Lessons From A Master

Handsome Husband and I are just home from a field trip of sorts to Kansas City, Mo.

Our trip took us across northern Kansas on Highway 36, a beautiful strip of highway cutting through wheat fields and rolling pastures dimming into blue hills far into the distance.  Those who claim Kansas is flat need only travel this area to see how beautiful this part of the country is.

Our field trip was inspired by the Nelson-Atkins ArtCenter’s exhibition of Claude Monet’s Agapanthus Triptych, painted from 1915 to 1926. (Interestingly, the agapanthus of the title was painted over sometime during the 11 years Monet worked on this painting.)  Doubling the pleasure of the weekend was the opportunity to visit the southern branch of the Handsome Husband family tree and go to a cool jazz gig featuring our trombone playing nephew, Brian.  The only way the weekend could have been better was if Santa Claus himself was there.

Our first stop was the Nelson-Atkins.  I approached “The Monet” as if I were in a church; quietly, reverently, waiting for angels to proclaim the moment. I will even admit that I was prepared to fall to my knees in awe. 

Claude Monet  Water Lilies Series  Agapanthus Tryptich panel three 1915-1926

The painting itself is beautiful without a doubt.  Virtually abstract, the swirls of pigment moving from green to pink to blue in short dashes of color, accentuated by thick white figure-eight shapes captured my attention immediately.  What I didn’t expect was the muscular surface (it’s the only way I can think of to describe it).  Monet thought “out loud” with pigment and brush.  He painted, considered, scraped off, painted more, painted over, changed his mind and did the whole thing over again and again.  Rather that claiming the painting ‘finis!’, it is believed he simply ran out of time, dying before it was done.  The surface shows this thought process; it is heavily textured in places, harsh marks show where he scraped and re-worked, and layers of paint hide groups of lilies painted in previous sessions.  There are areas of paste-y pigment, not unpleasant but not entirely expected either from a master of painting.  My college professors would have raised an eyebrow.

My knees didn’t buckle, nor did I hear angels sing.

It’ll be awhile before I have the experience completely evaluated.  I'm not hard-hearted; the painting is beautiful. I am awed by Monet’s obsessive struggle to translate the physics of light into pigment.  That awe includes the appreciation of the plain hard work that goes into this type of creative exploration.  It is a lesson taken to heart.

©2010 Patricia Scarborough New Day  12 x 18 pastel

Monet spent decades discovering what his water garden had to offer, right up until his passing from this earthly world. For me, as an artist exploring new territory there may be no moment of arrival, but simply, delightedly, perhaps painfully, the awareness of yet another step in the process until the work is declared complete - or the clock runs out.  

2011 Patricia Scarborough  Early Morning Spring  6 x 9 pastel

Tick tick tick tick . . .

In Search of Hat

As a plein air painter, finding the right equipment is essential.  Getting out on site and finding out your easel is rickety or your palette isn't big enough is a shortcut to disaster.
You'll understand, then, why finding just the right hat is paramount.
Keeping the sun off the brain pan is as important as remembering to bring your paints along. There's keeping the head cool as well. Sweat trickling down into the eyes does not facilitate clear vision.

The garden variety straw hat will suffice if need be. Inexpensive and light, they're usually wide enough to keep the sun off the neck and shoulders, and loosely woven enough to let air flow through.  The down side is that they also have a tendency to catch gusts of wind, and it's a bit distracting to be choked by your own hat while it attempts to set sail still attached to your head.  Straw hats are also fairly brittle and do not hold up well to being sat upon, which you will do sooner or later.

The old ball cap, while comfortable, allows sun direct contact with ears and other tender skin. However,  with the addition of an old bandanna,

 the neck is protected fairly well. While very inexpensive, this arrangement is a bit geeky, no matter how cool you are. Lawrence of Arabia could get away with it, maybe, but with all the cheap hats out there that come with their own brims, really, why?

Knit caps are inappropriate for plein air painting.  No brim to protect the ears or neck. The fabric of the cap sits too close to the skull, thus keeping the head entirely too warm.  Plus, you end up looking like a monkey.

The coolie hat has many of the same disadvantages as the straw hat.  In addition, sitting on a pointy straw hat may harm more than just the hat.

After extensive research this weekend at the Olathe, Kansas, Bass Pro Shop, I discovered the Columbia Sun Goddess Booney hat.  Joy of joys, it's soft, UV rated, wads up into a little ball and springs happily back into shape.  The back brim is a bit wider than the front for extra protection of the neck, and unless you have huge ears, that's just fine. The neck strap is soft, so as not to leave strangle marks, which it probably won't anyway because the brim is soft and floppy and not likely to act as a sail, even in the strongest wind. And who wouldn't want to wear a Sun Goddess hat?

Another big plus is that while shopping at Bass Pro Shop in Olathe Kansas, you will be helped by fabulous employees like Pam & Jan. 

And while you're in Olathe, you might as well scoot over to the Nelson Atkins Museum and take a look around.  Their collection of fine art is world renowned, and they let you play badminton in the front yard with, or without, a hat.