I will explain this photo in a bit. (Yes, I am completely sober, for the moment.) First, we have some PAINTING to do!
To re-cap: This is the view of Claude Monet’s famous lily pond in his Water Garden in Giverny, France that our Dear Reader Jeanie photographed one fine September day:
Those red plants blooming in the foreground look to me to be some kind of celosia, which gives this away as a Fall scene. Yes, I am extremely proud of myself for knowing that celosia blooms in the early Autumn. Even more than that, I’m amazed that I even know what celosia are — but that’s what writing a garden book will do: it will turn a person who basically couldn’t give a crap about horticulture into someone who notices, and NAMES, celosia in the foreground. So, La-Di-Da for me!***
***see Comments below for my come-uppance.
Thank you, Jeanie, for letting me paint your view (we’re calling this The Jeanie Challenge), which after two weeks of blogging looks like this so far:
For Jeanie and all others who are painting along with moi, I want you all to rest assured that even if you follow me stroke by stroke, you will never be “copying” me. It’s like when we all learned how to write cursive (which I hear is something that nobody bothers to teach any more).
We were all shown the same standard forms, we all practiced copying the forms, but in the end our handwriting is uniquely ours:
BTW, from what I know about handwriting analysis, this is the writing of a pervert.
It’s the exact same thing with watercolor. Even if you use every single technique I use for this pic, your painting will be you, all you, as surely as your own handwriting is. SPEAKING of handwriting, handwriting is kind of how I solved the problem of what to do with the big blank right hand side of this picture:
I want to do something different for that big bank spot there, treat it in a way that will make it stand out against the background stuff that I’ve already painted. I thought about this problem a lot, and in the end I decided to draw it:
In that I use the same tool as I would if I’d handwritten this, that’s where the HANDWRITING connection comes in. Nice segue, eh?
As I sussed it, there are three distinct textures in that foreground bit. From top to bottom: long spikey stuff, big leafy stuff, and small grassy stuff, which I drew as you can see below:
So all I’m going to do here is paint those textures.
First, the grassy stuff, just a wash of light green with some dark green strokes:
Then the long spikes stuff — I really love doing this kind of brush stroke, but if you’re new to it, it pays to practice it before you put in down on your painting. It is actually harder than it looks to get that nice, elongated lozenge shape:
For the leafy texture in the middle, I’m going to smoosh my paint brush into my dark-green green . . .
. . . and then smoosh it into my light-green green:
And then I’m going to dab in some leafs (it’s a press and twist motion):
That’s what I call PAiNTiNG, people.
Stepping back to survey the work, I think the leafs look a little too same-y as the spikey stuff here:
So I’m going to use clear water on my brush to smudge the paint a bit:
Now it’s time to do those celosia plants in the foreground. They are a bizarre shade of red, so I’m going to mix a hot pink (Permanent Rose) with a deep, blood-red red (Red Purple, which cost $16.95 for this teeny little tube! But that’s what you have to pay to get a really good, rich, red.):
I experimented with the mix to see if I could match the color of Jeanie’s View, and I also had to practice painting these shapes, which are a bit weird:
I also wanted to see how the hot ink/purple red mix looked when it was painted over the green and blues that are already on the paper:
Thankfully, the pigment held its own. The hard part, as always, is to avoid making a pattern, to keep them looking as random as nature:
Note that I painted the celosia in light and dark shades of my hot pink/red purple mix.
Now that all the hard stuff is done, we can step back and congratulate ourselves for getting this far without ruining the pic. Yay for us!
And now for the fun bit:
You might know this, or not, but all the structures in Monet’s garden — the plant supports that give his flower garden its height, the shutters on his house, all the outdoor furniture, and all the bridges in his Water Garden — are painted the same rich, saturated green. It’s a very distinctive color, variously called “Apple Green” and “Monet Green”.
To make this green stand out against all the other greens in Monet’s garden, I use an acrylic paint:
Since it is plastic, opaque, and thick, the acrylic paint has a totally different property than the watercolor, so it stands out even when I use it in a teeny tiny background detail :
I am editing out all the other people in Jeanie’s original photograph and I’m only painting two people on the bridge:
They are basically stick figures — but be sure to shade them and to give them some sort of gesture; I have one of my figures turing to the other one, to whisper sweet words: You were so right. Being here does take my mind off the fact that we have a low-class, smug, shit-for-brains president back home.
The last thing I have to do (as a painter of this scene) is tone down the “roses” in that weird arcade, which I do by painting over them in dark green:
Are we DONE?
I happen to like the way the colors and shapes of this composition pulls the eye all around this little pic. But, even so, that light background behind the bridge bothers me. Jeanie’s photograph is so wonderful because of the way she framed those figures on the bridge — although they are way back in the background, they are pushed forward (in the photo) because of the dramatic way they are seen against very, very dark foliage. I feel compelled to be honest to the view, and so I think I need to paint that in:
Well done. You’ve earned it: time to unscrew the lid off of your finest Pinto Grigio:
This is how we do it on the Long Island Rail Road.
It was cold and gray last Sunday as I waited for the 5:22 to Ronkonkoma (change at Jamaica for the Oyster Bay local). Penn Station was crowded and I’d spent all day out and about in Manhattan, wishing I’d worn a Winter coat instead of the short leather jacket I’d put on that morning in trust that the forecast of 62 degrees was not just someone’s fantasy that our long, long, long delayed Spring had finally arrived. I was chilled to the bone and I’d been crying earlier in the afternoon:
Spoiler: This movie is a good old fashioned treat jerker.
The grungier food stalls at Penn Station sell teeny bottles of wine for $5 each, but they can not let you take those bottles away with you. Probably because Madison Square Garden is right above the LIRR train tracks and nobody wants arm a bunch of pissed off (or celebrating, it doesn’t matter) Knicks and Rangers fans with both alcohol and a sturdy glass projectile. So what they do is, they kindly pour your one, two, or three bottles of wine into a huge Coke go-cup, ask if you also want ice, snap a lid on it, and punch it with a straw.
It’s the Long Island commuter’s security blanket.
So I had a very happy journey home that cold and gray Sunday. Because it was the weekend, the train was full and the riders were much more voluble than the usual Mon-Fri crowd, which was very entertaining for me. Also, I was kind of drunk.
Overheard on the 5:22 to Ronkonkoma:
As passengers are walking down the aisle, finding seats:
I’m sick of the city.
You’re a meat person, right?
Leave the car where it’s parked, we’re never going to use it again.
And when we go to Dubai I’m gonna take you to Amsterdam for the weekend.
From seated passengers:
One 20-something girl to her friend, who is unwrapping an extra large chocolate bar: That’s, like, a thousand calories. Her friend: I can deal with it.
Behind me, another 20-something girl starts to squeal to her friend (and I swear, this is exactly how the conversation went): What IS that? It’s on your bag! Give me five dollars so I can chew it! Other girl responds: How do you Google that?
Guy on his cell phone: Are we going to spend shabbat in LA? I hope not.
Older man to his wife: They can wear it for all I care, but I don’t have to look at it. Wife: They do things to their bodies to look that thin.
Random stuff that drifted through the general noise:
When we were kids I loved going out and doing stuff but now I’m a 22-year old guy and I like stay in and drink.
Fish and chips. With risotto.
Maine. I never think of Maine. Maine is the most boring state in the union. (I have to agree with that one.)
I liked the part where they went back in time. Did they have dinner?
I was thinking, as I listened and took notes, that the LIRR is a goldmine of awesome non-sequiturs! I should write a book about the overheard conversations on the LIRR! I bet the LIRR would PAY me to be, like, their scribe! Like, their resident anthropologist! People would love this stuff! I should put it all in a book! Best seller! I should pitch this to the president of the MTA [Metropolitan Transportation Authority]! The MTA would jump at the chance!
Like I said, I was a bit pie-eyed. A mere two sheets to the wind. Slightly hammered. Definitely lit.
This project is now filed away with all my many, many, many other Bad Ideas.
Have a great weekend, my Dear Readers. I hope that all your wine is fine, all your ideas are good, and that all your bad ideas are only momentary.