Rothko, Night #4

The final class. Rothko, I hardly know you and it's goodbye already! True now as it was in life, since you killed yourself in 1970 when you were 66. Bummer. Something strange is happening. I spend an increasing amount of time each week thinking about abstract art, Rothko, and wet paint. 

Teacher called today's class Rothko Remixed. We were given a slab of plywood to use for our canvas, and our assignment was to apply any of the techniques we have learned, using the texture and pattern of the wood as our inspiration. I wanted to pay homage to my 26-year old Cool Girl flannel smock, so I used the colors of the shirt as my palette.

Homage to Flannel, 2015.

I mixed my pink, adding water to make it a wash moreso than a paint. "Keep it thin so not to lose the integrity of the wood grain," Teacher instructed.

Partially slathered plywood.

Fully slathered plywood.

I really do love to slather. If I painted nothing but bare canvas after bare canvas with colors I mix to my liking, I would be totally content. I applied several layers of wash in slathering strokes with fat pink bristles. Then I mixed my other colors using Teacher's color wheel. I finally got the violet that I intended for Night #1 - closure! I added my layers of colors in strokes and squiggles, smudging areas here and there with a damp paper towel. Step back. Chat with classmates. Annette and Nick said they are making pottery next month. They are "taking a tour" of the available classes at the Center. Bob has been reading an art history book, and recommended a Rothko biography. I was excited to show Bob the photo I took of a plastic model of an ear cross-section that reminded me of his project last week. Sadly, he was not as excited about this as I was.

Bob's Art, Week #3

Plastic cross-section of the human ear 

I learned that the next class in the Mimicking the Masters series will focus on Robert Motherwell. Of course I never heard of him. Google tells me he is from the same period as Rothko - another Abstract Expressionist - and WOW, his art is UGLY. But my flannel smock and I signed up immediately. I think I am addicted. But not addicted enough to get anything tattooed on my forearms. We can't all be as committed to art as Bee.