Trying to Glean Knowledge From Millet

I’m not sure why Jean-François Millet’s 1857 painting “The Gleaners” first grabbed my attention. It could be the mysterious activity in the background, with haystacks, wagons, and workers almost washed away by atmospheric perspective. It could be the subject matter–Millet was clearly trying to uplift the life and labor of the poor. The February Revolution was not far in the past when Millet painted “The Gleaners.” (After a field has been harvested, the poorest of the community were allowed to pick through or glean what was left.) It could be the substantial presence that those three women brought to the scene. The significance of this painting–which was criticized in its day for depicting laborers in such large (33″ x 44″) format–looms large in art history, with Van Gogh and Pissaro quoting in it their own compositions, and the work of other contemporary artists clearly showing its influence on their subject matter and approach.

I just like it.

When I was reminded of my love for Millet as I pondered a scene in a popular movie that was clearly influenced by his painting “The Angelus,” the idea of making a copy of “The Gleaners” popped into my head. What could I learn from it?

I was certainly reminded that I have a lot to learn about subtle color, compressed value ranges, and presenting the figure. My love for this painting deepened.

“Copy of ‘The Gleaners'” acrylic, 16″ x 20″

This won’t be the last Millet I copy. In the past, I have copied his drawings. His draftsmanship is what I aspire to–not tight rendering, but convincing and authentic in a different way. I have an idea for painting his “Angelus,” but that needs to wait.

I don’t feel comfortable selling a copy of another painter’s work, even if most everyone would understand that this is my inferior copy. But I’m glad I painted this. Hard work and rewarding. I often hear that we artists should always be students of the artform. It never occurs to me that I will be anything but a student. Hopefully a student that is always improving–and using new knowledge to say my truth a little better. •

“The Gleaners,” by Jean-François Millet, 1857, oil, 33″ x 44″. Collection of the Musée d’Orsay, Paris.

Dead Flower Society

"Kansas Girl," 2024, acrylic, 6 x 6. Collection of the Seabergs.

Some artists have a very strong idea of why they are making the art they are making. But I’ve interviewed many artists over the last 20 years, and most of them are simply humming along to the song in their head. More than a few artist’s statements are retrofit after the art is made.

This is not ingenuine. An artist may feel something not articulated, and make art that expresses the feeling. The feeling can point to a conviction, opinion, or musing that can be explored verbally. But a lot of times, the art comes first. From the gut or the heart, if you wish. I don’t know.

We buy sunflowers fairly often in this household. My wife likes them; she’s a Kansas girl. I like them, too, and we do live in Kansas now. Sunflowers are simple and sunny and beautiful.

But I find that when they die, they crumple and shrivel and gain a lot of character. I’ve seen a few artists paint dead flowers, and I’ve interviewed at least one about it…about 15 years ago. I didn’t want to paint them myself until this Fall.

So, to retrofit an artist’s statement for a short series of paintings featuring dead sunflowers, I’ll connect these paintings to the election. There was the death of a dream, the end of a pursuit of an office of power, and the end of a hope that a little less than half of America shared. Somehow, I wanted to find beauty in it. Am I admiring a declining empire? A disappearing dream or experiment in governance? My own naivete? I still don’t know. But something in the fragility and mortality of the sunflowers grabbed me. Here they are.

"Old Glory," 2024, acrylic, 17 1/2 x 19 1/2. Available.

"After the Fall," 2024, acrylic, 18 x 18. Available.

Getting to the Essence of Kansas

Kansas City doesn’t impress me much, but the state of Kansas is beautiful, and the people are kind and forthright. I haven’t painted a lot of Kansas scenes, but that is changing. My latest painting gets to a truth I feel about Kansas, and in particular, the dramatic Kansas sky. I’d like to paint more clouds in the future, and maybe some of them will be in triangles.

I can’t force the triangles. Some paintings just go there, while most don’t. I am always happy to see them.

The first triangle painting happened by accident. In 2017, I was painting the Henry Hudson Bridge, a very familiar subject for me, and suddenly here came triangles. I believe my mind’s eye saw them in the sky and the bridge because of the planes of light discernible in the scene. My long love of the work of Charles Sheeler and Charles Demuth is evident, plus a dash of Cubism. There’s also the influence of dynamic symmetry in a few of the triangle paintings. I’m not much on formulas for painting, but drawing out the lines suggested by dynamic symmetry and paying attention to the intersections when developing the composition almost always produce interesting designs. Much of the structure suggested by the lines of dynamic symmetry get covered up in paint and ignored, but enough show through, like a skeleton underneath the clothes of design.

"Kansas (Clouds)," by Bob Bahr. 2023, acrylic, 18 x 24 in.

Stop By the PV Municipal Bldg for Some Art

The Prairie Village Arts Council hosts shows on a continuous basis at the Prairie Village Municipal Building on Mission Road, and right now, these two artists are featured. I wrote up brief reports on these two talented artists. Please click on the links below and meet Donna J. Paul and Debra Payne.

Donna J Paul

https://www.artspv.org/blog/taking-a-closer-look-at-kansas

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And Debra Payne.

https://www.artspv.org/blog/that-old-flip-flop-is-art