Gesso Messo

By far the most annoying part, for me, of being a painter is preparing the panels. Last fall, and then again this spring, I did a marathon panel prep and now have a trailer full of various sizes to choose from. All have five or six coats of gesso already on them but there is still a good deal of texture revealed from the portrait grade canvas that I use…and I do not like this.

On some paintings where I use lots of paint and deliberately rough up the surface, like roiling seas and wind blown landscapes, that texture is just fine and gets hidden quickly in favor of the brushstrokes.

For other works, like finely detailed still lifes and interiors, I want the texture to be of my design, not the canvases.

I have experimented and struggled for years now to produce a reliable and smooth gesso finish. And the first three or four coats which I apply with a wide putty knife go on great. But once that weave begins to fill in every single tiny speck of dust of dog hair or wooly caterpillar fluff gets caught in the sweep of the blade and drags a gully across the panel.  UGH !

I tried to get a photo of this to help illustrate the problem…but didn’t have the patience to light it right…here’s a shot of the gesso I have found to be the best for the final coats… Art Boards Gesso which I get from Dick Blick. (This is not a plug for them…just a reference since I had some difficulty finding it in the usual haunts. I have found it to be the best as far as pliability on a rigid surface as well as having just the right tooth for the oils I use.)

gesso

I’m eager to get to the easel to work on some of the new ideas I collected while on Martha’s Vineyard last month and I worked all day yesterday to get a sketch ready for the first one up. Last night I hauled out a panel and applied a final coat of the gesso to dry overnight. In the light of morning most of the gesso had smoothed out but there were dozens of those nasty streaks so I got out the sander and took it back down to a uniform level…which or course sanded off more gesso than I wanted so I decided to thin it down and re-apply with a brush.

Disaster. It dries too fast and the brushstrokes become clumpy and no amount of raking light can reveal all the imperfections. With nothing to lose I went back to the putty knife and had a little bit more success leveling out the hills and valleys. But not much.

I’ll have to let this dry and then give it a wet/sand finish which is very time consuming and a big mess…but it does work. You slowly build up a slurry by taking a wet-sandpaper of 400 or 500 grit and progress in small increments. The advantage is that you do not remove any gesso…just smooth it around but it’s tedious work and I am low on patience at the moment.

I’d welcome any thoughts and suggestions on how you other artists handle the gesso messo.

For now that’s enough whining !!! …as Pat says…everything happens for a reason so I must need the practice…and it’s a beautiful grey November day here in the studio yard…

autumn-09

take note if you will …that pole leaning on the lilac bush, circled in red, is the one that drove itself into my sinuses a couple days ago…quite a wake up call…doing just fine now …and the lingering soreness is all the reminder I need to get back to painting thank you !

 

We’re back…

and sluggishly but happily progressing on the  re-entry back into our Pennsylvania lives… Neighbor Sue, and a couple others of you who dip into this blog once and a while, have let me know that it’s time for an update… and soon,

very soon,

I will oblige with full color momentos of our journey north and an in depth look at what is ahead for the studio this winter. Lots and lots to report…a bit overwhelming actually…

Today started out just fine…the painting that I had left in limbo on the easel for the last six weeks is nearing completion…the 10,000 or more reference photos that I shot on Martha’s Vineyard have been sorted and I’ve begun to gleen through the lot to find the best images for paintings…(a decades’ worth)… and Finn helped out by giving me the whole morning to work while she gnawed on a giant bone from market.

So all was groovy until I decided to take advantage of the 70 degree November day and take my lunch hour to clear out and mow down the back fence row to make way for some raised beds for our spring victory garden. After carefully taking down Finnegan’s fence I leaned one of the 8 ft poles, 2″ in diameter, against the split rail fence. Then I started heaving some big logs across that fence and out of the way. Amazingly enough one of those heavy suckers clipped the top of that pole and snapped it right back at me…at twenty five miles an hour…spiked end first…directly into the center of my face.

A square hit up the right nares. I can still see it coming. Interesting what the mind does with that scenario. One half second before impact I was already planning out the emergency response. Pat was out to lunch…or out for lunch…Sue was home I thought but probably not watching me out her kitchen window…Finnegan was lying on the porch asleep…I was on my own.

I made it inside…scoped out the damage…stopped the bleeding…iced up the injury site…shook myself off… a couple of times…decided I would live…went back out and finished mowing down the beds…stopped to think how much worse it could have been…and collapsed on the porch chair. Pat came home and started to tell me all about how hard her first day back at Yoga had been…I played the trump card…spear in the nose….she launched into nurse mode…I felt better.

Here then is my excuse for not bringing you all a proper post.

Stay tuned… my angels are with me … and dancing with the stars is right around the corner…

I know Ted will be watching… and Polly was watching out for me today.

Would love to hear how your October adventures went…

yours in miracles,

Heather

Red Sky at Morning

creekside morning

Sailor take warning…

and so we have taken it easy today and managed to slowly fill the entire truck with our survival gear for an extended stay on the Vineyard. Tomorrow we move out and the caretaker moves in so the studio will not be lonely and the changing of the seasons here will not go unnoticed.

And our little family will make our annual pilgrimage up the east coast to dig our toes in the sands of Squibnocket beach and taste some of Chef Hesi’s sushi delicacies and visit with dear friends and explore some new corners and vistas all in search of new subjects to bring home to the studio to paint.

I expect to post some blog entries from up there so stay tuned…and enjoy the autumn colors in your neck of the woods.

When the Muses don’t show up…

It is dark now. And it’s been a very long day of frustrating fits and starts. Much ado and almost nothing to show for it.

Last week I had a dream in which a painting began to take shape. A line of pumpkins supporting a pile of corn was the start .  At first a shining ear with one glorious pat of butter atop was hovering over the pumpkins. Then the next day the title came into focus…The Philosopher Corn. I liked that but the original butter thing was too cute.

While sitting on the studio porch carving some spoons that afternoon I kept hearing a great swoosh in the trees just before seeing hundreds of migrating birds take flight. And I thought of a Raven…with an ear of corn in its beak… and that was my philosopher. Probably an echo of Jamie Wyeth’s sinful seagulls that I saw last week. But I liked the idea of the oily black feathers against the orange and green fall carpet.

I did a tiny sketch and gave Pat a shopping list. First off, the pumpkins. Well it turns out we are on the cusp of that season. Farmers said look back here on the weekend. And corn is at the other end of its season. Farmers said we probably won’t have any more by the weekend. And…we leave on Tuesday for a month on MV.

Soooo… I drove all over kingdom come and found Pumpkin Hill where I was no doubt the first customer … but I loaded four pumpkins into my wagon and called Pat. Got ’em, now can you go straight over to the orchard and grab all the corn that’s left.

That was two days ago.

Now here I sit tonight, waiting for my ipod gadgets to sync after hours of repairing loopy software, and decided it was time to set up the still life with the harvest. An hour later I am beaten.

Granted, I may be too tired to hear them…but the muses just ain’t helping out here.

IMG_0014

This is absolutely hideous.

I hardly ever paint what is exactly in front of me in this kind of a still life…but really…my first little sketch had way more information than this heap.

And I have now ignored my partner and my puppy for most of the day… have two dozen perfectly good ears of corn going to waste…four decent pumpkins (pick of the crop) and a whopping headache in the balance.

Lesson learned…again…

these paintings have a mind of their own and when I try and force them into a tight little box in a crazy busy schedule… I just end up in tears.

I’m not letting go of the title, or the characters in play, but I am turning off this machine, going to shake myself together, find my dog, and head home to my loving partner for the night.

Tomorrow is another day Scarlett.

Vineyarder

When we were on Martha’s Vineyard in July for the Granary Gallery show we took a day off to be filmed for a spot on Plum TV. Hannah Pillemer, the film maker, producer, editor and interviewer, along with David Rhoderick the intrepid cameraman, did a fine job of making us feel at ease…and our friend Barbara Gordon, aka Ansel Leibowitz, documented the interview for the studio blog.

Here are some photos from our morning in the spotlight, and a link to the video …

PLUM TV click here

A note from the Apprentice

The cooler weather is perking up the not-so-little-anymore Finnegan…

Finnegan grows up

At six months, her studio apprenticeship is focusing on getting the artiste to stick to a routine. Up at the crack of dawn, feed the pup, climb into the truck and head over to the park for a brisk half hour walk…then home to hose off …

hoser

Then it’s time to get to work…

Her new name this week is  Runs With Brushes…

runs with brushes

When I catch her and get this one back… I WILL get to work.

Phenomenon

Calling all scholars and mystics…

I need some help interpreting two phenomenons that have puzzled me of late.

The first is straight forward… this cloud formation followed me all the way to the park a few days ago. It looked so much like calligraphy that I pulled over and sketched it in a notebook. Reproduced here via photoshop it is a fair representation …

sky writing

The second phenom is something that I started recognizing  months ago. Every time I would look at the clock it read 3:33 . Now, to clarify, I hardly ever look at a clock. And obviously there are only two times in any given day that that number can come up. But sure enough, my nightly bladder call was precisely at that hour…and I could have gotten up and looked at the clock at any stage in that journey to and from the throne but I  always seemed to catch 3:33.

Same thing in the afternoon. I’d stop painting and just randomly glance at the clock by the easel and there it was again. Not 3:34…or 5 but 3. When I think back now I remember that the first time that number came up it was on election day. I was number 333 in line to vote. Hmmmmm.

So …leap forward to almost a year later. The anomaly has blossomed. Now almost every time I look at any clock the time has all the same digits repeated. 5:55 comes up a lot, 11:11 is a fun one, I seem to catch 4:44 almost every day and so on.

No, I do not hang around waiting for the numbers to roll around. And no, I don’t pay any more attention to the time than usual. And Pat is completely done with me exclaiming, ” I don’t believe it…look…again !”  But I do feel, not unlike the sky writing, that there is some larger message from the beyond that I am supposed to be getting and am obviously not catching it on the whisper.

I have no clue if anyone  out there actually reads these blog entries but  I am curious to hear if anyone else finds these things… well…curious ?

early morning mist

It’s been stressful in the studio this week and I have been finding solace in my early morning walks with Finnegan.

Finn on our walk

It’s not safe to walk a pup on our street so I drive 10 minutes over to a local park and we walk for half an hour or so. The farms along the way are close to harvesting corn and sunflowers and the other morning, when we got a particularly early start…and just as we crested a small hill…the sun was a firey re/pink globe hovering over pockets of mist that hung in the valley of the fields below. I have driven that way every day since and the late August morning mist is there but not that spectacular sun.

Here’s a look at yesterday morning’s mist giving way to the sun…

walk in the park

I have a couple other paintings in the works which the Granary Gallery has requested but I am taking a small detour to work on the challenge of recording these peaceful early morning vistas while they are still fresh in my mind and before the snow flies.

As Polly would say…Shake yourself together !  and indeed I have.

Bon Appetite !

Julia, my hero.

I floated out of the movie theater yesterday afternoon on a cloud of whipped to the peak of perfection egg whites…

at the movies

Magnifique, Superb and Brilliant !!! I laughed and sobbed through the whole flick and the creme de la creme was the gaggle of three women sitting behind us whispering to each other in FRENCH !!!

Julia Child has been a hero of mine for almost my entire life. I watched along with the early PBS viewers as she brought us into her kitchen and taught us to cook and she was elevated to goddess status when I worked in Cambridge and would catch the occasional glimpse of her regal gait bobbing above the crowd on the cobblestone alleyways.  My log cabin kitchen today is surrounded by homages to her genius… from the NY Times Magazine article that quotes her “last meal” suggestions…

my muse

to the windchime that has hung outside the door since her passing…

windchime

to the cupboards that have her famous quote painted on them to remind and inspire…

cabinets

Ahhh Julia…

We took Lorrie’s advice and did eat before we sat down to watch…but on the way home we rewrote our shopping list and Herself made a special trip to town to fetch us the fixings for a feast…

ingredients

A little bruschetta to honor the ripe tomatoes in our garden…

prepping

bruschetta

Then a lesson from the movie and an extra step to dry the scallops (not beef this time) to get a good sear…

drying the scallops

good sear

And of course the money shot…the lobster scream !

the lobster scream

And Voila ! we have Seared Scallops for Pat and Lobster Poached in BUTTER for moi…both over a bed of spinach wilted in garlic butter… ( did I mention butter ?)

main course

Ahhhhhh… our tribute was complete with a dish of Haagen Daz velvety chocolate ice cream topped with fresh raspberries…

dessert

and we raised our glasses to Chere Julia, and to Julie whose blog was inspirational and gave Nora Ephron the medium to shine once again…to Meryll who simply was breathtaking…to life itself which we know to be the proper binge… and to love which after all else is at the very core of every meal… Salute !

Pot Luck

Follansbee Folly

A calm between the storm of fun as the Follansbees make their pilgrimage to Country Workshops where Peter will be giving a workshop in joinery and box making… it is our great fortune to live halfway between MA and NC and so we get to be the watering hole at both ends of their trek.

Rose and Daniel are blossoming into spectacular little humans and as much as I want to stop and document the magic… I would rather not have the camera stopping my eye…there’s simply too much going on to capture.

I did get a couple shots and in between finding long lost fairies amongst the zinnias they planted the last time they were here…and swimming all morning in the lake…and drawing pictures of Finn and alligators on the porch…and telling story after story…Papa and I brought out the spoons bags to compare and take notes and see what each other’s spoons look like now that we’ve been a’ carvin’ for almost thirty years. A fair pile of shavings gathered at the foot of our rockers and mingled with the sidewalk chalk and our conversation seemed to pick up right where we left it …with three year old stories woven through the thin bits…while Mama sat near by knitting and Pat smiled on.

Now this artist heads back to the easel and waits to catch them on the way back through in a few days… ahhhhh.