BARN OF THE DAY 84

I have a problem.  I am out of town this week and forgot to take my list of the barns I've already posted.  So if I post a barn this week that you've seen before it is not by design.  Of course I will be quite impressed if someone does recognize a repeat posting.

A Graves County barn

Pen - ink - markers

5x10

Sold

BARN OF THE DAY

 

Mail Pouch #4

markers

4x8

Sold

BARN OF THE DAY 11

Today's barn comes from the "mini" files.

A Cecil Co. Barn

pen -ink-markers

5x7 plus mat

$45.00  includes S&H

Black & White Plus part 4

As with any series, the work tends to evolve, influencing the original concept.  My initial plan was to execute a series of black and white pen & ink drawings, with or without a “touch of color”, depicting scenes and architecture from the many places I have visited with my art.  While this approach works well with some subjects, it quickly became apparent that others would benefit from more than a touch of color.  Being of sound mind and flexible character (more than once I have been called flexiBill) I adapted to this with ease, completing the first stage of the evolution of the original idea.  All of the work will begin with a line drawing done with pen & ink, and augmented with color as determined by the subject.

I was still in the B&W frame of mind when I completed these two drawings which represent the “look” I wanted for this series

 Feeling more than my share of piss and vinegar, I decided to take on a more ambitious subject – my favorite power plant on the Ohio River in Pittsburg, PA.

pwer plant

Obviously I deviated from the original plan, and happily ended up with this drawing that I really like.  The end result was 2 more drawings in the same manner.  Here is the first of the 2.

The name of the series will remain Black & White Plus, but I am growing fond of the title, Second Time Around, referring to the choice of subject matter – places I have visited and drawn and painted in the past.  But based on the experience of the past week it would be foolish to make any claims about how this will all end.

WHEN YOUR EYES ARE BIGGER THAN YOUR STOMACH Paducah Portfolio...12

Surely you have heard of this expression.  Well today I am presenting a case where my eyes, or in this case, my ambition and enthusiasm, were bigger than my determination and self-discipline.

Weille Buildings

The Weille Buildings on Broadway, current home of the Paducah School of Art and Design, has been calling to me with its elaborate and ornate detail, but a little voice in my head kept saying, “Billy, are you sure you want to do this?  You may be a tiger, but this is a lot of work.”  Of course I didn’t listen; it simply had to be included in my Paducah Portfolio, and I was sure I was up to the task of rendering the building, in watercolor and/or markers.  After all, this is what I do!

work in progress

So I started the laborious task of laying out the building, figuring scale and proportions and size.  I worked on the drawing for about 30 to 40 minutes every day, stopping when I began seeing double or started mumbling things to myself under my breath.  I eventually reached the stage where I could begin adding color to the completed parts…I needed to feel like I was making progress.  A little color, a little drawing, a little more color, a little more drawing, on and on, day after day, after day, when suddenly, out of the blue, it came to me.  I could not spend another minute on this without going nuts, and I knew how to extract myself from the quagmire that it was becoming.

Weille Buildings...markers...14x13

Every artist knows that there are times when we allow the viewers to complete the image using their eyes and their imagination, by leaving a part of the painting or drawing incomplete.  Often the viewer is not even aware of this.

Hey...I did all the hard work!

I’M HAVING FUN

moving from one drawing table to another, switching from watercolors to pencils, to pen and ink, and to markers… it keeps the boredom blues away.  My focus is entirely on Paducah architecture for the book I hope to have ready by next fall.  To keep it interesting and lively I am letting the subject dictate the medium I use, from formal watercolor renderings to loose pen and ink drawings, black and white, and in color.

Here are a few of the first paintings and drawings in the portfolio:

Alone in Mid town...markers, pen & ink

A little bit on N. 3rd St.   markers, P&I

Slim Jin's Bar-B=Q...pastel on toned paper

The Back...P&I and markers

Bellewoeod...watecolor

I GOTTA GET OUT OF THIS PLACE

Harvey is right.  I spend way too much time in my head, ruminating about everything and anything, but mostly about my art.  When I first began painting my biggest concern was that I be taken seriously, and not seen as some doctor dabbling in art on his days off.  I wanted my work to be “serious” art, although I had no idea what serious art was, and still don’t.  But for the most part I was comfortable doing what I did, thinking of myself as a storyteller with my drawings and paintings of city life.

Some thirty years later I find myself more unsettled than ever before, despite considerable improvement in my understanding and execution of my craft.  The questions abound.  What should I paint, large colorful landscapes, small drawings and sketches of the world around me, realistic pastels, abstract clay mono types, or meticulous architectural rendering with watercolor?  Shouldn’t I focus on developing my skills in one or two mediums, rather than working in all of them and being that Jack of all trades and master of none?   Theses concerns may seem silly to others, and I must admit that as I’m writing this, they seem rather ridiculous to me now.  But unfortunately they are very real.

The solution of course is obvious; paint whatever I want to paint, in whatever medium and whatever size I fancy, and throw out all the questions because they don’t matter.  And with that sentence I have experienced the therapeutic powers of journaling; the questions that haunted me 30 minutes ago no longer do so and I have managed to get out of my head…at least for a while. 

Yesterday's work:

 Roiled sky...acrylic in progress...24x48"

 Do you know where this is (in Paducah)?...pen, ink, markers...10x8"

Marking my time with markers

In the course of the normal ebb and flow of life in the studio, I find my ambition, enthusiasm, and focus are at one of their periodic low points, not unusual after completing a recent large project.  Fortunately I can usually find things to do to prevent complete boredom, desk work, cleaning, organizing files, and other busy work.  Much to my delight I can add small scale drawing to that list.  Working with pencils, pen and ink, and markers requires no prep time, does not require a major time commitment, and provides instant gratification and satisfaction. 

the Yeiser...16x12

  Mother D's...10x5

Plant world...6x8

B & W and color all over

 Smedley-Yeiser house...markers, ink, pastel...8x10"

 Lowertown boatyard...markers...6x9

Coast guards...pencil...8x10

ON THE ROAD...

well not literally...but in spirit if not in body.

In the past few days I've been to New Jersey, Maryland, and Massachusetts. Undoubtedly I will be returning to these states, and others, in the days ahead.

Annopolis...markers, pen


Annapolis harbor...markers and pen


Baltimore aquarium on the inner harbor...pen and markers with pastel


Angies diner in Bridgeton NJ...markers

Concord MA...pen and markers

MISTER IN BETWEEN

The journey from physician to artist was painfully slow and costly in so many ways, but in the end, it was worth all of the turmoil and distress. One aspect of the transition that I did not anticipate was feeling lost between two worlds, medicine and art.

In my mind the practice of medicine was all about the primary care physician, the general internist or the family doctor. This is how I identified myself; this is was what being a physician meant to me and this is the world I left when I left my practice in 1981 for part time work in the emergency room of our city hospital. Although I was still in contact with most of my medical colleagues, I felt estranged from medicine. I was no longer involved as I had been when I was active in our local and state medical societies and in the programs in our teaching hospital. I realized that my priorities had taken me out of that world. Others may not have noticed, but I felt I no longer belonged.

The problem was, I did not feel I belonged to any community of artists. I was a novice, at the very bottom of a steep self learning curve. There were no artist friends and colleagues to replace those I left, and to even call myself an artist was almost unthinkable and impossible to do. I had no studio and my art was simple and limited.


Wash St. pen-ink-markers 1978

For the first few years into this new life I was lost between two worlds, and it was my unshakable belief and trust in what I was doing that allowed me to continue. In the years since, there have been moments of crisis and self doubt, but I’ve never lost that basic trust in my dream.