Upon arriving to the Seattle Art Museum (SAM) for a recent
show (The Treasures of Kenwood
House, London), I found the majority of the exhibit being works from English
painters. Included in the exhibit was Rembrandt's "Portrait Of An
Artist." (Yes, I know,
Rembrandt is Dutch and technically didn't fit into the crowd, but who was I to
tell them to take it down? I sat
on the bench and stared at it in awe like everyone else.) I was unprepared for the impact this venture was about to bring.
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| "Portrait Of An Artist" -Rembrandt, painted c. 1665–69 |
The first time was several years ago at the Portland Art Museum (PAM). Haha, SAM and PAM.....
The trip to PAM certainly changed my entire attitude about
art and how I saw it. I always
knew I wanted to paint like the Old Masters, and I've tried to learn as much as
I could through books, online images, and the never-ending pit of knowledge
that is my mother. (Not to mention
she's the inspiration for my love of art.) But, nothing can prepare a person
for standing face to face with (in my opinion) one of the greatest artists of
all time.
The second time I saw Old Master originals was in the
National Gallery in Washington, DC.
What was so impacting in that gallery was the vast quantity of
works. I was able to walk through
art history and see first hand the discoveries made by the greatest artists who
ever lived.
And yet, after all of that, I still felt something lacking
in paintings I create.
Sitting in awe of Rembrandt at SAM, I decided to pull up one
of my own pieces (on my nifty new iPad) and actually put it side-by-side with
the "Portrait Of An Artist."
That's when I saw it; the one thing I was missing. It was so simple. How I never saw it before I'll never
know. I was missing black. Yes, black. All my life I've heard so many artists
and teachers tell me how to keep my paintings pure, I must never use
black. Ever.
So I never did.
I mean, sure, if I were painting something that actually was black, I
would pull out Ivory Black, but only with an immense sense of guilt that I was
betraying some unwritten code.
(Which is another thing, I don't get my attitude here. I mean, I was
standing in front of a Titian in the Washington Gallery and I SAW the dirtied
colors; the "real life" essence he put in his work that changed art forever.)
Nonetheless, there I was, sitting in the gallery with my mom and sister, having an epiphany of epic proportions.
It just so happened that upon my return home, I had a
modeling session scheduled for a portrait idea, with my inspiration being the
old famous photo of Humphrey Bogart in a trench coat. My friend (and now star model) has a coat I saw as perfect
for the "feel" I wanted to capture.
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| © 2013, Maranda Schemanski |
As I began pouring over my reference photos and
brainstorming the perfect pose, I settled on a position and began drawing. I'm sure I will paint this one; I love
the idea so much.
Then another artsy friend came over to see what had me so
excited and losing sleep. I showed
her my reference photos, my inspiration photo, and we discussed technique,
lighting, positioning, and all the things that go into a masterpiece. Then I showed her the "Self
Portrait As Apostle Paul" and she had one little thought...
A little work in Photoshop, some sketching on vellum, a
little mock-up, and her idea came to life.
I. Was. Stunned. This was
the culmination of everything I've absorbed over the last several years brought
to life in one afternoon.
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| "Self Portrait As The Apostle Paul" - Rembrandt, painted c. 166 |
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| Preliminary sketch for Rembrandt inspired portrait. © 2013, Maranda Schemanski |
Usually, before I paint anything, I painstakingly draw
everything exactly how I want it, transfer that to canvas (using some very cool
technological methods) and only then start painting. This time, that just felt wrong. I penciled on a few key points for proper placement, then
grabbed my brush, took a deep breath, and began.
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| Beginning work for Rembrandt inspired portrait. © 2013 Maranda Schemanski |
This changes everything.
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