The Penance of Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, 1900 by Edwin Austin Abbey, Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh.

Abbey was strongly influenced by the Pre-Raphaelites and went over to England to study. He was employed by Harper's magazine much of his career for whom he did illustrations. While in England he struck up a friendship with Whistler. This painting is an illustration of a scene from Shakespeare's Henry VI.

Click on the image to enlarge the paintingAfternoon Delight

5"x7" oil on masonite

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Sorry but I couldn't think of a better name. This is my valentine painting to my wife/valentine. It's for sale because she is also my wife/business manager.

When the Nazis threatened to destroy the works of Der Blaue Reiter group and other modern artists in their quest to eradicate what they deemed “Degenerate Art,” Gabriele Munter, a member of Der Blaue Reiter , spirited many of those works to her countryside home and hid them from certain destruction at great personal risk. Born February 19, 1877, Munter, along with Paula Modersohn-Becker and Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, represents the female contingent of German Expressionism. In 1901, Munter enrolled in the Phalanx School, the art school founded by Wassily Kandinsky, who would become not only her teacher but also her lover. Along with Franz Marc, August Macke, and others, they founded Der Blaue Reiter in 1911. In her painting Boating (above, from 1910), Munter paints Kandinsky standing in the boat, guiding the way as the woman (Munter herself?!) rows the boat. If there’s a great woman behind every great artist, Munter was certainly the one behind Kandinsky at this period of his career.



Munter learned not only from Kandinsky but from all the members of Der Blaue Reiter. She adopted her bold, spiritually charged palette from Marc. From Alexej von Jawlensky, she learned the technique of cloisonnisme, in which the artist darkly outlines all the shapes. Munter used that technique in her portrait of Jawlensky with fellow artist Marianne von Werefkin (above, from 1909). Munter paints her friends with unrecognizable abstraction. If it weren’t for her title, they could be any couple lounging on the grass. With such scenes Munter took common Impressionist subject matter and updated it for the Post-Impressionist world.



When World War I erupted, Kandinsky and Munter fled to Switzerland, escaping the fate of Marc, Macke, and so many other artists killed in the war. Kandinsky later returned to his native Russia and married another woman. Munter and Kandinsky reportedly never saw one another again. Despite that betrayal, Munter always remained true to the art of Kandinsky and her friends, even in the dark days of the Nazi regime. Her Yellow House With Apple Tree (above, from 1910) offers an idyllic scene of the happy home she may have once dreamed of having with Kandinsky. The bright colors and strong outlines that made many of her works seem like stained glass windows often acted as a window into her romantic, faithful soul.

Another chance to work on the color of oranges (actually they are tangerines).



I like this composition. The fruit is packed into a space that catches the light in a warm inviting way for the viewer.



click on the image to enlarge the paintingFruit Bowl 6"x6" oil on canvas board

I am really enjoying painting in orange... now I should quit while I'm ahead.

When Honore Daumier caricatured King Louis Philippe as Gargantua (above, from 1832) he won a huge audience—and one very angry enemy. Born February 20, 1808, Daumier spent six months in prison for tweaking the king with his art, pointing out how the monarch placed in power by the July Revolution in 1830 wasn’t much better than the person he replaced. Daumier spoke truth to power—loud and clear. In both prints and sculptures, he showed the weaknesses and foibles of the rich and powerful as well as the effects of that class’ actions on the poor and powerless. Prison did little to blunt the sharpness of Daumier’s pen.



By the 1840s, Daumier shifted away from illustration and depictions of the upper class to painting and portrayals of the middle and lower classes. His The Third Class Wagon (above, from 1864) caricatures the faces and figures of the French peasant class huddled together like sheep, but with affection rather than disdain. Despite the cramped quarters, the people in the background seem vitally engaged in conversation, sharing in their common condition. The figures in the foreground—the woman and child, the elderly woman, and the little boy—each tell small little stories with the simplest details. I especially love the hat of the little boy sitting on the suitcase upon which Daumier has signed the painting. The old woman in the center brings to mind Van Gogh’s later paintings of peasants, such as his The Potato Eaters. Such a modern approach placed Daumier far beyond his peers, a man born before his time.



Despite his early success and abundant talent, Daumier’s choice of subject and political stance didn’t make him a rich man. Towards the end of his life, Daumier found himself part of the impoverished class he painted with such tenderness. Fortunately, his friend Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot provided him with a home to live out his final years. “It is not for you that I do this,” Corot said to the protesting, still-proud Daumier. “It is merely to annoy your landlord.” To the end, Daumier could still get under the skin of those in positions of authority. Like the characters in his painting, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza (above, from 1849-1850), Daumier never stopped tilting at windmills, fighting the good fight with his imaginative, romantic spirit against all the odds to the bitter end.

I will readily confess that Pierre Auguste Renoir was far from my favorite Impressionist until recently. Born February 25, 1841, the Renoir in my head was the Renoir of the rounded female nudes and the quaint scenes of nineteenth century French life, such as his The Artist’s Family (above, from 1896). I’ve seen The Artist’s Family at the Barnes Foundation, just one of the 180 paintings in their collection. When Dr. Barnes began to assemble his collection, anything signed Renoir was an automatic buy, regardless of the relative quality of the work. A walk through the Barnes’ galleries will leave anyone with Renoir fatigue and a distorted picture of the artist himself. Fortunately, the PMA’s 2007 exhibition Renoir Landscapes helped dispel my misconceptions and taught me how to learn to love Renoir.



I’ve often walked through the PMA’s Impressionist section and mentally compared Renoir’s The Large Bathers (above, from 1887) with Paul Cézanne’s The Large Bathers, painted nearly twenty years later. Renoir always seemed to suffer in that comparison. Cezanne always seemed much more interesting and Renoir much too safe, even when you knew that his future wife Aline (the pudgy matron of The Artist’s Family just nine years later) posed for the bather on the right. The softness of Renoir’s brushstrokes spoke of weakness to me. I could forgive Renoir’s close friend Claude Monet for a similar approach, but Renoir’s apparently self-constrained choice of subject matter just left me cold.



It took images of warmer, exotic climates to warm me up to Renoir finally, such as his Algerian Landscape, “The Ravine of the Wild Woman” (above, from 1881), just one of the revelations of the Renoir Landscapes exhibition. (My review of that catalogue is here.) Seeing Renoir’s approach to landscape and even seascapes (especially his two mesmerizingly abstract paintings titled The Wave), I found a new respect for him. The closed world I imagined Renoir inhabiting soon exploded to include Algeria and Italy. Suddenly, thanks to Algerian Landscape and other paintings, I could see traces of Delacroix in Renoir. Looking at the final gallery of works done when arthritis plagued Renoir so much that he needed to have the brushes strapped to his hands, I recognized a soul consumed by painting. In those final years, seeking the warmth of the south of France, the aging Renoir welcomed the young Henri Matisse as a pilgrim and fellow artist. I always wondered why Matisse felt drawn to Renoir. Now I think I finally know why.

[BTW—The PMA’s presentation of Renoir Landscapes included one of my all-time favorite lecture titles: “Why We Love to Hate Renoir.” I had tickets but had to miss it, but would love to know what they said someday.]

Rest stops are sprinkled along our major highways. I first saw this tree at a rest stop in Utah near the Idaho boarder. It was early in the morning; the grass was still wet from the night. Usually I don't stop, ever, while driving long distance alone but I could see this tree from the highway on approach and it just pulled me in. I felt safe. Painting the back lit dangling branch, makes me those feelings of being protected, safe and magnetized by the beauty of nature, once again.

Oil on Linen, 18" X 24"

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This is my attempt at "Quick do a Daily practice piece then get back to work on the larger studio pieces". I am reusing a panel that had a cloud study on it.



I liked it here at this stage. The painting was loose and it had an Oriental feel to it. There was even a feeling of space that made this little 5"x7" seem larger than it was...



Valentine Leftovers 5"x7" oil on masonite

...That all disappeared by the end. I am not pleased. I think the red roses were too heavy and the blue too light, and the atmosphere evaporated. I am posting this to show that not every daily painting practice piece ends up being a keeper. These are the paintings I learn the most from though. Studying your own mistakes helps you identify what makes a painting work and what makes a painting weak. There is nothing more powerful than the knowledge that you can do better next time.

Hello hello!

Not much to update with today - just a portrait from portrait class. This pose was about 3 hours roughly over two classes. I used brown col-erase, brown conte, some black and white watercolour pencils and a hint of redy orange pencil which isnt very visable from this photo.

When I get the chance I will try scanning it see if it turns out better.

Thanks for visiting everyone! More stuff coming soon

Ken :D

The Return of Odysseus (Homage to Pintoricchio and Benin), 1977 by Romare Bearden, The Art Institute of Chicago.

Bearden has re-cast the Greek hero if Homer's epic The Odyssey as an African family as they might have been portrayed in art from the African Kingdom of Benin. He also references frescos by the Italian artist Pintoricchio in the composition (and the title).