Why barns are red?

On Tuesday, I traveled to Zea Mays Printmaking Studio in Northampton to deliver a portfolio of linoleum prints.  I also took along my plein air painting gear.  Snow had fallen the night before and I had the great expectation of locating a few choice snowy scenes to paint along the way making the five hour round trip a productive one.

Traveling along the 202 route corridor, I entered the town of Hadley in the area known as Pioneer Valley.  Because of the rich sandy loam glacial deposits along the Connecticut River, there are many, many arce farms.  Numerous farms have polish names broadcast across their farmstand billboards; Matuszjko, Smiarowski, Dzen.  In the late 1800's many Polish farmers were recuited from Ellis Island to farm this area.  Polish farmers are credited with saving Hadley's farmland.  The area was once known as the Asparagus Capital of the World, or as the locals called it, Hadley's Grass, until a soil borne fungus killed most of the crop in the 1950's.  Today at Twin Oaks Farm, they are developing and growing a new cash crop of cabbages, not the bowling ball size but smaller head cabbages, all under a pound for today's foodies. http://www.redtomato.org/farm.php?id=28

Ever wonder why barns are painted the ubiquitous color of red?  I suppose people have also questioned why grass is green.  As an artist, I like the the combination of those two colors, red and green.  They are complementary colors in the art world and are found opposite each other on the color wheel.  Used together, they set up good vibrations.

So..to the question why barns are red and grass is green, I answered with a charming oil painting sketch of one of Hadley's red barns, green grass under murky grey skies; painted in two hours before the cold rains fell.

Another answer to why barns are red is in the late 1700's, farmers began painting their barns with a combination of linseed oil (made from flax seed) and ferrous oxides (old fashion rust) changing the look of weathered grey timbers into red stain.  This artificial preservative prevented mold and mildew from forming and destroying the barn's wood.  Wealthy farmers added the blood of slaughtered animals to the linseed combo.  Much later, red oxides were the cheapest paints found hardware store shelves.

Aesthetically speaking though, red barns in combination with those fertile green fields contrasted beautifully with the farmer's white washed farmhouse ... and many paintings and artwork have paid homage to this color combo and to the people who farm and grow our food.

For a limited time only...

This past Saturday, I took advantage of our area's moderate temperatures for January and painted at the snug little harbor of Rye, New Hampshire.  Being an experienced New Englander (and a native of Buffalo, NY), the lack of snow cover and warm temperatures aren't going to last forever.

When the sun's low path crosses the winter sky, a pleasing soft, warm light is available for a longer time to ponder and paint.  In this quiet harbor of a few fishing vessels, I found this special quality of light.  With the arrival of winter's shorten days, strong contrasts of summer's high noon give way to the lengthening shadows across the frozen, dormant ground.

After completing my painting, I ventured further up the coastline looking for another short lived winter event: fresh Maine shrimp (heads and rostrum included) being sold right off the back end of fishermen's pick-up trucks.  With attention driven signs of "One Dollar a Pound" and "Fresh Shrimp", how could I not stop many decades ago when I first arrived along these shores?  Once I tasted these small, sweet delectables, no January can go by without hunting for these road side markets and the purchase of ten pounds or more.



There was an urgency to buy earlier this year because the shrimping season will be a short one due to new federal regulations.  This year only 4.4 million pounds of shrimp can be netted or trapped by the locals, i.e. one third of 2011 catch.

When I arrived home, I gave honor to my winter tradition with a devotional-like carnage:  I spent the next three hours decapitating and remove roe from 16.5 pouinds of shrimp.  What a great way to re-connect with my environment!  For dinner, I greedily savored, with a fork, a sweet sampling piled high on a bed of Iceberg lettuce, covered with fresh squeezed lemon juice, olive oil and Old Bay seasoning.

Let winter begin. 

An Apple a Day...gives me an idea!

At the start of apple picking season here in New England, I initiated a new print project.  It began with me eating the delicious fresh fruits and photographing the surface changes as I bit and munched away at the once smooth, round forms.   I began researching apple legends, folklore and traditions such as Snow White, Johnny Appleseed, William Tell, Sir Isaac Newton, "The Big Apple", Apple Wassailing, just to name a few.  I'm hoping to find similarities between my printed images of half eaten forms and some of the apple legends.

Here are three of the four, 4.5"x6"linoleum prints I have created so far. (scaled to fit block)

I want to share a surface enhancing technique called flocking I used in the making of the print, "Protecting the Seed Within".  I learned three important points when working with this material: 1. Always wear a dust mask 2. Use a sieve; don't sprinkle from the container and 3. A small quantity of flocking goes a long way.

In flocking, small fiber particles are adhered to a substrate using an adhesive.  As a child I remember rubbing my hands across velvety surfaces of Christmas cards to which evergreen trees and Santa's clothing were flocked.  Flocking materials can be purchased at your local arts and crafts store and comes in a wide variety of colors.

For my print, I printed the first state in the same color as the flocking; bright red.  My thinking was if there were any gaps in the flocking, the unflocked area would be camouflaged with the same color ink.

After completing the small edition of ten prints, I immediately sprinkled the wet printed surface with flocking and pressed down gently with newsprint.  The wet ink acted as the adhesive.  I removed the excess flocking by carefully shaking the paper over a tray.  But I learned rather quickly that the more I handled this material i.e. recycling the excess back into the tray, an electrical charge was generated known as static electricity which caused the fine flocking to clump into small hard pills rendering the material un-usable.  Of course, I didn't know this was going to happen but...

I recalled watching a YouTube video of a model train enthusiast making a flocking tool by soldering together a battery operated automatic fly swatter (swatter removed) and a handleless kitchen sieve.  Thank goodness I was intrigued enough to watch the construction because I now understood why the sieve tool was so important for applying an even coating of green flocking to his model train landscape; no static electricity means no pilling.

So I searched around the studio knowing I did not have a sieve and found some yardage of starched cheese cloth called tarlatan cloth (used in inking up etching plates).  The stiff cloth was awkward to use but I was successful in creating a even coating of flocking on my wet prints.



After the prints were dry, I inked up the newly carved linoleum with a dark brown ink and using a printing press, embossed the new color into the red flocking.  The areas of the un-inked carved linoleum were embossed into the flocking as well.   

The use of flocking increased the tactile sensation and with it the need to caress the printed surface; quite fitting for an apple image which looks like a shapely woman and the seeds within perhaps representing an unborn child.

Building Blocks

When my Grandson, Tyler, was a toddler (he'll be ten next month), he loved to play with a collection of wooden blocks made of indestructable hard woods. Heavy and cumbersome as they were, over the years and many moves, I managed to squirrel away these blocks.  They are from my children's childhood. They were saved with the hope of replaying the familiar scene of adult and child building fantastic environments together. 

After each building session with Tyler, I thought of documenting these imaginary structures (completed with touches of rowdy cowboys, carnivorous dinosaurs and zooming cars) not only for their playfullness and inventiveness but knowing changes were coming: from the immediate swipe of the child's hand and the adult's knowledge of childhood's brevity.  I never did take the photographs but the block collection remains.

Yesterday, I traveled to North Andover to Smolak Farm for a painting session.  Cold, gusty winds greeted me as I stepped from my car.  High on a ridge, I looked out over a beautiful vista; the farm with its pond and grazing Canada geese, the impressive illuminated white barn with its outbuildings, acres of orchards, with dark gentle hills and fair weather clouds as a back drop.

Painting these bucolic scenes is thought of by many as a quaint endeavor... but nothing lasts forever except maybe a painting.

Bon Painting!

Not a day to force paint on a paint brush

As discipline as I am when Thursday comes round for plein air painting, it was not a day to force paint on a paint brush.

http://bobgertz.web.officelive.com/default.aspx

Indoors, I really tried to paint from a colleague's small color photograph: a marsh scene.  It wasn't meant to be though.  When I returned home, I wiped the canvas panel clean with a rag soaked with turpentine.  I then scaped my palette down to the color of bone.

Because... I really wanted to paint out in the Garden of Eden today.

To stand tall among the swirling grasses and embracing trees

To see all the luscious, earthy details, to gather in all with hawkish eyes.

There! On a distant horizon, set upon its arc; an angel

Observes, ponders then lifts a glistening brush

To the canvas made from the most delicate woven threads

of spider webs, friends' fine hairs, spittle and ocean mist

and paints a most glorious new day.

Good bye my gentle friend.

Printmaker, G. Baumann and outdoor painter

Recently, OutdoorPainter.com had published a short article about my all-time favorite color woodcut printmaker, Gustave Baumann. The article speaks of Baumann's love of outdoor painting accomplished in gouache and watercolors on mid-tone papers.  The paintings are beautiful works of art unto themselves but they were only landscapes studies to be finalized in print form...He painted to be a better printmaker.

When the Boston Antiquarian Book and Print Fair comes round, I locate the booth where his prints can be held and the print surface scrutinized for the soft, rich color combinations and mark making.  They are modest designs, unually 9"X11", and were often printed using up to seven woodblocks.  Simply beautiful!  http://www.outdoorpainter.com/history/art-history-gustave-baumann-1881-1971-445.html

If you are ever in Sante Fe, be sure to stop by the Museum of Fine Arts, Museum of New Mexico to check out their extensive Baumann print collection.

This Thursday, I painted in Beverly at Goat Hill (see link for more historical info regarding this area) http://www.primaryresearch.org/PRTHB/Neighborhoods/Goathill/index.php overlooking the Bass River.  A lovely, sunny day with temps in the 40's and no one around except for the pick-up truck rendezvous at noontime.  This was my second spot for consideration, the first being at Long Hill.  My Corgi and I sat for a while on a log watching a flock of colorful chickens, a pair of turkeys and comic Guinea hens scratch in the pine straw at the Children's Garden.  Though not inspiring enough to break open the paint box; a comtemplative time well spent.

My attraction at Goat Hill was the busy tumbling of factory buildings lining the river's edge with a distant bridge and checkered water tower contrasting the quiet, blue shape of the water plane.  Of course, the rhythm of the vertical dock pilings in the foreground and the diagonal cutting shoreline and boatyard cranes delighted my eye.  The challenge of organizing such a jumble of shapes and line into a dynamic 12"X16" format, invigorated my painting senses into using color spots.

The Sting of Death...

...and finding solace in Nature and paint.

We need some pines to assuage the darkness
When it blankets the mind,
We need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly
as a plane's wing, and a worn bed of
Needles to pad the rumble that fills the mind,
And a blur or two of a wild thing
That sees and is not seen,
We need these things
Between appointments, after work,
And if we keep them, then someone someday,
Lying down after a walk
And supper, with the fire hole wet down,
The whole night sky set at a particular
Time, without numbers or hours, will cause
A little sound of thanks---a zipper or a snap---
To close round the moment and the thought,
Of whatever good we did.

  

       'Around Us' by Marvin Bell


In loving memory of my brother,
Joseph Jaworski III, who died November 11, 2011

Memorial Donations can be made to the
National Brain Injury Association