For Indian Summer

Autumn
By Grace Paley

1

What is sometimes called a  
   tongue of flame
or an arm extended burning  
   is only the long
red and orange branch of  
   a green maple
in early September   reaching
   into the greenest field
out of the green woods   at the
   edge of which the birch trees  
appear a little tattered   tired
   of sustaining delicacy
all through the hot summer   re-
   minding everyone (in  
our family) of a Russian
   song   a story
by Chekhov   or my father


2

What is sometimes called a  
   tongue of flame
or an arm extended   burning
   is only the long
red and orange branch of
   a green maple
in early September   reaching  
   into the greenest field
out of the green woods   at the  
   edge of which the birch trees
appear a little tattered   tired
   of sustaining delicacy
all through the hot summer   re-
   minding everyone (in  
our family) of a Russian
   song   a story by
Chekhov or my father on
   his own lawn   standing  
beside his own wood in
   the United States of  
America   saying (in Russian)
   this birch is a lovely
tree   but among the others
   somehow superficial

Bringing it Home

I've been home a week from  my Robert Burridge workshop, a little miffed that the weather at Lac du Flambeau was so crummy, but happy that Indian Summer has arrived in southern Wisconsin.  

It always takes me a while to process what I've seen at workshops, and the first couple days were mostly spent unpacking and rearranging my studio.  About seven years ago I converted a narrow spare bedroom, large enough for only a twin bed and an easy chair, into my studio.  It's charming in some ways, cozy, paneled with old pine, with sloping ceilings.  It also is rather dark, with only two small dormer windows.  After I took down and stored the bed I brought a florescent shop light up from the basement, added a full spectrum light, and I use what I have.  I have one of those collapsible work tables that people use for church potlucks and rummage sales, and that is where I do my artwork.  Bob Burridge said something that should have been obvious to me for the past years.  If you are right handed, put your paints, pencil sharpener, brushes and so on on the right side of the table.  

Well, duh.  Why couldn't I figure that out?

I decided to reorganize.  A small set of shelves cluttered with miscellaneous supplies, papers, watercolor palettes were moved off the table.  Then I moved the container of pens, pencils, scissors and other tools I use on a daily basis to the right side of the work table.  A small crookneck lamp and electric pencil sharpeners moved to the right as well. I covered the dark brown table with white shelf paper long ago for more reflected light, and I took Burridge's suggestion and covered the space with 4 mil. sheet plastic.  I use this surface as my acrylic palette, and occasionally peel up dried paint for little play pieces like the birds you can see in the first picture.  It allows me to feel like a little kid again in some ways; I don't worry too much about being messy.

5x5 inches, acrylic

I painted the bird, but I copied the idea from Bob Burridge.  He does a demonstration series in his workshops to show a way to use the dried acrylic paint from the plastic sheeting.  He also demonstrates negative painting with these birds.  They're fun, playful, spontaneous, colorful.  He calls his "circus birds" because the colors remind him of circus costumes, and for him that's appropriate.  He once worked in a circus.  I never did. 

Which brings me to a concern I have about attending art workshops.  How does a person learn attitudes and techniques from teachers without losing a little bit of personal style in the process?  Perhaps painting like the last workshop instructor is just a temporary affliction, a way to practice concepts.  I learned a bit about color choices, about use of materials, about working in series with a playful attitude, a good signing pen (Sharpie paint pen).  I know he doesn't care if we do an entire flock of paint blob birds, since everyone necessarily brings a bit of themselves, even to copies.  But I struggle to decide how to apply other people's good ideas about painting to subjects that are close to my own heart and experience.  It drives me a little crazy to recognize when a painter has just worked with a popular teacher by the style of the painting.  Hey, did you just take a workshop with (fill in the blank)? I imagine I'll be painting vases of flowers, drippy trees and "ethereal landscapes" for a while, but I hope that it isn't too long before they look like they belong to me.

A Week in Lac du Flambeau

My husband and I just returned home to an extremely welcoming cat last night after a week spent four hours north in Vilas County.  Back in March when I was dreaming about which art workshop I might take this year, I discovered that Dillmans Resort was hosting acrylic painter Robert Burridge at the end of September.  I had taken a watercolor workshop there back in 1997, right after my best friend died of a brain tumor at the age of forty-seven. She had been a good painter and a fine potter, and I decided after her death that I would not wait until I retired to start making my own art.  So, I signed up for a week long class, and went on my own.  While the instructor was compassionate and skillful, the facilities wonderful, I was lonely and overwhelmed by everything I didn't know.  I cried alone in my cabin at night in frustration at my lack of painting skill and grief at the loss of my friend, but knew that some day I wanted to come back.

This time was different. I have more painting skills, know what to pack and what to leave home, know that my best work will come after the workshop, not during it.  This time my husband came along.  I convinced him that the colors would be at their peak, that he could bicycle all day while I was in class, that we could go out on Sand Lake, listen to loons, watch for eagles, and eat out at the "up north" supper clubs at night. And I was excited about learning more about painting with acrylics from Robert Burridge.  I can't remember how I discovered his web site about three years ago, but I had been reading his newsletter, taking notes, and I liked his energy and style.

We rarely had the opportunity to gravel north during peak colors when I was teaching.  Usually we couldn't get away until late October, and by then the leaves had fallen from the trees.   This time the colors were good at the beginning of the week and magnificent by the time we left on Friday.  The area is pretty quiet now that the weather is cooler and children are in school.  Most of the week was cool and there was some rain every day but one, but we could still hear the loons calling in the morning and at dusk, and my husband still rode his bike part of each day.

A couple of times we made coffee early, and went down to one of the piers for some quiet time.

We could hear the loons, and saw them a couple times.  I took this photo when the painting group went out for a pontoon ride on the Sand Lake.

Wednesday was the clearest day, so we made a point of watching the sunset over the lake just outside our lodging.

But of course the point of the week for me was to learn from a painter I admire, to acquire and polish my painting skills, to be energized and inspired, and to have a good time.  That last point is important, and is one reason I chose to spend my time and cash on this particular instructor.  More than once I have regretted setting aside time and money to take a class from a person whose work I did not end up admiring, or whose planned activities were not what I had expected based on the class description.  Once or twice I have taken workshops from instructors who had obvious disdain for the students, who appeared bored themselves, or who spent the entire time painting art that was not so much a demonstration as simply time spent to produce a painting the artist hoped to sell to someone in class.  There needs to be a balance between lecture/observation, and student work time and critique. From what I had read on his website and newsletter over time, from what I had seen on YouTube, and from the recommendations of other art bloggers whose opinions I respect, I thought Burridge's Loosen Up With Aquamedia class would be worth my investment.

In Bob Burridge's August Artsy Fartsy newsletter he has a checklist of things people who teach and mentor young people should strive for in their instruction, and I'm borrowing from that newsletter here, because these are the things that I look for in a teacher for myself.

Discard everything that is unnecessary.

Aim to be simple.

Relax, abandon yourself. Fear nothing.

Compress time. Aim at succeeding, don't waste an instant.

Don't take yourself seriously.

Don't hurry, don't rest.

Use self-humor.

Don't be afraid to be a little foolish.

Have endless patience.

If faced with overwhelming odds, occupy time with something else.

Have endless capacity to improvise.

Bring abstract ideas to concrete form.

Assume that students enjoy learning.

Believe that children (any learners - my word choice) are perfect, and we're just building on their strengths.

Support everything with a visual aid.

Insure no possible way to fail.

A teacher must be upbeat and positive.

If the goal is only to learn facts, then we lose the chance to know that learning is very exciting.

Bob Burridge is certainly an entertainer and self-promoter, but under jokes and a light approach, he has real skill and passion as a painter, and a temperament that allows for and embraces a wide variety of personalities and skill levels in his workshop participants.  He is organized, patient, and comes with many examples of painting approaches and printed handouts for students to take home and read after the class has finished.  

All that, and he plays good music too.

I hope I can internalize some of his philosophy, move ahead with my artwork, and take another class from him in the future.

I would love to hear from other people who take art workshops. Who are some instructors who have made a powerful positive impression on you?  What qualities do you look for in an art teacher for yourself?