Plein Air 2013 – Page 6 – Marianne Thompson

Plein Air Painting 2013

March 30th, 2013

March 30th, 2013
Cox Reservation, Essex MA
Oil on Canvas, 18 x 24 in

I can’t tell you how angry I was with this stupid painting yesterday. I ducked and tiptoed my way back to the car with it in hand, lest some other painter might ask to see it. When they did – in spite of my precautions – it was only the life-long, iron-clad habit of stifling my impulses that kept me from kicking them in the shins and running away. Today, I can see that some of it is ok. Yesterday was such a stunningly beautiful day, unless I were the angel of John Singer Sargeant and painting with light and not paint could I really have done it justice. I can do a few things to this painting to make it a little better, but I’m pretty sure every time I look at it I’ll still feel the urge to growl and kick people.

March 23rd, 2013

March 23rd, 2013
Cox Reservation, Essex Greenbelt, Essex MA
Oil on Canvas, 12 x 16 in

It was a very windy day, and the wind was cold – so I chose a painting spot not because of great inspiration from the subject matter but because it was out of the wind and in the sun. Maybe the perfunctory manner with which I settled on a subject prejudiced me against my work – I left after several (comfortable) hours pretty angry with what I’d done. Today I can see some redeeming qualities. In any case I look forward to the next one.

March 16th, 2013

March 16th, 2013
Cox Reservation, Essex MA
Oil on Canvas, 12 x 16 in

I decided to focus on a tree trunk and paint it. I ran out of white last weekend and am still waiting for the new batch to arrive. In the meantime, I had only “underpainting white” to work with – a very different texture to what I’m used to. I wasn’t expecting this painting to come to much, was just doing a study – but it turned out surprisingly well. I post it here first on its own, then in context. It was a bit of a revelation to me, this painting – one of the very few paintings I’ve done outdoors with no sky or water. There’s a limited range of mute values in the objects I painted, and it’s amazing that you can still have a very tangible form, foreground and background within such a small gradient of tones. It was amazing to me, in any case. I learned something – for that reason I count this one of my very best. I reckon I produce one that I consider “great” (to me) about once every eight months. The previous “great,” IMO, was the July 4th 2012.

March 9th, 2013

March 9th, 2013
Cox Reservation, Essex MA
Oil on Canvas, 16 x 20 in
(sold)

This was a wonderful weekend to be out painting, as we had had a huge snow fall on Thursday and Friday, but on Saturday the temperature had warmed almost to 50 in the sun. So it looked like winter but felt like spring, and I felt great and excited to be out in the fresh air painting. The downside was that I had run out of white paint, which is pretty amazing considering the quantity I had not to long ago. I go through a lot of paint. I did what you see above while I was outside – and I stopped when I had absolutely no white left. By the time I got more, the parts of the painting I wanted to work on (adding branches in the sky and foreground, working on the rocks on the left) had dried. You really can’t work on a dry painting with a pallet knife. So it will remain as it is.

March 2nd, 2013

March 2nd, 2013
Cox Reservation, Essex MA
16 x 20 in
(sold)

I wanted to paint snow, but there was not a lot left – so I had to trudge to the coldest, shadiest corner to find a decent sized patch. It meant I had to paint deciduous trees which I tend to avoid if I can. The colors this time of year are all dank and grim, I think I captured them adequately. I confess, I’m looking forward to spring.

February 24th-25th, 2013

February 24th-25th, 2013
Oil on Canvas, 24 x 32 in

This leaf, this scene reminded me of Shakespeare’s 73 sonnet, which is why I painted it. In person it has, to me, a rather evocative atmosphere, I’m not sure if it translates to the picture. This is the sonnet:

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

February 8th-10th, 2013

February 8th-10th, 2013
Oil on Canvas, 24 x 36 in
(nfs)

Painted this weekend while contemplating one of the warmest, most compassionate people I know who very recently suffered a devastating loss. The warmth of the sun playing on the cold of the snow… And the whole time I was painting, a line from a song (it’s the only line I know from that song) kept looping through my brain “We found love in a hopeless place.” The person in mind and the person they lost are both the type of people who can flood a room, building, community – with hope, with love.

February 2nd, 2013

February 2nd, 2013
Cox Reservation, Essex MA
Oil on Canvas, 12 x 16 in
(sold)

It was cold out, though beautiful – I decided to do something small and simple. I did, the sky I was under was magnificent – couldn’t quite recreate the awe factor, but I got the blue anyway.

Winterlude

Winterlude
Last week of January, 2013
Oil on Canvas, 24 x 32 in

January 19th, 2013

January 19th, 2013
Banners Flying
Cox Reservation, Essex MA
Oil on Canvas. 15 x 30 in
(sold)

Plein air painting is a totally different animal than your controlled environment type painting. I am sure I’m a broken record about this, but I drive myself nuts trying to keep up with the subtle changes of tone that occur throughout the day – and at a much higher rate in winter, mind you, than summer. The light is constantly in flux, and wind – there was a lot of it when I painted this, the grasses were waving and so was my entire canvas, rattling in the wind. So, motion everywhere, and I’m like the hamster in the wheel, trying to stay in motion so I maintain some semblance of a chance of capturing some essence of what I see. It’s about honing my relationship with the present moment, that fleeting little s.o.b. Sometimes I feel I achieve it better than others. Guess how I feel about this one.