I love tea and the ritual of tea. I love everyday things. I love taking those items and, in a painting, making them worthy of a second look. I love marks and colour. And Adrian Frankel Giuliani brings all of these together in her tea kettle series!

I’ve featured Adrian’s work in my monthly roundup twice. One of these instances is an underwater swimmer while the other is a pastel from the tea kettle series. I kept seeing pastels from the series being posted and love each and every one! And so I really wanted you to see and enjoy them, and to get to know Adrian’s working process. So I asked her to guest post and whoo hoo, here she is!

Do you know Adrian’s work? If not, here’s a teaser:

 

 

And before I hand the blog over to Adrian Frankel Giuliani, here’s a short bio.

 

Adrian Frankel Giuliani Bio

Adrian Frankel Giuliani is a Signature Member of the Pastel Society of America, the Pastel Society of New Jersey, and the Alabama Pastel Society. She graduated with honours in 1987 from the Rhode Island School of Design, with a BFA in Illustration. She is a pastel artist who is known for both her children’s pastel portraits and her still lifes, done from life. Adrian’s work has been juried into many national and international shows, such as the Pastel Society America Annual Juried Exhibition, Enduring Brilliance, and the International Association of Pastel Societies Exhibition. Her work has won numerous awards. Click here to see more work by Adrian Giuliani.

 

And now, here’s Adrian!

 

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I like imperfection. I like the everyday. Finding my inspiration to begin this teakettle series came naturally to me. My interest in every day still lifes began back in art school, when I would set up a still life at my apartment’s kitchen table and paint it. Having always been inspired by the impressionists, my goal was to capture the essence of something, not include every detail.

I found myself hooked on my new medium of pastel and what could be done with it! I even created a tea-related piece back then. I entitled it, Afternoon Tea. It was part of a series which showed my kitchen table throughout the day.

 

 

 

In 2014, after having worked on my portraits and commissions for so many years, I realized that I had strayed from my original practice of working from life. Compelled to get back to that, I made a firm decision that I would once again do still lifes. Was this possible to do when I was now using softer pastels? Back in art school, I had used Rembrandt pastels, which did not make too much of a mess. Would I be able to use my beloved Terry Ludwig and Girault pastels, as I created still lifes in my kitchen once again? I wanted to work in my kitchen, so that the experience and environment would be authentic. I would actually be sitting down to enjoy a mug of tea. This was a snapshot of my real life, captured in my art.

Committed to working from life again, I went out to my backyard and began to use my pastels to create a plein air pastel sketch of some Spring flowers blossoming. I greatly enjoyed it. Although it was not really a finished piece, I had captured something of interest perhaps.

 

 

One of the first completed pieces I did from life was done outdoors, so that solved the problem of pastel dust. I had bought some flowers, setting them upon my outdoor deck table. Painting them on a sheet of Wallis Belgian Mist sanded paper, my art supplies sat right atop the table, too. My return to work from life felt wonderful: this painting flowed. I eventually entitled it, The Life of an Artist, as I had decided to include my charcoal pencils in the piece, illustrating my process and life as a pastel artist. In fact, my pastel boxes and supplies can often found in my still lifes.

 

 

Much of my work is intuitive. Even at art school, I seemed to have a natural attraction and sense for colors. I am not at all rules driven. In fact, at Rhode Island School of Design, I think the focus was more on constant work from life, which so strengthens our skills as artists. Whatever color I wish to put down, at any time throughout the piece, down it goes. Sometimes it is me responding to what I see, playing with it, making decisions, using my conscious mind, and using my unconscious mind. There are times when I want to put down a color that does not seem to make any sense, but down it goes. Sometimes our unconscious minds know more about a piece than we know! I always believe that our artistic instincts, when engaged, give us tremendous freedom and infuse our work with life. My goal is always to achieve a sense of total and complete freedom, movement and life.

How do I achieve this freedom? I must first hit the pavement and go out for a run, headphones in ears, blaring upbeat music like “Freedom,” by George Michael – with its appropriate title (sounds of cringing from my teenage boys..)! I believe there is a connection between mind, body and spirit. It is deep and it is a very important part of who I am. If I want to be at my best, I must move and breathe out there, do some gratitude, which is a daily practice, and “visualization,” which means I am directing my own life, deciding and saying thank you for all I want in advance. It is spiritual and very empowering.

After my run, I set up a still life on my kitchen table, my old tea kettle center stage! The first thing I do is put water in my kettle, and turn on the flame, torn teabag package lying on the counter. Yes, I actually do make a cup of tea every time! Pulling out my old tea kettle, with its glorious spots of tarnished imperfection, was quite natural for me, as it represents a ritual that I experience daily: sitting down on my kitchen chair, with my steaming cup of green tea, flurries of heat wafting up to warm my face or my evening cup of herbal tea, which relaxes and restores my soul. In the AM, my stress is relieved and I am better prepared for the day ahead. It is my version of a “Spa day,” which I sadly do not generally give myself. It is both relaxing (as I savor a moment for myself), and exhilarating (as the caffeine courses through my body, giving me a bit of energy).

For my first tea kettle piece, I decided to try out my Giraults: I was curious to see if they would create massive amounts of dust or if they would behave. I found they worked well, with minimal mess. I had fun including my green wall in the piece, changing the color and punching it up, considerably. The color on my kitchen walls is actually a muted, subtle green, but I decided to intensify the color to give the piece added life.

 

 

I put my strokes down loosely and freely, boldly, and with great energy. I tend not to use my fingers to blend, leaving the pigment pure and the color fresh. Working on the whole piece at one time keeps my pieces fluid, and I am able to learn more about the entire painting. The piece is a sum of its parts, but it is also a working collaboration of everything functioning together, like a dance, all at once. When I am painting, I am fully focused on the experience, mostly allowing the piece to lead me. I am on my own artistic journey, and I embrace it! My work feels like pushing and pulling, and it is mostly a joyful experience, with the occasional surges of frustration, which just indicate that I am learning. I stop once I feel there is no more to add to my vision of that particular piece. I set it aside, later revisiting to see if it is indeed complete.

Having enjoyed doing this first tea kettle piece, I decided to continue with the series, exploring what I could do with it, by changing the perspectives, compositions, techniques, and playing, playing, playing with my pastels.

 

 

I also began to draw from life more, doing little life sketches of my dog, Sedona, as she “rested.” Of course she was in nearly continuous motion, so I was forced to work quickly! I believe that drawing is so important, the foundation of every painting. It is my goal to draw more frequently this year, starting a sketchbook, as well as truly exploring plein air pastel painting for the first time. I just purchased a set up. I cannot wait: it is my next artistic adventure!

 

 

Shortly after this, I decided to use both my Giraults and my beloved Terry Ludwigs, and they worked just fine in my kitchen! I put down a drop cloth, which solved the dust issue. This time I did a preliminary charcoal pencil sketch first, working out a few of the compositional components, which I knew I would play with once I started on the pastel. Cognizant of accuracy in perspective, I carefully observe as I draw, but I am not at all “fussy,” with my pencil or my pastel.

The first sketch is just a quick recording of my ideas. My charcoal pencil is used both for my preliminary sketch and the beginning drawing on the sanded paper, before I start my pastel. Before putting down even a stroke of pastel, I like to have enough accurate information already established in my drawing, so I can go in more confidently. I also like to leave a bit of the initial drawing, as well as a bit of the paper, showing in the final piece. This, I believe, welcomes the audience into my process; plus I just like how it looks! I like to leave a little to the imagination.

 

 

Looking for the vantage point to be more dynamic, I chose to view the still life from above. I am always working while standing at my easel, so that made it easy. I had also just acquired a pack of Wallis Belgian Mist sanded paper, which I was excited to use for the rest of my series!

I remember being especially taken with the light and reflections in the kettle, the colors created in the reflections themselves. This piece felt particularly good, as I observed and easily put down loose, confident marks, at the same time playing with the colors. That pink mug is actually a far more subdued color, but I made it brighter and more intense, infusing the piece with more life. I also ended up with two spots of yellow from the top of my honey jar, just a happy accident, and I decided to leave them both in. Straying from my initial sketch, which is included in the pastel, I did move around the piece compositionally. I finished this piece in one sitting, alla prima, as I did with the next in my series, Tea Kettle with Plum Mug, with only one slight adjustment after that initial day. I felt like I had taken my tea kettle series to a new level at this point.

 

 

There is a joyful ritual I employ toward the end of each piece. I get to engage my sense of complete exhilaration and fun, adding spots and punches of color all around the piece, which in turn serve to lead your eye around the pastel. For me, it is the most gratifying part of my pastel process, and it comes at the very end. I used this in every piece, but especially in Tea Kettle with Plum Mug, as I played with my technique, adding very intentional marks in almost a design pattern that danced throughout the piece.

 

 

I did not overdo it, just added a touch. It was great fun. This part I tend to do using only my artistic instincts, rather than paying attention to the still life set up. Part of your empowerment as an artist: as the master of the piece, YOU get to decide what marks/colors to put down.

Playing with perspective, I decided to try a piece from an even higher vantage point. I actually set the tea kettle down on the floor while I worked: a suggestion by my friend, Sandi. With the next piece, I cropped it greatly, on an angle. I was having fun experimenting.

 

 

 

For my next adventure, I wanted to try a more reflective surface, using a different tea kettle this time. Setting it atop our black, shiny uba tuba granite just beneath our kitchen window, reflective streaks of cerulean blue and magenta instantly came to life. I did this piece in mid-March, and snow gently blanketed the ground and rooftops. It was so beautiful. Peering out of my kitchen window, I reflected on my life. It had been a challenging year, but we had made it through as a family. After completing the piece, I entitled it, Reflections on a Snowy Day, embracing both nuances of the word. That title, that piece, was meaningful to me.

 

 

Finally, I knew I had an upcoming Pastel Society of New Jersey show and wanted to do a new tea kettle piece. I started out well and got something I liked.

 

 

 

Although I appreciated where it was going, it was most definitely not yet there, so I kept going. This piece, unlike some of my other tea kettle pieces, went on for quite a few days. At one point, I felt that perhaps I had overworked it, and I considered starting over.

 

 

Experiencing some frustration, I decided to go out for a run, making a firm decision to go into that same piece with total conviction and a sense of playfulness. I did just that, realizing that the piece was not overworked after all; it just needed a renewed direction. I added lively colors and fresh marks, creating perhaps one of my strongest pieces in the series. This final tea kettle piece moved my color in a new direction.

 

 

I have learned so much from doing this tea kettle series: how playing with a particular subject does not get boring, but, on the contrary, gets more and more exciting, as you push and explore what can be done by changing and experimenting with the elements. I did get a new kitchen table halfway through, so that made some changes on its own.

Honestly, I could not have expressed it any better than Gail Sibley herself when she described, in her blog, my intention while creating one of my tea kettle pieces (from HowtoPastel, May’s Marvellous Pastels):  “this painting is all about the joy of the painting process and using the medium of pastels in that process. It’s about the application of marks to create colour notes; to create various textures of cloth, of liquid, of ceramic, of metal, of glass, of fibre; to create the feeling of lightness and heaviness, of dimension, of time and space, of abstraction and reality; to create an emotion that is attached to the ritual of teatime and the delight that it brings. It’s about the physicality of pastel as it’s transferred through the hand to paper. It’s about the artist’s direct and perhaps intuitive response to what’s there in front of her as well as to the idea of tea.”  What a beautiful description of my goals and my intentions.

Ultimately I feel like my work is about exploration, applying these brilliant, loose, marks of rich buttery pigment and pushing what can be done with the medium: playing with composition, vantage point, technique and mark-making, saying something about who I am; leaving a little piece of myself on my sanded paper with each new charcoal pencil sketch, each failed attempt, each new finished piece. I have a long way to go. Of that I am certain. But I am enjoying the journey tremendously.

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I LOVED hearing about Adrian’s process as well as her thoughts and mindset around creating.

Let’s hear from you! What were your favourite takeaways from this post? Have you been inspired? Please let Adrian Frankel Giuliani and me know your thoughts by leaving your comments and questions.

Until next time,

~ Gail