Nocturnes and Banality

Is Banality a word? If not, it should be.

I’ve run out of puff for the last two days. That’s a good thing, I needed a little hibernation time. My husband has been chasing me around the house turning off lights as I leave a room fully ablaze while I move on to the next. I finally had to stop him and say, ‘It’s GLOOMY outside. If you don’t want me to be gloomy inside - leave the lights on. Please!’

Some days are like that. And then you realize that you’re not eating very healthy food, and you have to get all of your vitamins, even if they don’t taste very good. For dinner last night, I had a homemade sardine, onion and cream cheese spread - in Czech, sardinkova pomazanka - on my leftover homemade pumpernickel bread. To up the ante and get all those nasty vegetables out of the way, I shredded a carrot and threw it in with a handful of capers. Not the prettiest thing I’ve ever made, but I feel righteous after eating it for two days. Lots of Omega 3s and beta carotene. That should hold me for a while.

I love to cook all northern and eastern European food in the winter, in case you’re wondering why I’ve branched into the Czech republic for recipes, a la my intensive arm workout making Lithuanian Kugelis from Art is Food, Food is Art. I note that I do NOT cook eastern European food in the summer months. Way too many fish dishes - I’m doing well to choke down a tin of sardines once a week.

When I lived in Germany, I met a lively Ukrainian woman married to an American. She hosted a summer barbecue. I was doing really well trying all of the foods until I took a big bite of what I thought was a dessert made of strawberries and whipped cream. It was a beautiful pink color. Proud to say, I managed not to spit it out or make a face when I quickly realized it was a pickled herring, sour cream and beet salad. I’m sure it was very good for me - probably added a year to my life if bad taste equates with longevity.

ANYWAY - on to my first nocturne. I based it on this photo taken by my cousin, Tom Duggan. He’s a resident of Washington, GA and a brilliant photographer of his surroundings, making art out of everything he sees.

The building is now the Fitzgerald Hotel. When I was a child, this gorgeous brick turret of a building was shabby, run down and divided into apartments. One of the apartments was occupied by a lady who hemmed and altered clothes. I remember climbing the stairs to her apartment as a little girl. The hallway smelled of warm dust and boiled cabbage, with big, wide planks and a square wooden bannister.

Here’s a daytime view. I’m amazed at my cousin’s skills - in his photograph above he’s captured mystery, melancholy and beauty, and the softly lit windows are worthy of an Edward Hopper painting. Not quite the same in the sun, is it?

Well - I’m no Edward Hopper. But I knew I wanted to try my hand at a nocturne, so here’s the progression.

I learned a lot from this exercise. I couldn’t get the sky right. I wanted it darker and glowing. I finally just started layering transparent colors on top, a mix of transparent red and blue to give me the purple I wanted. Then I realized the windows were too bright. I toned them down with some warm pink and I like the curtain or shade effect. My sister wanted this one for her 50th birthday gift, a memory from our childhood.

I also tried to paint a borderline nocturne from a photograph of a lake at sunset. Hmmm. Well, it’s the attempt that’s important. And I do like what I learned from this one about cool and warm colors on the water. I wish I’d cooled it down a tad more, but I like the drama of it.

I’ll leave you with some TRUE nocturnes by brilliant artists. After discovering how hard it is to paint the dark, I am in awe of their abilities.

First, Lesser Ury, 1861-1931, German. I love his work. (Painting rain has to be just as hard as painting the night, but he does it brilliantly.)

Then, the fabulous John Atkinson Grimshaw, British, 1836-1893. As you can see, a true master of his craft.

Look at what he does with green, red, blue and gray. Unbelievable. I wonder if anyone will paint such nocturnes again with all the light pollution we have everywhere? I only see stars if there’s a blackout in town. Victorian times, with the gaslights along Grimshaw’s streets, seem to have been perfect for this style.

Here’s another Grimshaw that is technically a nocturne, but mostly a painting that would appeal to anyone, like me, who still believes in fairies.

Magical, isn’t it? Art soothes the soul and elates the spirit. “Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.” – Edgar Degas