Okay, how come it’s August already??? Where has the summer gone? The beginning of August means it’s time for July’s glorious pastels. It’s an interesting mix, heavy on landscape but coming in many variations. As always, a subjective choice made from the many I saw through the month. Let’s get started.

 

July’s Glorious Pastels

The trees move. Is it the wind or do they do so by their own volition? This woodland feels like a safe place, a place to be refreshed against the chaos and anxiety of daily life. There’s nothing to be afraid of here. The trees themselves seem to vibrate and bend as if to offer their help. A path runs beneath them for us to walk on and the sun filters through, lighting our way. Orban has used a limited palette effectively to give us this picture of life. Although we are in the cool shade of the trees, Orban’s use of warm greens, yellows and oranges gives the whole scene a lightness and appeal. This isn’t a silent place but rather one where trees whisper and animals move quietly and the place is alive. At this time, unfortunately, I have no place to direct you to see more of Laszlo Orban’s work.

 

 

Unlike the scene above, this one is a place I’d rather not be. Here you can feel the full power of nature. In spite of the ferocity of the sea, there’s a beauty that stops me and compels me stay despite my unease. The inky darkness of the water fills me with dread but the translucency of that glowing green in the front wave mesmerizes me. The sun has popped out and illuminates the stormy scene – it catches the surf, highlights the wind as it pulls the tops off the crested waves, reflects off the dark water lightening it for a moment. The clouds are heavy and you can see how they are roiling in the wind. That same wind is blowing my hair about! The primarily cool scene is given relief by the warm earth colour in the foreground. Notice how the blowing surf connects the two rectangles of sky and sea, and the horizon is softened by the mist from the surging water. I was unable to find a place where you can see more of Sabine Bindszus’s work.

 

 

 

Following a storm, we have the grandeur of the sky at the end of a day. The inclement weather is clearing and the blue of the sky pulsates through the tattered clouds which swoop upward and are coloured by the warmth of the setting sun. The glory of nature is overwhelming. Cassel has caught that moment when you look up, perhaps previously unaware of the theatre of nature, and it takes your breath away and life is good. Almost every colour is here – yellows, oranges, pinks, mauves, blues, greens and all work together to give us this dramatic scene. A very low horizon, below which three narrow strips of colour give us perspective and context, leaves the remainder of the paper for the expression of the sky. The two rectangles of land and sky are joined by the few smudges of rain that fall. See more of Cassel’s work on her website.

 

 

A simple setting with nothing to distinguish it but Hanson has managed to create a painting that reminds us that in even the banality of an ordinary place, there can be beauty in the hands of an artist. The two large trees are our focus (the brothers of the title?) and then our eyes are taken to a small structure below and then to the grasses and rocks to the right of the trees. We then follow the tree shadows over to a scruffy stand of saplings. In the distance, a thin strip of light highlights a road, the one perhaps that brings us to this property. Hanson stays in the middle value and makes subtle changes in colour that you might miss if you don’t pause to look. His touch is so light. The pastels drift across the surface to indicate small branches and foliage (what’s left of it in the fall). The fence quietly makes its uneven way across the lower parts of the painting. The quality of light gives almost a feel of a distant past. And perhaps offers a different story about the brothers. There is much to explore in this piece so take time. See more of Hanson’s work here.

 

 

Mike Beeman painted the simplest wee bird and shows us its beauty, fragility, strength, softness, and vitality. The feathers are slightly ruffled. Is it the effect of the wind or was it interrupted mid-preen? Is it boldly looking at us, the viewers, or is it contemplating a quick getaway? It seems wary of us but in this moment, there’s an instance of connection. And thus we are reminded of the relationship between all of us and how important each individual, even a small animal such as this, is to the whole. The bird, so beautifully rendered, sits against a  background of pastel strokes. Boldly laid in different directions, they help carve out the animal and allow it to sit in and yet be detached from its surroundings. The turquoise colour gleams and excites yet doesn’t distract us from the important subject of the bird. See more of Mike Beeman’s on his website.

 

 

 

Head tilted, this lovely pubescent girl looks out at us questioningly. Does she have a simple question for us or is it complex, about the meaning of life? Or is she about to speak and tell us something, quietly, tenderly? She is on the cusp between childhood and adulthood, with her whole life before her. Is this the ‘everything’ to which the title refers? The portrait is beautifully  painted – the softness of still young skin, the plumpness of a child not yet stretched into a fast growing body, the texture of hair, the liquidity of eyes, the slight unassured shrug of the shoulder on the left. And the design of the background which creates a kind of halo about the girl woman, what does it tell us about her? Does it impart a religious connotation about this important transition in life or does it have another meaning? There is attention given to the painted structure but without diverting our attention from the young woman. Those eyes, what do they see, what do they ask? Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find a website for Marcello-Gallego.

 

 

 

And now for some lighthearted fun. You can’t go wrong with chickens! I’m a pushover when it comes to backyard fowl. I love their characters, behaviours, and the movements they make. And we have it all here – chickens peck, peck, pecking. Some in the feed bowl, some scratching around the outside, while the king of the roost looks on not yet ready to get in on the action. I love the primarily light colour scheme balanced by the darkness of the rooster. It’s midday and everything is blasted by the heat haze. The application of the pastel in daubs (almost like oil colour), with the placing of colours of similar values side by side, recalls the patterned work of Vuillard and Bonnard. You can see more of van Emmerik-Finn’s work here.

 

 

 

Something about the past speaks to me as I look at this jumble of roses. There’s something reminiscent of the work of the 19th century and earlier – of work by Redon and Delacroix, and by Watteau and Fragonard. Nunes searches for the essence and truth of these roses. Yet they are imbued with a romanticism in the delicacy of pastel strokes and the colours and in the way they rustle and whisper. Life moves through and around them. There’s no harsh reality here, no thorns about to prick your fingers and draw blood. Orange glows in the depths of the roses and this warmth flows through the painting. It’s a graceful and skillful capturing of the small jungle of growth outside her window. Find more of Sandra’s work on her website.

 

 

 

Wow! That’s what I said when my scrolling through images got me to this one. There’s a landscape for sure (road, trees, telephone poles and wires) but certainly this painting is more about exuberant colour! The scene is flooded in late afternoon light and all is warmed by it. The artist revels in the various hues, applying them energetically in an almost intuitive way. The strokes are cleanly applied – there’s no fudging as if to say, “I don’t know what I’m doing.’ Will is open to the possibility and runs towards it without hesitation. I like that boldness and fearlessness! The scene borders on abstraction. Take any small part and you have a non-objective painting,  a conglomeration of line and colour. When all the parts are pulled together, they coalesce into a cohesive and understandable whole. I’m delighted by this painting of colour and light, of movement and pattern. See more of Tara Will’s work here.

 

 

 

And lastly, this small jewel of colour. Howarth takes colour as her main subject, placing it over the excuse of landscape and asks, ‘How far can I go?’ Colour describes the landscape in an emotional rather than rational way. Despite the bright chroma, there’s an edginess to the piece with its dark (black) areas dividing the format vertically. These dark expanses engender in me a feeling of foreboding. They feel solid and ungiving. And yet, the intensity of hue surrounding them temper the misgiving I have about this place. Is it day or night? It doesn’t matter really as Howarth is getting to a deeper place than a temporal interpretation. I’m surprised at how this painting both attracts and repels me, all due to the combination and choice of colours. I love Howarth’s audacious and bold application of the pastel as well as her exploration into the emotional effects of colour. Check out more of her work here.

 

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And that’s it for another month.

I would love to hear what you think of these glorious pastels. Do you agree with my interpretations or do you have your own? If you do, I’d love to hear them. We all bring out own character, experiences, and mood to the reading of a painting so I’m sure you will have different responses than mine. Please feel free to share them!

 

Until next time,

~ Gail