Showing posts with label jerry's artarama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jerry's artarama. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Report: Art of the Carolinas 2014


I've been going to Art of the Carolinas since it first started. Get this straight: I NEVER just drive around, but one day way back when, I was "just driving around" Durham because it was a nice day and I had gas in the car and the radio began to do a location report from this artsy something going on out in Research Triangle Park.

They talked about a trade show that had the latest art supplies, and of workshops being put on. I said what the hey, it's only 10 minutes away, and cruised over.

What I found kind of blew me away. It was the very first AotC, and from that point on I was hooked.

AotC is put on by Jerry's Artarama, which is like Heaven for artists. Well, artists who have money and who aren't bothered that the brand selection isn't as wide as it once was. Jerry's makes deals with certain brands and as a result, stops carrying other ones. Even so, whenever I go through Jerry's doors, I have to pause and let my heart pound for a few moments. Cue that heavenly choir!

AotC has settled to be housed at the Raleigh North Hilton, which is about three blocks north of Jerry's Raleigh superstore. There's always a van or stretch limo that runs between the two during the run of the show. Some of the workshops are now held at Jerry's, since the Hilton tends to run out of workshop space.

A schedule of workshops runs four days and the trade show runs the final three of those days. Big-name artists run a lot of the workshops, and others you see there year after year. Some big-name artists are there year after year as well.

I recall one of the first workshops I took, taught by the fabulous Tom Lynch. In it we learned how to paint windows and doors that had some soul to them: the top of the door didn't look like the bottom did. The window wasn't uniform. That kind of thing. It taught us to be aware of varying even the minor parts of our painting, to make the entire thing as entertaining as possible. Wow!

The second Tom Lynch workshop I took turned me off him. This was the kind where he had the entire class take their paper, mix up some yellowish-green, and then make a brushstroke across it. Whereupon he'd check that everyone had made that brushstroke. Then you'd put a square of blue wash underneath it. And so on, paint by numbers without the numbers and without learning anything.

So the quality of the workshops vary a lot, even with the same teacher presiding.

I once told my dad that I learned more at two years' of AotC—6-ish days total—than I had from four years in UNC's art department.


But AotC has changed through the years. There are fewer different vendors, though still quite a few, and familiar Jerry's inventory has taken over the majority of the trade floor, albeit with extremely good sale prices. One makes a shopping list before hitting the trade floor, and one checks one's bank balance before doing same, as well as confirming the cubic footage inside one's car. A few times I've come awful close to buying more than what my Civic will hold! This is the Big Art Shopping Trip of the Year with the best bargains as well.

Starting last year (or was it the year before?) I stopped taking so many of the workshops. This year I only took one: travel sketching in watercolor. I figure I'm traveling a lot more these days, and I'd love to do some sketching. In grabbing a sketchbook for the class, I was surprised to discover in it some work I'd done during my second trip to Montreal back in '05 or so. Not bad stuff, either.

It was odd not having to use my regular rolly-cart to bring in all my supplies; they fit in a single cloth bag, and even then I'd overpacked for the class. I claimed a section of work table. Even though Jerry's knew how many people had signed up, they still didn't have enough tables set up, and we had to wait a few minutes for two more to be brought in, with enough chairs.

AGES ago I'd taken a course in psychic/holistic healing in Durham. One of the students who also lasted through all three years was a woman I'll call Sandi (because I can't remember what her real name is). She can stick her hand in fire and have it remain unscathed. No, really. I've seen her do it. She has problems when someone screams (ahem), but otherwise, she's quite friendly with the fire element.

I've seen her at almost every AotC event. We'd never been in the same class until now (she's into more crafty stuff than I am), and we just happened (right, universe, I get it) to sit down opposite each other at the table before we both looked up and realized what we'd done! We had a lovely catch-up chat that likely confused our neighbors.

The older gentleman to my left had arrived without reference photos, as had MANY others in the class. I will never understand why people do this. AotC gives materials lists for every class, but there's always a huge amount of people who arrive lacking something important. Once I sat next to a woman who'd brought NOTHING, and wound up giving her an extra canvas, letting her use my paint, brushes, extra easel, etc, etc. Good golly! And of course, I've been in two classes where the instructor gave out completely incorrect equipment lists. Helloo?

The class began and our instructor showed us what kind of sketching she does, how she doesn't use store-bought sketchbooks but makes her own, etc. She showed examples of others' sketchbooks and how they used them not only to sketch in but to write or make notes, or gather little items that reminded them of—

"Excuse me!" a woman in the back protested loudly. "This class is only three hours long. Can we please get to the workshop part?" Her buddy added a similar complaint.

Our instructor assured them that we would begin immediately (even though what she was showing us WAS an important part of the workshop). Luckily for us, she has ADD or something and went on passing out samples that we all (except for the two biddies) studied.

The biddies went back to their tables and began to paint in their sketchbooks. The rest of us finished looking at everything, watched a couple demos, and then returned to try doing quick but bold sketches.

The teacher kept lecturing as we worked, and then she brought up using a pen. Good, I thought, we're going to incorporate pen-and-ink sketching as part of the watercolor, maybe learn what's best to note about a scene.

Instead the instructor outlined every change in color and/or value on her sketch. I asked Sandi why we were doing this. It had nothing to do with the scene we were sketching.

"It makes it look prettier," Sandi assured me.

But I didn't want 'prettier,' I wanted to make the best study I could so I could take it home and use it in conjunction with photographs I'd take on location.

This is the kind of thing you run into with these workshops, that the instructor's intentions are different from what you expected, but I was determined to learn what I could. Yes, the lines did make it look more finished, and people in the class assured everyone that they made the sketches more saleable. (But I didn't want saleable; I wanted reference.)

I managed two partially-finished sketches for the class. The first one we made a pencil sketch first (that's the Grand Tetons one), and the second we just dove in with paint first.

I like to think that these will help make more dynamic paintings when it comes to putting images on canvas. Certainly from the Gibbon Waterfall picture (below), I learned that the actual waterfall needs to be depicted much larger than I've done here.

The workshop ended, we packed up and left, and I strolled next door to enjoy my annual Bahama Breeze luncheon (mmm!) before returning for the trade show. I had my shopping list in hand and managed to find most of the stuff rather quickly.


But the show's checkout line looped clear around the three ballrooms that had been designated the trade floor. "Oh, the line's moving fast," one of the Jerry's employees assured me after I'd heard someone say they'd taken an hour to get through it. "You'll be finished in twenty minutes."

After 20 minutes I'd progressed ten feet. The massive line kept people from really perusing the stock in the crowded room, and it impeded traffic flow so that all the artists who were on the trade floor demonstrating various stock or techniques, weren't able to get a group to watch them because there was no place for the group to stand. I did have nice conversations with two of them as I stood waiting.

And the second-to-final stretch of the line did go by Jerry's "bits n pieces" displays. For example, I tossed a new kneaded eraser and gray scale into my cart. When we rounded the final corner, a woman a few people in front of me left the line to grab some paints. I told her that the Ultramarine she'd picked up was a very weak variety. I had the same jar, but only use it when it's pure, because the instant you mix it with something, it goes invisible. She frostily thanked me for the information but assured me that it was just fine with her, but about five minutes later I noticed her slipping out of line again to return it.

We stalled next to a table where a guy was demonstrating a new kind of organic brush cleaner made from lavender. Impressive! He'd gob up a brush with oil paint, scrub it around on a surface so the paint really dug into the brush, then dipped it quickly into the cleaner. When he brought the brush out, it was clean. Tried it out on a clean sheet of paper: no residue. "I don't care how much it is," I told him, "just give me a bottle."

It wasn't on sale yet; wouldn't be available for another two months. I got a little advertising card for it, as did just about everyone else in line, and eagerly look forward to trying it out in my own studio.

All in all, I was in line for an hour-plus. There were about eight? cash registers going as hard as they could, but even so, there were just so many people... They assigned a guy to help me load my car and after he'd gone, I wondered: should I have tipped him?

The folks at the show acted surprised when I asked if they'd do things differently next year so this kind of thing didn't happen again.


From there I toodled down the street to Jerry's. Jerry's doesn't ever put its alkyds on the trade floor and only stocks it in the store, so I grabbed new alkyds there. I asked one clerk where the acrylic gouache was, and she said it was all at the trade show. I assured her that I wasn't going back THERE again! I have an unopened tube of the stuff somewhere from a year or two ago; it's just a matter of finding it.

At the store there are three cash registers, but they only had two going. The line took about 25 minutes to go through, and people at the back were complaining loudly. The store manager was doing his best to keep people happy, cracking jokes about standing in line. Employees walked up and down the line asking us if we'd found everything we needed. They had a guy on steel drum playing stuff that got to be (sorry) annoying after a while.

All in all I was a good girl, spending-wise. Sure, the total was more than I'd estimated, but I got a lot of good stuff. (It helps that I know to stay away from the crap that's disguised by nice packaging.) I'd checked over the DVDs I'd bought last year but hadn't watched yet (good golly miss molly, how time passes quickly!) so I didn't buy any new ones.


With the new year I'll be painting again on a regular basis. Good to know I've got the supplies and know-how to do it!

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Pleinly Speaking

Today was the annual Raleigh Plein Air Paint-Out, sponsored by Local Color Gallery and Jerry's Artarama. According to the Call for Artists, Jerry's was going to open an hour early today and hand out free canvases. I needed supplies, and so stopped by there on Wednesday night after my Hair Club appointment—too late. Oh well, I can go there early today, right? We just need to check into the event by 10 AM.

So I called Jerry's Thursday to confirm that they were open early. "No, ma'am," they assured me, and even asked other workers. Nope.

Wokay. Thus I embarked on a panicked search of studio, storage room, and any kind of art storage I could find in the house—and there are quite a few of those places. (Someday I'll get the house remodeled to accommodate my needs. Or I'll move.) Ta dah! Found some blank canvases. One was linen, not quite the thing for plein air, but at least it was larger than the other quite small canvases. And smaller than the other quite large canvases. When you're outside painting your brains out, you want a medium-sized canvas and you don't need expensive linen, which allows for fine detail.

Lo and behold, there was a frame of the same size, still in its plastic wrap. (Okay, not quite the same size. When I slipped the finished canvas in, the frame was the tiniest bit too large, or perhaps the canvas was the tiniest bit too small [Jerry's canvases seem to run small], but I got it wedged in enough that I don't think it's going anywhere.)

It's been about a year since I last did plein air. In fact, it was during the theater release of The Avengers, because I celebrated completing a plein air workshop by seeing it. I'd planned on really getting out last year and keeping up the habit, but I didn't. Now with this contest I am making a pledge to get out more. Practice makes perfect, and I hope that travel during my retirement will be partially financed by being able to paint as I go.

Last night I gathered equipment. Acrylic or oil? I decided on oils, which allow you to moosh around a bit with things instead of having a mistake dry before you can fix it. I use alkyd oils, which dry thoroughly in 24 hours. (Okay, if you really layer it thickly, it takes longer.) I cannibalized the Gamsol in my studio container because I didn't have any more. (see: "Jerry's was closed," above) The rest I began to reach for and throw into the pile. About 9 PM I loaded it all in the car and hit the sack. After I put my bedtime book down and turned off the light, I had to switch it on again so I could run around and collect four more things I'd forgotten.

Hopefully in the future I'll pay more attention to my lists and go by them.

So: up this morning an hour after I usually rise, and it was off to Raleigh! There was an actual parking space across from the gallery!!!! Signed in, made use of their Facilities, and drove off to find a suitable subject within the area we were confined to. I'd previously thought I'd paint the forested grounds of a school, but that was just off St. Mary's and not Boylan Ave., which was our limit. On the hunt again, I spotted a delicious stone church and parsonage. I parked on the street (the parking lot across the street from the church had 24/7 towing signage, and I watch a lot of Parking Wars) and set up.

The real parsonage, with proper shadows.


I'd determined that this year, by gosh and by golly, I was going to enjoy the painting instead of being in a deep, dark hysteria over getting things Just Right and Done On Time. I'd prepared by looking over some plein air magazines that reiterated the importance of value, value, value. And temperature. And edges. And...

No pressure. I didn't even make as detailed (hah!) a preliminary drawing as I usually do, trying to figure out things. At least I remembered to take a picture of the scene when I started. I figure that when I get my painting back I can compare and repaint, if needed. (I'm still working on the one from last year.) (It's going to be good, dammit.)

The church was doing a booming business for a Saturday, and I got an occasional stray from whatever they were doing over there. Someone mentioned that music lessons were available in what was the ex-parsonage. These were mostly kids accompanied by their mothers, and two mothers brought their sons by to inspect my work. The boys were both interested in art, so I showed them what I was doing and tried to explain what "value" was to the younger guy, and encourage the older one, who looked about high school age, to join us next year. "Imagine, you meeting a real artist!" the mother of the young one gushed.

Gee!

A car rolled up into the tow parking lot I had set up in, to join the other car that was there. A man got out of car and strolled over. "Whatcha doing?" he asked.

I explained, and he said he wasn't the owner of the building, but it was okay for me to be set up there. I assured him that absolutely no mess would remain. Later, an artist and her hubby parked in the lot and came over to ask about towing. I explained that they should consider being cautious, so they moved to the side of the street a couple cars behind mine. We all made Parking Wars jokes.

Well, the sun climbed in the sky and all those dramatic shadows against the stonework drifted to the ground. I kept having to shift shop to my right, to my right, and to my right again so the canvas and me were in shadow. (How I WISH I could find a good plein air umbrella that actually attaches to something and stays in place!) By the first move I had the basics of the painting on canvas, so I was just checking for color and such, and could bear having my viewpoint changed.

It's not a bad little painting. I kept telling myself to simplify, and I did. Very proud! I left the leaves on the big tree until the last—they were in front of the rest of the composition—and then dabbed them in.

Ugh! OMG! How do I redo this? I cursed and cursed, then closed my eyes and took a breath. Do not panic.

Opened my eyes again. Oh gee, it looks like Cézanne on a messy day.

Yeah, Cézanne. My leaves look like Cézanne's, if you haven't seen a Cézanne painting in a while. I painted some more, liking the effect more as I went. I even went back and put in some blocky tree limbs because, hey, this was a real painted painting, not something produced in Photoshop, and it should look like a human hand was behind it.

Not bad.

Got the frame on and the car loaded up and decided that I needed to get in some exercise for the day. I'd walk the painting up to the gallery; it was just a couple blocks. Whoops—It was a lot farther than that, and uphill. In addition I had to pass blocks and blocks of restaurants and cafes serving lunch and exuding tasty smells. I almost swooned from pleasure in front of the Thai place. Can't have soy or peanuts for another couple weeks, darn it!

Handed the painting in, called it "The Parsonage," and tried to take a picture for my files, just in case it actually sells during the month it'll be on display at Local Color. My cheap purse camera gave me a "disc full" message, and I couldn't get to anything to delete a picture. Not even one. #@!! Sure, I could have walked back to the car and gotten my fancy camera out of the equipment bag, but then I'd have to walk all the way back, since there were now zero empty parking spots on Glenwood.

So I don't have a picture to show you. When I get the painting back, I'll try to remember to post it here.

All the walking made my left knee hurt. It hasn't bothered me in AGES. It's not bothering me now, but began bothering me for a bit just before I got back to the car. Uh oh. I have a vacation planned for Washington, DC, Colonial Williamsburg, and Historic Jamestowne next month. Looks like I'll have to get deadly serious about getting in condition for it.