"Three Oranges and White Tureen" (oil on linen; 11" x 14") sold

"Three Oranges and White Tureen"
sold

"Yellow and Violet Still Life" (oil, 11" x 14")
sold

"Two Red Peppers" (oil, 11" x 14")
sold

"Red and Green Apples" (oil, 11" x 14")
sold

I am beginning to see the pattern in the still life setups by my teacher John Murray--the harmony created by complementary colors.  In the first class he gave us red and green apples with neutral draperies.  In the second week, he challenged us with the intensity of red bell peppers against two different shades of green cloths.  The third week's setup was all about the yellow/violet vibrations.  This week he not only baffled us with the orange/blue juxtaposition but also with the octagonal planes of the white tureen! 

His choice of draperies is deliberate.  They may someday come with stripes and all sorts of patterns and textures.  The white bowls, which are clearly included for their reflective qualities, are becoming more complex in their shapes; one even flaunts floral patterns. In the midst of the ever-mounting challenges of painting fruits, vegetables, and fabrics, we are also constantly reminded of the crucial importance of composition and paint application. 

We struggle valiantly to mix the right reds, blues, greens, oranges, violets, and yellows we see in the setups, and often end up with disgusting colors.  The prominent colors in "Three Oranges and White Tureen" are blues and oranges.  For whatever reason, my original color notes were oranges and violets.  John's comment was that I have the violet tendency!  I had to work hard to depurplize the violets and steer them toward blues.  We can, of course, ignore what we see and paint the way we like, as one student was doing with the extremely limited palette of only three colors, plus white.  Or, we can try to mix colors correctly.  Argh.  The vexing still lifes!

"Two Red Peppers" (oil on linen; 11" x 14") sold

sold

The still life setup

We don't often give ourselves and others enough time.  Enough time for sleeping; for eating (by doing other things like reading at the same time); for others to finish talking; or for painting.  We beat ourselves up, rush about, and get all stressed out as a result.  For instance, my still life class with John Murray on Wednesdays is always hectic.  Out of three hours, more than an hour is dedicated for the teacher's putting together three setups in a crowded studio, a quick demo, and a group critique. 

Instead of being disgusted with my painting as was by the end of the class, I decided to continue working on it at home with a photo of the setup.  I don't know whether it is cheating or not, but there was no reason whatsoever to get stressed out by the pressure of the limited time.  Painting is neither a race, nor a performance art.  It is a kind of meditation.  One is supposed to be truly present, mindful of the task at hand.  Unfortunately, I tend to paint fast and dash off one painting after another, quite a few of which turn out to be duds.  I am aware of my shortcomings and intend to work on them.

Anyhow, I am glad of my decision to take the above picture.  The drawing wasn't bad.  It was my initial treatment of the green and dark blue violet draperies that was problematic.  I had ignored all the folds and creases and had also made a straight "horizon" line where the fabrics met.  Dead boring!  The color of the green cloth was too warm; the brushstrokes were too grassy-looking.  I fixed the problems, as you can see.  I also worked some more on the peppers and bowl as well.  I am rather pleased with the final painting. 

The more I look at it, however, the more I see green and dark blue landscapes in the background.  The peppers and bowl look like huge objects lying on green fields, like Gulliver in the island country of Lilliput.  Perhaps I should stop meditating while painting by staring at my painting too long!