musings from the studio and beyond ~
dawn chandler’s reflections on art and life. . . .
06.28.2012 ~ sojourning artist, i
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| the fiountain, villa torlonia, frascati, italy ~ oil on canvas ~ by john singer sargent ~ c.1907 |
Like a lot of people I first start packing for any trip by making a list. Highlighted at the top of the list are The Essentials — those things that you simply can’t travel without. In my case these include my wallet, id, plane ticket, boarding passes, cell phone, and….art supplies.
Art supplies?
Essential?
Yes.
For the thought of sitting idle somewhere without some form of creative expression at my fingertips is anathema — and that’s putting mildly.**
So of those art supplies… What to bring?
Or the harder question: What not to bring?
With a studio brimming with supplies, it’s oh-so-easy and tempting to bring a plethora of materials — for of course you want to be sure that when the Muse visits, you’re well equipped to accommodate her with sufficient supplies and choices.
But No.
The reality is that having too many choices can too often be crippling. Too many temptations and you can’t make a decision about anything, never-mind having to deal with hauling all of that crap around.
No, I’d rather be decisive in advance and minimize the choices.
But before packing, it’s important to establish why I’m bringing art supplies in the first place. In my upcoming travels, my main goal is to relax, and fortunately for me, one way I relax is by sketching and painting (I’m lucky that that is also how I earn my living!). With these trips I’m not looking to complete finished “masterpieces” for the larger art market.
Rather, my intent is to engage in creative reconnaissance: Take in the colors and textures and shapes and atmosphere of the place and see what moves and inspires me. Experiment and play and try things I haven’t tried before. Look. Watch. Listen. Feel. Observe. Play.
And draw.
And paint.
And draw.
And paint.
So now….what to bring?
** I also consider a good book and letter-writing accoutrements to be Essential.
06.25.2012 ~ opening up in slickhorn canyon, utah
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| opening up in slickhorn canyon, utah ~ oil and mixed media on panel ~ by dawn chandler ~ copyright 2012 dawn chandler |
I just love the surprise of greenery in the bottom of these canyons. The colonies of cottonwoods are such inviting, verdant oases in this parched landscape. I could hole up forever in the cool shadows of those trees.
As with the other panels in this series, this one started with my free-write scribing on the undersurface with a dip pen. This time though I added a little pen and ink sketch in the upper corner as I considered the composition of the piece. I later went in with ink washes and blocked out the main compositional elements, before commencing to paint:
06.14.2012 ~ santa fe cicadas
They arrived a few weeks ago, burrowing out of their decade-long home in the earth so as to scale the nearest evergreen and glue themselves to the windy limbs. There, in sunlight and moonlight, they break free of their armor and emerge winged, filling the sky with their song.
At 7:30 each morning is when they break into song at my house. That’s when the sun fully peaks over the eastern mesas and begins to build momentum across the morning.
Imagine the sound of a casting fly reel. Now multiply that sound by the thousands, and that’s what it sounds like around here when the sun is out.
In the evening — when the sun is low — the cicada song becomes a clicking sound. [Really, the poets need to find a descriptor other than “castanets” to describe the sound of that clicking. But for now it’s the best my limited poetic mind can muster.]
I guess it’s not really a “song” we’re hearing, since these sounds don’t come from the mouth of these creatures, but rather from the abdomen. At least that’s what the Wiki tells me. Well, whether it’s a vocal song or a belly song makes no difference to me; I remain fully entranced.
Not only entranced, but incredulous that these little guys have crawled out of this hard-packed earth from depths as deep as 8 feet. How do they do it?! And to think that when they went into the ground as little grubs some 10 – 17 years ago, my house wasn’t even here!
There’s rich mythology around cicadas, and I can understand why: Their life underground as a grub is epically long, while their post-moulting life in the trees and sky is all too short (just a few weeks). Is it any wonder that they’ve come to symbolize reincarnation and insouciance in some cultures? I like that symbolism. They all will die in a few weeks, but I have a feeling they’re going to be returning again soon, in my studio.
06.06.2012 ~ autumn on the edge of baldy
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| autumn on the edge of baldy ~ by dawn chandler ~ oil and mixed media on panel ~ 12 x 24 inches ~ copyright dawn chandler 2012 |
Autumn on the edge….. Okay, so in early June perhaps no one is thinking of Autumn. But when I came across a photo of the Sangre de Cristos from the edge of Philmont’s Baldy Mountain, something pulled me in.
This just may be my favorite of these new panoramic paintings. I’m not sure why….but something about it feels bolder than the others. Really, the composition is simpler — there’s really not a whole lot going on. But that sharp diagonal thrust from upper right to lower left adds dynamism. Break it down to it’s barest elements, and the simplicity of the composition becomes almost abstract. The palette, too, is minimal — yet contrasting, further energizing and emboldening the scene.
A few close ups:
Like the others, this one started with a rough under-painting followed by a layer of scribing (below). Look carefully under the gold paint (above, lower left) and you can just barely make out some of my writing.
05.30.2012 ~ approaching la veta, colorado
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| approaching la veta, colorado ~ by dawn chandler ~ oil on panel ~ 12 x 24 inches ~ copyright dawn chandler 2012 |
You know how it is: Over the years you make dozens of road trips to the big city, and every time you pass a curious looking exit and think, “I should go explore that some time….” And next thing you know years pass and you still haven’t taken the turn to go explore that exit.
La Veta, Colorado is one of those “exits.” I can’t tell you how many times I cruised along I-25 or County Road 160 on my way from Taos to Denver and considered taking a detour, but never did.
Fortunately my hand was forced on the issue a couple of years ago, when I was invited by a friend to exhibit some of my paintings in her yoga studio — smack in the heart of downtown La Veta, Colorado.
What a beautiful and charming little community!! All of about 7 blocks long, with tall shade trees and a lovely little park. I was smitten instantly. And the drive down on County Road 440….Well, it’s pretty glorious with the whole Cuchara Valley opening up before you.
After hanging my artwork and having lunch in one of the cool little eateries, I headed back for home, but kept pulling over to take photographs. The view was simply stunning.
Here’s my attempt at capturing it in paint. Not a bad first attempt, though I find some areas problematic. The clouds feel a bit dense rather than light and airy. And I think perhaps I should have lightened up the distant line of mountains; that’s kind of a hard edge on the Spanish Peaks there to the left, especially. But dang it! That’s how it looked. Still, here’s a perfect example of where the painting might have succeeded more if I had abandoned a literal interpretation of the photo and instead went with what with my gut was telling me to do for the painting: “lighten up those distant edges.” Oh well… There’s always the next time….
A few details:
