Watercoloring Under the Influence II

Not Painting the Light

I always stress with students the value of reserving the white of the paper in watercoloring. Once you’ve killed the brightness of the paper, you never get it back. That being said, truly bright moments in a great subject are rare, and precious. If the image has too much paper showing through, then nothing is truly bright, because everything is washed out. The luminosity of John Singer Sargent’s watercolors come from his judicious reserve of the white of the paper, often juxtaposed to areas of dense, saturated color. It is precisely in these juxtapositions that the luminosity of a watercolor shines. Half the battle is picking the right subject, the other half is knowing where not to put color.

This is a spectacular Roman urn at the center of a foundation in the forecourt of the gracious church of S. Cecilia in Trasteverere. I’ve painted it before in oil, which was of no small value in helping me know how to tackle this watercolor. That, and the haunting presence of Sargent, which I’ve occasionally drawn on in similar circumstances.

Cecilia Metella and the via Appia

Looking north on the via Appia Antica
in the afternoon

THE CLASSICAL LANDSCAPE IS A REAL PLACE

Spending two months this summer in Rome just outside the Aurelianic walls afforded relatively easy access to both those magical ancient roads leading into the city from the Porta S. Sebastiano and Porta Latina, and the via Appia Antica which led out from the Porta S. Sebastiano (so-called because it led to the pilgrimage church of S. Sebastiano). The via Appia has been a destination for plein air artists for centuries, and despite way too much (and two-way!) traffic in the first stretch outside the walls, it becomes quiet, and profoundly evocative, for miles on. One of the essential sites along the road is the tomb of Cecilia Metella, incorporated in the Middle Ages into a Caetani family stronghold. Despite the prominent inscription to the Roman matron for whom it was built, the building was known as the Capo di Bove through the eighteenth century because of the bull skulls, or bucrania (capo head bove bull) that ornament the frieze.

18th century French view

Artists have been drawing and painting the tomb of Cecilia Metella for centuries, but perhaps most compellingly in the eighteenth. And she then shows up in a variety of capricious landscapes, a recognizable landmark transposed to very different contexts, including seasides. What was the appeal, given there were so many suggestive remains along the via Appia? Part of it, I would argue, is the round form, albeit fragmented. Like a kind of sundial, the tomb’s shadows track the sun’s path across the arc of the day, its varied aspects (owing to differing states of ruin or infill) and orientations to context—the Appia on one side, the overgrown remains of the Circus of Maxentius on the opposite side—made it a rewarding subject to depict from different angles at different times of day.

Since I had the luxury of returning to the site several times, I took a more deliberate tack than I usually do, starting first with pencil drawings on toned Magnani™ Annigoni paper highlighted with white gouache (and occasionally black, as I did for the Arco di Druso). For the first version I couldn’t resist introducing the blue sky, and warm brick color; but I subsequently resisted introducing color, and for some studies elsewhere relied on black mixed with white for the sky, the cool grey functioning as an effective blue. Only after several drawings did I start in oil, the first on prepared paper, the second on canvas board. The images shown here are all from the via Appia side; I did both draw and paint from the Circus of Maxentius (part of the emperor’s villa complex, now visitable), but I’ll save those for a subsequent post.

For the oils I’m showing some of the steps in the process. My technique is almost always to start with the sky; working on a toned ground I often then move to the lights, modeling the form in shade and dealing with the materials, and generally dealing with the shadows proper near the end. The last touches are really calibrations, pushing and pulling the lights and darks. Again, working within Valenciennes’ two hour window, there’s no small amount of editing necessary, and light is a transient phenomenon whose principal effect is shadows. As an architect as well as painter, I prefer the shadows to be consistent with a more or less single light orientation, which means they need to be done within a short period of time.

Outside and Inside the Walls of Rome

Arco di Druso, via S. Sebastiano, morning

Finding Historic Plein Air Landscapes in the Eternal City

As I said here a while back, Rome has changed a lot since it became the capital of a unified Italy in 1871. Which makes painting en plein air a challenge if you’re looking for the landscape of Corot. This summer I find myself lodging just outside the Porta Latina in a twentieth-century neighborhood that, urbanistically speaking, would win a CNU award if it were built today. 

S. Giovanni in Oleo, via Latina, morning

Circus of Maxentius along the Appia Antica

Now, that’s not exactly an endorsement from my point of view: while the neighborhood has all the requisite services that the centro storico has mostly lost, it can’t hold a candle architecturally to the inhabited Rome of the Nolli map. But, it has two great advantages: one, the roads leading in from the Porta Latina and Porta S. Sebastiano are some of the most beautiful, because mostly untouched, stretches of Roma disabitata that exist; and the road leading out of Porta S. Sebastiano becomes the via Appia Antica, in its less trafficked stretches a miracle of picturesque ruins and countryside.

Balancing research in libraries with drawing in the field, I’ve started by disciplining my observation. First I intend to work on Magnani’s Annigoni™ medium toned paper, drawing in graphite then modeled in white and black gouache; for my first drawing, the tomb of Cecilia Metella on the Appia, I couldn’t resist capturing the blue Roman sky. But for the second, of the Arco di Druso (so-called; a focus of my research), I stuck with black and white on the warm grey paper; that’s the discipline I intend to sustain before I tackle color in oil.

As I produce more I’ll post them and describe some of my thematic agenda for the summer.

Cecilia Metella

Arco di Druso

Patron of Painters

sign on the via Roma, Buonconvento

From Buonconvento to Rome

in situ, outside Buonconvento

On October 18^th I found myself painting, without realizing it, on the feast of the patron saint of painters, St. Luke; I was in Buonconvento visiting painter friends, and we had an afternoon of painting en plein air outside of town on an estate in the process of changing hands (historically, it had belonged to the hospital in Siena). Days later I would be in Rome at a conference at the Accademia di San Luca, honoring the head of the artists’ and architects’ academy at the turn of the eighteenth century, Carlo Fontana. Serendipities.

 

in progress, outside Buonconvento; oil on gessoed board

I left the two paintings from the afternoon outside Buonconvento with my friends, since I use a slow-drying medium, and I was too loaded down to take wet paintings to Rome. Shown here is the first and larger of the two, in progress on site; I was using the burnt siena/ochre ground as the brickwork of the wall, allowing me to focus on modeling the shadows, foliage, etc. It was a two-hour painting, something I try fairly rigorously to hold to as a parameter; my second painting was quicker still, about an hour, and while less ambitious in subject it may have been more effective as a composition. No photos of that one in progress to share…

the Acqua Paola on the Janiculum, Rome

In Rome I stayed for two weeks at the American Academy on the Janiculum Hill, near the spectacular Acqua Paola; I tackled the fountain twice, once on the day I arrived, in the afternoon, and again a week later, early in the morning. For the second I managed to finish within an hour, partly because I was working under very changeable atmospheric conditions, partly because I didn’t want to get bogged down in details (see the photo). I think this may actually become my new target, one (intense) hour forcing me to focus on big issues and avoid fussing over the details. I use a linseed/stand oil medium because I appreciate the unctuous quality of beautiful paint, although it is paradoxical that quick painting is paired with slow-drying medium. Whether the narrow window of time makes for better paintings I don’t know, but it does make me, I think, a better painter.

afternoon, Acqua Paola; oil on paper

early morning, Acqua Paola; oil on gessoed board