Autumn Days

The trees in the Adirondacks were beginning to turn when we drove up the Northway two weeks ago, but it's only in the last few days that the city park has begun to show color. It's been so beautiful that I couldn't resist getting out my watercolors to make a couple of sketches. The one at the top of this page is the second and more refined of the two; the first one I did is below. I posted it on Instagram and got a message from my friend Michael Szpakowski in England. He's an artist and art educator, and we've been following and commenting on each other's work for years, first on Flickr and now on Instagram. The conversation we had was helpful for me, in thinking about what I was doing, and I asked his permission to reproduce it here. Thanks, Michael!

 

MS: Gosh that is lovely! & what a tremendous command of colour you have!

BA: It's nature that commands the color! But thank you. I tried to just get it down fast and not fuss.

MS: You are far too modest. I do not believe there is any such thing as a simple transcription of colour or light or geometry or whatever, simply because of the nature of our embodiment and how sight and brain work. Even the most accurate photographic representation of a scene will differ in many ways from what the eye sees (indeed different *eyes* see quite differently) The artist uses her skills to create something which *summons* in the eye and mind and memories of the spectator a *sense* of what the original scene looked like. You do that with such joy and verve and delicacy and also boldness here…

 

BA: You're completely right [about how we see], and I didn't mean to send you a disingenuous reply, it's just that Instagram feels like a hard place for substantive art discussion. Let me try, though. Nature is the guide, and I'm always trying to find aspects of a scene that "sing" somehow, sometimes through form, but more often through color. There is a pair in this sketch -- the blue-green hedge at right center, and the reddish-purple tree -- that I took as the key, but without completely realizing that was what I was doing. All the other greens in the picture are supporting characters, as it were; it's that blue-green and its complementary relationship to the tree that are interesting and emphasized. Everything was backlit, so the color of the highlights was also important -- for most of the greens, there was a range from grassy/bright green to yellow, but in the hedge, the highlights were blueish-white. So then the question becomes, whether to use green pigments or mix the greens from yellows and blues on my small watercolor sketch palette. In this case, I used viridian for the hedge because I wanted its clarity and coolness rather than, say, using a mixture with cerulean blue which would have been more opaque. Then it was important to choose a cool-toned red to mix the purple shades for the tree. I wish now that I had subdued all the background yellows a bit more - there's a little too much warm color there that comes forward and competes. But I'm learning as I go, there's always something new to learn, and going back and analyzing the picture (which you've gotten me to do, thank you!) is the biggest help!

 

MS: That is a very generous & interesting reply! I think we’re on the same page in a number of ways (the broader question of the relationship of what was seen to what gets depicted and how) but your razor sharp focus on colour and the chain of questions around it is both fascinating and completely alien to my own methodology ( which is, essentially, ‘hmmm let’s bung a bit of *that* *there* ) and hence doubly worth me reflecting over…

 

 

 

Having had that conversation, I tried again a day or two later, and did the painting at the top, of which the image above is a detail. It's certainly more polished, thought-out, and composed, though it doesn't have the energy or wildness of the first sketch. But again, I learned things doing it, and in this case tried to listen to what I had criticized about the sketch. I especially like this bit, with the children's bright blue climbing gym and slide just brushed in quickly, and the shadows on the back of the hedge under the trees.

 

Sometimes I don't know why I do watercolors - they're such a struggle, and usually a disappointment, at least in part. But there's something magical about their purity and spontaneity that never seems to happen in other media; I suppose they're more like drawing, in that you can really feel the artist's hand and brush moving over the paper. The accidental is always a part of the finished image, because it's a medium that can't be completely controlled when you're painting freely. Because of that, chance plays a part, as does the subconscious; some decisions have to be made instantly, and the result really can't be predicted. When I look back through my sketchbooks, I feel like I not only remember those moments the pages attempt to capture, but I learn something about myself. These were the last two pages in a sketchbook I've kept for the past year - in fact, the very first page in it is also a watercolor of the park and the fall leaves, from a year ago (shown below). A lot has happened in that year -- in the world, to me, and to all of us. I don't feel as exuberant, for sure. But I'm still here: still making art and setting down words.

 

Comments

[Edward Yankie]

Thanks for sharing these astonishing watercolours along with the conversation with your friend Michael. I agree with him completely about how special these are. I still have to get my hands on that book of poetry you illustrated! These are alive with spontaneous exuberance.

[Mary Youmans]

Oh, I like these--and enjoyed the conversation as well. You may feel more subdued, but your brush is still free and frolicsome!

[Jean Morris]

Beth, I love all of these. They are all exquisite and deeply evocative. But I think the first, rougher sketch is what excites me, touches all my senses, most. I'd love to see a larger painting from you in the looser style - you have such a fine sense of colour, as discussed here, and of composition.

[Sharyn]

Those are wonderful. Watercolor is very difficult but these are so luminous!