A brush with life

What is she thinking?

2011-03-14T17:04:00.000-07:00

I painted this little study from a snapshot that I took when I was in the Dominican Republic a few years ago. The quality of the snapshot is not very good, but I was compelled to paint from it anyhow, simply because I liked the expression on the girl's face. Perhaps one of the reasons her expression intrigues me is that I find it difficult to read.

The resort where I was staying had arranged a tour of the local countryside, so that vacationers could spend a day seeing what the real Dominican Republic was like. It was a humbling experience to see the living conditions of many of the people, and I sincerely hope that the money brought in by the tourism industry trickles down to the local economy and improves the lives of the people there.

I saw this little girl sitting outside of her house, watching the tour group as we walked past. In the snapshot, she is gazing at us and I can't quite tell what her opinion might be. There is a maturity in her face that seems beyond her years—but there is perhaps also a mischievous loof there as well. Is she interested and friendly? Is she about to play a prank? Does she think we are intruding with our cameras and our curiosity? I've studied her expression while I paint, and I still can't decide.

You talkin' to me?

2010-12-02T19:02:00.000-08:00

This is my most recent study. I love the character and expression in this man's face.

I painted this from a photo, but set a timer to replicate the time constraints of painting from a live model. A friend of mine took this photo when she was touring Europe last summer, and I don't think this fisherman was exactly pleased to have his photo snapped. I'm grateful that my friend is such an intrepid photographer! I've title this study You talkin' to me?

Portrait study: 18 days clean

2010-04-06T16:19:00.000-07:00

Here is a portrait study that I painted a few months ago. The model who posed for this was a man named Francois, who I saw panhandling on the street in downtown Ottawa. On the day that I met him, Francois was on his 18th drug-free day. He had battled with a cocaine addiction for several years, and had tried to break his addiction in the past, but had never made it for more than two or three days. This time, he had made it for 18 days, and was determined to stay clean.

I have thought about him a lot since the day that he posed for me, and although I have watched for him whenever I am on the downtown streets, I have not seen him again. Here's hoping that it's a good sign, and that he's moved forward with his plan to get off the streets and lead a happier life.

Countdown to the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Games!

2010-02-08T17:10:00.000-08:00

There is just one more day until the Games begin!

Like many Canadians, I am looking forward to watching our athletes compete on home soil. Although I am not usually a TV-watcher, I am always riveted to the television during the Olympics. I suppose it is the spectacle of human endeavour that I find so compelling.

This year will be even more special than usual, since the Portrait Society of Canada has chosen the Olympics as the inspiration for this year's annual exhibition. I am extremely honoured to have had the opportunity to paint a portrait of Clara Hughes, Olympic gold medallist in long-track speedskating, Olympic medallist in cycling—and most importantly, a humanitarian. Clara will carry the flag for Canada at the opening ceremonies this Friday; there could be no better choice. You can read about Clara, and her humanitarian work, on her official web site.

The Portrait Society of Canada is planning an exhibition at the John B. Aird Gallery in Toronto in March 2010, which will celebrate the Vancouver Olympic Games and the achievement of Canadian athletes. The exhibition will feature portraits of living Canadian Olympians, created by our member artists. Watch the slideshow below to see a preview of the exhibition.

The exhibition will include an online auction of the work to help establish a Commission Fund. This fund will be used to commission portraits of Canadians who have made exceptional contributions to our country; the work commissioned will not only focus on well-known Canadians, but also people who have made the sort of contributions that are often less visible to the general public.

The artists of the Portrait Society are pleased that athletes in Canada have shown their interest and support by agreeing to collaborate with artists in this project. This project will give the public an inspiring Olympic exhibition to view, and will help, in the long term, to create more portraits for Canadians to enjoy and to use as a way learn about each other. The Olympics raise such a sense of good-will and pride across the country, and we are pleased that wonderful, creative energy surrounding the Games can help other aspects of Canadian culture, such as portrait art, to grow. Just as our athletes are invigorated by the crowds that come to see them perform, so are artists invigorated by the athletes.

Remembering Robert Hyndman

2009-12-03T08:27:00.000-08:00

Today's blog is devoted to remembering Robert Hyndman, a well known artist and teacher who passed away earlier this week.

An accomplished artist, Robert was also a teacher and mentor to many in the art community. He was passionate about art, and deeply interested in people—two qualities that are evident in all his paintings, as well as in his teaching. This portrait, which I painted of Robert in 2008, was special for me, since Robert was the first person to teach me lifedrawing and portraiture.

I have been fortunate to learn from Robert and to call him a friend. I think the thing I will miss most about Robert is his humanity. Robert had a genuine interest in people, and a compassion for others. He was always able to find something good in everyone—which was evident in his portraits—and he believed that in creating art, it is important to make a positive statement. Robert continued to paint until his death, at age 94, because he continued to have a positive statement to make.

Robert's War Art

Robert served as one of Canada's Official War Artists, in addition to being a Spitfire pilot. Canada appointed 31 Official War Artists in WWII. These artists had the task of painting the activities of the armed forces at home and overseas.

Robert trained as an artist before the war, studying art at Central Technical School in Toronto, and in London, England at what is now the Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design.
With war looming, Hyndman returned to Canada in 1939 and joined the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF). He served as a flight instructor and later flew Spitfires on bombing runs over the English Channel.

At the end of his tour, in which he flew 155 missions over France and the Netherlands, Robert was appointed an Official War Artist. He created a total of 68 paintings during his appointment. Most of Robert Hyndman's war art is portraiture—he painted portraits many air force commanders— but he also captured his experiences as a pilot, and these paintings are perhaps his best-known works. One day when I was visiting his studio, Robert showed me a picture that he had drawn when he was a child of 7 or 8 years old; this drawing shows diving planes, strangely similar to what he would witness—and record—as an adult.

This painting, like all works created by Official War Artists, belongs to the Government of Canada. You can find this painting at the Canadian War Musuem.

Women in the services

2009-11-17T07:44:00.000-08:00

Today's blog is about women who served in CWAC, the Canadian Women's Army Corps during the Second World War.

Helen had two brothers who went to war, and wanting to serve her country as well, she lied about her age and enlisted in the Canadian Women’s Army Corps at the age of 17. Helen was stationed in Ottawa during the Second World War, working for the Directorate of Signals. She is proud of the contribution that women made to the war effort, and also of the precedent that they set:

“We proved to the old military establishment in Ottawa, in 1939, that there was a place in our armed forces for women who wanted to serve their country." There was still inequality, however: women were paid 90 cents a day compared to the men's salary of $1.30 a day. "But we didn't complain. Getting less pay than the men was no big deal. We were where we wanted to be. We were in the military and doing our bit to win the war."

"We set a precedent and opened the door for the next generation of young Canadian women who are in our armed forces today and who serve in all operational aspects in our military."

Evelyn served in the Canadian Women’s Army Corps as a driver. Evelyn drove jeeps, taking officers to hospitals to visit the sick or wounded; she also drove trucks, taking troops to events, such baseball games. Like other women in the services, Evelyn was discharged after the war to allow men to return to their former jobs; however, the time spent in the army was good preparation for new challenges. “This taught you to do other things in other organizations where women hadn't stepped forward before. From being in service, it gave you a lot of confidence,” said Evelyn.

Like Evelyn, Doris served in the Canadian Women's Army Corps, and found that she gained new skills and confidence from the experience.

Doris enlisted at the age of 21 and served with the Royal Canadian Army Ordinance Corps as a clerk. As a clerk, Doris worked in an Ottawa depot, helping to procure and issue the material goods required by the army, including clothing for returning prisoners of war. For Doris, serving in the army was an experience that she would recommend to other young women: “it’s a good opportunity to learn new skills, and also to develop self-discipline.”

The beaches of Normandy

2009-11-12T07:08:00.000-08:00

This portrait is of Fred Turnbull. Fred enlisted in the navy at the age of 17 and served in Combined Operations, as the bowman in a landing craft (LCA). The crews of LCAs had the job of landing allied troops on enemy shores. The following passage is from Fred’s diary entry describing the D-Day landing:

“At 6:45 a.m., we were given the order to lower away and unhook. The sea was extremely rough and as we started our seven and half mile run in, the soldiers were very sick. All the flotillas of our force were in line ahead and as each mile slipped by, the roar of gunfire from our own ships, the gunfire from the shore, the bombing from Allied planes, the odd plane being shot down overhead increased. It was a sight never to be forgotten, seeing Allied troops moving closer to the coast of France.

At last the town of Bernières-sur-Mer, our objective, loomed in the horizon and all was to be seen were fires and out of the fires, the odd church steeples. About one mile from the beach the signal was given for a deploy and the flotillas moved in abreast. We had been told of the minefields guarding the beaches and as we moved in at half speed ahead, the mines could be seen spread out for a distance of 500 yds. all very close, making it seemingly impossible for an LCA to get through. As I looked over the bow and saw the dead bodies of Marine commandos, floating in the water, I realized what we were facing. The Marines were supposed to have cleared the way for us and their being dead meant that we had to make our own way through the perilous “stakes in the water”. We were soon weaving through the minefield and with a strong tide pushing our stern within a matter of inches of each mine, I was ready at any moment to be blown sky high. To make matters worse, mortars were screaming over the craft and the odd Nazi sniper on shore was trying to find a good target. As we managed to skim through three rows of mines and were ready to sneak through the fourth, the craft on our starboard side could be seen breaking literally in two as she hit a mine. Then as I glanced around me I could see all the craft of our flotilla, only a matter of feet away, being blown in two, holes in their bows, holes in their stern and sinking rapidly but not before the soldiers were on their way ashore in waist-deep water. I couldn’t believe we were still afloat and making our way shoreward still.”

Life in the North Atlantic

2009-11-11T06:24:00.000-08:00

This week, in honour of our war veterans, I am profiling some of the men and women who served Canada in the Second World War. These veterans sat for portraits for me last year, as part of a series I was creating, and kindly shared their stories with me.

This portrait is of Doug Meredith. Doug enlisted in the Navy in 1942, and “was surprised to find we got paid, actually. A dollar and a quarter a day and all we could eat and keep down.”

Life on board ship was difficult: there were “not enough rubber boots to go around on watch. So we had to take the boots off the guy you were relieving, after you emptied the water out of them. Not enough places to sling hammocks. There were no beds in this ship. Not for the troops anyway. I wound up sleeping up in the upper deck by the funnel where it was relatively warm. . . But it was a very tough year for storms. Forty-two, forty-three was just one bloody gale after the other. Convoys would get blown apart. The ships would slow down. In some cases, we made as much as ten miles a day just going against the wind. During the winter, the wind would blow the water into spray, the spray would freeze on the ships and we'd wind up being ice coated.

We were defending convoys against submarine attack. The escort groups that I was in usually had up to five escort ships. But sometimes only three. We had a very primitive radar which at best would tell us if there was a merchantman ready to run us down. It didn't take much for the Germans to get through the escort screen. And they would come up inside the screen and attack the merchantmen with torpedoes as a rule, sinking them. Or else they would see a convoy coming and they would submerge and wait for the convoy to go over them. And they would rise up inside the convoy lanes and attack the merchantmen. And we couldn't attack the submarines very well when they were running in the lanes because we would damage our merchant ship. So the trick was to find them, keep them down until the convoy had passed.

You're at action stations or you're in a war zone as soon as you left Halifax or any port. The ships were torpedoed within sight of Halifax. Twenty-two ships were torpedoed in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. So the war was very close to the Canadian shoreline.”

This next portrait is of another navy veteran, Francois Masson.

Francois enlisted in the navy at the age of 19, serving on a Corvette that escorted convoys across the Atlantic. “Serving my country was important to me; I felt an innate need to defend it.”

Life on the Atlantic was difficult, and for a 19-year old away from home for the first time, the experience left a lasting impression. “The seas are beautiful, but during wartime, they can be very cruel.” Moonlit nights that would be serene in peacetime could leave a ship dangerously silhouetted for U-boats waiting in the water below. The thick fog was unnerving, and gale-force winds, combined with freezing temperatures, left the ships coated in ice and dangerously top-heavy. “When the ice reached a certain thickness, we had to go out and chop it off with an axe,” Francois recalls.

The liberation of Holland

2009-11-10T08:00:00.000-08:00

This first portrait is of Ted Patrick.

Ted enlisted in the army as soon as he had finished high school. As a radio operator who was also part of the force that liberated Holland, Ted witnessed the hardship—and the gratitude—of the civilians there.

Ted recalls a young civilian couple, who gave him shelter in their house for the night. Ted expected to sleep on the floor, but the young couple insisted on giving him their bed. It was the first time in years that he had slept on sheets, and the power of such a simple and unexpected pleasure stays with Ted still. The next morning, the couple had prepared ersatz coffee; before leaving, Ted gave them a pound of coffee, which had been sent to him in a care package from home. Their joy was overwhelming: it was the first coffee they had had in 6 years. It was a poignant moment, and as Ted was leaving, he looked back to see the couple sharing the coffee with their neighbours.

Another veteran who helped to liberate Holland was Cleve Conlon.

Cleve served with the Governor General’s Foot Guards, fighting in Normandy and Holland. Speaking about the liberation of Holland, Cleve describes the unimaginable hardship faced by civilians there:

The towns had been completely devastated—everything that the people had owned had been stolen from them by the German army: bicycles, cars, horses, goats, pigs—any livestock at all. Many of the men had been taken away by the German army, either forced to fight with the army, or put into labour camps to work and support the German war effort. Many young unmarried women had been taken away by the army as well. That left towns full of the elderly, and mothers with small children.

There was so little food, that mothers were feeding tulip bulbs to their children. The Canadian units had cook trucks with them—trucks fitted up with wood stoves where cooks made meals for the troops. When they would set up the trucks, the mayor or burgemeester would ask the troops not to throw anything away, even the garbage. Instead, the troops would put the lid on the garbage bins upside down, and the soldiers would put everything in the lids. Children and adults would come with plates, or anything they had, and scoop the remains in to take home, although many of them were so hungry they just stood there and ate on the spot.

The art of remembrance

2009-11-09T13:47:00.000-08:00

I thought I would devote my blog this week to remembering Canada’s war veterans. Today, I’ll share some info about the National War Memorial, a sculpture entitled The Response.

The Response was commissioned as a memorial to the 60,000 Canadians who died in the First World. It now commemorates all of Canada’s war dead.

The competition for the memorial's design, announced in 1925, was open to British subjects and to subjects of nations allied with the British Empire during the war. It stipulated that, while the spirit of heroism and self-sacrifice should be commemorated, there should be no attempt to glorify war. Vernon March of England was selected for his concept of "the Great Response of Canada," represented by twenty-two members of the main forces in uniform passing through a granite arch.

Symbolically, two 5.33m (17ft 6in) high allegories of peace and freedom stand at the apex of the arch, their proximity to each other representing the inseparability of the two concepts.

To avoid foreshortening from a pedestrian viewpoint, the group of figures is placed at a specific height above street level; each body is approximately 2.4m (7ft 10in) high. At the front are infantrymen; to the left a Lewis gunner, to the right a kilted soldier with a Vickers machine gun. Following these are a pilot in full gear, an air mechanic, and a sailor. Both a cavalryman and a mounted artilleryman are emerging from the arch, side by side, followed by two riflemen pressing through the arch, and behind them are the men and women of the support services, including nurses, a stretcher bearer, and a lumberman.

This is an incredible piece of sculpture, in which the figures have life and movement. Here is a quick sketch of the face of one of the soldiers. After looking at this page in my sketchbook, a friend commented that she could easily imagine this man, sitting at the breakfast table, refusing to talk about the war.

The completion and unveiling of this memorial was delayed for many years, and for many reasons, one of which was the death of the sculptor. The work was completed by the sculptor’s six brothers and one sister, and was finally unveiled in Ottawa and dedicated by King George VI in 1939, less than four months before the outbreak of World War II.

The spirit of Algonquin

2009-10-16T19:47:00.000-07:00

This week, I thought I would blog about Algonquin Park, which is where my truant mind has been all fall. Algonquin holds an important place in Canada's natural and cultural heritage. I was fortunate enough to spend some time in Algonquin Park last month.

These paintings, inspired by the serenity of paddling and hiking in the park, are oil on a canvas. The hiking trails in the park range from difficult terrain, such as steep rocky inclines, to easier paths that follow the abandoned railbeds that run through the landscape. The canoe routes are extensive, and in fact the vast majority of the park can only be accessed this way.

History
Algonquin Provincial Park is Ontario’s oldest and best known park. It was established in 1893 as wildlife sanctuary, and also as means of protecting the headwaters of five major rivers which begin there.

The park is of course famous for its association with Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven. Thomson is probably the most famous painter in Canadian art history, and since his mysterious death in Algonquin Park, has become a legendary figure.

Beginning in 1914, Thomson lived in the park for all the but coldest months of the year. An able outdoorsman, he earned a subsistence living as a guide for the sportsmen who came to the park to hunt and fish. This lifestyle allowed Thomson to live in the environment that he loved, and to study and paint it. He made many small oil paintings on wooden panels that, in the winter months, he used as a reference when painting his larger studio pieces.

Thomson died suddenly at the age of 39; he drowned in Algonquin's Canoe Lake, where today there is a cairn in his memory.

The plaque on the cairn is beautiful. It reads:

"He lived humbly but passionately with the wild. It made him brother to all untamed things of nature. It drew him apart and revealed itself wonderfully to him. It sent him out from the woods only to show these revelations through his art and it took him to itself at last."

To see images of Tom Thomson's work and learn more about his life, click here.

Passion, betrayal . . . and a double chin

2009-09-14T12:43:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the Bernini exhibit that was held earlier this year at the National Gallery of Canada. Here is another drawing that I did of one of Bernini’s marble sculptures. This beautiful sculpture has a tumultuous and rather horrid story associated with it. . .

The woman that Bernini portrayed in this sculpture is Costanza Bonarelli. Costanza, who was married to one of the assistants in Bernini’s studio, was also Bernini’s lover. The sculpture that Bernini carved of Costanza is quite amazing, for a variety of reasons.

First, it is telling that Bernini chose to sculpt Costanza in marble. Marble was an expensive material, and for Bernini to have kept such are large a piece of marble for his own purposes would have been a luxury indeed. He could have easily drawn or painted his mistress (as most artists did!), since he was an accomplished painter as well. Here, for instance, is his self-portrait, painted in oil.
So . . . Bernini must have felt passionately about Costanza to have devoted the many hours and considerable expense to the luxury of sculpting a portrait of her for his personal satisfaction.

Another thing to notice about this sculpture is its feeling of intimacy. Costanza’s lips are parted, a lock of her plaited hair falls on the nape of her neck, and her chemise falls open. Her gaze is direct, not lowered. This is definitely not the accepted way that women were portrayed in the 17th century!

Even after hundreds of years, the sculpture reveals the passion of this relationship. Imagine, then, how betrayed Bernini felt when he discovered that Costanza was having an affair with his brother. Bernini, having heard rumours of the relationship, decided to find out the truth. He feigned an out-of-town journey, and then watched Costanza’s house early one morning, where he discovered his brother issuing out the door. Costanza was bidding him goodbye in her nightdress. Enraged, Bernini chased his brother through the streets in an attempt to beat him with a crowbar; the brother managed to take sanctuary in a church (albeit with broken ribs), leaving Bernini kicking on the door.

What happened next is truly appalling. Bernini paid a servant to go to Costanza’s house and cut her face with a razor, permanently disfiguring her. The servant carried out the attack. In the aftermath of this violence, Bernini’s brother was exiled for his own safety, Costanza was sent to prison for adultery and fornication, the servant went to jail for his actions, and Bernini was fined 3000 scudi, approximately the price of one of his sculptures. Bernini did not have to pay, however; the Pope pardoned him and instead ordered Bernini to marry (the assumption being that a wife would provide moral ballast).

As I was standing in the gallery, sketching this portrait bust, I overheard a conversation between two other gallery-goers. One woman, and after giving Costanza a brief but searching look, said to the other: “She’s not very attractive to have caused all that trouble. She has a double chin.” The other woman nodded her agreement and they moved on to the next sculpture.

2009-08-17T10:05:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I was sketching on a small island in the St Lawrence River. I did this quick drawing of a windswept tree in pen in ink, and then painted it with watercolour washes.

A little bit of history . . .

Pen and ink drawings—either by themselves, or with washes of watercolour—are quite traditional. Ink has a long history, dating back more than 40 centuries. The ancient Egyptians made the first black ink by mixing lampblack (a fine soot) with a vegetable gum. They made their ink into a solid block or stick that would be mixed with water when used.

The ancient Romans developed a purple ink called encaustum, from which the word ink is derived, and also made a dark brown ink called sepia from dried, powdered cuttlefish ink-sacs.

Today, artist-quality ink is available in a wide range of colours—everything from oranges and yellows, to purples and greens. My own favourites include antelope brown, which is a very warm colour, and sepia, which is sourced from synthetics these days, rather than from cuttle fish!!

My scanner seems to have malfunctioned, so while all the drawings here appear to be drawn in black ink, they were all drawn using sepia ink. No cuttle fish were harmed in the making of this art.

Technique

Ink is a versatile medium; artists working in ink can achieve a variety of effects by using different drawing techniques. In traditional pen and ink drawings, artists apply ink with a dip pen to create fine lines and dots. Artists can use a variety of pen nibs to get heavy or broad lines or very delicate lines. The light areas of a picture are achieved by spacing the dots or lines far apart; dots or lines placed close together are used to create dark areas. Broad areas of ink, called washes, can also be applied using a paintbrush dipped in ink. Another option is to use watercolour paints to wash colour over a pen and ink drawing.

Past masters

Although pen and ink drawings are not often seen any more, pen and ink was a very popular medium in the past. Claude Lorrain (1660 – 1682) was a master who worked in oil as well as in pen and ink. To see samples of Claude Lorrain's work, check out the online gallery at the Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco.

Portrait drawings in bistre

2009-08-10T12:29:00.000-07:00

Here are two portraits that I drew recently, using Carbothello pastel pencils. The Carbothellos are chalk pastels, and have a lovely texture to work with.

The colour is called bistre. It is a dark greyish-brown, and has a yellowish cast, although the yellowish tint is not really visible in these drawings. The yellowish cast is more obvious in paintings or pen and ink drawings, where the pigment is more transparent. Also, I’ve used a toned paper here, in a colour called Felt Grey, which darkens the effect as well.

Bistre is a very traditional pigment, and has been used by artists for hundreds of years. So what is bistre? The bistre pigment was originally made from soot. The soot came from burning or charring beechwood. I hope that my pencils were made from synthetic pigments, and that no trees were charred in the making of these portraits!

Bernini exhibition at the National Gallery of Canada

2009-08-04T08:23:00.000-07:00

This is a little sketch that I did while I was visiting the Bernini exhibit at the National Gallery of Canada earlier this year. I was sketching the marbles, and this one was so rushed that, looking at it now, I see that I didn’t even record the title of this piece. It was getting close to closing time on a Saturday, and the guards were hovering around me in a way that plainly meant it was time for me to go.

At any rate, I think that this little sketch gives an idea of why Bernini’s sculptures are so innovative and so masterful. If I didn’t tell you that this was a drawing of a marble bust, I don’t think you’d guess. That’s because Bernini has captured much of the individual—it’s much more than a likeness. The sculpture conveys a sense of character and there is even the appearance of life in this face. Often, marble sculptures are skillful depictions of a person’s features, but when you’re viewing them, they give no feeling of a living, breathing person. Bernini’s sculptures look as though they are about to speak to you.

Here’s how the gallery’s curators describe Bernini’s style:

“Thanks to his virtuosic skill, Bernini seems to effortlessly capture different textures and surfaces: silk, cotton, lace, and fur are distinguished, and made to seem unique, particular to that piece of clothing itself. A figure’s flesh is not generic, but specific to him or her: smooth, young, old, lined, tired, healthy, or taut. In Bernini’s hands, everything about a sculpture is particular, unique, and individual. It was more difficult to capture character, and even harder to bring marble to life. Bernini’s innovation lay in chosing to show his sitters caught in a moment in time – engaged in an action which would remain forever open and incomplete, and which calls out for our active participation. Sitters speak, or listen; they motion to us, or bless us; they catch our eyes; one turns, apparently startled. Bernini creates little dramas – stories which involve sculpture and viewer, assigning each their role to play.”

There lots of information about Gian Lorenzo Bernini on the net. One good source is the Virtual Uffizi:

http://www.virtualuffizi.com/biography/Gian-Lorenzo-Bernini.htm

You can also read a bio of Bernini here:

http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/bio/b/bernini/gianlore/biograph.html

Natalie MacLean's Drinks Matcher

2009-07-23T14:44:00.001-07:00

Here's a little still life that I painted in oil. The best part about doing a study like this is that you get to eat and drink the props when the painting is done!

Art, food, wine . . . they all go together! That’s why I posted Natalie MacLean’s Wine & Food Matcher widget on my blog. It is a great tool for figuring out what to serve. You can either start your search with the type of food you want to serve, and find a wine to pair with it, or you can search on a type of wine and find the food that best matches it.

I’ve posted the tool on the left side of this blog. It doesn’t display quite correctly—you’ll see that the right side of the buttons are cut off a bit—but don’t worry, it will work anyway.

Natalie left a comment, asking if I had a favourite match. Well, there are two matches that I particularly like, both of which I found using the tool. Here they are:

The Matcher suggests pairing an off-dry or white zinfandel with barbeque chicken, but also suggests light salads, and spice such as curry powder. So . . . I tossed grilled chicken with a curried-lime dressing to make a salad, and served it with the Cave Spring white zinfandel. Tasted like a summer evening!

The Matcher also suggested pairing a baco noir with vegetables and chili peppers. That suggestion made me think that baco noir might stand up well to a bowl of chili, which can be difficult to match wine with. Every time I ask for a recommendation of which wine to serve with chili, the answer is invariably “beer.” Not being a beer drinker, I wanted to find a wine to serve with chili instead. I served the chili with Ancient Coast and think the pairing worked well.

Portrait 5: Lloyd

2007-10-26T12:19:00.000-07:00

Here is the latest drawing in my series of portraits of WWII veterans.

This portrait is of Lloyd, who served in the artillery during the war.

When Lloyd and his regiment shipped out from Canada, they sailed on the Aquitania, which had been a cruise ship that was pressed into military service as a troop transport. The ship had not yet been refitted and had its peace-time crew: Lloyd said that the waiters served the soldiers in the dining room, and they ate off nice china for the entire voyage. The soldiers joked and said how glad they were that they had joined the army.

Lloyd’s regiment was sent to Italy. The Canadians were transported to Italy on a so-called “liberty ship,” which again, was a civilian ship that was pressed into military service. The ship was part of a convoy in the Mediterranean, and the ship that Lloyd’s regiment was on was bound for Catania, in Sicily. German bombers attacked the convoy, and the ships all went in different directions: some to Malta, some to North Africa. The ship that Lloyd was on went to Palermo. Palermo had only very recently been taken by the Americans (by Patton, in fact) and so the Canadians joined the Americans there. They camped in an old quarry that first night, but someone, sympathetic to the fascist cause, pushed boulders down into the quarry, and one of the men in Lloyd’s regiment had his leg crushed, which had to be amputated. Another soldier was killed by the falling boulders and it was the regiment’s first casualty of the war. The question was how to get the Canadians from Palermo to Catania, where they needed to be. The Americans had a general with them who spoke Italian, and who went to the local priest and asked for help. The priest worked with the mafia and arranged two things to help the soldiers: a freight train, and a crew to run the train. The mafia arranged the train, and the Canadians finally made it to Catania.

Lifedrawing

2007-09-08T13:27:00.001-07:00

Today’s drawings are definitely not part of my war veteran portrait series! These are studies that I drew yesterday using sepia chalk on coloured paper. I’ve used a pale yellow chalk to create the highlights.

Drawing the human figure—called lifedrawing—is a time-honoured way for artists to hone their skills. And there’s a good reason for that: lifedrawing allows artists to practice their ability to observe and then render those observations in a way that is meaningful and expressive. Artists throughout history have drawn the human body to express ideas about beauty, and also about human experience and human potential.

Drawing the human body presents a challenge: although we all share the same underlying structure in terms of bones and muscles, every single body is unique. And that, in a nutshell, is why lifedrawing can be so compelling. The human body is universal—it’s “where we live” and comes within everyone’s knowledge and realm of experience—and yet despite that sense of being universal and common to everyone, there is the fact that the figure portrayed is an individual, and unique.

I’ve had people ask me why I draw nude models—some people in my social circle even think it’s a bit strange. But to me, it’s a very positive statement to look at a person—bereft of all material things, and social indicators like clothing—and see that person just as he or she is. From that viewpoint, drawing the human body is an affirmation.

Portrait 4: Harry

2007-08-15T18:23:00.000-07:00

It’s Wednesday, and time to post the next portrait in the series.

This portrait is of Harry, who served in the RCAF as an armourer, loading bombs into the aircraft and maintaining and arming their guns.

Harry, who is now almost 90, has a great smile, and I hope that his charm comes through in the portrait that I have drawn of him. From my sessions with Harry and his wife, I think there’s something a dare-devil spirit in Harry, which I hope I’ve captured a hint of.

One of Harry’s memories of the war years was when he was stationed in England. There was a problem with the rear gun turret on one of the bombers, and the pilot took Harry up in the plane so that he could try to find the cause of the problem. The pilot warned Harry that he would probably be air-sick because they would be doing a lot of manoeuvres. When Harry said that he didn’t get air-sick, he challenged the pilot to a bet, saying: “I’ll be you a pound that I can scare you quicker on the back of a motorcycle than you can scare me in this aircraft.” The bet was on! Harry made it through the flight without being scared or ill, and when they landed, Harry got his motorbike and the pilot sat on the back. Harry opened the throttle and rode right under the aircraft, between the landing wheels. The pilot gave Harry the pound, but said it was only because he had done a good job fixing the turret.

Stories from the homefront

2007-07-30T07:48:00.001-07:00

Since my last few posts have been about women’s contributions the war effort, this seems like a good time to write about my aunts, who worked in aircraft factories during the war years.

I grew up surrounded by stories, and the stories that my aunts told me about the war years continue to have their influence today . . . those stories captured my imagination and are a large part of what compelled me to begin this project. Indeed, one of my hopes in creating this project is to hear more such stories along the way.

My aunts worked in aircraft factories, welding Lancaster bombers at Victory Aircraft in Malton. The factory in Malton had approximately 3300 employees, and one quarter of those were women. My one aunt always told me that when she welded the aluminum, which is very difficult to weld, the welded seam was just like handwriting—it was unique to the person who created it. She always swore that she could always recognize her own welding, even after the lapse of decades.

Amid the anxiety and upheaval of the war years, the worry about loved ones and the uncertainty of the future, my aunts found a kind of independence, as did so many women. Working in factories, at jobs that were traditionally held by men, my aunts learned new skills. Those skills brought more than a paycheque—they brought a measure of self-assurance, and a sense of having something to contribute.

My aunts’s stories ranged from life in the factories—singing somewhat bawdy songs, reading each other’s love-letters from the front, and rollerskating in the plant—to dealing with shortages of silk and other goods. The shortage of silk, which was being used for parachutes, meant that there were no silk stockings to wear; my aunts told me that they covered their legs with makeup, and used an eyebrow pencil to draw a seam up the back, so that it would look they were wearing stockings when they went out. This was a great solution, except for when one of my aunts went dancing with a sailor, who ended up with make-up smeared across his whites when my aunt sat on his knee . . .

I’ll close off today’s posting with a drawing that one of my aunts did in the '40s . . . I love this drawing because it reminds me of my aunts’ stories, and besides—who can resist those argyle socks??

Women in the Forces

2007-07-26T19:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I posted my portrait of Gladys, who served in the Women’s Division of the RCAF. The Air Force was the first branch of the military to accept women; other branches soon followed.

Here is a picture from the Globe and Mail, dated October 21, 1943. It shows women who were being trained in the RCAF's School of Photography in Ottawa.

For anyone interested in the role that women played during the Second World War, CBC has an excellent archive, called On Every Front: Canadian Women in the Second World War . It contains radio clips about how homemakers could help the war effort, as well as about women who drove ambulances, worked as nurses, and worked at skilled jobs in factories. One radio clip, from an October 1942 broadcast, gives the example of two women who joined the RCAF: one is “a former Eaton's parcel inspector who is now a weather observer” and the other is “a woman who once packed coffee but now packs bullets.”

But by far, my favourite clip in the CBC archives has to be Dames in the Navy. Seriously, that’s the title. Click here to listen.

Portrait 3: Gladys

2007-07-25T18:30:00.000-07:00

It's Wednesday . . . time to post another portrait in my series of World War II veterans.

This week's portrait is of Gladys, who served in the Women's Division of the RCAF. She was quite warm and enthusiastic when she met me to pose for this portrait, and I hope some of that warmth and energy comes through in my drawing of her.

Gladys has kept a wonderful scrapbook of her years in the service. Until I met her, I was not aware of the wide variety of tasks that women in the RCAF performed.

The Women's Division was formed so that women could take over tasks normally done by men, thereby making the men available for combat duty, and to work as flight instructors and train more pilots for the war effort. The women worked as service police, parachute riggers, clerks, photographers, air photo interpreters, and wireless operators. Approximately 17,000 women served with the Women's Division before it was discontinued in December 1946.

The Women's Division motto was We Serve That Men May Fly.

Exhibit of portraits by F H Varley

2007-07-24T08:51:00.000-07:00

In my last post, I mentioned that Frederick Varley had served as one of Canada’s Official War Artists. Since an exhibit of Varley’s portraits is currently on show in Markham, and will be travelling to other locations in Canada, I thought that now would be a good time to write a bit more about him . . .

Varley immigrated to Canada from England in 1912, finding work at a commercial art firm in Toronto. It was in Toronto that Varley met a circle of artists that included J. E. H. MacDonald, Lawren Harris, Tom Tomson, and Franklin Carmichael. (Incidentally, Varley met some of these men through his membership in the Arts and Letters Club. I’ll be attending a portrait workshop at the Arts and Letters club in September, so maybe his spirit will guide my brush!) Anyhow, it was not long before he was sketching and painting the landscapes that are now synonymous with the Group of Seven, like this painting of Georgian Bay, which is in the collection of the National Gallery of Canada.

Aside from his landscape work, Varley was an enormously talented portrait artist. His portraits are sensitive, closely observed works. This self-portrait, with its bold brushwork, is full of character and spirit.

The current exhibition, which is on now at the Varley Gallery in Markham, is the first time that Varley’s portraits have been the focus of a show. The exhibition will continue in Markham until September, and then the collection will travel across the country, with stops in Fredericton, Edmonton, Kelowna, and Ottawa. When the exhibit comes to Ottawa, it will be shown at the Canadian Museum of Nature, due to the fact that we do not yet have a home for our own National Portrait Gallery . . . but that is a topic (or more accurately, a rant) for another day . . .

Canada's War Artists: a rich history

2007-07-20T06:25:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week, I posted my portrait of Robert Hyndman, who was one of Canada’s Official War Artists. Today, I thought I’d write about some of Canada’s other Official War Artists. It’s a rich history . . .

Carl Shaefer was an art instructor at Central Technical School when Robert Hyndman was a student there. Shaefer, in his turn, had trained at the Ontario College of Art, where he was taught by Group of Seven artists J E H MacDonald and Arthur Lismer . Lismer, in fact, had been an Official War Artist in WWI, along with other Group of Seven Members Frederick Varley and A Y Jackson .

Shaefer was appointed as a war artist with the RCAF, and left a legacy of more than 200 paintings, sketchbooks, and diaries from the war years. One of my favourites is Marshalling Lancasters Against Stuttgart, in the collection of the Canadian War Museum. (I particularly like depictions of Lancasters. My aunts helped build the Lancaster bombers; they were welders during the war years. But I’ll save that for a future blog.) You can see some of Carl Shaefer’s work, and find out more about his war service, by clicking here.

Another one of Canada’s Official War Artists was Alex Colville .
His work is widely recognized today; one example is To Prince Edward Island, shown at right. In addition to his well-known paintings, Colville was commissioned by the Mint to design coins for Canada’s centennial.

Commander Anthony (Tony) Law served on MTBs (mentioned in my earlier blog of July 11 ) and worked as a professional artist as well. You can see samples of his work, in the Collection of the Canadian War Museum, by clicking here.

Many other artists served during the wars and created rich and compelling records . . . I’ll visit them in future blogs. In the meantime, if you’d like to find out more, there’s a good starting point here.

Portrait 2: Robert Hyndman

2007-07-18T06:05:00.000-07:00

This morning, I'm posting the second portrait in my "veterans of WWII" series.

The gentleman in the portrait, Robert Hyndman, was not only an air force pilot, but also served as one of Canada's Official War Artists.

Canada appointed 31 Official War Artists in WWII. These artists had the task of painting the activities of the armed forces at home and overseas.

Robert trained as an artist before the war, studying art at Central Technical School in Toronto, and in London, England at what is now the Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design.

With war looming, Hyndman returned to Canada in 1939 and joined the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF). He served as a flight instructor and later flew Spitfires on bombing runs over the English Channel.

At the end of his tour, in which he flew 155 missions over France and the Netherlands, Robert was appointed an Official War Artist. He created a total of 68 paintings during his appointment. Most of Robert Hyndman's war art is portraiture—he painted portraits many air force commanders— but he also captured his experiences as a pilot, and these paintings are perhaps his best-known works. When I visited Robert in his studio, he showed me a picture that he had drawn when he was a child of 7 or 8 years old; this drawing shows diving planes, strangely similar to what he would witness—and record—as an adult.

This painting, like all works created by Official War Artists, belongs to the Government of Canada. You can find this painting at the Canadian War Musuem.

You can find Robert at the Ottawa School of Art, where he still teaches, sharing his passion with others . . .

Sanguine

2007-07-16T13:30:00.000-07:00

Some of my portraits are drawn using a colour of chalk called sanguine. It's a warm, reddish-orange colour—think of old bricks and you'll get the idea—and people often ask about it because it seems to them an unconventional colour for a portrait.

In fact, sanguine is a very traditional colour to use for portraits and for figure drawings. It is a chalk or clay that is naturally tinted with iron oxide, which produces a warm, soft tone for drawing. Sanguine was widely used for drawing beginning in Italy in the 15th and 16th centuries, and artists have been using it ever since. The use of sanguine probably began in Italy because it was first mined there. Michaelangelo used it in his drawings of male figures, like the one shown here:

If you look up the word sanguine in the dictionary, you'll see that means a few different things:

1) having the colour of blood; red

2) having a healthy colour or a ruddy complexion

3) cheerfully confident; optimistic

So how does a word that's associated with blood also become associated with a happy temperment? Here's some word history . . .

The similarity in form between sanguine, “cheerfully optimistic,” and sanguinary, “bloodthirsty,” may prompt one to wonder how they have come to have such different meanings. The explanation lies in medieval physiology with its notion of the four humors or bodily fluids (blood, bile, phlegm, and black bile). The relative proportions of these fluids was thought to determine a person's temperament. If blood was the predominant humor, one had a ruddy face and a disposition marked by courage, hope, and a readiness to fall in love. Such a temperament was therefore called sanguine.

Chiaroscuro: a traditional portraiture technique

2007-07-13T06:49:00.000-07:00

There are many techniques available to the portrait artist, and one of my favourites is chiaroscuro.

Chiaroscuro is an Italian word that translates as clear-dark. With this technique, the artist relies on the depiction of light and shadow to indicate the form of the subject—forms could include such things as facial features, the human figure, or still-life objects.

Leonardo da Vinci pioneered this technique in the Renaissance. Early chiaroscuro drawings were done on toned paper, with one light chalk (such as white) and one dark chalk (such as dark red, sepia, or charcoal). Here is Leonardo’s self-portrait, drawn in red chalk on toned paper.

Many artists after Leonardo made effective use of this technique, but one of the most notable among them is Rembrandt. Here is one of Rembrandt’s many self-portraits. Look at the way that Rembrandt has used shadow on his face to indicate the size and shape of his facial features. Today, we are used to seeing photographs where the subject is flooded with light from a camera flash, but shadows tell us a lot about the shape and size of the thing that casts them, and are an effective element in a fine art portrait.

Here is a portrait that I drew using the chiaroscuro technique. This portrait is approximately 14 x 20 inches, and is done using the traditional red chalk on toned paper.

And finally, here is my Leonardo da Vinci action figure, who stands on my easel and keeps an eye on my work.

Lakes named after fallen WWII soldiers

2007-07-12T06:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I posted my portraits of a veteran who had served on motor torpedo boats. This gentleman is originally from Saskatchewan, and while we were chatting and getting ready for the portrait session, he told me that the province had named a lake, river, or island for every one of its soldiers who were lost in the war. There is a lake in Saskatchewan, he told me, named for his brother, and also one for his best friend.

Did other provinces do this? I haven't been able to find references to this practice other than in Saskatchewan. When I was poking around the internet, trying to find out more, I came across the website of Doug Chisholm , a bush pilot in Northern Saskatchewan who has taken aerial photographs of almost all of the lakes, rivers, and islands named as memorials for fallen soldiers. Doug has researched the names of these servicemen, and has collected some of the photos, along with the stories of more than 70 servicemen, in a book called Their Names Live On.

Here is an excerpt from the introduction to the book:

"My research into Saskatchewan's geo-memorial sites has brought me in touch with hundreds of families who have shared their reflections of those war years and have taught me a lot. Saskatchewan young people enlisted from the cities, the universities, the farms, the Indian reserves, and the rural communities- 91,000 in all, roughly ten percent of the province's population. Many were single and left behind parents and younger siblings. Some left fiancées, others left a young wife with a son or daughter . . . For the groundswell of new recruits, Saskatchewan would become but a distant memory as they found themselves far from their hometowns. Once they enlisted, their training at bases across Canada changed keen young prairie boys into young men. When training in Canada was complete, they were off to England for more training or for duties in support of the war effort. Those who remained at home remember the fears and the tears, the prayers, cold winter nights, rations, nightly radio broadcasts, socks knitted, packages sent, and letters received from overseas. Some also received telegrams of regret from King George VI; some families would receive two such telegrams, and one Saskatchewan family would receive three.

In 1999, I visited the Canadian Plains Research Centre at the University of Regina, and, there, a discussion about my research evolved into a discussion about a book. I feel honoured to share some of my aerial photo images of those geo-memorial sites, together with a collection of individual stories and family photos. It is hoped that these powerful images will reach beyond immediate family members, filtering out to extended families across the province and across the country. It is the younger generations who must be given these stories so they, too, can remember. Written by Gerald Hill, the stories told in these pages are but seventy-eight of the hundreds of stories which families have openly shared with me. Indeed, for many families, even those who in earlier times chose not to discuss their experiences from the war years, it is now time to pass on these memories to future generations. Sadly, the stories of some 3,800 men and women will, in fact, never be told, because those who once remembered them are themselves gone. While their stories are gone, however, their names live on - in Saskatchewan's official gazetteer, on the province's map, and in the quiet beauty of our remote islands, lakes, and bays."

Portrait 1: Don

2007-07-11T06:08:00.000-07:00

Here is the first portrait in my series of veterans from the Second World War. Actually, I'm posting two portraits, both of the same sitter.

The gentleman who posed for these portraits is now 85, and during the war, he served on motor torpedo boats (known as MTBs). Here's a bit of background. . .

When WWII began, the Canadian Navy had only 13 vessels, but by the end of the war had 450 ships. Although some existing ships were pressed into service, most warships had to be built. Among those were the MTBs, which were small, fast attack ships designed for use in shallow waters.

They were equipped with a 6-pound pom-pom gun and small-calibre automatic weapons, and armed with torpedoes, although those could be replaced by depth charges. The Canadian MTBs operated in the English Channel, mainly at night, when it was their job to intercept German convoys, and to fight their enemy counterpart, the E-boats.

On D-Day, the two Canadian flotillas protected the flanks of the landing beaches and attempted to block enemy harbours.

Here is what the MTBs looked like:

Portraiture: past and present

2007-07-10T04:46:00.000-07:00

Portraiture today is very different than portraiture in the past. Traditionally, the goal of the portrait was to show the social status and the wealth of the person depicted; often the background was an important element because it contained references to the person’s worldly status—their wealth, occupation, and so on.

In Renaissance Italy, for example, several portraits were painted of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici. One portrait—believed to be commissioned to celebrate Cosimo’s wedding—depicts the duke as the mythological god Orpheus. This depiction was meant to send an important message: Orpheus was a peacemaker, a devoted husband, and a renowned musician and poet. This was an image that Cosimo very much wanted to share; he had become duke after his predecessor was assassinated—part of a long history of brutality and absolutism—and Cosimo wanted to portray himself as a new and peaceful ruler. The association with Orpheus also identified Cosimo as a patron of the arts. So you can see that the real subject of this portrait was Cosimo’s political position—the subject was not Cosimo the man.

Today, portraiture is much more about capturing the essence of the individual. With the wide availability of cameras, people can capture a likeness in the form of a snapshot at any time—for that reason, a capturing a likeness in a portrait is not viewed as sufficient in contemporary portraiture. The challenge for the artist is not only to represent a likeness, but rather to capture the spirit of the individual, and depict that person’s uniqueness. Modern portraits are often described as psychological because of their tendency to focus on personality and character.

John Singer Sargent was one of the greatest artists—perhaps the greatest portrait artist—to ever capture a psychological aspect in his portraits. There are lots of examples of Sargent's work online, but three of my favourites are on the website of the National Gallery of Scotland. You can click to enlarge these works and have a good look. The personalities in these portraits shines through.

See examples of Sargent's work at the National Gallery of Scotland.

The portrait of Cosimo is in the collection of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. To see Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici as Orpheus, click here.

Welcome to the Portrait Project

2007-07-09T16:49:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been thinking about starting a blog for quite a while now, and so today I am finally taking the plunge . . .

I'm a Canadian artist and I'm working on a project at the moment that I thought other people might like to have a peek at as it progresses. My project is to create portraits of local WWII veterans and post the portraits, along with some stories, in this space.

Every year, as I watch the Rememberance Day ceremonies, I look at the faces around me, and think about the interesting experiences and the stories behind those faces. The desire to hear those stories, and to know more about those experiences, is really what has prompted this project.

Early this year, I started out by calling the local branch of the Legion, and asking for willing victims to sit for me. That generated quite a surprising list, and I have started to cold-call people (which I hate doing!!) to set up meetings. I'm so uncomfortable making cold-calls, that I had to bribe myself---promising myself cookies and other such treats, in exchange for making the calls. So, several boxes of cookies and a few pounds later, my project is underway.

Please come back to check out the first portrait in the series, which I'll be posting soon.