The whole idea of reversals interests me; it worked for Ginger Rogers, after all. So yesterday, when faced by an enormous 12 square foot white canvas, I decided to work the image upside-down. Six hours later I had a grisaille in which wild Newfoundland hangs suspended above a cloudless sky. It remains to be seen whether tricking my left brain into vacating the field a la Betty Edwards will propel my painting but it is at least forcing me to think in abstract shapes.
Whatever the orientation, I am frequently inspired by the Newfoundland aerial view. The greens are lovely and dark. Often there are low blue mountains in the distance and here and there are patches of brightness - whether bodies of water or farmed areas. But these vast scenes demand space of their own. Thus I find myself once again teetering on a step stool in order to reach the top.
So doing, I am reminded why I spent most of the winter doing small botanicals and bird studies! Large paintings do generate impact and are exciting to build, layer by layer taking form in front of me like a statue emerging from a block of marble, but they are physically demanding and enormously time-consuming. By way of contrast there is something immediate and refreshing about small pieces. In the space of a day they take form and reward me for my effort so Wednesdays at group paint days I have gotten into the habit of working small. There’s nothing much nicer than painting away in a room full of happy artists, tiddly pom.
But the die has been cast. Today — engaged, apprehensive — I am peering up at a huge upside-down landscape. The game’s afoot! Watch your toes, Fred.
Whatever the orientation, I am frequently inspired by the Newfoundland aerial view. The greens are lovely and dark. Often there are low blue mountains in the distance and here and there are patches of brightness - whether bodies of water or farmed areas. But these vast scenes demand space of their own. Thus I find myself once again teetering on a step stool in order to reach the top.
So doing, I am reminded why I spent most of the winter doing small botanicals and bird studies! Large paintings do generate impact and are exciting to build, layer by layer taking form in front of me like a statue emerging from a block of marble, but they are physically demanding and enormously time-consuming. By way of contrast there is something immediate and refreshing about small pieces. In the space of a day they take form and reward me for my effort so Wednesdays at group paint days I have gotten into the habit of working small. There’s nothing much nicer than painting away in a room full of happy artists, tiddly pom.
But the die has been cast. Today — engaged, apprehensive — I am peering up at a huge upside-down landscape. The game’s afoot! Watch your toes, Fred.
"Up, Up" 2015 36 x 48 glaze oil
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