routine question that arises upon meeting an artist whose work seems noteworthy in some way is , “ Where did you go to school ?” In my case , it might imply curiosity over how I came to paint in a way so alien to contemporary art world trends . Some have labeled my work indefensibly anachronistic . Upon viewing some of my color slides , the Contemporary Curator at one Pacific Northwest museum tersely pronounced it “ not for our time .”
In 1998 , a small one-man show of my work , entitled “ Old Master Dialogues ,” was held in Seattle ’ s Frye Art Museum . I called my accompanying lecture “ Technology and the Art of Painting .” Illustrated by 39 color slides from Paleolithic cave painting to Jackson Pollock , this was not a history of
“ Daisies ” pictorial styles , but rather an analysis of the development of the craft of oil painting , with emphasis on the “ look ” of pictures as material objects . From my concluding remarks ,
“ To take … yellow or red earth , grind it , and mix it with oil pressed from walnuts or flax seed … what could be more basic ? What could render doing things this way obsolete ? Then if we can return to this simpler way of doing things … that has ramifications for the style , mode , and quality of life , and eventually of art . In this way I have come to see such things as refinement and elegance arising from simplicity and bringing forth beauty through limitation and restraint to be not past but present .”
After my talk , a somewhat agitated young man cornered me with , “ Why are you doing this ?”
In this issue of Art Chowder , the occasion for which I am most grateful , I hope to answer these questions pictorially .
When I was nine , my aunt , an amateur artist , gave me a set of oil paints . My mother , who would always give me various creative materials , set out to find someone to teach me “ how to mix colors .”
Troy Ruddick ( 1913-1987 ) had a studio in Marin County , California , where he taught painting . Two display windows in his spacious storefront allowed him to sell his lively , impressionistic still lifes directly without the middleman .
With the required supplies in hand and a picture to copy , I came to my first lesson . Troy demonstrated how to tone the white canvas board with raw umber oil paint thinned with “ A Moment To Reflect ” turpentine , yielding an overall middle tone to paint upon .
“ A Plumb Line in the Hand of Zerubbabel ” ( 1988 ), watercolor on paper , 13 x 9 1 / 2 ”
“ If we can return to this simpler way of doing things … that has ramifications for the style , mode , and quality of life , and eventually of art .”
Next lesson was baffling ! Instead of matching the visible colors , my teacher brushed in wildly different hues .
I quit the lessons but continued to dabble from time to time . Only years later would I understand that Troy taught painting as a series of purposeful , overlapping layers , an approach dating back to the Old Masters of the 17th century whose technical mastery was built upon efficiency , expediency , and economy of means .
In high school , I discovered the Old Masters in the library . Later as a college student , I found “ The Painter ’ s Craft ” by Ralph Mayer and became fascinated by the lore of pigments — their transparency or opacity , respective oil absorption , degree of light fastness — and how generally to achieve sound structural integrity .
10 ART CHOWDER MAGAZINE