It’s been one of those mornings, when light is bright and garden is still calm, like enveloped in the mist of the night just passed and the blossoms of colorful flowers appear after the dark of the night to celebrate the day. Complete solitude is needed to enter the code of color world, walking down the garden feels like entering trough portals of eternal beauty. Picking flowers for a bouquet is a meditative task and as I’ve been picking the first peonies of the season I’ve remembered how happy I’ve been planting these pale pink peonies and how long have I waited before thy started to blossom. Their sweet scent of early summer each June gives me joy and makes me want to paint them in all their gorgeous beauty, so fragile and short lived, but year after year appearing in the corner of the garden, near a small Japanese maple.
Sketch for Ostia Antica painting, done in quick lines, using some ballpoint pens, pencil, highlighters and colored pencils.
Always, as soon as I get the idea about the new canvas I want to paint, I make a quick sketch. The purpose of sketching at this point isn’t making a correct documentary drawing any more. For the proportions, materials, light, atmosphere, color scheme, basically all I have to know, has already been investigated and has become clear by now. No secret I sometimes need a plenty of time to arrive to that exact point of the painting process. Yet I always make this final quick sketch just before I start my work on the canvas, just to have some reference points for the further work. As a matter of fact at this stage I always have the entire painting in my mind, together with the whole color scheme. And from here on even picking the oil color tubes works as part of the painting process, the chosen colors go to the palette immediately. So from that point of view I even wouldn’t need a sketch. But as the unpredictable event may interrupt my working process, like a single phone call, so I need to have a sketch. Not to remember what the painting should look like, but just as a sort of a ticket back to my painting planet…..
Summer Bouquet, oil on canvas was painted in summer 2019.
Which I particularly love about the summers is the abundance of flowers in the garden. I usually like to have a morning stroll around the flower beds, see what is new and pick some flowers for the bouquet. Sometimes I would bring a twig from the forest or use some weeds picked among the flowers to put among the bouquet flowers.
And it is at that time that I already see the new painting I am going to paint. Although the hard work begins from that moment on, for a painting to be finished in situ questions have to be answered, one by one. Composition, colors, accents, textures…yet the best occurs when during work flow problems get solved by themselves. Itbis that type of painting when brush seems to paint on its own, yet the painting proceeds to the best possible direction. Which needs a lot of former study and hard work to be accomplished before even starting the canvad, yet is the most rewarding and happy moment for the painter.
And this canvas is among those painted seemingly by itself. Giving me the joy of creation I worked on it during last summer. The size is big enough that looking at it one gets immediately the same feeling as if the real bouquet would be in the room, wrapping our senses in the song of summer colors and shapes……..
Garden painting series, work in progress, is on my drawing desk right now, as Garden has been my inspiration since I remember. All the colors, smell of the flowers, contact with soil, way to immerse in nature, to escape daily life in a way, just to be part of it in its most profound way. My new painting series works on capturing all those elementary senzations from the garden. When all the colors and hues overtake over senses, when there are only fragrance from the flower bed and birds singing left. When the smell of the soil fills the air and sun colors all the greens even greener. When garden beds fill the horizon and everything seems possible. When the perception of the entire garden shrinks in its most fundamental elements, when colors, lines and textures left play with the time of memories from the future….
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