"Red and Yellow Peppers"

Oil on museum quality 1/8th"ampersand Gessobord panel - 6" x 6"

What can I say about the pepper? Beautiful, flavorful, essential ingredient in the cuisine of so many countries. I don’t think a day goes by without them passing my lips in one form or another. Of course, in my case it would be the smaller, hotter cousins - the Jalapeño and the habanero. As my friends will attest; "Scoville" is my middle name. It was good fun painting this piece. The reds reflecting off the yellow and vise versa kept me engaged and enthraled. For such a small painting it packs a lot of punch, even from across the studio. I’ve been digging the red paint lately. I wonder if that is meaningful?

"Apricot turnovers"

Oil on panel - 6" x 6"

The Baltimore Ravens aren’t the only ones guilty of turnovers. As many of my fellow painters have noted – everyday brings a new painting experience, some good, some not so good. Taking these pastries out of context and setting them on a neutral space, without a point of reference was not a good idea. I thought the glistening jelly and powdered sugar would carry the painting, but it was not so. I had the rag in my hand ready to wipe it down when my wife talked me down from the ledge and convinced me to post it anyway to show both sides of the creative process. Even a French title won’t help this one.

"Camembert"

oil on archival, museum quality 1/8" gessobord panel - 5" x 7"

I had a difficult time going back into the studio yesterday. Perhaps it was the complexity of the painting that I had done the day before and the fear that henceforth, I had to stay at that level of intricacy. For whatever reason, I had to force myself to stand before the easel. It was pushing midnight when I put on the last stroke. I sometimes feel like Cinderella, knowing that the Daily Paintings are gleaned and put on the site as the bell tolls twelve. Do glass slippers come in size 13D? Required reading for all artists should be Robert Henri’s book - The Art Spirit. Among his random bits of artistic philosophy, he reminds us that we will have bad days:

"All things change according to the state we are in. Nothing is fixed. I lived once in the top of a house, in a little room, in Paris. I was a student. My place was a romance. It was a mansard room and it had a small square window that looked out over housetops, pink chimney pots. I could see l’Institut, the Pantheon and the Tour Saint James. The tiles on the floor were red and some of them were broken and out of place. There was a little stove, a wash basin, a pitcher, piles of my studies. Some hung on the wall, others accumulated dust on their backs. My bed was a cot. It was a wonderful place. I cooked two meals and ate dinner outside. I used to keep the camembert out of the window on the mansard roof between meals, and I made fine coffee, and made eggs and macaroni. I studied and thought, made compositions, wrote letters home full of hope of some day being an artist.
It was wonderful. But days came when hopes looked black and my art student’s paradise was turned into a dirty little room with broken tile, ashes fell from the stove, it was all hopelessly poor, I was tired of camembert and eggs and macaroni, and there wasn’t a shade of significance in those delicate little chimney pots, or the Pantheon, the Institute, or even the Tour Saint James."

This I read, lo these many years ago, when I was starting out on my own artistic journey. I was given a copy of The Art Spirit by Dr. F. Robert Lehmeyer, my Uncle and mentor and I, in turn, bestowed a copy on many a young aspiring artist. I can’t look at a wedge of camembert without thinking of this story and my early days as an artist. Blessed are the cheese makers.

"Plateau de fruits de mer"

Oli on panel 5" x 7"

Do you honestly think that I could go to Paris and not avail myself of the local seafood? Many of the brasseries had fantastic displays of freshly shucked oysters; clams known as amandes; raw mussels; baby shrimp in their shells; cadmium red prawns; whole cooked crab; chewy sea snails known as bulots and tiny blue-black winckles. We succumbed to their sirens song and soon found ourselves starring at a beautiful Plateau de fruits de mer; a gorgeous, glistening assortment of shellfish, or fruits of the sea perched high on the table on an ice-filled round metal platter. Accompanied with slices of rye bread, lovely French salted butter, quarters of fresh lemon, mayonnaise and mignonette, my companions could only drool and eat bread, as I spent 10 minutes capturing it from every angle with my camera. My wife is used to me discreetly photographing food at restaurants. We can’t eat steamed crabs (a Baltimore specialty) without me whipping out my faithful little canon elph. “Can I eat now?” is her common mantra. It has gotten worse since the daily painting started as everything is possible creative fodder.
Trying to keep it fresh (no pun intended), I may leave Paris tomorrow and try something a little different. Stay tuned.

"Gâteau au fromage avec le fruit glacé"

Oil on panel 6" x 6"
When I choose to paint this piece, I thought it would be a walk in the park. Little did I realize that the myriad of hues in all that fruit would translate to way more time than I would have imagined analyzing and mixing colors? I wanted it to be free and glistening and that it is. The cheesecake is held in place with a clear collar which reflected nicely the gold fluted plate. When I am finished with this Paris series, you will be well on your way to learning the French language. Pay attention – there will be a quiz. Répetez après moi - fermez la fenêtre.

"Poulets au marché de fermiers"

Oli on panel - 5" x 7
Although I fancy myself both a gourmet and gourmand, I have my head in the sand when it comes to the realities of food and death. Here in the states, our meat is cut into nice little pieces and hermetically sealed in cling wrap. At the farmers market in Paris, here were the chickens – head, feet and all. I don’t know why, but I kept thinking about Chicken Little when I came upon these little guys and felt sad for them. If I had to kill my own food, I probably would be a vegetarian. All that said, the almost abstract quality of the varying colors of the flesh made for an interesting painting exercise and I sort of like the pathos. I came home with a nasty, imported French cold and could use some chicken soup right now…sorry guys.