I think you can get a better sense of the visual quality of a painting from almost any point of view except the official one.
So here I will subject you to my various pictures at their ease lounging around my studio.
Of course, the joke is--I don't have a studio--this is Vancouver, man, who can afford one of those?
So welcome to my apartment. Great wallpaper, isn't it?
Setting up one of these guys to be varnished.
As a whole, the paintings have a softer look in real life than what appears elsewhere here.
Actually, when I was a mere...ahem...child...25 years ago, I did have a real studio for a while on a rough patch of Hastings downtown.Typically, the building is now completely gentrified, unrecognizable, and unaffordable, although at least it's still standing (for now), which is something in this benighted burg.
Unfortunately, I lost the painting at left in a moving disaster.
At right you can see the underpainting for another which I also no longer have, and is not documented well. I really wish I could go back and fix her right arm. It just gets me now, you know?
Here is a family gathering in my previous
studio apartment place.
The large black and white pictures at rear are printed out 'cartoons' for coming attractions. However I don't think I will be using that process much longer as it goes through a hell of a lot of toner, and this being Vancouver and all, who can buy toner anymore?
The 'Tropic' and 'Miner', and a corner of one under development. It is a real pain to store these things in your living room, especially when they're wet.
The 'Shopper' and a corner of the 'Cadge'.
Here I'm using the relentless abrasive power of brown bread in a traditional way of cleaning grime from paintings, here a copy of Waterhouse.
Various flowers in early stages. Because the traditional, multiple layer way of painting is such a mind-boggling stupid and tedious way of doing it, it's best to have several canvases on the go at once, to work on one while waiting for the others to dry. It's probably how the Old Masters did it, with Madonna assembly lines lining their studios like cars in an auto plant.
In an economy drive I started painting on everything I had lying around, like my miniature canvases, which are six by eight inches, useful for trying technique and patience alike.