Category Archives: Art

Home Sweet Studio

05 Sunday Feb 2012

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Back in the studio. photo by me

In the middle of a painting, it's good to be back to the studio. Photo by me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is so good to be back in the studio again, especially when a painting I started before escaping for a weeks holiday looked just as good to me now as I remembered.

It is always enlightening to work on a piece, and then remove yourself totally from it for a time…sometimes overnight, but a week is even more telling.  It just helps to look at it fresh.

Luckily with this painting of the winter garden bird’s nest I had started the week before, it looks just as interesting to me now as when I left it mid-stroke. It should be a fun week getting back in to it.

 

 

 

 

 

Prelude to Fame – “Just Kids” by Patti Smith

03 Friday Feb 2012

Posted by in Art, Books, Uncategorized

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I’ve been on holiday for a week, and finally am returning home. Fortunately, I managed to find a tiny little book shop in Key West (an independent one–shock– specializing in good reads and used and classic books). When I chose “Just Kids” by Patti Smith (which has been on my must read list for months), the shop owner gave me a thumbs up.

"Just Kids" by Patti Smith. photo by me.

He was right.

I had taken along a sketch book and camera with me on this trip, and although I took a few photos to possibly work from in the future, I didn’t touch the sketch book.  Instead, in every spare moment, I read this amazing book about a youthful journey of an artist and his muse (as Patti describes themselves).

Patti Smith’s memoir, published in 2010, reminisces about her relationship with artist Robert Mapplethorpe when they were both young, trying to interact with the New York art scene, struggling with their own personal art and convinced that someday they would be famous.  And they were.  But in those early days it was all about creative exploration…and trying to find something to eat. As Patti said, it was all about finding a direction of art that would illuminate.  I love that idea.

Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe, from "Just Kids". photo of book by me

When I was young, I tried to convince my parents that going from high school to art school was the right thing to do.  I had my eye on Pratt Institute in NYC, which Mapplethorpe attended at this same time.  They insisted a broader liberal arts education and a university degree made much more sense, so I went on to Mary Washington College of the University of Virginia and got my BA in Fine Arts.

Mapplethorpe's photo of Patti for her first album, from "Just Kids". photo of book by me.

I have often wondered how different my life would have been if I had fully committed to fine arts at an earlier age, instead of straying into commercial graphic design.  Reading this book gives a wonderful look down that rabbit hole.  I don’t know if I would have had their stamina, but it was fascinating to live that youthful fantasy through their eyes. It was an astounding journey.

If you get a chance, pick up this book.  Artist or not, it is a wonderful read.

To see the light

23 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by in Art, Grasmere, Lake District, paintings, Uncategorized

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One of the biggest challenges and most satisfying subjects in art is trying to capture the light on 3-dimensional objects on a two dimensional canvas.

Case in point.  One of my favorite walks in the Lake District is near Grasmere.  Very early one morning I decided to go out for a walk and see if I could capture the early light.

Grasmere, the village by the lake. photo by Mick Knapton, creative Commons

It was a truly gorgeous morning in summer, and My Beloved Brit happily decided to join me.

The village of Grasmere, Photo by DAVID ILIFF. License: CC-BY-SA 3.0

 

We wound through the village and took off across the lakeside path.  Shortly we saw the early light coming through the trees exactly what I was looking for.

"Silken", painting by me

It was gorgeous.  You could breath in the damp warmth of the early dew.  Everything was golden and the air was still stretching and moving as it woke up to the morning light.

The two little paintings I did were only 16 x 12 but I still think of that morning in Grasmere every time I look at them.

The Enclosure, oil painting by me

The art of making art

21 Saturday Jan 2012

Posted by in Art, England, paintings, Uncategorized

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I spent the week in my studio trying to explore a new direction in my painting, and it was a struggle. But finally I felt I had some success, and was happy with the new results.

The studio, my photo, my painting

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the questions I’m often asked is “Where do you get your inspiration? How do you decide what to paint?”

I can’t really explain it.  I know I have a particular stroke and rhythm to my painting, and it seems to work well with the distinct rhythms of the natural world. I am always trying to interpret that flow and change of nature in my work. And I also love color.

But it can also come from a group of people engaged in conversation or an interaction of many individuals. I like to tell a story, or create a memory as I play with color and texture. Sometimes I’ll be out and a scene or visual will intrigue me and I want to explore it in art. I honestly am never quite sure where it will come from, and often I am thunderstruck.

Inspiration on my studio wall. Photos by me

I took a photo of this birds nest showing the wear of time outside my studio. I think there is art here somewhere.

But sometimes when I am trying to work out a new technique or direction, I look to other artists. Throughout the history of art, if you look at photos of artists’ studios, you will very often see images of other art on the wall, or laying on a table.  Think of Van Gogh with Japanese prints. Or Degas with the Rembrandt etchings.

So I thought it might be interesting to look at what was open on my studio table as I struggled with this new painting.

From an art magazine, and an architectural page.

Joan Mitchell is a constant companion in my studio. The freedom of movement in her strokes has always inspired me.

One of my favorite artists, for his layering and interesting use of color, is Peter Doig. Sometimes I'll take color inspiration from another painting or source, but this was just a happy accident.

This particular painting started in a totally different direction and although I thought I knew where I wanted to go with it, it just wasn’t working.  So I kept layering and changing and at times I thought it was trash.  But somehow it morphed into something I loved, and now I have a whole series in my head to work on.

This started in a very different way.

This is fairly normal for me. The rich color underneath is hidden in layers of strokes.

A lot of the original color disappeared under new layers.

And then some of it went back in. This can go on for days. With much angst.

And then finally a breakthrough. Somehow I got so frustrated with the earlier direction, I painted these large bands of blue over it. Then I started adding strokes over it. The rhythm of the woods came in clear view.

Again, when I look around my studio as I get stuck, there are things that just jog something in my brain and I go back to work.

On my wall, a favorite David Hockney tear sheet from an art magazine.

A couple of postcards on my wall, a reminder of my visit to the Cy Twombly exhibit at the Tate Modern in London.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But somehow, it all goes in and gets mixed around, and in the end I hope it is something that is very personal and truly original.

New Forest, new art

06 Friday Jan 2012

Posted by in Art, England, paintings, The New Forest, Travel, Uncategorized

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Planning new trips always makes me review past trips to make sure we don’t forget old favorite destinations.  One of my most memorable adventures was a very special trip to England with My Beloved Brit.

After weeks of meeting MBB’s friends and family on our first trip across the pond together, I was thrilled but also a bit overwhelmed.  Having experienced the same in my home country, MBB was understanding and decided what we needed was a very special few nights in a quiet part of England. He’d fix it. His brilliant idea was a visit for the two of us to The New Forest, the perfect retreat.

photo from New Forest Official Visitors Site

This is a very special area south of London in south-west Hampshire that is filled with quaint, quintessential English villages, expansive views of heather and woods, and wild ponies and donkeys which often come over to say hello.

New Forest Ponies (wikimedia commons)

We stayed in a unique place, called Master Builder’s, located next to the historic English village called Buckler’s Hard on the Beaulieu River. This tiny row of 18th century Georgian cottages brings you back through time. The Inn itself was almost modern by comparison.

Buckler's Hard (image copyright is owned by Peter Barr, Wikimedia Creative Commons)

After a wonderful night in this enchanting place, we got up early for breakfast (only spoiled by the smell of kippers being enjoyed by a guest at the next table) and went out to explore the forest surrounds and villages.

Nearby is the town of Beaulieu which is famous for its motor car museum ( which will feature a James Bond Car exhibit in 2012 that I am told we will most likely see).  But it also has a charming village center, and we went by the inn for lunch.  On our way out we noticed an unexpected guest.  Reservation for one?

My photo

I fell in love with New Forest. We return whenever we can, and on one of these visits I took a long walkabout and found such diverse scenes. I followed a path along the river and found some areas pruned to perfection…

my photo of the most perfect entry

and some areas where nature had taken over and gone wild.

my photo of apples along the path that follows the River

I loved both, but wanted an image that expressed the wild, untamed nature of the area. It was so unique, but I didn’t quite find it on my walk.

Then, driving across the vast landscape after dinner with My Beloved Brit I saw it.  But there was absolutely no place to park.  He let me off at the side of the road and drove about a quarter mile to a parking area and waited patiently while I explored every angle of a lone tree against a moody sky.  It was dramatic. You could see the wind in it’s branches.

I signaled MBB to turn around and come back to pick me up.  He is always so patient with these art adventures.  I love him for that.

And I loved this little painting.  It was everything I remembered of that day.

The New Forest. private collection

I always like to share my paintings.  If you want to see more visit my website at www.patwhitehead.com.

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Cornwall, Carlyon Bay and the quilted hills

14 Wednesday Dec 2011

Posted by in Cornwall, Cornwall, England, paintings, Travel, Uncategorized

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One of the first spots outside of the London area I visited in England with My Beloved Brit after we were first married was Cornwall.  His cousin lives there, who is like the brother he never had, and we drove the few hours west from Heathrow to visit.

I was groggy from jet lag (MBB had come over early to do some racing so he was my chauffeur), but I do remember the drive and the beautiful quilted hills. That was my name for those multicolored fields that were criss-crossed with hedgerows and pressed by endless sky.

It was home to MBB, and even when I woke up enough to register my astonishment that we had just driven past Stonehenge, he was rather unimpressed.  To him, it was just a familiar distance marker on the many trips he had made in his life from London to Cornwall.

We ended up in an area near St. Austell called Carlyon Bay where the hills finally met the sea.  From the tall bluffs you could look across the hydrangeas and see the rolling hills.  The cliffs were dotted with small inns and hotels, and we found a charming one called Porth Avallen Country House Hotel overlooking St. Austell Bay.

Perched on the sea road,  it was friendly and relaxed.  The labyrinth of hallways and staircases only added to the old fashioned charm, and we were perfectly happy.  Even more perfect, as soon as you walked outside, you could see the most amazing views.

The colors were beautiful and no matter which way you walked along the seaside road, the views were a painting waiting to happen.

But finally I saw the one that really held my interest. It was lovely.

That lone house on the edge of all those gorgeous hills.  There was something so isolated about it and yet, it was totally connected with its surroundings. You could just imagine curling up in one of it’s windowseats with a good book and a quilt.

I painted it hoping to capture that feeling, and now I love that painting.  It means domestic bliss in a wild world.

all photos and painting by me.

 

 

 

A studio by any other name is still sweet

12 Monday Dec 2011

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In my life, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have a “studio”.  It may have been a box of art supplies that moved around a tiny dorm room or apartment – wherever I could find a corner to work – but it was still a studio nonetheless.

a corner of a very small guest bedroom/den/office/studio

Doesn’t really matter where it was, as long as I could paint. Notice that the furniture is covered with sheets in the photo below.  I wasn’t always very neat.  But I also often had a vase of flowers nearby.  Just for the mood.

corner of the dining room

I often went out to my screened porch to paint. Lovely. This was one of my favorite places to paint…

porch

…sometimes, even in the snow.  There is something about working on a summer beach scene with snow on the ground outside.  Art can transport you anywhere, and any season.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This was another one of my favorite painting spots…a third floor room that was away from everything.  It was a converted attic that was perfect for painting. I loved looking down on the world from this space, the true artist’s garret. Now if it had only been in Paris.

The attic studio. I loved looking down from the window.

When we moved to the caribbean, it was often hard to find space, but I managed.  If I didn’t use a corner of the dining room area, I would take over the guest bedroom.

Ready for visitors...a guest bedroom in the caribbean.

It converted quite easily, and the sea breezes were great when they weren’t blowing my canvas over.

Bed one day, workspace the next

any spare corner will do

The only problem was moving everything when guests would arrive. But that was an easy solution. A small price to pay for having great space.

Finally back in the states, I had a room all my own, and the work started in earnest.  I was now a full time painter and the space reflected that.  Age has its advantages.

The clutter of many ideas

I loved being able to put things that sparked my creativity everywhere in the room. What a luxury.  This was very special space, and it looked out over a perfect garden.

My current studio is the the best ever, although I tend to say that about each new space. But this one is very special. It was even designed as an art studio, and the north light floods the room.  I spend most of my days in this creative space without any regret.

all materials at hand

and the perfect natural light

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It really doesn’t matter where I work.  Once I start painting, I get lost in the creation process anyway, and most of the time I am totally unaware of my surroundings.  I call it going in to the zone, and from what I gather most artist’s experience it.  There is a moment when you lose yourself totally in the work and the world disappears.

But this studio is sure nice to return to when I put the brush down.

The Grey Country?

10 Saturday Dec 2011

Posted by in Art, British Virgin Islands, Cornwall, England, Sailing, Travel, Uncategorized

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A small cay near the British Virgin Islands, pastel drawing by me

It is a grey (or the American version– gray) December day, and this is often when our thoughts return to those warm days we spent on the British Virgin Islands. Several of My Beloved Brit’s English mates have been chatting with him this week (on Skype, of course) about heading to warm places for a few weeks to beat the winter chill of England. I know it brings back memories for him of his years on Tortola, and sailing into the sunsets…or getting ready to race across the seas.

MBB getting ready for a race on the British Virgin Islands in past glory

The shores of England have a totally different feel, I know.  But they have always had their own special appeal to me.

"By The Cornish Sea", pastel by me

I often think I would like to spend some real time in England getting to know that country on an intimate basis.  My Beloved Brit, on the other hand, grew up there, and although he misses it terribly (especially his family and his mates) he fondly calls it the “grey country” and hesitates to think of moving back to those cold wet days and early dark nights of a very long winter season.

It amuses me sometimes how much climate dictates our decisions about where we move. Of course being the gypsies that we are, there is always another shore to explore, but MBB prefers it to be a warm one. England? Chances are slim for a more permanent move to those misty shores, but at least we get a chance to visit during the lovely summer months.

 

 

Reinvention

03 Saturday Dec 2011

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It is interesting that just after I finish mentioning Pringles of Scotland as one of the 10 design firms sited in my post “British Fashion…’tis the season“, I came across an article about the company.

December 2011 Vogue article on reinventing the Scottish company Pringle

In the December 2011 issue of Vogue (American) there was an interesting story in the “View” section about the traditional Scottish sweater company reinventing itself to stay abreast of modern fashion, while still being true to its core identity.   It started me thinking of how many times over the years I needed to reboot my life or work or art to keep it fresh and exciting without losing what was “me” about it.

Now, I can definitely be a creature of habit. But, I also get bored if I let things stay static for too long.  It was with that in mind that My Beloved Brit and I sold our house and I sold my business in Washington, DC and we picked up everything and moved to the Caribbean for 8 years not knowing anyone there or having a clue as to how it would work out (it worked out great).

"White Cottage" the house we built with our own bare hands and a small crew on the caribbean island of St. John

And of course for many years I had my design business which I found I had to periodically tweak or twist in order to keep things current. But the core values and style of the company remained the same.

My art is like that.  I know artists who find a style and subject they are very comfortable with and keep it for ages.  Part of me envies that.  But I could never do it.  I tend to work on a series for at least a year or two and then start looking for a new viewpoint or subject or technique or color palette. New horizons.

For example, when we first moved back to the states returning from the islands, I had the luxury of spending a year exploring a new direction of painting.  That is when the wave series began.  I had realized that all over the world (and we were always searching out the sea no matter where we travelled) the waves were in many ways universal.

Waves in the Caribbean near "White Cottage"

Of course there were always endless variations, yet there was so much common ground…

Portuguese waves. photo by me

…but I was wondering how much the appearance and feel would depend on the waves geographical location. It became a game. We spent a few weeks searching the western most coast of Europe looking for the edge of earth closest to the Americas.  Would a wave on the extreme east of the Atlantic be similar to the waves on the extreme west coast? Someone told us the most western coast was in Spain, so off we went to look for waves.

After a stop for a few incredible days in Santiago de Compostela, Spain  (a UNESCO world heritage site and the pilgramage destination featured in the current movie “The Way”), we set off with our Michelin Tourist and Motoring Atlas to find Cabo Fisterra, a small point of land jutting out into the sea.

Cabo Fisterra, Spain, the end of the earth

It was amazing. After driving through tiny villages with mussel farms in the bays (they look like rows of swimming floats) we found what we were looking for. The monument wasn’t totally impressive…

The lighthouse at Cabo Fisterra

…but how were the waves?  Spectacular and strange – different from anything I had ever quite seen before.

The waves in Spain reach towards the west. photo by me

Wave painting by me. Private collection

The sun came out in Spain

Truly magnificent waves stretching their white foam in beautiful patterns, and bits of almost Caribbean blue water near the shore, but the furthest west? We headed to Portugal.

Pat at Capa Rocha in Portugal. The height of the cliffs overlooking the waves was frightening.

Another friend mentioned that they were sure the furthest coast west in Europe was north of Lisbon, and that there were incredible waves.  And sure enough, it was spectacular.

After a night at another great hotel (we lucked out on an internet travel site and found a great rate at the Penha Longa Hotel which turned out to be a Ritz Carlton as well as a bargain) near the town of Sintra, we set out for the coast for a day of exploring.  The cliffs were so high it was frightening, and to get the perfect angle on the waves I had to lean over the edge of the cliffs laying flat on my stomach with my camera.  I am petrified of heights, so MBB agreed to hold on to me.  Now that is trust. But I got the shots.  Enough for many paintings.

The cliffs at Capa Rocha. Photo by me with assistance from MBB

More waves in Portugal. Worth the trip. Photo by me.

We finally headed out after two days of incredible vistas. We were guests for a night at the home of MBB’s British expat friends living south of Lisbon in Batlha.  After a wonderful dinner buffet (despite some mystery things that looked like a tiny octopus) at an atmospheric restaurant in a nearby village, MBB and our host decided the only way to solve the problem of which point was the furthest west, was to run a GPS on the computer. The men gathered around the screen with great intensity. Portugal won, but I painted both country’s waves…and then some.

Wave from the Portuguese cliffs, Gallery 50

I painted waves from Maine, and the Caribbean and Florida.  I was in the studio for over a year painting waves.

The beginning of Wave #15, a caribbean wave

the caribbean wave in progress in the studio

Wave #15 finished

There was always another wave to explore.

Wave from Portugal, artist's collection

Wave #10, Caribbean, artist's collection

A Florida wave triptych, artist's collection

I couldn’t stop painting waves.

Until one day I did.  I was surrounded by the most gorgeous trees at our house in America, and soon we went back to England for another short summer.  As I have said before, there is no better way to appreciate a good garden than to see it dripping in mist and hugged by fog.  I was off.  It was now branches…and woods… and fields.

the start of a new series...branches

Branches II

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Branches 1

I guess what I am trying to explain is that exploring new worlds is good.  I loved the waves, and sometimes return to that subject with great joy.  But I am always curious about the next series…what is around the next corner.  And I think with life, and work and a truly good relationship, it can make all the difference in the world. Just stick to the core values, but look at it with a fresh eye and add a new twist of color.

Branches in Maine at the end of a walk with friends

The start of "How Golden Branches Weave the Light"

Final version of "how Golden Branches Weave the Light", artist's collection

It keeps everything very exciting.  There is always time for one more adventure.

One more wave

 

 

 

Into the woods with Andy Goldsworthy

26 Saturday Nov 2011

Posted by in Art, sketching, Uncategorized

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A true favorite inspiration of mine is British artist Andy Goldsworthy.  I remember years ago seeing an installation of his at the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC, and being intrigued enough by the rock formations that I wanted to read more about him.

Andy Goldsworthy Roof photo by Ser Amantio Di Nicolao, Wikipidea Creative Commons

He works and lives in Scotland, but creates the most amazing site specific land art and sculptures all over the world. Not only are they visually stimulating, but they correctly illustrate how fragile our world really is.  Many of his installations are not meant to be permanent, but become part of their natural surroundings. He uses leaves, twigs, ice or stone.  Somehow the work is startling, but still blends into its environment.  And he has a meticulous patience that I could not ever achieve. (I found what looks like a lovely packet guide to his work on the Barnes & Noble site)

copyright Andy Goldsworthy

I read one of Laura’s charming posts on Happy Homemaker UK, “Tips For Hiking With Kids”, and it made me recall one of my creative retreats where a group of women artists connected with the trails and woods in the North Carolina Mountains for a week.

I had been working for days on my “Dogwood” series of conte drawings. The mountain house is very rustic, and fairly isolated, but we had good company and lots of food stashed away for the duration.

We had no tv, no phones, but lots of nature (and a few bottles of wine) to entertain us. Our friend and social organizer, my BFF who is an art teacher in LA, brought a video along on Andy Goldsworthy that we could play on her computer.  That was our after dinner activity.

To spend the day sketching and working so close to nature, and then see what this master environmentalist came up with was phenomenal. He takes the most mundane natural elements and creates these ethereal visual moments in time that are astounding.

On a much smaller scale I went outside the next morning and created my own environmental play. It was fun to come out during the day and watch as it slowly slipped away.

My attempt to connect to my surroundings visually

It was an interesting break from my drawing, and made me realize the different ways an artist can actually connect with nature. I went back to my art table with renewed interest, and finished the branches/mountain dogwood series. Such a luxury to be totally immersed in your environment and be able to express it in art.

One of my drawing of dogwood branches