I recently purchased a jazz compilation of the music of Fred Astaire. The recording is “The Astaire Story” recorded in Los Angeles, 1952 and re-released as a three-album set in 1978.
The set of music is an anthology of Fred Astaire’s songs he introduced in his movies from 1926-1944, penned by the greats such as George Gershwin, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, and Jerome Kern. Fred is backed up by some of the best jazz performers of the day: Oscar Peterson (piano,) Barney Kessel (guitar,) Charlie Shavers (trumpet,) Flip Phillips (tenor sax,) Ray Brown (bass,) Alvin Stiller (drums.)
Fred wrote an introduction that is in the liner notes.
“The whole thing started off when Norman Granz called me up one day and said he wanted to do a record album with me — not just an ordinary album but a special, unusual one. I was reluctant about accepting. But as he explained his purpose and how it would be done, I began to see it. The idea was attractive to me because of this attitude and approach to it. It was to be sort of a spontaneous combustion job; no rehearsals, no written arrangements. The band would be comprised of six top men of the Jazz At The Philharmonic concert group.”
The music during these sessions in 1952 was performed in the spirit of the moment. The quality of the music would lean heavily on the expertise of each musician’s ability to contribute to the ensemble at the highest level in that moment.
This sounds like a fascinating concept—to present a compilation of work of the moment without a lot of prepping, leaning on experience alone.
This happens to parallel exactly the situation of which I find myself as I am preparing for a show of new work. Work that is being produced starting in January 2022 to be revealed in May 2022.
My “jazz group” consists of dozens of drawing journals created over a span of 40 years or so. Often I find myself going through my old drawings and saying to myself “that is pretty cool!” When I made the drawing at the time, I might have been working out some idea about the human figure (usually drawing from fashion magazines,) or playing with pastel and color.
One of my drawings was turned into a torn paper collage that I now have in a frame in my home.
Another drawing is framed and is positioned near the collage.
Top: Torn paper collage, femaie figure, 8x10,” circa 1991.
Bottom: Drawing. 5x7.” circa 1988.
As I prepare for a new showing of work that is to result from a four month artist residency, I realized that my backlog of drawings are the perfect source for me of which to create new work.
To help me visualize the layout of the show and to focus my mind on the “HOW the heck am I going to do this,” I laid out blank canvases on the empty walls. This gave me something like an armature of which to further support my efforts.
Knowing how I would fill the space helped to think of the “WHAT the heck am I going to put on the canvases.” This is where the drawings enter the scene. Over the past several weeks, I have been researching my own work, looking for concepts that will be easy to produce.
As I am looking at my work to select drawings, I am thinking of simplicity of line, of composition. I am also thinking of each composition in my mind before I begin adding paint.
World class athletes see their routines and courses in their minds before they compete. In the case of the Impressionist painter, Edgar Degas, Degas often thought through his compositions before work on the canvas. Impressionist painter Pierre Bonnard spent hours and hours each day drawing before executing his paintings of his day’s drawings from memory. So, these are some of my methods as well.
The goal: To keep things simple. It's about the line. The drawing is what I am interested in bringing forth...oil color will be the backdrop.
John Singer Sargent, “A Gust of Wind,” 1887.
I am working in a larger scale too. Some of the paintings will be 30x40." The Sargent painting shown here is a marvelous example of painting where color swaths dominate. Yet, there is a composition that unfolds as a result of the quick brushwork.
I do not have an advance plan of how this will all come together. I am improvising as I go, so that is adding to the creative inspiration and juice that it will take to bring the drawings to painted form.
I have been drawing most of my life. I really enjoy drawing. I know my drawings have life to them. So, my drawings are coming into great use right now. The finished painting will be a collaboration of color and line. Like jazz, the works will be improvised. And in the spirit of the French Impressionists, the works will be of the moment.
About his recordings of jazz, Fred closes by saying “If I hit a note here or there that doesn’t sound just right, well all I can say is, “It’s too late do anything about it now.”
Regarding my upcoming showing of paintings, I’m committed to exploring my idea of turning drawings into painted drawings. I might miss a note here or there, I might not get the perfect drawing, I might mess up in the paintings somehow, but it’s too late to back out now!
To be continued……
Opening and Artist Reception:
“Painted Drawings.” Opening Thursday, May 12, 5-7 pm.
Fairmont Olympic Hotel, Storefront.
417 University Street, Seattle, WA.
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Artist Talks:
Showing and telling about the Work in Progress
First Saturday of the month, February - April 2022, noon - 1 pm.
Watch for more details to come.
Mary Lamery is a lifelong resident of Seattle, Washington, USA and native of the Pacific Northwest.
Lamery paints regional landscape and makes drawings in a manner that leans towards 19th century French Impressionism.
Her landscapes and drawings invite the viewer to add to the backstory of the composition through personal identification with the paintings and story telling of the experience.