eibhlin – Page 9 – eibhlin, artist

Approaching Snow – 4 Dec 10

When I looked out the window this morning, the sky was a mix of pinks, blues, whites and yellows. Snow is on the way.

The colors were vivid for a very brief time… maybe four minutes. They faded within seconds. I dashed to my easel and quickly scrubbed in the colors while they were fresh in my memory.

I’m pleased with the colors. They convey the soft drama of the rural NH landscape, from the fading grasses to the blue-grey hills and mountains to the blustery skies.

It’s been awhile since I made time for these early morning oil sketches. I need to get back in the habit of capturing colors as I see them. I have some more formal paintings in mind, and — after I finish the White Mountains painting I’m working on — these color references will be important.

This sketch is on 8″ x 16″ canvasboard with my usual underpainting of cadmium red.

I’m painting with an Ott light for accurate color; the light has a flexible neck so I can angle it “just so” for my work.

Then, I photograph the completed sketches in natural light by our patio door.

Blues Turn Brilliant

Last February (2010), I began this oil painting of a landscape in the White Mountains.

Because I had other work to complete first, this painting progressed slowly.

For about four months, this painting was on my living room wall. I knew that it needed something… I just couldn’t figure out what.

Last week, I read a book by artist Thomas Kinkade, Masterworks of Light. It’s a lovely book, of course. He’s brilliant at capturing a sense of light within his landscapes.

In one interview, Kinkade mentioned the importance of providing a path, or some way the viewer feels that he or she can access the scene… a way to “walk into it” or otherwise connect with the landscape.

That’s what was missing from earlier versions of my painting of the hotel.

When I reviewed the evolution of this work, I realized that the original design (shown in my earlier article, When stuck, add energy!) actually presented the hills as obstacles between the viewer and the hotel.

Once I added the path, shown in the top photo on this page, the entire imagery changed. Suddenly, I saw ways to simplify the design and add a better sense of light & shadow. The painting is as much about the journey as it is about the destination.

At this point, I think the general landscape is completed. The hotel needs small details such as windows (one of them lit) and a light at the front door.

For now, this painting has acquired a sense of whimsy. I like it. That’s the important part.

I’m letting the painting dry now, so I can paint over the front of the hotel (adding details) without disturbing the latest layers of paint.

This painting has been an adventure, and a very satisfying one. I’ve learned a lot from it.

It’s not my usual style. It’s simplistic, and reminds me a little of the work of Tomie dePaola. (Interestingly, he taught at the college I first attended, but he arrived a couple of years after I’d left.)

Note: See the finished canvas at Spalding Inn Painting – Final version.

Additional thoughts

One of the things I’m realizing as I thrill to the energy in this painting is: I really am – first and foremost – an artist. It’s where I’m happiest.

Everything else… well, it’s easy for me to get caught up in what I do well, things that I seem to be gifted at, and things that people want from me, and ignore what feeds my soul.

I’m reminded of the warning given to bright girls in the 1960s: Don’t learn to type. (Once people knew we could type, we were quickly assigned the role of secretary/receptionist in almost any business or club environment.)

Seeing how art energizes me, from a recent visits to the Vermont Visitors’ Center on Rte. 91 and to the MIT Museum, and how juicy the imagery is in that Tomie dePaola link I shared above… well, the conclusion is simple: I need to focus on my art, and let everything else be a spare-time interest.

I’m also reading the notes about the TOMIE & HIS STUFF exhibit, and realizing that I don’t display my stuff enough. In fact, most of it is in storage, and – if we’re moving to England, as we (maybe/probably) plan to – I need to remember what inspires me, and what needs to travel with me.

So, there’s a lot going on in my life and in my thoughts right now.

It’s all very, very good!

2020 update: Looking at this painting now, in its incomplete state, I rather like it. The anonymity of the building, and how stark the landscape seems… It’s a different statement than the finished work (White Mountains Painting…), but perhaps more interesting in an enigmatic way.

Testing a New Drawing Pen

ATC - an umbrella sketch Before renewing my love affair with pen & ink illustration, I needed a new rapidograph.

Since childhood, I’ve always loved black-and-white illustration, and my drawings are a mix of contour-style line drawings accented with cross-hatch (etc.) shadows.

My “people” have always been silly-looking things with large noses that often extend directly from the hairline and either amused or perplexed expressions.

When I first stumbled onto illustrations by Edward Gorey, I knew I’d found a kindred spirit. Though his writing themes are far darker than mine, I got his artwork. I’d filled notebooks with similar drawings; they were created during high school study halls when others were either working on homework or passing notes.

Though I used a traditional crow quill pen (and ink well) during my teen years, I discovered rapidographs once I went to college.

Today, they’re sometimes called rapido sketch technical pens and I’m currently using a Size 0 (zero) point.

My newest ATCs

As I was breaking-in my new pen, I wanted to create a series of ATCs. (Artist Trading Cards are usually 3.5″ x 2.5″ mini-works of art.)

The first was a drawing of my painting umbrella, shown above. The umbrella has a silver top and vents to keep me cool when I’m painting outdoors on summer days. The lining is black, so reflected light doesn’t affect the color of my work.

The next ATC was a sketch of our living room fan, shown on the left.

We keep this fan by the patio door, to bring in cooler breezes when summer days are a little too warm… but not hot enough to use the a/c.

The tricky part of sketches like these is knowing how much detail to include and what to leave out.

I’m not sure I got it right with this card, but these were just for practice, anyway.

In retrospect, I probably wouldn’t do so much cross-hatch style shading on the fan’s support. However, that exercise helped me with a later card, and I try not to get stuck in making everything just so.

Perfection is one of those traps for me as an artist. If I get bogged down trying to improve my work to an unachievable standard, well, I stop making art after a while. So, I try to remember what’s “good enough” when I’m working.

The next ATC in the series was a little trickier, at least in perspective and detailing. It’s my husband’s desk chair.

When he’s not sitting in the chair, he leaves a folded piece of flannel fabric on the seat. That’s to provide a softer surface for our cat, George, to sit on and to keep some of the cat hair off the chair.

So, I was once again faced with the question: How much detail should I include? The flannel is plaid and has ragged edges; I left out the former and included the latter.

The sketch isn’t perfect (ah, that word again!), but it’s good enough.

My next ATC was based on one of my favorite scribbles from junior high school and later. I used to draw these in the margins while taking notes in boring classes.

Though some elements are reminiscent of Peter Max’s art, I drew these before he became popular. Several artists of that era drew from popular and iconic 1960s art and illustration.

In some cases, I’d color these kinds of drawings.

One eventually became a huge work of art that decorated three walls in an elevator of a Marlborough Street apartment in Boston, Massachusetts.

Later, one became a massive mural for an office just outside Salt Lake City, Utah. It could be seen from the street through a huge plate-glass window. I was tremendously proud of it.

Both were full-color paintings, usually featuring vivid crayon-box colors.

My next ATC is a nod to my high school art teacher, Roger Mulford.

One of my best friends (and classmates), Laura Whipple, and I both drew flowers for a class assignment. Like me, Laura favored pen-and-ink drawings with lots of detail and sometimes “dotty” shadowing.

Roger called it the Morey-Whipple (or Whipple-Morey) style of art. We thought the name was pretty funny.

(Roger had always been a somewhat renegade teacher, insisting that we call him by his first name. When the school insisted that he had to be “Mr. Mulford,” he retaliated by calling us “Miss” and “Mr.” with our surnames, so we were still all on equal footing.)

Spalding Inn, Whitefield, NH with UFO My final ATC in this series was a moment of whimsy. It represents the skies over Whitefield, NH.

The Inn is on the general path described by Betty and Barney Hill, the first Americans to report an alien abduction.

They talked about the route the UFO followed, over their heads as they drove south on Route 3 from the Canadian border to around Exit 33 (off Rte. 93) where they were abducted.

The UFO overhead may not be realistic, but… well, it’s fun.

And, for animal lovers, here’s our cat, George. He’s the one on the left. His brother, Tom, is on the right.

George and Tom

Autumn Means Painting

The best view from our home is through the sliding glass doors in our living room.

Unfortunately, that’s also the hottest room in the summer, so – without a/c (typical in this part of NH) – it’s no fun to paint there.

However, once the cooler weather returns, I’m ready to pick up my paintbrush again. That was the case this week.

I kept looking at last night’s sunset, wondering if I had time to set up my palette and easel, and still have time to capture the colors.

Well… I almost did. During the last half of the painting, I was working with very low lighting.

(Artificial light affects color perception, and I can misjudge which colors to use. However, working in the dark isn’t much better.)

This morning, when the sun was bright enough to see what I’d painted, I wasn’t sure if I’d need to make some major changes in the work.

I’m very pleased with this oil sketch. The paint is very thick in some areas, so this will take about three weeks to dry.

The painting is 12″ x 12″ and it’s oil paint on canvas board. It’s in a private collection.

Disneyland and My Mother’s Art

As I’m writing this, Disneyland is celebrating its 55th anniversary. I grew up surrounded by Disney art, figures, and I watched the Mickey Mouse Club every time it was on.

I’m commemorating Disneyland’s anniversary with an artistamp. It features art by my mother, Muriel Joan Bernier (1919 – 2010).

Click on the image to download a PDF copy of the actual stamp (smaller than illustrated).

If you’re not sure what an artistamp is, you can learn more at my other art website: Artistamps – Definition at Aisling.net. (Page will open in a new window.)

The artwork at the upper left, which was also on the Fantasyland board game, was my mother’s original art*. She freelanced for Disney in the 1950s, and I remember her drawing this picture and many others for Disney.

(The cover of the Fantasyland board game, above, and the actual board shown below, are entirely my mother’s artwork.)

One of the best benefits of growing up with a mom who drew for Disney is that we’d go to the Disney movies over & over again. My mother would sit next to me, with paper and pencil, and she’d sketch ideas for new artwork as we watched… well, whatever Disney movie was at the theatre that week.

My mother created all the artwork for the Fantasyland board game, and most of the artwork for the Steps to Toyland game, also a Disney-related theme.

(Scanned from a vintage Parker Brothers Game catalogue)

Though Mum did lots of artwork for Disney, her first actual visit to Disneyland was with me, in 1978. She loved it.

I remember asking her what her favorite attraction was, and she answered without hesitation, “Space Mountain… and I will never go on it again!” Then, she laughed.

In the late 1980s, Mum visited Walt Disney World with my children and me. We had several days there, and stayed at the top floor of the Contemporary Resort.

We went on nearly all the rides, but – as Mum said – she wouldn’t go on Space Mountain again.

Every moment was great and filled with awe. For us, there’s no such thing as “expecting too much” at Disney World.

My mom passed away earlier this year, and she didn’t want me to post her artwork online. (My mother’s always been eccentric. Once she decides something, she rarely changes her mind. Questioning her about it… well, it was pointless.)

This, however, gets around that. The images shown above – including the artwork for my artistamp – were already online… just not credited to her. I know she’d be irked if she realized that her artwork was displayed without acknowledging her as the artist. So, if anything, this corrects that.

So, here it is as an artistamp. Ordinarily, I add my artistamp postal name – Ballynafae – and a postage amount (usually 3p) to make my artistamps look more stamp-like. In this case, it didn’t seem right, so I added the basic text and here it is, as-is.

You can download my artistamp as a stamp-sized image, either with a stamp-like edge (as a graphic), or as shown at the top of this post. (Both of those links open as PDFs.)

I still miss my mom, but moments like this bring back happy memories of an extraordinary childhood.

…Wherever you are, Mum, your artwork is still bringing smiles to Disney fans. Thank you for such wonderful memories!

*My mother was primarily a painter. Though she graduated from Massachusetts College of Art with a major in Portrait, she loved painting landscapes and still life subjects.

Early Spring Sunset – 19 Mar 10

This sunset was nearly as spectacular as Thursday night’s, with the added bonus of showing vivid colors earlier. So, I was able to capture most of the color before the light turned too dark for painting.

I may tweak the foreground before I say that this sketch is completed… or I may leave it as-is, since that retains the integrity of it as a plein air sketch.

My highest priority was to paint the colors in the sky, and then the vivid blues and greens that appeared on the hillside.

Every morning, I’m excited to wake up and see how my sunset paintings look, if the scene was worth painting.

When I complete an oil sketch like this and the natural light is low, I can’t see the colors… not really. Artificial light mutes the yellows and greens, so it’s difficult to tell how vivid they are.

This morning, this sketch was better than I’d hoped, given how quickly I worked. This painting probably took about 15 minutes. It’s 9″ x 12″ on stretched canvas.

The view is looking southwest, in the general direction of Concord, New Hampshire. The hills are probably in Northfield, or maybe Salisbury (NH).

The medium is, as (nearly) always, water-soluble oil paints. I didn’t underpaint this canvas, so the colors are a little different than some of my other work.

Right now, a few things are difficult to cope with. A lot of my day is more-or-less on autopilot, and anything that isn’t a daily routine is falling through the cracks. I look at my naked canvases and realize that I’d forgotten to underpaint them.

However, as we cross our fingers and hope that my mother will recover and resume a relatively active life, there has been a silver lining: I’m still reminded, almost daily, of the importance of the art.

Yes, I write articles & books. I do quirky research in unorthodox fields. People often misestimate how seriously I take that, so I keep it very separate from my artwork.

However, the legacy that an artist leaves behind is the art. While I’m never sure if people clearly “hear” my voice in my writing, the art is truly me, heart and soul.