as the preeminent mode in American art, underlies her critical reputation. Beaux moved from the specific and personal concerns of portraiture to what was widely interpreted as the general and universal quality of figure painting, capturing cultural tensions and transitions that resonate today.”

The traveling exhibition, which is on view at its final venue at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, in Philadelphia, February 2 through April 13, surveys the artist’s nearly 40-year career with more than 85 works, many of which have never been viewed publicly. As the show illuminates, Beaux’s family members and friends constituted the majority of her subject matter, and in these pictures she explored the depiction of an individual’s character, as well as the complexities of family relationships. These aesthetic objectives, combined with her skills in painting, allowed her to compete from the outset of her career in the larger arena—with men—for status in artistic circles. Her achievements were widely recognized during her lifetime but were largely forgotten until some 40 years after her death, when the women’s liberation movement revived interest in her career.


Les Derniers Jours d’Enfance (The Last Days of Infancy) 1885, oil, 46 x 54. Collection Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.	A Little Girl (Fanny Travis Cochran) 1887, oil, 36 x 29 3/16. Collection Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Despite her success as a painter, Beaux had a relatively limited formal education in art, studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts and privately with William Sartain (1843–1924), whose approach she much preferred to the more clinical one espoused by Thomas Eakins at the academy. Sartain helped her become proficient in painting the figure from life, leading to the completion of the painting that effectively launched her artistic career: Les Derniers Jours d’Enfance. Picturing her sister, Etta, and her nephew, Henry Sandwith Drinker, the painting goes far beyond portraiture to make, as Yount describes it, “a universal statement about a particular stage of childhood and the complex changes that accompany it. Beaux herself considered the intimate arrangement of four hands at the center of the composition to be the painting’s symbolic crux.”

In creating the painting, Beaux first made a small compositional study in oil. She then created the setting in her studio by arranging family heirlooms, the furniture, and clothing to convey the personal feeling she desired. Critics praised the piece when it was shown in 1885 at the American Art Association Prize Fund Exhibition and later at the Pennsylvania Academy’s 1885 annual exhibition, where it won the Mary Smith Prize. The press also lauded the painting, and it so impressed a friend of Beaux’s that she sent it to Paris with the friend for the 1887 Salon. It was accepted and hung, prompting the artist to train at the ateliers in Paris soon after, a lifelong ambition she finally realized at the relatively mature age of 33.


Ernesta (Child With Nurse) 1894, oil, 50½ x 38?. Collection The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, New York.	Cecil Kent Drinker 1891, oil, 64 x 34½. Collection Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

The success of Les Derniers Jours d’Enfance led to many important commissions from the elite of Philadelphia, including two from local churches. Her portrait of the Rev. William Henry Furness—who was the minister at the First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia and a leader among the intelligentsia of Philadelphia—was greatly admired and helped Beaux gain access to a progressive circle. Her portraits of men during this time were followed by commissions for portraits of other family members, including some of the child portraits for which she became so well known.

One of her most notable child portraits, Harold and Mildred Colton, is her first double portrait, a theme that her archrival Mary Cassatt also explored around this time. In Beaux’s piece, the Colton children appear as self-assured individuals, with confidence far beyond their years. Interestingly, as Yount explains, the presentation is both traditional and innovative. The boy holds a whip, a symbol of masculinity, while the girl holds an apple, a signifier of the female world of nature, yet the mature expressions on the children’s faces reveal their distinctive characters. Like John Singer Sargent’s child portraits, this portrayal suggests the inner lives of children with a lack of sentimentality that is thoroughly modern.


Mother and Daughter 1898, oil, 83 x 44. Collection Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.	Mrs. Stedman Buttrick and Son John 1909, oil, 33½ x 25½. Collection Mrs. John D. Bryson.

A Little Girl (Fanny Travis Cochran) conveys a similar effect, with an emotional complexity that presages the subject’s future as a militant social activist. In addition, Beaux’s handling of the girl’s clothing recalls James Abbott McNeill Whistler’s series of girls in white dresses, although Beaux clearly chose to emphasize the psychological dimensions of her subject. In Ernesta (Child With Nurse), Beaux also depicted a girl in a white dress but in this piece she chose a more daring composition. Oil and graphite sketches helped her explore the placement of the figures, and like Degas, she cropped the figures in an unconventional format and employed fluid brushwork, evoking a sense of life and movement. Beaux wrote that in this painting she hoped to convey a single truth: “that a child of that age is habitually led by the hand.”

As Yount points out, Cecil Kent Drinker, a portrait of Beaux’s nephew, confirms the observation of critic Leila Mechlin, who wrote that the artist’s portraits of children capture “precisely the right environment to emphasize their [the sitters’] inherent individuality, giving to each a simple dignity which is the badge of innocence and breeding.” The Old Master conventions she employed here are notable, particularly the child’s costume and its miniaturizing effect, highlighting the sitter’s diminutive qualities and innocence. “In the case of the forthright Cecil, however, the work’s charm stems from the tension between his apparently adult attire (particularly the cane) and his four-year-old individuality,” Yount writes.


The Dreamer 1893, oil, 33 x 25. Collection Butler Institute of American Art, Youngstown, Ohio.	Study for The Dreamer 1893, umber and chalk on gray-primed canvas, 33¾ x 24. Collection Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Beaux was intimately involved with her sister’s family but was childless herself, which makes her remarkable paintings of mothers and their children all the more intriguing. Mother and Daughter shows an unusual closeness between the subjects, as does Mrs. Stedman Buttrick and Son John, which was commissioned to mark the death of a mother in childbirth and parallels the loving feelings of Les Derniers Jours d’Enfance. Considering Beaux’s mother died soon after giving birth to her, and her father was absent as well, the artist likely found such parent-child themes challenging, or at least emotionally charged. Although they are often compared with similar imagery by Mary Cassatt, Beaux’s portraits are radically different in their emphasis on the separate identities of the sitters, even when they are emotionally or compositionally linked. As Nina Auerbach, a co-author of the exhibition catalogue, writes, “Les Derniers Jours d’Enfance creates a world unique to Cecilia Beaux. It is courteous, not terrible, but also not kind. Its people are too wary of each other to be welcoming. Neither benevolent nor cruel, it contains neither union nor abuse; love expresses itself in separation, not in mingling.”

The Dreamer, depicting Beaux’s friend Caroline Kilby Smith, became a favorite of critics, who hailed the subject as a quintessential American girl. Admitted to the 1896 Paris Salon, the painting traveled with five others: Ernesta (Child With Nurse), New England Woman, Sita and Sarita, Cynthia Sherwood, and Reverend Matthew Blackburne Grier. Hung together and at eye level, the paintings were highly praised and earned Beaux’s membership in the Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts. Among the French artists who admired her, the sculptor Paul Bion (1845–1897) wrote to his friend Augustus Saint-Gaudens that he viewed Beaux’s contributions as a welcome change from the banality of the other American portraits. “She shows us a side of America free from hurry, retired, and tranquil; and we rest content and meditative in the atmosphere created by her admirable talent,” he wrote. Saint-Gaudens later shared the letter with Beaux as a way of conveying his own appreciation of her work “in language infinitely better than my own.”


Eliza S. Turner 1897, oil, 37½ x 29½. The New Century Trust, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.	Lady Darwin (Maud DuPuy) 1889, pastel, 19 x 13½. Collection Mr. and Mrs. John L. Huber.

A period of experimenting with pastel in the early 1890s helped Beaux to explore a more daring use of color and confirm her belief that portraits should be “color compositions and arrangements.” In Sita and Sarita she challenged herself to portray the colors in whites, employing the shimmering accents of an Impressionist palette. Although, like other Beaux portraits, Sita and Sarita recalls Whistler’s white pictures, Beaux only used Whistler’s concept as a point of departure, inventing her own idea of how best to depict the sitter, both visually and emotionally. Around this time she opened a studio on Washington Square, in New York City, where she would be more centrally located for the commissions that came her way from all over the East Coast. Despite her residence in New York, she maintained a close relationship with her hometown of Philadelphia, and especially with the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, where she taught until 1915.

As her career advanced, Beaux became more selective in her subjects, focusing on suffragists, educators, and various enlightened socialites. “In these works, Beaux expressed ideas of female kinship in visual terms, making statements through art rather than wearing political labels,” writes Yount. In this way she expressed her respect for women who were engaged in current issues. Eliza S. Turner is a fine example.


Sita and Sarita 1893, oil, 37? x 25?. Collection Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France.	Cynthia Sherwood 1892, oil, 24 x 17½. The Hevrdejs Collection

Beaux stopped painting in the mid-1920s after she fractured her hip and her eyesight declined as a result of cataracts. As a kind of proof of her international reputation, in 1924 the Uffizi asked her to submit a self-portrait, an honor bestowed on only three other Americans: William Merritt Chase, Frank Duveneck, and John Singer Sargent. Around this time she was elected to the National Institute of Arts and Letters and to the American Academy of Arts and Letters, in addition to receiving the Chi Omega Medal and the National Institute of Arts and Letters Gold Medal. In all of these honors and awards, she was continually praised as among the finest woman painters, and as Yount explains, “it was ... her professionalism and personality more than her considerable talents that appeared to ensure (and thus ultimately to obscure) her legacy.” Indeed it seemed Beaux was so well liked by her subjects and colleagues that everyone was eager to give her the recognition she so deserved. Perhaps with this exhibition her work will stand on its own terms, which is no doubt what Beaux wanted all along.

A former editor of American Artist, Lynne Moss Perricelli is a freelance writer and editor in New Jersey.

Cecilia Beaux: American Figure Painter

The Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, in Philadelphia, will host the final venue of the exhibition from February 2 through April 13. A fully illustrated exhibition catalogue, which was the primary resource for this article, accompanies the show. For more information on the exhibition or the catalogue, visit www.pafa.org.

Oil Painting: GALLERY: More Paintings from PAPA Members

American Artist — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 18:52:00 GMT

In the October 2007 issue of American Artist, we profile eight of the Plein-Air Painters of American (PAPA) members who will be part of the group's 21st annual exhibition and sale, titled "From the Heart: Plein-Air Painters of American" at The Haggin Museum, in Stockton, California, on October 21. In this online exclusive gallery, we present more paintings that will appear in the exhibit.


Wyoming Gorge by Clyde Aspevig, 2007, oil, 30 x 40. All artwork this gallery collection the artist unless otherwise indicated.	After the Storm by Kenn Backhaus 2006, oil on linen, 12 x 10. Collection Mr. and Mrs. Mark Rittorno.	Study for Autumn Point by Don Demers, 2006, oil, 6 x 8.


Light of Spring by Kevin Macpherson, 2007, oil, 30 x 40.	Morning– the Rock by Ralph Oberg, 2005, oil, 11 x 14.	Rocky Mountain Way by Ralph Oberg, 2006, oil on linen, 24 x 30.


View From the Broken Arrow by Ron Rencher, 2005, oil, 30 x 36.	Study for Beartooth Wilderness by George Strickland, oil, 9 x 12. Collection of Mrs. Jan Sohl.	Beartooth Wilderness by George Strickland, oil, 30 x 30.


Study for Granite Chief Wilderness by Jean LeGassick, 2005, oil, 8 x 10.	Evening Light in the Granite Chief Wilderness by Jean LeGassick, 2007, oil, 20 x 24.	San Francisco Gold Rush Harbor by John Stobart, 1999, oil, 30 x 50. Collection Stobart Foundation, Beverly, Massachusetts.


Waterfall by Peggy Root, 2002, 40 x 40, oil.	Before the Fire Storm by Joan M. LaRue, 2003, oil on board, 12 x 16. Private collection.	Shadow Side of Shark 2000, oil, 16 x 20. Private collection.


Study for Refuge Path by Glenna Hartmann, 2006, pastel, 8 x 10.	Refuge Path by Glenna Hartmann, 2006, pastel, 18 x 24.

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Oil Painting: On Location in Malibu: Paintings by CAC Members

American Artist — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 10:15:00 GMT

Nearly 60 views of Malibu created by members of the California Art Club are featured in this exhibition, which explores not only the city’s picturesque scenery but also the enduring California plein air landscape tradition.

by Michael Zakian

Driving west on Pacific Coast Highway from Los Angeles, at a spot just five miles from the beach at Santa Monica, one encounters a sign that reads: “Malibu: 27 Miles of Scenic Beauty.” Over the course of the last year, 51 artist-members of the California Art Club made the journey to Malibu to capture those scenic wonders on canvas. The nearly 60 resulting landscape paintings—of both charming coastal views and more novel subjects and perspectives—are currently featured in the exhibition “On Location in Malibu 2006: Paintings by the California Art Club,” on view until September 3 at the Frederick R. Weisman Museum of Art at Pepperdine University, in Malibu, California.

Located at a point on the coast where the Santa Monica Mountains descend into the sea, with surrounding hillsides offering panoramic views looking east toward Los Angeles and west toward Santa Barbara, Malibu has long been a source of inspiration for landscape painters. Although the original California landscape-painting tradition has its roots in the French Impressionist plein air movement of the 19th century, over the past several decades there has been a resurgence of interest in contemporary realism in landscape painting. Today’s plein air artists openly acknowledge a debt to their predecessors while actively seeking to revive the time-honored craftsmanship, dedication to nature, and values of traditional art. This movement has been largely spearheaded by the members of the California Art Club, who see themselves as making unique contributions to the tradition of realist art while offering novel subjects, individual perspectives, and exciting views of their sunny state.

The diversity of work showcased in “On Location in Malibu 2006” attests to this evolution of the California landscape tradition and shows the vitality of landscape painting at the beginning of the 21st century. The artists participating in the exhibition used unique approaches and techniques to capture the scene, street, or sign that would, to them, exemplify what it means to be in Malibu.

Welcome to Malibu
by Michael Obermeyer,
2006, oil, 18 x 24.
All artwork this article
collection the artist.

Michael Obermeyer, an artist from Laguna Beach, did this by painting the Pacific Coast Highway in his work Welcome to Malibu. Hugging the coast and running from one end of the community to the other, this main thoroughfare through Malibu sits between the Santa Monica Mountains and the shimmering Pacific Ocean. To locals, it’s “Main Street”: a practical way to get from home to work, shopping, and school. To visitors, it is a trail of wonders offering new and startling vistas around each bend. Obermeyer captured both of these aspects by using a compositional landscape formula that harks back to the 17th century—dark masses of trees framing a view into the distance—to show both enduring nature and modern development. Capturing the subtle glow of cool, late-afternoon light, his painting conveys a sense of both the timeless and the contemporary.

Got Sunglasses?
by John Budicin, 2006,
oil, 14 x 24.

Malibu prides itself on maintaining a rural environment and limiting development. Yet over the decades numerous homes have been constructed along the beaches and across the hillsides. John Budicin, an artist from southern California, explored this interplay of houses and land in his painting Got Sunglasses? Capturing the light of the scene with rare sensitivity, the work depicts a view across rolling hills dotted with private homes.

Before becoming a landscape painter, Budicin worked in advertising, designing bold, graphic displays. Once he began to paint, his aesthetic vision shifted toward smaller-scale, more intimate scenes. Although Budicin took classes from other artists when he began to paint, his real education came from nature. The artist recalls perfecting his skills by painting “hundreds of 6" x 8"s.” Rather than attempting to render these scenes in a particular style, Budicin let nature dictate the final result. “I was always trying to get the feeling of what I was seeing,” he says. In Got Sunglasses? we see how the artist employs masterful brushwork and subtle variations in a limited palette to create a sense of glaring sunlight. The sunshine is what has drawn people to California for more than a century. It also has the ability to turn studio artists into plein air painters.

Let the Skies Pour
Down Righteousness
by Cathey Cadieux, 2005,
oil, 30 x 36.

Cathey Cadieux was born in Oklahoma and first studied art at the American Academy of Art, in Chicago, and later at the Academy of Art University, in San Francisco. Because each of these regions is known for its inclement weather, Cadieux never considered working outdoors and pursued a career as a figure and portrait painter. This changed when she moved to Southern California, where she discovered the California Art Institute, in Westlake Village. Teachers such as Neal Boyle encouraged her to work outside and paint landscapes on location. Cadieux found that the outdoors offered a welcome relief from the isolation of the studio, and she soon embraced plein air painting as a lifestyle. Today, she often goes on camping excursions up the coast, painting along the way. Cadieux’s Let the Skies Pour Down Righteousness captures a specific historic moment. It was painted during the wildfires of October 2005, which burned large parts of adjacent Ventura County. Smoke filled the skies in Malibu for days, and when the artist drove past one of her favorite sites—Leo Carrillo State Beach—she saw the dramatic, compelling sunset pictured in this work. Racing against time, she set up her easel and captured the light falling through the smoky clouds. To her, the awe-inspiring image seemed religious and inspired the biblical title. Cadieux’s painting reminds us that the serene beauty of Malibu exists within a continual threat of natural disasters, including wildfires, earthquakes, and devastating coastal storms.

Glowing Cliff
by Alexey Steele,
2006, oil, 72 x 48.

Alexey Steele, who was born in the Ukraine and studied art in Moscow, maintains a love for the majestic figure compositions of the Renaissance and Baroque periods. In his landscapes, he tries to capture that elaborate and stately sense of grandeur. For this exhibition, he chose Point Dume, one of the most prominent natural landmarks in Malibu, as his subject of inspiration. This spit of land juts out into the ocean, creating a memorable profile. Offering headlands, cliffs, rocky coves, and secluded beaches, the land mass is complex. In his large studio canvas, Glowing Cliff, Steele focused on the soaring height of the cliffs, which he painted from studies rendered on location.

Steele carefully selected his vantage point to produce a composition that ascends with the birds in flight. The view he chose makes viewers feel that they, too, are flying, suspended in midair. His colors reinforce that sense of magic and wonder. Using a palette that focuses on the complements of yellow-orange and violet, he produced a magical glow that is real but also fanciful and evocative.

Peter Adams, the president of the California Art Club, grew up in Los Angeles and often surfed off the world-famous Malibu beaches. He understands the subtleties of the waves—when they break, how they move—with a keen awareness earned from years of experience. He also knows that the sea can be both beautiful and threatening, often at the same time. In Force of Light, he creates this sense of uneasy contradiction by placing the viewer directly in the path of the wave, awaiting the thunderous crash of the rolling water.

Force of Light
by Peter Adams, 2006,
oil, 30 x 40.

Adams studied art in the 1970s with a little-known Los Angeles artist, Theodore N. Lukits (1897–1992), who represented a link to the past traditions of European academic art. Lukits had trained at The Art Institute of Chicago in the early 20th century, working under American painters who had studied in the academies in France in the 19th century. From Lukits, Adams learned the demanding skills of academic drawing and painting. This expertise and mastery of classic composition is evident in Force of Light, which is theatrical, even operatic, in its sense of staging.

The colors are bright and vivid, with sharp yellows contrasting cool blues. Adams credits his color sense to Lukits, who taught students to use a set palette of high-key colors. Following his teacher, Adams continues to use a spectrum of pure hues and then mixes a series of pastel tints of each color, grading down to near white. The resulting colors resemble the keys of a piano. When the artist chooses a particular color, it is akin to selecting a certain musical note. In Force of Light, Adams depicts the crashing wave as a crescendo, interpreting a natural phenomenon through the language of Romantic art and music he has always admired.

Seafoam in Moonlight
by David C. Gallup,
2006, oil, 22 x 28.

Although the ocean can be dramatic, it also has a quiet, restful beauty. David C. Gallup specializes in scenes of the Malibu coast in moonlight. These nocturnal compositions are dark in tonality but glow with a delicate inner light. Gallup studied illustration at the Otis Parsons Art Institute [now the Otis College of Art and Design, in Los Angeles] in the late 1980s. After graduating, he taught art but felt isolated from other artists. In 1999 he visited the Frederick R. Weisman Museum of Art to view the first “On Location in Malibu” exhibition, and the experience convinced him to become a full-time landscape painter. He joined the California Art Club and found himself part of an active circle of practicing artists. The camaraderie among the other painters created a truly supportive community that he found inspiring.

Gallup greatly admires Claude Monet, whose influence is evident in Seafoam in Moonlight. “Monet inspires us all to paint outdoors,” he says. Monet’s influence is seen in Gallup’s tendency to use a network of small brushstrokes to create a web of shimmering color. This technique allows the artist to capture the gentle but evocative glow of nocturnal light falling over sea and shore. The painting offers a quintessential image of transcendent serenity. Scenes like this are a reason why people move to Malibu.

Calm, the Lagoon
by Marcia Burtt,
2006, oil, 16 x 12.

Another artist who is drawn to nature’s quiet places is Marcia Burtt. Burtt studied psychology in college and did not begin painting seriously until she was in her 40s. She took studio art classes at Santa Barbara City College but was more interested in an outdoor scene she spied through the classroom window. She chose to paint that view instead and has been committed to landscape painting ever since.

Burtt is one of the few artists in the exhibition who paint in acrylic. She likes the fluid, spontaneous quality of the medium. To begin, she quickly lays in large, loose areas of color to capture the major patterns of light and dark values, as well as warm and cool tones. Often the initial lay-in resembles an abstract painting. With time, she refines each shape, gradually bringing a three-dimensional image of the landscape to life on her canvas. Calm, the Lagoon captures Burtt’s deep concern for respecting and maintaining the pristine quality of our natural environment.

Meditation Garden
by Sergio Sanchez,
2006, oil, 11 x 14.

A member of the younger generation of the California Art Club, 30-year-old Sergio Sanchez began to study art seriously only seven years ago. Although he cites such modern sources as comic books and graffiti art among his influences, he has developed skills that are quite traditional. He is represented in this exhibition by Meditation Garden, a small canvas that captures the paradoxical intimacy and grand scale of Malibu’s Serra Retreat. Located high on a bluff within a small canyon, the site offers spectacular views of the Pacific Ocean. Intrigued by the way the warm light harmonized the entire scene, Sanchez focused on capturing the dazzle of the sunset. His palette of glowing colors conveys the spiritual and peaceful ambience of the Serra Retreat.

Hot and Fast
by John Cosby, 2006,
oil, 24 x 32.

John Cosby, a resident of Laguna Beach, hadn’t been to Malibu in years and had never painted there before participating in this exhibition. When he arrived in Malibu, he spent most of the day painting the coast. But as he was driving home, he passed through the business district, which was filled with bustling activity. Entranced by the drama of headlights and store signs, Cosby pulled to the side of the road and did a quick study of the scene, which resulted in Hot and Fast. This view of Malibu’s unofficial “downtown” shows the community as active and alive. The artist’s painting features the large, free-standing sculpture that graces the top of a Mexican fast-food restaurant, a local landmark.

The Bu
by Scott Prior, 2006,
oil, 24 x 48.

Another artist drawn to Malibu’s picturesque scenery is Scott Prior. This young painter was looking through a surfing magazine when he saw a photograph taken from a novel vantage point overlooking Pacific Coast Highway. Not wanting to copy the photograph, he spent hours on hillsides looking for the same location. Eventually he succeeded and painted The Bu, a view that captures the energy of Malibu’s commercial strip, with the famous Malibu Pier in the distance.

Michael Zakian is the director of the Frederick R. Weisman Museum of Art at Pepperdine University, in Malibu, California.

Oil Painting: GALLERY: Ned Mueller's Landscapes and Portraits

American Artist — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 11:00:00 GMT

In the winter 2006 issue of Workshop magazine, we offered an inside look into Montana painter Ned Mueller's plein air workshops. Here, we showcase his figurative and landscape paintings as well as a few drawings.


Norwegian Summer 2006, oil, 11 x 14. Courtesy the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.	Golden Glow 2004, oil, 12 x 6. Private collection.	Rock of Ages 2003, oil, 11 x 14. Collection the artist.


Suchuan Afternoon 2004, oil, 12 x 10. Private collection.	Desert Spring 2003, oil, 12 x 16. Collection the artist.	Out of the Woods 1993, gouache, 10 x 14. Private collection.


Patriarch 2005, oil, 16 x 12. Collection the artist.	Jazz Man 1990, oil, 16 x 12. Private collection.	Flower Market-Guatemala 2002, oil, 16 x 12. Private collection.


Gaucho Man 1995, pastel, 19 x 15. Collection the artist.	Patzcauro Morning 1998, oil, 22 x 28. Private collection.	Morning Break 1998, gouache, 10 x 7. Private collection.


Noyo Harbor Morning 1998, oil, 9 x 12. Private collection.	Smugglers Cove 2004, oil, 12 x 16. Private collection.	Day's End-Lagos, Portugal 1998, oil, 10 x 13. Private collection.


Cabbage 2004, oil, 10 x 12. Collection the artist.	Winter Still Life 1985, oil, 20 x 16. Private collection.	Gloucester Harbor 1989, oil, 10 x 17. Private collection.


Demene 1 1994, conté, 17 x 15. Collection the artist.	Gypsy Girl 2005, conté, 17 x 15. Collection the artist.	Warm Springs Woman 1980, graphite, 14 x 10. Private collection.

Read the feature article on this artist.

To read more features like this, check out the winter 2006 issue of Workshop magazine.