Invisible Path to the Top

A day without rain is an opportunity not to waste.  So I found myself at Haley Farm at the end of Hopper Road in Williamstown, MA.  No one was at the farm, and the parking lot had only one car.  The end of Hopper Road is a trail head for several hiking trails, Money Brook, Haley Farm, and the Hopper trails, that can take you up to the top of Mount Greylock.  I set up in the middle of the main trail path that goes through the clump of trees, which you see in the middle of my painting.  The trees hide the Hopper, the sharp and steep valley visible in the background at left.  12x16 oil on panel.

I Don't Know

The two other paintings I did yesterday afternoon with my head in the clouds: one is 8x10 and the other 9x12 oils on panel.

I found an old how-to Watson-Guptill book by John C. Pellew called Oil Painting Outdoors.  He asks "Why do so many people want to paint pictures?"  His answer: "I don't know."  Actually he then tries to answer the question, but I like his first response.  He has one good suggestion: instead of painting from a photo, make a drawing from the photo, and paint from that.

Head in the Clouds

This afternoon, even though the forecast called for "heavy rain" I kept my head in the clouds and painted away.  Here are two of the four paintings I did.  The unsettled weather has made tremendous clouds available, so if it's not raining, I have to paint.  These are 8x10 oil on panel.  All were done at Sheep Hill in Williamstown, MA, which offers a special vantage point for painting clouds.

Mirror Image

A figure painting from one of last year's drawing sessions.  I use these sessions to paint instead of drawing (or I draw with paint).  I took advantage of the mirror, which wasn't always there, since the space is used mainly for other activities.  The painting is a 16x12 oil on panel.

Hidden Order

Here's a key statement by Bernard Dunstan from his book Painting Methods of the Impressionists:

"However much a painter thinks he is recording with total objectivity, he cannot help bringing out certain aspects as he works from nature; he will emphasize a connection between different parts, or 'lose' one tonal area against another, or stress a contour that forms an important direction.  Even the fact that some parts may give him trouble and have to be repainted adds to this process of emphasis. 'Rhymes,' connections, rhythms are discovered in the scene as he goes on working, for to any subject there is bound to be more of what we may term 'natural design' than we think at first.  This gradual discovery of order which was hidden from the casual eye is surely one of the greatest satisfactions of working from nature."

The accompanying painting is a 9x12 oil on panel done at Haley Farm at the end of Hopper Road in Williamstown, MA last week.  The weeds have overtaken the place obscuring the 'natural design'.

Do Them!

Inspired by Bernard Dunstan, I'm feeling irreverent today.  I offer one last ironic thought from his how-to book, Learning To Paint.  Referring to the "rules" about painting, Dunstan writes, "Think of all the things you were told... not to do, and do them!

Alas, this 9x12 oil on panel is an indirect irreverent view of a street in Provence.

Accepting Chaos and Clutter

In his book Learning to Paint Bernard Dunstan writes:

"Choosing a motif from the chaos and clutter of the visual material that surrounds us is, obviously, the essential decision in all painting based on nature.  What is not always appreciated, though, is that once you've made this choice, you'll probably have a greater chance of creating an interesting design if you accept all the accidental oddities that your motif contains, instead of trying to tidy it up by leaving out elements which seem unessential or tricky to handle...

The desire to label everything in a picture--this is a tree, that is a fence, and that is a house--can be a very limiting approach to selecting a motif.  Don't forget that leaving out invariably means making blanks, which your imagination or memory will the have to fill.  Most painters, experienced ones as well as beginners, aren't nearly as ingenious as the accidental effect of nature at producing formal relationships that are lively and interesting."

Apropos to those words is the accompanying painting, which I painted yesterday afternoon at the farm at the end of Hopper Road in Williamstown, MA, while hearing thunder claps slowly approaching.  I didn't want to paint the wagon by itself, so I moved slightly to the left to include a portion of a tractor (a wheel with a piece of plywood behind it).  Old farms always have equipment and junk strewn all over the place.  The painting is a 9x12 oil on panel.

The Hopper and Learning To Paint

By chance, I discovered that one of my favorite painters, Bernard Dunstan, had written some of those 'how-to" Watson-Guptill books.  Here's an excerpt from the book "Learning to Paint":

"It isn't until we start painting that we find out how little we have seen before...

The painter, perhaps, is almost the only person in our very specialized society who uses his eyes really objectively and without blinkers.  He is able to accept without choice or preference all the visual stimuli that come to him.

This type of looking is one of the justifications for drawing and painting in a figurative way, however bad the results may be.  At least the painter uses his eyes in a way that they can seldom be used in everyday life: at full stretch, accepting and examining a totality of experience.  This visual experience can be an important extension of the human consciousness, one that requires a certain humility on the part of the artist--an absorption in the character and reality of the subject, rather than merely in the production of an acceptable end-product, the picture."

Today's painting is a 9x12 oil on panel that I did yesterday morning at Haley Farm at the end of Hopper Road in Williamstown, MA.  It's a hot, steaming view of the Hopper.

Affinities

This painting I did earlier this year.  It's 12x16 oil on panel.  It's not a landscape, obviously, but a reclining figure has affinities to a landscape.

Chesterwood

This small, intense painting I did last week at Chesterwood, the home and studio of sculptor Daniel Chester French, where I've been teaching a few students plein air painting for IS183, the art school in Stockbridge, MA.  The painting is 9x12, oil on panel.

Farther Back and Higher Up

This Saturday I visited the Manchester Vermont backyard while the sky was full of dramatic clouds, slightly overlapping the mountain edges, and putting the whole range in shadow.  The view is farther back than the previous paintings.  This painting is a 14x18 oil on canvas.

Midday in Provence

Another quiet street in St. Maximin la Ste. Baume in Provence, France, at midday when the sun is high. 9x12 oil on canvas.

A Road in Provence

A road through a town in Provence. 9x12 oil on panel.  Provence for me is a province of the mind, the sun shining, ancient buildings, deep shadows, brilliant sky, a timeless stage.

A Street in Provence

The main street in St. Maximin la Ste. Baume in Provence, France.  9x12 oil on canvas.

Old Street

A 9x12 oil on canvas painting that I reworked slightly.  It depicts an old street in St. Maximim la Ste Baume in Provence.