Thank You Mr. Rand

For artists who use acrylic, w/c, oil, gouache, anything that squeezes from a tube; we owe a debt of gratitude to a fellow who has received far too little appreciation.

Few things have changed the way we artists work than a sweet little doohickey created by John Goffe Rand.

Without his clever invention we would not have had a little group called the Impressionists. Abstract art would have been a mere glimmer in Hilma Af Klint’s eye.

Kilma Af Klint 1907 The Ten Biggest No. 2, Tate Etc. Issue 27, Spring 2013, courtesy Tate.org.uk

Landscape painters would still be wistfully looking out windows. Yellowstone would still be waiting for Thomas Moran. 

Most recently, daily painters would find it impossible to make their quota.

Mr. Rand’s gift to artists and art lovers?

An apparatus for preserving paint. A collapsible paint tube.

My stash. Notice the lack of pig bladders.

For centuries artists would grind their own pigment, mixing it with oil to make just enough paint to get them through the day. More recently clever artists would use pig bladders, stuffing them full of pre-mixed pigment, and poking a pin through the skin when they needed paint. Working anywhere away from a studio was difficult and impractical. And pigs didn't like it much either.

©Tate Photography, London, 2003 

And then…the tube. Claude Monet knew a good thing when he saw it and promptly hauled his easel, brushes and shiny new paint tubes out into the French country side. 

The artist herself enjoying painting outdoors.

No longer were painters restricted to interior images or creating landscapes from memory. Easels were set out right smack dab out in fields, gardens and beaches. Light itself was the subject.

©2016 Patricia Scarborough 12x16 The Last of the Hot Days

Mr. Rand, thank you. This deceptively simple gadget has allowed me access to a way of life that has been fulfilling, and I am deeply grateful.

Enjoy the Experience

I was all set to wow you with an intellectual discussion of some ideas that I've been turning around in my brain. Not to worry, I'll get to it...some day.

As a visual person, that is, an individual who gets, keeps and dispenses most experience and knowledge via images in my brain, the reaction I felt this morning upon wandering into our yard was one of utter, sheer delight.

And just so we're all in agreement that I'm an artist, and this is primarily and art blog, I'll use art-y terms to show you why:

Shapes in the petunias

Textures in the moonbeam coreopsis

Space in the cone flowers

Interest in the shadows in the huechera 

Movement in the lobelia

Complements in the Japanese maple against the bright sky

Intensities of the wave roses and their waxy dark leaves

Form in mondo grass and vinca

Lights and darks of a climbing rose against the blue spruce

Rich textures from aging tree carvings against the milkweed

If you'll excuse me from my intellectual pursuit, I'm going to sit on the patio with my Handsome Husband. It's a good day to turn off the theory and enjoy the here and now, and simply...enjoy.

Wildflowers

Wildflower gardens are the best. That's the flat out truth.

A goal of mine for years has been to paint flowers, either in their natural setting or in jars, vases and whatever else I can find to put them in. (sorry Mrs. Gallant. "In which to put them".)

Who knew that these delicate lovelies would be such a challenge to harness in paint?

The textures, colors and tangles are harder for me to keep track of than the acres of blue sky and flat horizon that has been my stock in trade for the last many years.

The painting started out so beautifully. Peonies holding up pink heads full of promise, caressed by delicate catmint...oh!

Sadly my skills were not up to the task. Yet.  It'll come. 

That's my mantra. It'll come, be patient. It'll come. Be patient. It'llcome, bepatient. It'llcomebepatient...it'llcomebepatientit'llcomebepatient.........

Vacation Destination

Handsome Husband and I have traveled a fair amount, visiting interesting and enlightening destinations.

We've seen the biggest ball of twine, and Monet's Agapanthus Tryptich at the Nelson Atkins Museum in KCMO. While we were there we happened upon James Naismith's hand written list of basketball rules and paused long enough to play a little badminton.

We've stared into the faces of Mt. Rushmore, dipped our toes into the Pacific Ocean. While HH was otherwise occupied, I cruised a few graveyards in New Orleans and watched a fellow stand still for a good long time.

I just found my next destination.

For us art geeks, this is just the coolest thing ever:



I'll send you a postcard.