Happenstantially

This month I'm doing happenstantial drawings. I pick up the pencil and pad, and start drawing, whatever the happenstances.  This fellow posed for me yesterday. He couldn't get out of it.  12x9 inches, pencil on paper.  

More Like Me Than I Am

 The great Irish poet Seamus Heaney said, upon seeing a portrait of himself, "It's more like me than I am."  This might be the case of most of my self-portraits, which nevertheless continue as a useful exercise in the time of the plague.  Painting the same landscape under different circumstances, like Monet's grain stacks, can a be beneficial for the artist.  The same goes for a head or a face.  For this portrait, I took my inspiration from Bonnard's self-portraits where he seems to be looking into a bathroom mirror, though whether he actually painted them in the bathroom, is unknown.  He tended to paint from imagination most of the time.  This one I painted in front of the bathroom mirror.  12x9 inches, oil on linen.

The Better To See You With

One can use eyeglasses, not only to see with, but as a grid to assist in painting a face.  This painting is based upon the Rembrandt self-portrait in the National Gallery in London.  I've read that Rembrandt wasn't really so introspective as we might think despite all his self-portraits.  That's our modern sensibility being read back into the paintings.  Most of the self-portraits were more like a calling card, saying: "See this. I can paint portraits too.  Hire me."  8x10 inches, oil on panel.

Chameleon-Like

Not able to leave this one alone, I kept adding paint. But I'm done with it.  I based it upon the Sargent self-portrait, which only makes me appreciate Sargent even more.  Our faces are chameleon-like.  One can identify a Rembrandt self-portrait, but they are all different.

Older Brother

 A portrait of my happy-go-lucky older brother.  12x9 inches, oil on linen.

Painting The Object

So I spent the day examining the same old object with different lighting.  Barnard Dustan advises in his book on painting portraits to place the mirror and the canvas close to each other so that one has to move the object's eyes as little as possible going from one to the other. 16x12 inches, oil on panel.

Studying An Object

In his book on painting portraits, Bernard Dustan tells us not to worry about getting a likeness in a self-portrait.  "...[V]ery few self-portraits are good likenesses..."   "It doesn't matter whether you like your own face or not - you are simply an object to study."  Here I am studying an object.  12x12 inches, oil on panel.

Portraits

I'm going to pretend that this is somebody else's portrait.  Earlier this year, pre-Covid, I started to paint portraits.  The deal was: I paint your portrait and you keep the painting.  But I had to give it up until better times return.  12x12 inches, oil on panel.

A Portrait Of The Poet

Yesterday afternoon I visited the poet Stephen Rifkin, the author of "The Merit of Light."  I painted this portrait sketch in his North Adams study, whose windows face north, letting in a persistent and calming light.  16x12 oil on panel.

A Portrait Of The Composer

A portrait of the composer Stephen Dankner, who kindly sat for the painting.  16x12 oil on panel.

A Portrait Of The Artist

A portrait of the painter Ann Scott, who kindly agreed to pose yesterday afternoon at her studio home.  Ann is the master of fields, skies and clouds, mists, fogs and firs.  Looking out her window she can see the high top of Mount Greylock.

Early Portrait Drawings

A couple of early portrait drawings.

Selfie With Paint

As a warm up for another portrait, I painted a self-portrait.  12x9 oil on panel.

A Portrait

My neighbor suggested recently that I do more portraits, so I asked if he would pose for me.  He graciously agreed.  This is a drawing of classical music composer Stephen Dankner.  14x11 charcoal on paper.

An Early Painting

On the first day of the new year I wish everyone a happy and healthy New Year.  On a day of firsts,  I'm posting probably one of the first paintings I did in art school that has survived.  It's probably not the first, since I suspect from the pentimenti that I overpainted something else.   The painting probably dates to 1967-8, when I was a student at the Boston Museum School.  24 x 20 inches, oil on canvas.