All in the Family: Inheriting the Paintbrushes

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art, artists tools, craft, family history, faux finishes, fine art, marbling, paintbrushes, wood graining

[I’ll be away on vacation for a short while. Look for my next post in October. Thanks!]

One of the things I like most about decorative painting are the paint brushes. They’re made for every purpose, some designed specifically for certain effects, others so versatile that they can make a wide variety of marks. Here’s my work desk, crammed with cans of chip brushes, fine brushes, stir sticks and a slew of other tools.

When I was in art school about 25 years ago, I received one of my grandfather’s brushes. I don’t remember how it came into my possession, but it’s been with me ever since. It’s huge, with a giant pouff of soft hair.

When I established my business in 1999, I knew that my grandfather and great-grandfather were painters, but I didn’t know that I was a fifth generation painter. I began to get an inkling of the family history when I visited Germany in 2000 for my grandmother’s 90th birthday.

I stopped in to visit my dad’s cousin, Karl Heinz. He said, “Well, if you’re going to continue the family business, there are a few things I need to give you,” and down into the musty old basement we went. Out came a canvas bag full of painting supplies: stipple brushes, boxes of silver leaf, gilding tips, wonderful old brushes with polished wooden handles, metallic powders and hundred of brush tips. Here’s a sample of the bounty. I’ve placed a pencil in the photos for a sense of scale.

I love these old brushes with their wire-wrapped handles.

Although I’ve used a couple of the wire-wrapped brushes for gold leafing, generally I don’t use these brushes at all. They’re more precious to me as keepsakes from my family than they are as tools.

The triple-headed brush on the right is probably for marbling. It has seen better days! Although many of these brushes have been used, the bristles are meticulously clean.

These two brushes are for wood graining, but unfortunately the one on the left is missing one of its heads.

This is a gigantic stipple brush, unused, from its original box. I can’t imagine working with a stipple brush this large — you’d have arm cramps in about ten minutes.

Here comes the avalanche of brushes! I have dozens upon dozens of these brush tips. Each fits into a holder, which I don’t have. I’m not sure what these brushes are for; my instinct is to say for lettering, but if you have other ideas, I’m all ears.

Many of the brush tips were carefully folded inside paper and packed into old cigarette tins.

Another little tin, and a whole variety of brush sizes. It was probably cheaper to buy brush tips than it was to buy an entire brush. Because there are so many tips, it makes me think that they were for one-time use. Otherwise, why have so many? Almost all of them are unused.

When I look at some of the oldest brushes with their weathered handles and little splotches of paint, with their taped up necks and exhausted bristles, I wonder where they spent their days and what has happened to the art they helped create. I think of how far they’ve traveled, from the basement of a house in Bavaria across an ocean to an apartment in New York, that they were purchased to do a job and are now sheltered in old glass jars and little metal tins, retired and admired.

And I think of how odd it is that I became a painter just like my relatives; I decided that a dying profession was the place for me without even knowing the extent of the family history. In the blood? Destiny? Strange coincidence? It remains a mystery.

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Why Shoot with a Diana Camera?

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black and white, diana camera, landscape, new york city, photography, toy camera

I’ve posted many photos shot with Diana cameras on this blog. I realize, though, that many people don’t know what a Diana camera is, so I thought it might be helpful to discuss the cameras and why it’s challenging to shoot with them. Here’s one of my Diana cameras.

The Diana camera is a simple, basic all-plastic box camera: the body, the lens, everything is plastic. It takes medium format roll film (120 mm) and shoots 16 shots per roll in a square format of 4.2 cm. Its light controls are minimal, consisting of three exposures of sunny, partly cloudy and cloudy. Once the film is loaded, the camera needs to be taped up to prevent light leaks.

In the 1960s, the Diana was sold as a novelty camera for about 50 cents. In the 1970s, photography schools began to use them to teach creative vision. By removing the distraction of camera technology, the intention is that the photographer will focus on ideas instead. Today, the cameras are trendy, in production again and cost around $50.

Because the plastic lens is low quality, it creates an image circle, which results in strong vignetting, the corners of the image darkening. The lens can also create low contrast, blurred images, odd effects and inconsistent results. I own six Dianas and each is slightly different; no two shoot in the same way.

Well, that’s all well and good, but why shoot with something like this? What’s the point? What makes it interesting?

It’s true that distortions are caused by the lens. But I think of it differently. To me, the Diana can see things I can’t see. It captures a world with a dreamlike atmosphere, one of sensual shapes, ghostly images and unforeseeable effects.

Like a pinhole camera, a Diana shares the fundamental challenge of a camera that takes pictures in an unpredictable way. As opposed to a digital camera, which is designed to capture exactly how the eye sees, the Diana has a view of its own, one that I can influence but never completely control. Although I understand how the camera sees and use it in situations that I think will result in good shots, I never know if I’ve been successful until I develop the film. This lack of control, this mystery, is what I find so appealing. That’s what keeps me coming back.

P.S. Nancy Rexroth shot the first Diana photos that were widely acclaimed. Here’s an interesting interview where she discusses her work. This quote, from that interview, beautifully captures the seduction of working with Dianas: “What did I like about the camera? It was the dream, the liquid dream of the images that I could make with it. I went somewhere with the camera, into my own private landscape, a real mental spot, of needing, of longing, and with a real love of the beautiful… When I was photographing, it seemed that I was awake and dreaming at the same time.”

Diana photos, from the top: Rural Pennsylvania; Princeton Junction, NJ; Cathedral of St. John the Divine, NYC; West MacDonnell Range, Australia; Carl Schurz Park, NYC.

Marbling and Imagination

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creativity, decorative painting, faux marble, imagination, interior design, marble, trompe l'oeil

This was a quick little job in the lobby of a Fifth Avenue apartment building. An access panel behind the doorman’s desk had been created, and the building’s manager was scratching his head. What on earth should they do with this eyesore? How could anyone make this plain flat door look nice in this fancy marble lobby? Should they put molding on it, paint it a different color, make it look like the metal panel next to it?

As the building staff puzzled over it, the contractor, one of my steady clients, arrived and said, “Well, it’s obvious, we’ll paint it as marble and make it disappear!” Having never seen this type of work done, the manager was doubtful, but with no better solution presenting itself, agreed. A quick call, and I was scheduled to jump in and wave my magic wand. The panel was about 20 x 24 inches/51cm x 61 cm.

I taped off the edges of the door, which was flush with the marble, protected the floor and started in on it. It took three or four hours.

When painting marble, there are so many layers involved that things always look a bit dodgy at the beginning. I tactfully ignore the doubtful glances cast my way, although once, on a wood graining job, the homeowner called the designer to ask, “Are you sure she knows what she’s doing?” But the streaks and blobs all come together at the end and suddenly it’s marble.

It was interesting that the building staff couldn’t come up with the solution of painting the door to match the stone. It made me wonder about what encourages and what stifles imagination. As Einstein, my favorite vegetarian, said, “Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere.”

So, in the interest of encouraging creativity, I did a little research and have compiled a few pointers for fostering imagination. These are intended for children, but seem to apply to adults as well.

1. Be curious.

2. Go outside and play.

3. Choose toys that let you play make-believe and make up as many stories as possible.

4. Turn off the tv.

5. Play on your own now and then.

6. Read.

7. Make art using stuff you already have.

8. Give yourself time to putter around.

9. Set aside a space for playing.

10. Daydream.

I think we should all give that a whirl. Sounds like a relaxing afternoon!

Travel Sketchbook: Visiting the Cathedral in Siena, Italy

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architecture, cathedral, italy, photography, siena, siena cathedral, travel, travel photography

Two years ago on a trip to Florence, Italy, we took a side trip to Siena to see the beautiful Duomo, the main cathedral. The west facade of this church is considered one of the most fascinating in Italy. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. When we came around the corner of the cathedral, I said, “Holy cow!”, pulled out my cameras and started shooting like a maniac. Here’s the entire west facade with the main entrance.

As we get a little closer, you’ll see what all the fuss is about. Look at this facade! I’ve never seen so many figures exploding from a surface.

Look at them all! Horses, cows, lions, griffins, prophets, philosophers and apostles, all seemingly walking through the walls, the animals launching themselves into the air. It’s electric with energy, churning with figures and creatures moving in all directions, creating a wildly dynamic silhouette, dramatic and completely unexpected.

The cathedral itself was built on top of a 9th century church, designed and completed between 1215 and 1263. Most of the sculptures decorating the lower level of this lavish facade were designed and sculpted by Giovanni Pisano and his assistants between 1285 and 1297. Then creative differences erupted and Pisano bailed out, replaced by Camaino di Crescentino, who took over from 1299 until 1317, when everyone was redirected to the east facade. The upper half of the west facade was added in the 14th century. A massive addition to the cathedral was planned in 1339, but abandoned due to construction errors and the Black Death, which wiped out 80% of Siena’s population.

Think of all the craftsmen required to complete a structure like this. Stone cutters, sculptors, mortar makers, masons, carpenters, blacksmiths, roofers and glass makers. And we haven’t even gotten to the artists who’ll decorate the interior. All masters of their craft, dedicated to spending their entire careers on one structure. Few of these craftsmen had the satisfaction of seeing the cathedral finished; their reward was the thought that their families would one day worship in a cathedral they had helped create.

How is a cathedral like this built in 1215? Where are the cranes, the hoists, the elevators we use today? Not to mention that most of the construction had to be done during the warmer months, since the mortar wouldn’t set properly if the weather was too cold. The only work that was continued during the winter was stone carving, which could be completed indoors. There’s a great book, “Cathedral: The Story of its Construction” by David Macaulay that explains it all, with beautiful drawings to boot.

Now it’s time to enter this beautiful building. The interior is dark, dramatic, awe-inspiring.

The black and white marble used throughout is stunning, the contrast in color delivering an unexpected graphic punch. Imagine the cathedral when it was first completed, lit only by candles, light pouring through the windows, the cold stone structure without heat, the echoing tap and shuffle of shoes on its stone floors.

The fantastic interior of the dome is my favorite feature inside. The surface of the dome is smooth; the trompe l’oeil illusion of three dimensional blue and gold starred coffers is entirely painted, completed in the late 15th century. Here’s a post explaining what trompe l’oeil is if you’d like to know more about the technique.

The Siena cathedral is also known for its extraordinary inlaid marble mosaic floor, crafted by forty artists between 1373 and 1547. Unfortunately, there were too many people and too little light to shoot properly, plus it’s partially covered for protection.

Another interesting feature of Siena is all of the sculptures of Romulus and Remus, the two Roman gods who were suckled by a she-wolf. They’re everywhere. This little strip showing one of the sculptures is from my contact sheet of Diana photos which I have yet to print. A shot of the town is on the right.

According to legend, Siena was founded by Remus’s sons, Senius and Aschius, who left Rome with the statue of the she-wolf, which they had stolen from Apollo’s temple. This sculpture became the symbol of Siena. The symbolic colors of Siena, black and white, (hence the black and white marble used to build the cathedral) also come from these two troublemakers; Aschius rode a black horse and Senius rode a white one.

We spent most of the day wandering through this lovely little town.

I was so busy taking pictures, there wasn’t much time to draw. Here’s a page from my sketchbook describing that day, which was pretty much perfect!

September’s Portrait: At Play

Tags

black and white, photography, portrait, portraiture

I love creating a series of portraits that capture a moment. This is fairly easy to do when I shoot a friend’s wedding, but is much harder with a small child who seems powered by rocket fuel and moves at warp speed.

This series of portraits is of my sister with her son, Lukas, when he was almost two years old. We were traveling in the Cotswalds in the U.K. on a family trip, and one afternoon they came into my hotel room and jumped on the bed.

Everything happened so quickly that composition went right out the window, but I like the series for the sweet joy and tenderness of their play.

Nikon F70, silver gelatin prints, warm tone paper.

Calling the Paint Doctor

Tags

color matching, decorative painting, faux bois, faux marble, faux wood, interior design, woodgraining

Now and then, I receive frantic calls for jobs that are described as “painting emergencies.” Once I’ve hung up the phone and stopped laughing, I head over to the apartment where the crisis is taking place, and usually find a small piece of damage that sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s my job to paint it into invisibility.

This first example is part of a full-room mural in a dining room, painted with a pretty landscape consisting of many birds and weeping willow trees. Unfortunately, water damage occurred just above the door to the kitchen, below the crown molding, ruining the design. The contractor repaired the area, then called me in. The damaged area was about 8 x 16 inches.

Here’s the match. No more patch!

This next example is a tight photo of a beautiful marble fireplace surround. It had been damaged, and the marble man fixed it by splicing in something that didn’t match. At all. Needless to say, the homeowner wasn’t amused. The repaired area is about 1-1/2 inches long.

Paint to the rescue!

This last example wasn’t an emergency, but was well-timed, since the apartment was on the market and scheduled to be shown to prospective buyers. I painted over several outlet covers to blend them into the surrounding wood, creating a seamless look in the living and dining rooms. If you’re spending a gazillion dollars on a New York apartment, this is a nice detail for the realtor to point out.

This outlet cover was installed in the baseboard and took about an hour to paint, most of which was spent on my side, lying on the floor, using a brush with about four hairs in it.

I love these little jobs; they make me feel like The Paint Doctor. The scenario is generally the same: I receive a panicked phone call and dash over to inspect the extent of the injury while the homeowner hovers anxiously over my shoulder. Then I return with my little black bag of magic tricks and tend carefully to the wound until all signs of trauma are erased. Cue sounds of joy from the client, and I’m out the door in record time, ready for my next house call.