Colour versus Black and White

When you are surrounded by brilliant, sunlit hues and above the sky is blindingly blue, it is easy to be captivated by colour and want to translate it into your art. We all resonate to colour, and it is and always has been the dominant approach to painting. Nonetheless there are those, artists and art lovers, who also resonate to black and white and shades of monochrome in between.

I read of a perfect summation of this difference in an El Pais article about the resurrection of the Leica camera, once considered the ne plus ultra of 35 mm. cameras for most of the 20th century. Every great photographer, from Capra to Henri Cartien-Bresson used a Leica because it was quiet, highly portable and had remarkable lenses that allowed fantastic photographs to be taken. Cartier-Bresson believed too that all edits to the image should be made when the photo was being taken, not afterwards in the darkroom.

Near Strasbourg, 1945, Henri Cartier-Bresson

Until the digital camera came along, Leicas were much esteemed. When the then nearly bankrupt company was bought out in 2005 by Andreas Kaufmann, heir to an Austrian paper company fortune, a fascinating development occurred. Andreas Kaufmann gambled on differentiating Leicas from all other digital cameras: the M Monochrom Leica only takes black and white images. When this Leica was launched in May 2012, the model was priced at a cool 6,800 euros. It has become a runaway success in the photographic world, selling like hot cakes through Leica Boutiques around the globe.

As Andreas Kaufman was quoted as saying, “For me, colour is more emotion, while black and white represents structure.” The remark resonated with me.

True, I was brought up with a grandfather and mother both photographing in black and white in East Africa. In fact, they were so successful that they kept the farm going on photographic sales during the dreadful Great Depression years when the farm was in its infancy and barely sustained them as a family. I have always considered black and white photographs of the 1930-50 era in Europe as marvellous works of art, as well as the amazing photographs that Edward Weston and Ansel Adams took in the earlier 20th century. 

Kelp, Point Lobos, 1930, Edward Weston

Onion Halved, 1930, Edward Weston

Pine Cone and Eucalyptus Leaves, San Francisco, 1932, Ansel Adams

Mount Williamson, Sierra Nevada, from Marzanar, CA, 1944 (Image courtesy of  MOMA)

By the Seine, Robert Doisneau

I also love black and white drawings for their immediacy and unadorned truth of execution. Look at this one for direct simplicity and power of composition.

Self Portrait, 1924, charcoal, Kathe Kollwitz

Even black and white paintings have an impact that indeed speaks of structure and logical thought.

Atlantic, 1956, Ellsworth Kelly (Image courtesy of Whitney Museum of American Art, New York)

Uneasy Centre, 1963, Bridget Riley

It is as if you can get your teeth into a black and white work of art, while one in colour is a fraction fuzzy, tugging at emotion and heart strings. Portraits, landscapes, even still life or abstracts: they all evoke passion, sympathy, joy, sorrow, lyricism. Black and white images seem more cerebral, more challenging often. I find it logical that I am more and more fascinated by metalpoint drawing – it is all back to black and white. 

Plus ça change, plus ça reste la même!

When Artistic Seeds Germinate

Last year, I felt I was seriously in need of being shaken around as an artist, as I was too often wont to work in my comfort zone. I was experimenting every time I could, but there were not many occasions to work as an artist as other events were impinging too hard on my life.  Nonetheless, the experiments were not all that daring, I felt. 

Frail Remnants, silverpoint/Mylar, 7 x 10", Jeannine Cook artist

This was one line of work - a mixture of realism and stylised silhouettes in Mylar.  Another line of  subject matter I was exploring was my on-going series on tree barks.

Balearica V - Lemon Tree Bark, silverpoint, 5 x 3.5", Jeannine Cook

Another series was totally abstract, seemingly, but in reality, based on the extraordinary designs that Neolithic man had already devised for his pottery.

Basilicata #1, silverpoint, 7.5 x 5.5", artist Jeannine Cook

Nevertheless, I felt that I needed to free up, something that is quite hard to do with metalpoint drawing, as there is a terrific feel of friction, well almost friction, when one has the stylus making marks on the drawing surface.  I wondered whether I needed to work much bigger, but also felt that for that purpose,  metalpoint would be a very big challenge.  So I decided that at my residency last summer at Draw International, in France, I would take lots of other drawing media and see what came of it all.

I soon realised that I needed to free up from more than just drawing inhibitions.  I had to work through an enormous amount of stress from family illness with which I had been coping, even to getting enough sleep. Then I found that I was indeed being pushed out of any comfort zone, utterly.  Of course, the resultant work was all over the place, but mostly I was using graphite, a much more forgiving medium and one that allowed for all sorts of smudged and gestural effects, the antithesis of metalpoint effects.

Caylus, 14th July, graphite, 15 x 11" artist Jeannine Cook

Fractured, Caylus, graphite, 15 x 11", artist Jeannine Cook

I struggled on, feeling at sea, conscious that I needed to feel at sea, but of course, that is never a happy place to be as an artist! I just had to listen to the small inner voice, that old friend, and be counselled that sooner or later, things would begin to work out and I would find my voice, albeit, I hoped, a slightly different and better one.  Part of the trouble was, of course, that I have continued to have very little time to devote to art and to bury myself in it.

However, I had the luck to go off for the two blissful weeks to the artist residency I was given at OBRAS Portugal this early spring.  There, suddenly, things began to feel more comfortable.  Yes, I am still doing realistic things, but not always in the predictable realistic way of yore.  I feel more comfortable in daring and venturing into much more unpredictable ways of working.  In short, I am finding new voices, slowly slowly.  The seeds that were rather painfully planted last year in my garden of art are slowly beginning to germinate.  That is exciting.

Alentejo IV, graphite, 15 x 11", artist Jeannine Cook

Evoramonte Shadows, silverpoint/watercolour, 12 x 9", artist Jeannine Cook

Cork Oak I, gold/silverpoint, 3.5 x 5.5", artist Jeannine Cook

Lichen Shimmer I, gold/silverpoint, 3.5 x 5", artist Jeannine Cook, private collection

The Passion to Create

Recently, I was listening to an interview Diane Rehm did on public radio with David McCullough, Jr.  At one point, he remarked that creative passion cannot be taught.  It can only be caught.  I thought that was so true.

Everyone needs a passion to create something; it is the fire that burns to get one going, to get one out of the bed in the morning.  A dear friend of mine, alas, has lost any passion for anything, let alone anything creative, and she is seriously adrift.  Another friend reminded me this week how important a passion for needlepoint was for her.  Not surprising, as she creates the most wonderful art with her skillful needle.

Perhaps artists of all descriptions are very fortunate to burn with a passion to create.  It gives coherence and meaning to life, even if it does mean that one is driven by a sometimes stern taskmaster. I am not sure that such passion even implies that the artist has clearly defined objectives on all occasions.  Sometimes one blindly gropes, only knowing that you have to start work on creating something.  With time and experience, the artist knows that that small inner voice will help with the creative process, acting as guide and critic.  Nonetheless, it is the energy from passion that motivates and drives the artist to work.

There are so many examples of artists, in all disciplines, who are driven by their passion.  Degas, for example, was single-minded in the extreme; he devoted his entire life to drawing and painting, even as his eyesight hindered him more and more. As he remarked, "No art was ever less spontaneous than mine. What I do is the result of reflection and of the study of the great masters; of inspiration, spontaneity, temperament, I know nothing."  But he drove himself. His series of studies of dancers was a huge part of his opus, a passion to which he returned again and again.

Dancer adjusting her shoe, 1885, Edgar Degas, pastels

  Edgar Degas, A Dancer at the Bar, charcoal and white chalk.

Passionate or obsessive - sometimes it is hard to differentiate for the outsider who is observing the artist.  The drive to create can sometimes seem like an extreme - think of Beethoven as he composed magnificent music whilst struggling with his deafness.  I am sure that the passion/madness of Vincent van Gogh is one of the most famous of cases of visual artists driven to go on working.  The years 1888- 89 were the example of a time when Van Gogh was into the most astonishing mark-making, requiring such energy and application.  Clinging to his art, he worked and worked at these drawings, in the sunlit countryside around Arles, mostly using a reed pen and ink.  Here he was returning to his belief that drawing was "the root of everything." 

Vincent van Gogh, 1888, Garden with Flowers, pen & ink

Vincent van Gogh, The rock of Montmajour with pine trees, 1888. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Vincent van Gogh, Olive Trees in a Mountain Landscape, black chalk, brush, brown ink, Saint-Rémy: June 17 or 18, 1889, Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

As one's own passion to create is sometimes dimmed by the quotidian, with daily life chipping away at time and quiet, it is good to remember that the flame inside can still burn.  It may burn less brightly at times, but it is still there.  That makes life very special.

Boulders, Works of Art or Something More Important?

Reading an article by Stephen Knudsen in April-May’s edition of Professional Magazine entitled ”To see a Work of Art” made me think back to a recent experience I had in Portugal. Knudsen’s article was about spending a day at the Los Angeles Museum of Art to see sculptor Michael Heizer’s LevitatedMass. 

Michael Heizer, Levitated Mass, 2012, diorite granite and concrete, height: 35 ft., 7 in.; width: 21 ft., 8 in.; length: 456 ft.; granite weight: 340 tons © Michael Heizer.

Steve Knudsen first explained about the controversy surrounding the granite boulder’s final installation at the Museum in 2012 after Heizer first sketched out the idea back in 1969.Then Knudsen described the rewards of sitting watching this enormous boulder suspended over a ramp, ranging from the reactions of fellow visitors of all ages to the final crescendo at sunset of the boulder seeming to rise as the sun sank. He comments that “the seemingly grand narrative of moving the rock was, in the end, just a blip in the bigger story that points to sublime space, celestial movement and geologic time” (my thanks to him for this quote).

His remarks took me straight back to my amazing hours in early March at the Cromlech dos Almendres, near Evora in Portugal. One of the most important megalithic complexes in Europe, it is sited on a gentle hillside, overlooking rolling hills towards Evora, amidst olives and cork oaks. Daring from the 6th millenium BC, this extraordinarily grandiose ensemble of roughly one hundred boulders takes one's breath away as you approach the wide-flung site.

Cromlech dos Almendres,Nossa Senhora de Guadalupe, Portugal, photograph Jeannine Cook

Just as Michael Heizer must have thought long and hard about his boulder, its shape, its material, its potential home and how it would best be viewed there, its messages and meaning to anyone viewing it – even how to transport it to the site, so too, our ancestors must have spent much time planning the Cromlech dos Almendres.

Like Heizer’s boulder, the huge megalith boulders are granite. Wonderful shapes, some of these monoliths have some carving on them, now well worn, but still hugely evocative as the sun moves and catches different angles and shapes on their surfaces.

Cromlech dos Almendres, photograph Jeannine Cook

Cromlech dos Almendres carved boulder

Apparently these boulders were placed at different times, in concentric circles and later ellipses, all on a southeast-northwest axis. The entire group occupies an area of about 70 by 40 meters. Many of these massive stones are three meters high, while others, of earlier date, are slightly smaller.

Just to transport them to this hillside must have required incredible effort and organization, let along to site them and erect them into a vertical position. The endeavour speaks of enormous religious and social fervor, amongst groups of people who were few in number to start with. Connections with the land, their gods perhaps, their social structures – this was a huge undertaking to assemble these wonderfully powerful and eloquent boulders. Perhaps too the ensemble of monoliths was used for astronomical purposes.

Cromlech dos Almendres,Nossa Senhora de Guadalupe, Portugal, photograph Jeannine Cook

Cromlech dos Almendres,Nossa Senhora de Guadalupe, Portugal, photograph Jeannine Cook

Cromlech dos Almendres,Nossa Senhora de Guadalupe, Portugal, photograph Jeannine Cook

Whether artistic considerations came into their choices of the stones to transport and place – who knows. But the carvings, whatever their significance, are beautiful too, and the carvers must have been conscious of that aspect. Many of the stones are flatter on one face, perhaps shaped deliberately. Each boulder speaks, as the sun moves around it and it relates to the next boulder and then the one beyond. The tactile qualities of the granite, so enduring, so interesting as the lichens hint at the northern side of the boulder, are memorable.

Like Stephen Knudsen’s perceptions of Levitated Mass at LACMA, the impressions that the Cromlech dos Almendres leave with one are of grandiose endeavours. Eight thousand years ago, men and women believed deeply enough in matters beyond their daily needs, in matters that transcended space, time and the span of human life, to expend enormous physical effort to create a sacred place of power and great beauty, sited exquisitely, laid out with care and sensitivity for the natural flow of life.

Even in our complex technology-driven 21st century, a visitor to the Cromlech is awed and inspired by the powerful voices that speak to us from the past of older, deeper, more important matters.

Marble - the Glory of Estremoz

One of the attractions of my going to OBRAS Portugal for an artist residency was the marble that is found in the Estremoz area.

I had already seen examples of this lovely, varied but subtle white marble on previous visits to the Alentejo, but it seemed to me that its character lent itself beautifully to silverpoint drawing.

Estremoz Marble, silverpoint and Prismacolor on paper, Jeannine Cook

The marble is found in a wide swath in the Alentejo, 27 km by 48 km, running NW-SE, with a depth of nearly 400 metres, but Estremoz is near the centre of the area.Historically this marble has been mined since 370 BC, as was discovered by a tombstone, and the Romans used it for many building projects. The Roman temple in Evora has bases and capitals of marble, while the Roman theatre in Merida, Spain, also has Estremoz marble.

Evora Roman Temple, photograph Jeannine Cook

It was soon being widely exported around the Mediterranean and by the Middle Ages, this marble was incorporated in major religious and secular building projects throughout Portugal. By the 15th century, Estremoz marble found its ways to Africa, Brazil and India, in all parts of the Portuguese Empire. The list of important European buildings adorned with this marble ranges from the Jeronimos Monastery in Portugal, to the Escorial Monastery in Spain, to the Louvre, Versailles and the Vatican.  Now, the marble is exported worldwide, and Portugal is one of the major producers of marble in the world.

In Estremoz itself and the surrounding areas, marble is an integral, elegant part of all aspects of building. Door and window frames, lintels, floors, stairs, pavements walls – there are touches of marble everywhere, and the cemeteries are a celebration of this stone. Of course, sculptors celebrate this marble as well and there are many artists currently working in it in the Estremoz area.  One such sculptor whose work I acquired is Pedro Fazenda. Its colours are mainly white, some with veins and then there are subtle rose shades that can be beautifully translucent, some veined, some less so.

Redondo facade with rose marble, photograph Jeannine Cook

Estremoz windows, photograph Jeannine Cook

The mines themselves are deep and vertiginous – huge blocks carved out, down and down. Some of the mines have been abandoned as water sources were struck and the quarries filled with water.

Estremoz Municipal Marble Quarry, photograph Jeannine Cook

Estremoz Marble Quarry, photograph Jeannine Cook

Abandoned Marble Quarry, Estremoz, photograph Jeannine Cook

Mined marble waiting for use, photograph Jeannine Cook

Others are still a forest of cranes and heavy equipment disappears down to tinker-toy size far below the surface. Vast mountains of tumbled blocks of waste marble rise drunkenly to the sky in olive groves, and there are piles of sawn-off pieces of marble that beg to be touched and taken. Cores of marble samples lie in abandoned factory areas, while other leased-out mines hum with activity.

There is always the question of how to use the waste marble – one vast pile outside Estremoz was apparently destined to be ground into the chips for the bed of the AVE high speed train link between Madrid and Lisbon. Alas, EU funding dried up for that project and the giant blocks remain intact today.

Needless to say, I could not resist the blocks of marble and am still exulting in its quiet beauty. These are some of the drawings I have done so far – with more silverpoints still to come…

Marble from Estremoz, silverpoint on paper, Jeannine Cook

Marble Meanderings I,gold/silverpoint on paper, Jeannine Cook

Marble Meanderings II,gold/silverpoint on paper, Jeannine Cook

Music in Lyrical Colours: Erdmute Blach's Art

Every time I go to an artist residency, there are so many rewards beyond actually having the opportunity to create art pretty well full time.

Yesterday I had one such reward: listening to a talk given by fellow resident artist, Ermute Blach, about her work.

Erdmute comes from Germany, initially from East Germany before unification, and now she lives in a small town, Rostock. But her art is anything but small town. Despite her quiet demeanour, her work is powerful, lyrical and arresting.

We have a lot in common in our attitudes to being artists, the first being that each of us started life in fields other than art. In Erdmute’s case, she has a degree in mathematics. Yet, to my way of thinking, the discipline and logic of mathematics lead very readily to one of the main sources of inspiration for her paintings and drawings: music.

Blue Note, acrylic, Erdmute Blach (image courtesy of the artist)

Erdmute uses the nuances and layers of compositions – mainly music written by contemporary composers now – as the means by which to express her love of form and colour. She works directly with musicians, including Portuguese musicians, and composers, sometimes in live performances.

Untitled, acrylic, Erdmute Blach (image courtesy of the artist)

Her acrylic paintings are bold and direct, expressing very clearly the rhythm, content and passion of the pieces of music she is evoking. Interestingly, she does not listen to the actual music as she is painting; she often knows the score already, but it plays only in her head as she works.

Untitled, acrylic, Erdmute Blach (image courtesy of the artist)

Blue Note, acrylic, Erdmute Blach (image courtesy of the artist)

Triptych, acrylic, Ermute  Blach (image courtesy of the artist)

Another love which inspires her painting is poetry. She has created artist books of poetry and had them published by one of Germany’s major art book publishers, Edition balance. The Frankfurt Book Fair and the Leipzig Book Fair have been recent venues where her art books are on display.

Here at Obras Portugal, she is using her residency to create a large body of work inspired by the Portuguese Alentejo landscapes and world. These works will be exhibited next years, 2015, in the nearby wonderful city of Evora.

Erdmute Blach - exhibited acrylics

So Erdmute is again responding to the sights and sounds, the rhythms and intervals; already on the walls here in the studio, bold colour is singing.

A delicious reward for me, listening to Erdmute talk of her work, thoughtfully, seriously, passionately. It makes me glad to be a fellow artist.

Portuguese Memories - Gleaming Tiles

After a marvellously creative and stimulating time at an OBRAS art residency in Evoramonte, Portugal, I have been remembering back to vignettes of great beauty.

One of the wonderful delights, of course, was seeing the diversity of the tiles or azulejos about which I have written previously. Since I was spending time in the fortress hill town of Estremoz, in the Alentejo region, I was charmed by some of the modern versions of tiles, adorning the facades of houses in the centre of town.

One grand house celebrating tiles and local marble in Estremoz

A neighbouring house in Estremoz

Another modernist house near the old railways station in Estremoz

More historic tiles in Estremoz include amazing tile pictures all around the outside of the original train station, serving a railway line built for the Kings of Portugal to travel between their various palaces.The railway line is long disused and a tangle of brambles and flowers, but the railway station in Estremoz is protected, with the tiles covered by Plexiglas against vandalism or theft.

More delicious houses shouldered together around the main, vast Estremoz square, some of which told of their builders' dreams and aspirations.

One amazingly elaborate home on the main square in Estremoz

A small house on one side of the Estremoz main square

Another proud house on the Estremoz square

Much earlier azulejos adorn the handsome stairs up the main building of the present municipal offices, once part of the “Congregados” convent and church that was started in 1698. I was fascinated by the hunting, fishing, boating and picnicking scenes, and thought the top “ladies” were fun.

A series of tiles along the stairway of the Congregados convent, now Estremoz' municipal centre

Everywhere you go in Portuguese towns and cities, there are details of interest or delight that stop one in one’s tracks. The azulejos, modern and of previous centuries, never fail to add colour, harmony and life to buildings.

Azulejos - Those Amazing Portuguese Tiles

Every time I return to Portugal, I find I fall in love all over again with the azulejos, the glazed tiles that are the quintessence of Portuguese wall coverings, on the outside of buildings, inside churches, monasteries, even private houses, everywhere.

The beginnings of this wonderful art form date from over five centuries ago, when the Moors held sway in the Iberian Peninsula.In fact, the word azulejos comes from the Arabic word for “polished stone”, zillege,and the early types of tile - floral, geometrical, curvilinear in patterns - were introduced by them.Soon the Mozarabic centre of tile making was Seville, and for a time, Portugal imported tiles after King Manuel I visited the Seville factory in 1503.The Spanish adopted the Arab love of filling space and patterning everything.

Early 16thcentury Seville tiles,Evora Museum, Evora

Early Azulejos, Portugal

Later in the 16th century, the Portuguese learned how to make the tiles themselves after they had captured Ceuta in 1415, and after an influx of Flemish, Spanish and Italians brought their pottery skills to Portugal. (Their arrival is a reminder of how skilled workers flow around the world to where there is wealth and thus work; it is not just a phenomenon of our times!) The heyday of azulejos began and soon churches were adorned in amazing friezes and vast picture panels in “Delft blue”, palaces were tiled from top to bottom, stairways became glowing glories, the facades of buildings were works of art beyond belief. Wherever one goes in Portugal, there is beauty and complexity, thanks to the azulejos.

Just a few examples of tiled interiors that I have delighted in recently, in Evora and in a lovely small restored 16th century church in Redondo, both in the Alentejo region, inland and east of Lisbon.

Igreja dos Loios, Chapel next to the Palace of the Duke de Cadaval

Igreja dos Loios, Chapel next to the Palace of the Duke de Cadaval

Igreja dos Loios, Chapel next to the Palace of the Duke de Cadaval

Tiles down the staircase at Forum Eugenio de Almeida, originally the seat of the Court of the Inquisition, (1655-1821), Evora

16th-17th century azulejos panel, Evora Museum

Entrance to 16th century church, Redondo, Alentejo region

If you are in Lisbon, one of the most fascinating and delightful museums to visit is the National Azulejos Museum. Spend all day there if you can – you will be rewarded. And elsewhere in Portugal, don’t forget to slip into every church  or historic building you see, because there will be great beauty to reward you, thanks to the azulejos.

Art from the Garden

It is enough to make one feel guilty!

Spending hours in the bright sunlight in the midst of winter, while practically everyone one knows is suffering extreme cold or torrential rains or both in rapid succession in Northern countries.

Winter in the Mediterranean has definite charms.

One of the most delightful of these charms is a part of the garden fragrant with a carpet of violets blooming. Every time I pick these lovely flowers, I remember the steep banks of Tanzanian mountain terraces bound with violets where I spent hours as a child picking huge perfumed bunches while my mother worked among the flowers in the terrace beds.

So it was natural that when I moved to Paris, I was delighted to find there were still ladies selling bunches of flowers on street corners and especially posies of Parma violets, the most fragrant of all violets, said to be from Toulouse.

Thomas Waterman Wood, (American), Spring Violets, 1868

And then I discovered the paintings and drawings of flowers that told of other people’s delight with violets down the ages as I spent hour upon hour in the French museums.

The love of violets showed up early, not surprisingly, in the wonderful margin illuminations in medieval manuscripts, where flowers are woven in with birds, insects and glorious arabesques and curliques. Since violets symbolize purity, modesty and pure love and are associated with the Virgin Mary, it was normal to include these spring flowers in Books of Hours and other religious works. Books of Hours were created from the 13th century onwards, often in France, and are still treasured works that remain jewel-like. Nonetheless, violets had come into the Christian lexicon from far earlier: the Greeks hadesteemed them and used them in sleeping draughts, health-giving tisanes, as sweetening for food, as well as loving their beauty. The Romans of course followed suit, and made wine from violets, used them in salads and as conserves. Violet tinctures and elixirs, perfumes and cosmetics helped restore health and well being. Later the Anglo Saxons believed in the curative powers of violets for wounds, and followed ancient practices of using violets to help restore the respiratory tract after colds and bronchitis. So it was not surprising that violets very so frequently illustrated in early holy books.

Book of Hours page, c. 1470, France

Book of Hours, Bruges, 1494, vellum, (Image courtesy of National Library of the Netherlands)

Book of Hours, 15th century, (Image courtesy of Raner Library, Dartmouth College)

Individual early artists who celebrated violets, members of the Viola family, are Albrecht Dürer and Leonardo da Vinci.

A sheet of studies, that has been dated to “about 1487-90”, from the Bibliothèque de l’Institut de France (B fol. 14r), showing Leonardo’s study of violets and designs for a means of soldering lead roof coverings.

Study of Flowers, (including violets), Leonardo da Vinci (Image couretesy of Academia de Venezia)

Bouquet of Violets, Albrecht Dürer, c. 150, 1505,body colour and watercolour on parchment, (Image courtesy of Graphische Sammlung Albertina)

Then came a long period when violets, and other flowers for that matter, were mostly painted by Dutch still life artists in the 16th and early 17th century.

It was really not surprising that the Dutch artists should celebrate flowers but they became masters of combining flowers, in one painting, that actually bloomed at entirely different times. Ambrosius Bosschaert the Elder (1583-1621) was one such master, painting on panels or on copper, works that glow.

Flower Still Life, (with violets), Ambrosius Bosschaert the Elder, 1614, oil on copper (Image courtesy of J. Paul Getty Museum)

Still Life of Roses, Marigolds, Aquilega, Violets, Convolvulus, Hollyhocks, oil on oak panel, 1600-1605, Ambrosium Bosschaert the Elder (1573-1621)

A little earlier, French writer, traveller and artist, Jacques Le Moyne de Morgues had teamed up with the French Huguenots who unsuccessfully attempted to establish a colony in Florida in 1564, recording much of the flora and fauna he saw there. He also later worked in London and produced some beautiful botanical studies, considered the finest in the 16th century. He included violets in his repertoire.

Flowers, Butterflies, Insects, Jacques le Moyne de Morgues, late 16th century, (Image courtesy of Dumbarton Oaks, Washington)

The French heritage of botanical studies continued into the 18th and 19th century, as is demonstrated by Pierre Jean François Turpin, considered one of the best botanical and floral artists of the Napoleonic era and beyond, as well as another noted German botanical illustrator, Georg Dionysius Ehret. Another Frenchman who painted violets in a less rigourously botanical fashion was Paul de Longpre (1855-1911): he was very much into the Victorian era spirit of depicting flowers. Nonetheless, he know how to paint violets in a way that allows one almost to smell their perfume.

Wood Violet, Pierre Jean François Turpin, (1775-1840), (Image courtesy of Musee National d'Histoire Naturelle)

Viola, graphite and bodycolour on vellum, Georg Dionysius Ehret, 1708-1770, (Image courtesy of the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge)

Violets, Paul De Longpré, 1896, watercolour

Violets, Paul De Longpré, 1902

Anemones and Violets in Blue Bowl, G. Pellerier, late 19th-early 20th century

Indeed, the 19th century brought more attention to the humble violet, mainly as a prop in portraits of young ladies, as in Théodore Chasseriau’s and James Tissot’s cases.Edouard Manet obviously got enticed by bouquets of violets, for in the same year, 1872, he painted two pictures, on a study of a bunch of violets, the other a portrait of Berthe Morisot with a bunch of the same flowers.

Mademoiselle de Cabarrus, Theodore Chassériau, 1848

Jenue Femme en Verte, James Tissot, 1864, (Image courtesy of Musee d'Orsay)

Bouquet de violettes, Edouard Manet, 1872, Private Collection

Berthe Morisot au Chaopeau Noir et au Bouquet de Violettes, Edouard Manet, 1872, (Image courtesy of Musee d'Orsay)

The Victoria era brought a surge of interest to flower painting and the violet was one of the favoured flowers to paint, with its symbolism, fragrance and, I suspect, availability as Viola odorata varieties grow beautifully in well-watered, moderate to mild climates. The French and British artists seem to have been the most keen on painting violets, but in the United States, in the early 20th century. Lila Cabot Perry used violets in a couple of her paintings. Elbridge Ayer Burbank and Thomas Waterman Wood were other American artists who loved violets, as was the Tiffany artist, Alice Gouvy.

Violets, 1904, Henry Meynell Rheam, British, 1859-1920

Portrait of Mrs. Joseph Clark Drew, 1903-04, Lila Cabot Perry, Private Collection (Courtesy of Beverly A Mitchell Gallery)

Lady with a Bowl of Violets, 1910, Lila Cabot Perry, (Image courtesy of the National Museum of Women in the Arts)

Violets, c. 1917, Elbridge Ayer Burbank, American, 1858-1949

 Violets 231, Alice Gouvy, Tiffany Furnaces, Corona, New York, about 1902

Today, artists still turn to the violet family in delight.

One only has to look on the Net at the many, many images, mostly photographs, of these lovely flowers. But perhaps, in anticipation of 14th February at the end of this week, this should be the last image about one of my most favourite flowers, one of them growing in a garden.  One can just imagine their perfume scenting the air.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

Almond Blossom - a Joy for Artists

January and February in Mallorca, Spain, are months of delight for those of us who love almond blossom.  The island is transformed into fairyland, with row upon row of pink and white blossom undulating through the valleys and over the plains, always with the backdrop of dramatic blue-green mountains and azure winter skies.  Beneath the trees lie carpets of emerald winter wheat sprouting or grazing land that is dotted with huge herds of shaggy sheep, often with early fragile lambs.  The incredible winter light playing over the blossom is crystalline and renders every detail vivid and gem like.

Spring in the Almond Groves of Mallorca

Almond Blossom, Mallorca

Almond blossom not only plays an important role in ensuring the production of almonds, always an important crop, and a major tourist attraction in Mallorca; it has also inspired many artists. Perhaps the most famous among these artists were those of the 19th and early 20th century, many of them from Catalonia, who visited the island and were captivated by the island landscapes and. above all, the light here.  Even Joaquin Sorolla exclaimed, "This light, this light, it is impossible to capture it!" ("Esa luz, esa luz, es impossible capturarla!").

One of the most famous of the Catalan painters who became one of Mallorca's leading landscape painters was Santiago Rusiñol i Prat.  He was also a noted writer, poet and playwright. Born in 1861, he came first to Palma in 1893.  After spending time in Paris, he returned to Mallorca in 1901, partly to get over a drug addiction.   From then on, he spent  a great deal of time on the island, celebrating its scenery, gardens and flowers.  In 1912, he also published La Isla de la Calma, a paen to the Island of Calm, Mallorca, that he believed was a bulwark against the increasingly frenetic industrial and materialistic world elsewhere.

Santiago Rusiñol. White Farmhouse (Bunyola, Mallorca), 1902

Terraced Garden in Mallorca, Santiago Rusiñol, 1904

Terraced Garden in Mallorca, Santiago Rusiñol, 1911

Santiago Rusiñol, Almendros en Flor, c. 1900

Santiago Rusiñol, Almendros en Flor

Santiago Rusiñol was often accompanied by artist friends during his stays in Mallorca.  Joaquin Mir (1873-1940) was one of his companions, and lived for four years in Mallorca from 1901 onwards, often in the north of the island around Pollensa.. He became known as the father of Mallorcan impressionism, having evolved from an early much more personal approach to painting, when he merged form and colour.  Mir too fell under the spell of the springtime almond blossom around the island.

His early paintings of spring differ greatly from his later work, but all sing of Mallorca's light and extraordinary beauty that comes in January and February.

Spring, Joaquin Mir, 1910, Image courtesy of  Fundacion Banco Santander)

View of L’Aleixar, (c. 1915-1919), Joaquin Mir,  (Image courtesy of Bilbao Fine Arts Museum)

Almendros Floridos, Joaquin Mir, (Image courtesy of The Athenaeum)

Spring, Joaquin Mir

Another of Santiago Rusiñol's friends in Paris and Barcelona was Eliseu Meifrèn i Roig, (1857-1940), a Catalan who travelled widely and was highly respected for his plein air approach to landscapes.  He too came to Mallorca as the new century dawned; ultimately he became director of the Art School in Palma in 1910.  His paintings of almond blossom are lyrical.

Almendros en Flor, Mallorca, Eliseo Meifrén

Eliseo Meifrén taught another Palma-born artist who became very well known for his paintings of Mallorca, Joan Fuster Bonnin (1870-1943).  Talented and prolific, he was friendly with Santiago Rusiñol and Mir, and later, with another very successful artist in Mallorca, Anglada Camarasa.

Mallorcan Landscape (near Palma), Joan Fuster Bonnin

Almonds in Flower, Hermen Anglada Camarasa

How many paintings can one appreciate of almond blossom?  I don't know, but I do know that the late 19th and early 20th century saw an amazing number of artists tackling paintings of these almond trees in flower.  Incidentally, these blossoms are rather short-lived, for winter winds and rain play havoc with them, and within the space of a week, the tender brilliantly green pointed little leaves begin to replace the pink or white blooms.

Another four examples of artists who loved Mallorca in January and February. Take your pick!

Almonds in Flower, Pilar Muntaner (1878-1961)

Can Binimelis, Antonio Gelabert Massott (1877-1982)

Untitled, 1951, Dionis Bennassar, (1904-1967)

February in Mallorca, Joan Borras (1926-1983)

Perhaps the suitable footnote to all the artists' paintings of Mallorca's almonds and the light in which they sparkle is to add the fact that almonds are the earliest domesticated tree nuts, originating in the Levant and spreading through the Mediterranean basin. It is thought that almond trees were first introduced to Mallorca during the Roman times, after Quinto Cecilio Metelo conquered the Balearic Islands in 123 BC.  When grapes were so badly affected by phylloxera towards the end of the 19th century, the Mallorcans planted almonds as a replacement crop. Thus the Catalan and Mallorcan artists had such wonderful panoramas of almond trees in flowers to delight and inspire them.