Gowanus-A Work in Progress

So I've got 4 new paintings started. The weather has been warmer, that is over 50 degrees, and has peaked around 70 for a few days here. I've found that the temps need to be above 50 for the paint to work right for me...any colder and it sort of beads up on the surface as the paint gets thinned out. I guess it's also a comfort thing...hard to paint when you can't feel your fingertips. The light is very beautiful right now, the sun's position causing sharp shadows with a slightly grey-blue-purple cast. The sun's still relatively low in the sky, but with the spring equinox and the time change, things are noticably changing. Actually, the most beautiful time I want to paint is at dusk...a golden light with the sky turning a deep cobalt color as the sun sets.

The canvases I've been working on are a proportion that I like; a ratio of 2:3. I've bracketed them incrementally: 10" x 15"; 12" x 18"; and 14" x 21". There's something pleasing about this relationship which works well in a landscape format. With smaller, quick paintings like these, I pre-determine the size, rather than working out the size based on a drawing or idea. For these, I've started with a sketch book drawing, then sized up from there, using a grid and an appropriate canvas. I'm working on half of them during overcast days, half on sunny days, this way whatever the weather, I've got a spot to go to and something to paint. Since they are relatively small, my goal is to finish them in about 2 or 3 sessions, with some extra fine tuning in the studio.

Sketch book study

It's starting to bother me how really disgusting the Gowanus Canal area is. I'm not sure if the garbage problem is getting worse or I'm just noticing it more. This sign is close to one of the locations I'm painting from:

I like how the color of the sign works well within the painting, but somehow the warning becomes more and more disturbing the longer I think about it. What a complete environmental disaster this place has become.

"Kentile Floors" in progress

Elevated F/G train (finished)

   As I was writing the title of this post, I hesitated about what to call it. What's this painting of? What's it about? It's of the train track...but it's also about a tree planted in asphalt, the expanse of a parking lot, a shadow, a grid of parking spaces. It's mostly about a record of returning to a particular spot over a long period of time (about 4 months), and trying to translate what I'm seeing, in paint.
   I stopped working on this one for a few months in July and August because of a job, and then vacation, and when I returned, I noticed that they had redone the asphalt of the parking lot while I was away. The color darkened about 3 or 4 shades and completely altered the scene. Also, somebody had graffitied the large black expanse on the face of the elevated tracks. When stuff like this happens, the dialog between what's happening on the canvas and what's happening in front of me intensifies.  There are times when what I'm seeing forces the painting to change direction or to be altered in some way, usually at an unexpected but well needed time in the painting's progression.  When I returned to work on it, I also realized that I was trying to include too much. I chopped off a considerable amount of inches from all sides of the painting; cropping it in, making the compostion tighter and denser. Check out the before version here.
   Even though I was tucked away in a corner of the parking lot (Lowe's), I still had passers-by who would stop and look at what I was doing. Some of the Lowe's employees would come over on their break to sit on the benches and smoke and have coffee. I would be there painting, over-hearing their conversations, almost invisible to them. I think most of the people thought I was crazy, seeing me there day after day trying to paint a picture of a parking lot. Some people would stop by and chat, and a few would check in from time to time to see the progress. About 11am, I would smell fried chicken coming from the Food Town behind me, gradually mingling with the putrid stench from the canal.

 
    This is a new painting of the scene that was behind me while I painted the first one. It's a spot where I would walk back and view the painting from afar. I'd stand by the railing up against the canal and survey the water. I figure what's behind me is just as important as what's in front of me.  I did it over a few days, trying to return when that shadow was at exactly the same spot. I painted over top of another painting, which gives it some distracting texture that I'm not happy about (I'll have to remember to stop doing that), but I think I captured the nastiness of the canal. There's a lot happening in the canal besides garbage and toxic waste, though. I've seen small fish, crabs...even a large horseshoe crab. Nature's resilience never ceases to amaze me.

Elevated F/G Track (mid summer)

     Here's an updated photo of one of the paintings I've been working on this summer. I wrote an entry on this one awhile back, and since I'll be taking an unexpected break from working on it, decided to photograph it and post. I'll be working on a Richard Haas mural through July, and then it's vacation in Asheville, NC and England for August. (Summer's going quick!)
     It's always interesting to look at photos of my paintings...it sort of condenses the piece, giving me fresh eyes to look at it. I feel like I'm starting to make some advances with it. The light that I'm seeing is translating, and I'm starting to hammer out the space in the painting. Each painting session, I start with the lone tree right in the center of my vision, and work out from there. It's the anchor of the entire painting really, creating this nice perpendicular structure as the focal point. I also like how it's visually sandwiched between the architectural structures of the track supports in the background...an organic growth sprouting from a sea of concrete and stone.
    The space has been tough to get right; alot of shifting things around, tweaking the structures, bending things here and there. The fact that the cars constantly move has been tricky, too. There's been alot of adding and subtracting going on with these players in my visual field. The cars have to be painted quickly...sometimes I'm not able to "finish" them, but I think it gives the composition a sense of fluidity and honesty to the scene. (like watching large pieces on a chess board move around in the space). One sitting my view will be blocked, the next, the veil is lifted and I'm able to see something behind it that the painting needs.
   There are these really subtle things happening with the asphalt in the foreground, too. If it has rained the night before, I can see small seepages of water coming through the cracks, causing the color to darken and appear more violet. Sometimes there will be tire marks from trucks as they go by, altering the patterns on the grey field before me. I'm sad to stop this one for awhile, being that I'm just gaining momentum, but sometimes a break can be good....I'm looking forward to seeing it anew when I return. I'll continue to work on some night paintings through the summer, and hopefully finish this one up in September.

Elevated F/G Track in progress

I started a new painting recently which depicts the elevated F/G train as it passes above the Gowanus Canal, and right over my studio building. The painting is quite large for doing on site, about 21" x 37". I've been drawn to doing larger pieces lately, partly because my subject matter is dictating it to me, and partly because I enjoy painting on a 'bodily' scale. The train track looms large over a long expanse of space, bridging the 2 neighborhoods of Carroll Gardens and Park Slope. The canal lies in this low point, prone to flooding, which I guess necessitated the need to create an elevated train line, instead of being dug underground. From inside my studio, I can occasionally hear the low rumble of the train above me, and always wonder which was there first, the building or the train tracks.



My first study was the drawing above, which I did in the late fall. I was initially attracted to painting the black mesh which covers the entire structure. It's such a striking piece of art in itself, reminding me of a Christo and Jeanne Claude sculpture. Talking to an MTA engineer one day while painting, he told me the mesh catches all the cement that periodically falls off the supporting beams as the trains vibrate the tracks. It's gradually beginning to fray and rip in areas, flapping in the wind like a defiant, battle-scarred pirate flag. I'm intrigued by the range of tones in the black as the light drenches it; one of those gritty, muted colors that I like to paint.

I knew I wanted to paint as much of the track as possible, causing me to compress a large angle of vision onto the canvas. I picked a spot where I could get this view in, which is located on the far side of the Lowe's parking lot. This spot is in a low traffic area, with the sun behind me from around 12-5, giving me ample time to paint. I have a fairly large umbrella to position behind me, which helps to diffuse the direct light and protect my skin from getting scorched.



This drawing was the second one I did, and worked on it over a few consecutive days. Where as the first drawing was done to stand on it's own, being denser and more active, this one I'm using as a way to gather information, developing the position of objects and lines of sight; a map for the painting to come. Because the bottom half of the painting depicts a large expanse of the parking lot, there is going to be a constantly changing field of parked cars, shifting during each painting session. I'm looking forward to how this will influence the process and end result of the painting; how the different objects will be painted in this relationship of stasis and flux.



Next up was this small oil sketch, done over 2 days, from about 2-4pm. I captured the light that I wanted, and plan to depict a cloudless day in the final painting. From this and the drawings I can transfer all the information to the larger canvas. Not only does this save me time, by building up a 'bed' to paint on before I go outside, but the process of doing multiple studies forces me to draw and re-draw the same scene, preparing me for the scrutiny that's ahead. Let's hope this summer's not too humid and the mosquitoes not too deadly...this one might take awhile.

Entrance to Lowe's

Here's the completed painting of the one I described in a previous post. I had started it in November, but had to stop because of the weather and changing light. I had worked on it awhile in the studio from some photographs I had taken, but was unhappy with the way it was progressing. The colors in the photos were bleached out and lacked any depth and detail, so I threw them out. I had it in my studio all winter, in the corner on a easel, patiently waiting there while I worked on other paintings.

The weather began getting warmer recently, so I decided to re-engage with the painting and took it outside again. The scene depicts the entrance to the Lowe's parking lot on 9th street, where I park my car when I go to the studio. I pass by these buildings all the time and was captivated by the way the forms in front of me stood out against the clear blue sky. The looming streetlight towering above, in front of a jagged roof-line of triangles and an old chimney. Overhead is the elevated F and G train line, as it passes over the Gowanus Canal for 2 stops, beautifully draped in black mesh to keep the cement from crumbling off. I included the supporting posts on the left and right sides of the painting, hinting at the structure overhead, but out of sight. This Spring and Summer, I plan to do a series of paintings depicting this elevated track from different angles; the slow, gradual, black bulge of the tracks as it rises above the ground and through this space.

The painting was actually done in a high traffic area, something I don't usually like doing. People were constantly passing by, to and from Lowe's, usually wanting to ask me questions or talk; all cordial and respectful though. I had a few nice conversations with people, from construction workers to junkies, just amazed that someone was out there doing a painting of this wasteland they see everyday. It's intriguing for me to have my work seen by an audience that usually doesn't have any contact with Art; it allows people to re-evaluate what beauty and meaning is, and my hope is that they see their surroundings as something that can inspire. But what I'm out there to do is to paint, and small talk usually just gets in the way. And, whenever I hear someone ask me if I "know that painter-guy on TV with the Afro", I feel like jumping in the canal.

When I returned to this spot after 5 months, the light had obviously completely changed. I was prepared for this, and decided that I liked the composition I had set in place enough to just re-work the light and color. The shadow areas had changed from a blue-violet, to a warmer gray and the face of the buildings had a richer, brown-orange hue, due to the light hitting it more directly, rather than raking across. To my surprise, a small elevated barricade had been erected directly across from me, along the face of the building in the center of the composition. This was just what the painting needed, not only because it gave the painting more depth, but the green coloring provided a compliment to the red-orange of the building's facade. Also, the support poles stood out as bright cobalt lines against the shadows behind it. Another one of those surprises that happen only through sustained looking and working before the motif; the subject giving you something more that the painting needs.