Laurelines

Schmincke chronicles, Part 2: We Go Subtle

So, I'm still messing about with Schminckes, of course. The other day's pears and pomegranate were very saturated and high key. In the two sketches below, we've gone very subtle, indeed. The first is of magnolia pods. Here I've added two paints to the 24 color Schmincke set :  Daniel Smith's cobalt teal and Schmincke Deep Cobalt, both of which are from my old palette.

And, oh, by the way, IT RAINED!! It has not rained over my house since June 3rd, except for a few sullen, tepid, watery spits. It apparently rained on September 14th, too, but I was in France, so I couldn't swear to it.  Two rains, then, in almost five months. And 22 (!!)broken heat records in August and September, to boot. Trees are dying, shrubs keeling over, my garden looking more desolate by the minute, animals suffering, the farms of the region losing crops and income like mad, the reservoirs running out of water. It has been a nightmare. But, last week, the spell was broken and we got five inches of rain in three days. We need a lot more, of course, but it was glorious. I stood outside in it and wondered what was happening to my cell phone and my book. And then I remembered. It was called Getting Wet. No doubt you've heard of it.
I watched the way raindrops behave and I tried to make some sketches afterward. I mean to pursue this theme in hopes that I'll get better at it.  I know this one is a clunker, but, I'll swear, I love it anyway, just for its subject!
Finally, a rough sketch on toned paper of my daughter C, looking every inch the late-rising, half-asleep, tousled-hair young woman that she was yesterday afternoon (yes--- afternoon. I told you.)

Comparing pairs of pears and paints

Since I mentioned switching to Schmincke paints, I've gotten emails and some comments asking about them. I thought I'd paint the same subject using my old palette and my new Schmincke one. The results are pretty dramatic. The Schmincke sketch is first. Even though the two sketches are painted slightly differently ( the second one is looser and quicker), you get the idea. Here they are:

Not only was it MUCH easier to get darker values with the Schminckes, the paint seemed to handle better, covering the paper more fluidly. I tried to use the same brushes, about the same amount of water, etc. My old palette is a combination of Daniel Smith, Winsor and Newton, a Sennelier or two. I note the Schminckes don't granulate as much as many of the Daniel Smiths. Since I love granulation, I will not give up my old palette. But I'm happy sticking to Schminckes just now and exploring their qualities. I've only just begun.

PS: To really understand Schmincke paints, you have to have a wider range than that found in the small travel kit. I tried that set months ago, and like Robyn of Have Dogs, Will Travel, I didn't like the colors at all! They seemed very, very brash. The more subtle Schmincke colors appear in in larger sets.

Painted faces

I ordered a 24-pan set of Schmincke watercolors when I got back from France. Albany Wiseman was using Schmincke in Provence and I was so impressed with the quality of these paints. They are deeply pigmented and mostly transparent, which makes them wonderful for glazes, the method Albany was teaching at les Bassacs. The 24-pan set had colors I'd never used and didn't have colors I always use, so I figured I'd be out of my comfort zone. Which is good. I've spent my life jettisoning one comfort zone after another.
I also ordered a couple of Daniel Smith tubes I'd been curious about: cobalt green pale and lunar black.
In the three sketches below, I used mostly my new Schmincke set, with the addition of the two Daniel Smiths above and also Daniel Smith raw sienna in parts of the face of the African mask.
A word about these sketches. I made them, two buddhas and an African mask, at the nearby university art museum. With these I take up again the languished thread of my 101 Faces Project. Yikes I'm behind here, but I do have lots more than I've posted in the gallery of the same name at left. I can tell I'll have to do an All Faces, All the Time week sometime in late December. Other art projects have pushed my faces onto the back burner. Ouch, that hurts! This, too, is life.

Getting ready for a French art exhibit

In about a month, I'm going back to France --- I'm one of the artists whose travel sketchbooks will be exhibited at the Biennale du Carnet de Voyage at Clermont-Ferrand in November. The theme of my sketchbook is 'old world in the new world,' and it includes sketches from San Antonio, Charleston, Chinatown in New York and Pennsylvania Dutch country.
I'm tying up loose ends now, finishing up sketches started on site, making facsimiles of my sketchbook for viewers to peruse (the originals will be in display cases), gathering up other drawings to exhibit, and so on.
Here are two such sketches:

I'll also be one of the participants there in a panel discussion on the topic of 'the sketchbook around the world."
Here's the announcement from the website of the Biennale:

SAMEDI 17 NOVEMBRE À 17h45

Débat :
Le carnet à travers le monde

Des carnettistes venus de plusieurs pays, utilisent le carnet de voyage. La Biennale sera l’occasion de confronter leur vision du carnet et d’échanger des regards croisés sur cet art. En réunissant de nombreux artistes aux origines diverses, le débat mettra en parallèle ou en opposition des points de vue et des approches culturelles du carnet de voyage. Le carnet est-il international ?

Avec Xan Pecis (Belgique), Hamaya Satoshi (Japon), Giancarlo Iliprandi (Italie), Irma Kennaway (Grande-Bretagne), Laura Frankstone (Etats-Unis), Enrique Flores (Espagne) et Ejoumale (Inde). Animé par Aurélie Colin (Il Faut Aller Voir)

You may be sure that I'll be practising my French over the next few weeks! Even though the panel's moderator, Aurélie Colin, will serve as translator when needed, I'm nervous already!

French faces, English faces, and art workshops in Provence

Do you, too, try to guess the nationalities of people you see when you travel? Have a look at two drawings I made in France. Can you tell which subject/s is/are French and which English?

Last month, I spent a week at Arts in Provence, taking a watercolor workshop.--- Katherine Tyrrell and others have been asking me to tell all. Katherine was, in the early 1990's, among the first students at les Bassacs, the property owned by Liz and Dave Atkinson and Liz's mother, Hazel Evans. All sorts of art workshops are conducted here every year, as you'll see when you click on the link above. My teacher was the adorable Englishman and renowned painter Albany Wiseman, whose many books I'd owned and whose work I'd already deeply admired. Albany is a consumate draftsman. It was his use of drawing in painting that I felt resonated with my own approach and why I chose his workshop over others. Albany is a very generous teacher, giving lots of individual attention and demonstrating his own techniques on site. I learned a lot from him and am in the gradual process of incorporating what I learned.
Here's how it worked: David Atkinson, a fine painter in his own right, set daily itineraries with Albany, and ferried us participants to and from the lovely villages of the area each morning and afternoon for plein air painting. Liz, owner and chef at les Bassacs, provided absolutely delicious, seasonal, fresh gourmet food three times a day. Local rosés and red wines were liberally consumed each night at dinner, causing lots of bonhomie and raucous laughter. One of our group, an urbane, intense and accomplished English clergyman, flashed his multi-colored, striped, thigh-length socks at table on the last night! Ah, the things you'd see, if only I were a painter of memories!
Albany's workshops are very hard to register for, as he has scores of followers who flock to les Bassacs year after year, but not to worry. There are plenty of other opportunities, among them workshops run by my friend the fabulous painter Susan Abbott.
Alas, Katherine, I took few photos, but here are a couple of group on our last day. In all there, were 9 participants.

Paris, parks, saying goodbye to the Périgord

I'm a fountain-seeking creature. About that there can be no doubt. In Paris last week, I finished a sketch I'd begun earlier in the month (when Casey and I sketched together), a sketch of the Médici fountain, a subject I'd tackled last October. Check Casey's blog for her version of this.

In the Luxembourg gardens, there's an overwrought sculpture commemorating Delacroix. Delacroix was a great painter, to be sure. In my sketch of the Delacroix fountain,  though, I've omitted the overdone bits.

After a morning at the garden, I went to one of my favorite bistros on rue Mabillon, and with my husband, had a lovely Périgordian salad at one of the sidewalk tables. I was clearly not ready to say goodbye to the cuisine of the Dordogne valley. Afterwards, I sketched the luncheon remains. Speaking of the Périgord, here's one last sketch from that region--a roof line that caught my eye on  a sunny September day.