On Second Thought

My primary artistic style isn't bold or impatient, regardless of what I said in the last post. I realized this as I started work on the pastel drawing at top of a number of Cedar Waxwings.

I'm sure some readers may be getting a bit bored with something so self-referential as my 'style' so I'll keep it short. I began this drawing by looking through my sketchbook of field sketches. There I saw one of Cedar Waxwing that I liked. That got me to looking through the photos I'd done of Cedar Waxwings, which in turn got me to do numerous pencil sketches. Then I tried some thumbnail designs, moving birds this way and that until I had a pleasing, and believable, composition.

Then I forgot much of what I'd just done and scribbled the three birds onto a 14x17 sheet of Strathmore #500 Bristol paper. And this is where 'style' comes in.

I was reminded once again that I really like to improvise, to put something on paper or canvas and then respond to that. That's what I did here. Within 10 minutes all birds had changed position or shape or size. It's been said that some artists, for instance Beethoven I think, and Hitchcock, have a mental picture of their work before they start. They just transpose it into the proper medium. For me I don't really know what I'm doing until the medium gives me some clues. My plans are very vague.

Not all my work is this way. Some try to stay truer to the subject and keep improvisation in check. But my background and my preference is improvisation. I like a dialog with the medium in which I work. This is where I'm comfortable.

I'm not sure if the dialog with these Cedar Waxwings is done. Most likely I'll do some more work on it. Hopefully this will be the end of 'style' comments for awhile. My guess is that it gets tiresome for those who come hear to read something about birds and/or nature.

Style - Curse or Blessing

Sometimes you hear people talking about an artist's 'style.' They mean generally something that easily distinguishes one artist from another. Really well known artists, e.g. Matisse, El Greco, Cezanne, Donatello, Mondrian, all have individual styles. But a style, especially for a living artist is both a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because it indicates that there must be enough consistency in their work for viewers to notice it. They've at least accomplished consistency and aren't just foundering wildly from one style to another. But it's also a curse. What artist wants to do the same thing over and over again? I think this is probably most evident with musicians. How often have you been to a concert where the artist insisted in performing it somewhat differently than you had memorized it note for note from constant playing? I remember the first time I saw Bob Dylan and he played his songs at about twice their normal tempo. Artists really resist being pigeonholed.

There is a reason I bring this up in relation to the painting at top. I think most of my recent pastel work shows something that comes natural to me, a type of boldness. I don't say this to pat myself on the back. Boldness isn't necessarily good. It's just something I feel at ease with, at least when working with charcoal and pastel.

But today I decided to paint a Ruby-crowned Kinglet. I've tried to draw them from life for three years or more, never with any success. That's in fact been the subject of past blogs. In this case though I liked some photos I took this spring of some kinglets right over my head. I thought about doing a pastel, and still may. But for today I did a watercolor. Do you see the problem?

It is not bold at all. It is delicate and a bit tentative. When I looked at the photo, as well as searched my visual memory, I just couldn't see being bold with a kinglet. It's a petite bird. It's surrounded by petite, delicate blooms. The odd thing is that I found it easy to work this way. But I'm not sure that it really suits me, and it certainly doesn't fit with my pastel and charcoal style.

I don't think this is necessarily good or bad. It's just something that struck me as I worked on it. And it may be why I have a vague uneasiness about it - like someone else came in, stole my psyche, and whipped this out.

The watercolor above took about 30 minutes. I whipped it out as an illustration for my blog on Devil's Walkingstick. This also really isn't in my style. Or is it? Anyone who reads this regularly knows that I've done quick watercolors for at least the last year. Often they're done for a purpose just like this: to illustrate something. Generally I'm in a hurry so I work on them very quickly and don't bother with niceties. And generally I like them, even with all of their flaws. That's the case with this Robin in Devil's Walkingstick.

In a way I guess it's bold. Or maybe it's just the work of someone who's impatient. Come to think about it that may be my true style: Impatient.