musings from the studio and beyond ~
dawn chandler’s reflections on art and life. . . .
12.01.2011 ~ miranda autumn 01
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| miranda autumn ~ 2011 daily painting 09 ~ 6″ x 6″ oil on panel ~ copyright dawn chandler 2011 |
The scene: Based on a photo taken after a cold and windy autumn ascent of Baldy c. 2009. Here we’re skirting the south edge of the meadow, walking down, away from the cabin.
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The first day of December and I’m thrilled to be back at work again in my studio. Hard to believe it but I haven’t actually painted in a couple of months (!!!)
And having spent most of this year’s studio time focused on mixed media painting, I’m eager to focus on landscape again, at least for a few weeks. I have some ideas brewing for a new series that will combine mixed media with landscape elements, but while I’m working out some of those ideas in my head and sketchbook, I want to use my painting time to bone up on “traditional” landscapes in oil. If nothing else, I want to use up some of the already stretched canvases laying about in my studio.
So the other day I assessed my inventory of oil paint and brushes, found large gaps in my stock, made a list of all that I need (how the heck could I be out of Cobalt Blue? ….Or Veridian….Or Burnt Umber?…Or Pthalo Blue? ….Or…or…6-inch square panels for that matter?!), and set about painting anyway, despite the gaping holes in my supplies.
The sigh of delight in painting again was audible (I think my neighbors all looked up as my whole being exclaimed “HOORAY!!”)
Things were off to a great start and this little painting (on the last 6 x 6 panel I could find kicking around my studio) was coming along just fine, but then after a few minutes I noticed I was starting to get too caught up in details. ARGH! I’ve written about this before, so you long-timers here know how I hate that. When I get caught up in details, the painting starts to look over-wrought and too uptight. What I love is when I can loosen up and let the paint do its thing without over-working it; when the paint suggests something accurately — maybe even with a little bit of ambiguity or abstraction — rather than spelling out every last detail, THAT’S what I love!
A painter who does this beautifully is S.P. Goodman. His paintings simply dazzle me. His sense of color and light combined with is handling of the paint is masterful. There’s an economy to his use of paint and a confidence to his brushwork that I envy. Check out his work on his blog: http://spgoodman.blogspot.com. And look at that painting “The Causeway” from November 16th. Is that stunning or what? He provides just enough information to give you the perfect sense of time and space, but no more.
Absolutely breathtaking.
So with my painting above, when I found myself with a very small brush in hand trying to carve out details and the painting already looking over-worked, I took a look at Mr. Goodman’s paintings. “Ah, YES!” I grabbed a rag and a much larger brush and smeared and smudged and some paint around.
Voila! Much, much better!
11.19.2011 ~ o’keeffe’s haunting
Of course, it’s kind of hard to live in Santa Fe and *not* be reminded of the woman from time to time — this *is* referred to as “O’Keeffe Country” after all. But still. You’d think I’d be able to escape her reign when traveling overseas, at least. Wouldn’t you know it but one of the big art exhibits going on at the Museo della Fondazione Roma this autumn is that of Georgia O’Keeffe — her first major retrospective in Italy; the show opened while I was there.
Great.
Years ago I went to a colossal retrospective of O’Keeffe’s work back in New York. Room after room after room of her work.
Later, I visited the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum here in Santa Fe shortly after it opened. With a dismissive east coast I-grew-up-in-the-Met sniff, I deemed the museum unimpressive, so paltry was its collection compared to the grand and sophisticated display I’d seen on 5th Avenue.
Around that time O’Keeffe’s poppies adorned a US postage stamp. And of course for a long time her paintings were featured on posters, especially those for the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival, which seemed to be everywhere in New Mexico.
Some time in there I read a biography on O’Keeffe and came away with the nagging feeling that she was…… kind of…..a bitch. Ouch. Disappointing.
All this jaded me on O’Keeffe. I had O’keeffe overload — like she was someone whom I’d admired, and then we became FaceBook friends, and now I was getting too much information about her.
So when I arrived in Rome only to learn that Georgia was there, too, I felt a little bit miffed. “Jeez..REALLY? Of ALL the artists who could possibly be having a show in Rome while I’m here, does it have to be Georgia O’Keeffe?! Can’ it be an artist who isn’t from Santa Fe?!”
When my friend with whom I was staying expressed an interest in going to the show, I was less than enthusiastic about accompanying her.
But then…two weeks in and a couple of days before I was to leave Rome, I warmed up to the idea of seeing the O’Keeffe show. Hell, after two weeks of studying art spanning just about every century except the last one, I was ready to view something a little more contemporary. And I was starting, too, to look forward to returning home to the Southwest and getting busy in my studio. The idea of looking at paintings from my part of the New World in an old museum in the heart of the Old World was having increasing appeal.
Still, little did I imagine what a treat I was in for.
If there’s one thing the Italians do right (and actually I can think of quite a few things they do right…), it’s put on an art exhibition.
Through stage props, signage, photos and music, the Museum attempted — rather charmingly — to conjure a sense of the feel of New York City, the Adirondacks, and New Mexico — three of the most significant environments of O’Keeffe’s long life. And they did a pretty good job of theatrically transporting you from the heart of Rome to America. (Indeed, were it not for the consistently beautiful, model-like gallery attendants dressed in black Gucci and Prada and their sensual Italian accents, I might very well have been convinced that I WAS in the US.)
But it was the artwork itself, of course, which charmed the most. I was tickled to rediscover some real gems — her quick sketch of looking out a tent door (graphite), and simple but weighty nude studies of herself (watercolor)…her portraits of fruit (especially the ‘alligator pear,” otherwise known as an avocado).
I especially appreciated being reminded of the fact that O’Keeffe danced back and forth throughout her career between painting representationally and painting abstractly — something I also do (in my case the dance is between traditional oil landscape painting and more abstracted mixed media paintings).
Her abstractions based on Lake George, with their deep damp greens and blues swirling and curling within each other, particularly dazzled. One in particular had almost whimsical pops of color, like sparks. Back at the apartment later that evening, I attempted to capture a sense of it in my sketchbook (though I was limited to black and white):
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| untitled sketch, copyright Dawn Chandler 2011 |
The last few rooms of the exhibit were, like her life, dedicated to New Mexico. The museum had attempted to recreate adobe walls and a feel for the desert, and I’d say they did a fair job of it. I was tickled to see a recreation of her studio — envious of the long white tables and vast wall space of her sanctuary — and fascinated to see some of her actual belongings.
O’Keeffe’s paintings of bones floating over landscapes never did much for me, nor did they now. But I was charmed to discover her paintings of cottonwood trees; I hadn’t remembered seeing these before. Trees are a potent theme of mine, and I’d had another experience in Rome (will write about later) that had me musing about trees with renewed interest. O’keeffe’s trees with their wispy feather-like branches of gold pulled me in and made me want to get home to Santa Fe and walk under the cottonwood trees myself.
And O’Keeffe is back here, too, beguiling me. I started thinking about this post on Tuesday — the 15th of November, which, as it turns out, is O’Keeffe’s birthday.
A couple days later I learned that I have been invited to participate in “Odes and Offerings” — an art exhibit at the Santa Fe Community gallery opening in March, 2012. The show is to feature collaborations between visual artists and poets. I have been sent two poems by Barbara Rockman, and will “select lines, phrases, stanzas, or even the an entire poem to use as text integral to [my] work.”
The name of one of the poems?
“Letter from Georgia O’Keeffe To Alfred Steiglitz Upon Seeing His Photograph of Her Hands.”
11.14.2011 ~ all roads lead to Rome…and back again.
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| Photo by Dawn Chandler copyright 2011 |
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| Photo by Dawn Chandler copyright 20 |
Daily I strode the stone and storied labyrinth of the Eternal City, delighting in the passageways and towering archways of those ancient, narrow streets. Cappuccini and cobblestones and Chianti defined my days.
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| Photo by Dawn Chandler copyright 2011 |
Readers, have you been to Rome? Where are your favorite places?
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| Photo by Dawn Chandler copyright 2011 |
10.24.2011 ~ mazes & labyrinths
The labyrinth pattern of Chartres Cathedral, c. 1200 A.D.
If you’re like me you think you know what a labyrinth is. Chances are though you’re mistaken — as I was.
A labyrinth is not a maze.
A maze is designed to confound and confuse. There are many wrong turns and dead-ends, and you may not ever find your way to the sweet spot at the end. There’s a certain urgency and anxiety and threat of doom associated with mazes.
The goal of a labyrinth, on the other-hand, is contemplation. Peacefulness. There is only one pathway — the long and circuitous path to the center. There are stops and turns, but if you stay on the path you will find your way to the sweet center.
My friend Karen (of Artful Tea fame, who has quite an interesting personal story) is constructing a labyrinth in her backyard. The pathway is a mosaic of shards — broken bits of porcelain, stoneware, crockery, china, blown glass, mirror — many of which have storied histories all their own. These shards are pressed more or less randomly into a base of cement. It’s a long process creating a pathway of cement and glass, so Karen is inviting friends to help her along in the journey. I’m honored to have been invited to participate.
The first step of a new labyrinth mosaic artist is, of course, to walk the labyrinth design as is — partially completed, the rest sketched out in the earth — and get a feel for the journey.
It’s an intriguing adventure following this path of earth and glass, contemplating the colored fragments catching the afternoon sun, and the story of those who selected and placed these certain jewels.
The second step is to get to work: Karen mixed the cement, while I, on hands and knees in the pebbled dirt, selected my palette of shards. When the cement was ready and poured, I set about swiftly placing my shards in the soft (but quickly firming) cement.
I’ve been thinking too, about my own life’s journey, and the path I’m on.
Lately Life has seemed more like a maze than a labyrinth — a maze of meaningless clutter. I’m not talking about the clutter of brick-a-brac that needs dusting in the house (I cleared out much of that a while ago), but rather the clutter of constant visual, mental and emotional stimulation. Of being “plugged in” 24/7, bombarded with never-ending updates and soundbites of cleverness, inanity, gags, information, “news”…..everything.
My mind and soul just seem to be pleading for down time. For quietness. For contemplation. For thoughtful, meaningful, slow-time interaction with friends and, just as importantly, my own Self.
I’ll be departing on a journey soon. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not a particularly unusual or grand adventure. But it’s one that promises much time for contemplation and inspiration of the creative mind and spirit.
The Maze, I’m hoping to leave behind me
and step instead onto the path of my life’s Labyrinth.
10.11.2011 ~ returning to spring
copyright dawn chandler 2011
I love this painting. It feels peaceful and juicy in the jewel-like intensity of the colors.
Here again, the foundation of this piece is a traditional landscape — though you’d be hard pressed to find any hint of Baldy Mountain from Wilson Mesa hidden under these abstract passages of brilliant color. About the only trace of its former life lies revealed in the bit of turquoise (sky) in the upper left.
There’s a richness to the colors and texture of the paint surface here that could only be possible through the building up and scraping down of layers of paint. This is really the main reason I like to “recycle” old paintings and give them a new life: Because the surfaces and depth of color achievable from layering paint add depth, brilliance and visual interest, and these aspects really excite me.
Familiar elements — my visual language — appear here: suggested archways or passageways….soaring birds (which of late usually appear as a pair — my parents)….mysterious thoughts scratched into the surface of the paint…those three red punctuation points….
All in all, in my view a quietly joyful, forward-looking piece.
Returning to Sring is on view through October 21, 2011 at the Downey Gallery at 225 Canyon Road, Santa Fe.
