Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Koch Hopper Paitings to Addison Art Gallery


Philip Koch, Rooms by the Sea III, oil on panel,  8 2/3 x 13", 2014

Last week I sent three of my oils up to Addison Art Gallery in Orleans, MA on Cape Cod. They will be shown as part of the Gallery's two year long After Hopper project in conjunction with the Cape Cod Museum of Art in Dennis, MA. 



Edward Hopper (with Jo Hopper in the background)
sitting in front of the Truro studio in a photo by Arnold Newman

In 1983 I began a long series of residencies in Edward Hopper's studio. He chose to build it high on the ridge of a sand dune overlooking Cape Cod Bay in S. Truro. The artist had scouted out the location in 1930 during his first extended stay on Cape Cod. He even lovingly painted the site that would later be home to his studio in his 1930 oil Hills, South Truro  pictured below (now in the Cleveland Museum of Art). It suited the reclusive Hopper perfectly as back then the Cape was a far lonelier place. 





My painting Rooms by the Sea III was painted on location in the large painting room Hopper reserved for himself ( he made his wife Jo, also an artist, paint in the small bedroom and kitchen).  The view is of the doorway leading to his bedroom on the left and on the right his Dutch door leading out towards the Bay. This is the same corner of his painting room that inspired his famous oil Rooms by the Sea shown below (now in the art museum at Yale).






The following oil was made looking through the other doorway into the bedroom- I had set up my easel in the kitchen and decided to focus on the wonderful rhythms of the three open doors. The light in the bedroom floods in from Hopper's huge painting room.




Philip Koch, Edward Hopper's Bedroom, Truro, MA, oil on
panel, 10 x 5", 2011


The most recent of the three oils at Addison Art Gallery is this oil below painted with my easel set up in the room where Hopper slept half of each year for 3 decades. It shows the two doors pictured in the background of the above painting seen from a different angle. 

In the distance at the right is the easel Hopper used. It's an ordinary wooden easel like one can buy today from any art supply store.  Its ordinariness belies the amazing work that was created on it. At the left is the view out the bedroom window that greeted Hopper each morning when he woke up.




Philip Koch, Truro Studio Bedroom & Easel,  oil on panel
7 x 10 1/2", 2015

I am often asked what I've discovered about Hopper by staying and working in his studio 15 separate times over the years. More than anything I've been struck by the unpretentious beauty of the studio and the sweeping views it afforded Hopper. Yet Hopper did almost no paintings of either the impressive immediate surroundings or of the studio itself. Instead he was committed to searching out subjects at a distance from the studio. He drove around the outer Cape a lot, always on high alert for just the right material to express his deep inner feeling. One reason Hopper painted so well was he kept looking longer, searching with a remarkably sharpened selectivity

Here's a photo my wife Alice snapped of me walking up the winding path that leads up to the studio from the beach far below. The path was made by Edward and Jo Hopper picking their way down the steep sides of their sand dune to reach the shore. All these years later Edward and Jo are gone, but the path remains.




Save the Date: 
Philip Koch talk at the Cape Cod Museum of Art

On Thursday, Sept. 3 I'll be giving a slide talk on Hopper's life on Cape Cod and my residencies in the Hopper studio. Here is a link for more information- http://www.addisonart.com/event/after-hopper-philip-koch-slide-talk/

Sunday, May 10, 2015

If Watercolor Doesn't Kill You It Will Make You Stronger, Part III: Charles Burchfield



Charles Burchfield drawing out of doors in the winter near Buffalo, NY
(All these images are courtesy the Burchfield Penney Art Center,  Buffalo, NY).


Last week I was the featured speaker at the Baltimore Watercolor Society's Annual Dinner. We had a great audience of 80 some people. I showed watercolors by Winslow Homer, Edward Hopper (OK, no surprise there) and Charles Burchfield. 

I saved Burchfield for last as I suspected he was the least well known of the three.  Several people approached me after the talk to say they'd never seen Burchfield's work before and wanted to know where to go to see more. (I recommend the Burchfield Penney Art Center's website which is where I obtained these images).


Deserted Miner's Home, 1918 Burchfield Penney Art Center


In his spooky Deserted Miner's Home the house and barn seem to almost scream out at us through gaping mouths. Yet nearly nightmarish drama is counter posed to an almost monochrome restraint throughout the rest of the painting. Burchfield is almost always like this- offering us something nearly over the top in each painting but always stopping just short of overdoing it. He is a master of balancing the conflicting needs for drama and for stability and making things plausible.





Charles Burchfield, Marshy Meadows, 1916,  Burchfield Penney Art Center

Burchfield's Marshy Meadows radically shifts gears between a spring-like green valley and a far distant hillside whose color palette belongs more to January. I think it's his skill in repeating the same rhythms with his brush through the whole painting that makes you accept his impossible color fantasy.


His watercolor Sleet Storm below is typically for Burchfield chock full of rooftops, snowdrifts and seemingly innumerable little branches. There is a constant artful adjustment going on through the painting as the artist kept changing the color of his trees, from black trunks, to a whole range of mid grey to white little branches. Think how overloaded the painting would have felt if he'd stayed with all dark tones for the trees. Once again, elegant restraint.



Charles Burchfield, Sleet Storm, 1920Burchfield Penney Art Center


Here's a totally wild painting from later in Burchfield's life.




Charles Burchfield, Wind Blown Asters, 1951, Burchfield
Penney Art Center

Populating his foreground are the most fantastical assortment of blossoms, butterfly wings and profoundly strange eye-like calligraphy at the left. It seems almost a menagerie.

But behind all this chaos a much more peaceful middle ground space restores peace to the picture. And the far distance is an expanse of unruffled smooth washes. In many ways spatially it's a very traditional panorama, but with Burchfield's signature imagination in full swing.



Unlike most watercolorists, Burchfield preferred to work in the studio with his paintings held vertically on an easel instead of laying them down nearly horizontal. When one sees his work in person one is struck that he mostly used a well-loaded brush to accomplish big free-flowing strokes. Curiously he almost never has accidental drips of color falling across his paintings. He had his brush handling down pat.

Below is an unfinished piece by the artist where he cut an earlier painting in half and was in the process of adding an additional panel to it at the left.


Charles Burchfield, Easter Morning in the Wood, Right Side,
Burchfield Penny Art Center

In the artist's day watercolors were modestly scaled things- rarely over 20" or so in width. Burchfield changed that. He loved nothing better than revisiting earlier watercolors by fixing adjoining sheets of paper to them, expanding their scale sometimes to the 40" or even 60". 

A consummate craftsman, he developed a technique of using a mat cutting tool to cut diagonal beveled edges on his sheets of watercolor paper so they could smoothly lie over and under each other. You have to stand very close to one of his watercolors to see just where these seams are. 

Sunday, May 3, 2015

If Watercolor Doesn't Kill You It Will Make You Stronger, Part Two- Edward Hopper




One of the three American watercolorists I'm going to be talking about this coming week when I give a talk to the Baltimore Watercolor Society is Edward Hopper. The example of his works was my greatest teacher when I was a young artist.

There he is above giving the camera his typically gruff demeanor. Behind him looms the studio in Truro, MA on Cape Cod that he and his wife Jo lived in for half of each year for some thirty years.

Below is a watercolor he made of Jo as she sat drawing on a chest in front of the studio's 10' tall north-facing window seen in the photo above. (During one of my 15 residencies in Hopper's studio I discovered the same chest now resides in the studio's basement).





While not a complete painting his watercolor shows Hopper's characteristic love of clearly defined spaces with solid forms bathed under a strong light. 




Here's yours truly sitting in front of the same window last fall. The individual panes of glass had to be replaced, but the feeling of the space is just as Hopper showed us.

In 1931 Hopper found this view about a half mile south of where he would build his studio. His watercolor Roofs of the Cobb Barn puts his radical selectivity on full display.






It's a masterful rearrangement of his darks and lights. The main  story was heightening the drama of the irregular diagonal roofs. So Hopper reserves his lightest tones and most cool colors for them alone. Always as a painter I have to temporarily forget what I am painting to better focus on how it is to be painted- often these questions are answered by looking at the image up-side-down.




Look at how he maneuvers his darkest darks to be right next to the highlighted roofs. Further still, how Hopper subtlely darkened his sky. 


The very first Hopper watercolor I saw in the flesh is this crisp painting, a view of Gloucester, MA that's now in the Wichita Art Museum. To me it seems he painted a stand off between the imposing white house and the prominent telephone pole. You can read my thoughts on its composition in a short blog post  I wrote here.




Adams House, 1928


One of the things I so love about Hopper is how he realized how much more unexpected and even strange reality can be. Here's a totally wild watercolor that Hopper made in Vermont. He fell in love with the silhouette of this insanely steep hill and wanted his painting to convey that feeling. 



Bob Slater's Hill, 1938

So he reserves all the cool blues to only the far distance- they serve to push the warm hillside forward as if into our faces. Within the hillside he gives us a whole world of warm greens. He lightens up the individual shadows each tree casts because he doesn't want dark shadows to break up the massiveness of the hill. 

I learned about this painting from the author Bonnie Clause. She's done extensive research on the little-known time Hopper spent in Vermont painting landscapes. My wife and I made to trip a couple of years ago to a show of Hopper's Vermont watercolors Bonnie helped to make happen at Middlebury College Museum of Art. I recommend her website and her book.

One of the great privileges I've enjoyed during my residencies in Hopper's Cape Cod studio is studying his tools and materials. Hopper, always the craftsman, insisted his watercolors remain completely wrinkle free. He would stretch his watercolor paper around wood stretcher bars and hold it in place with thumb tacks. Here's a sheet of paper he stretched that is in his studio waiting patiently for his return so it can be turned into a painting.





He would paint on the paper while it was stretched over the stretcher bars. To keep sunlight from shining through from the back side of the paper he tacked on old sports sections from the New York Times. 




I'll have a blog post concluding this series on watercolor by looking at the work of Charles Burchfield on Tuesday, May 5.