William Kosman - Artiste Peintre

#25: My Work in France, Exhibits at My Studio and the Alliance Francaise

2009-09-28T09:21:00.000-07:00

"Church at Bazenville"

"Place Louis XIV at Thoan"

"Route de Creully in Tierceville"

"Chapel at Amblie"

"Bridge in Amblie"

"L'Aquilan in Luc-sur-Mer"

This is going to be a special edition of my blog - for the first time, a bilingual edition.

And for me, there is some very good news: This coming weekend (October 3rd and 4th - the Saturday and Sunday from noon to6 pm) is POST (Philadelphia Open Studio Tours) at my studio (#407, 915 Spring Garden St., near 9th St. at Percy St., Philadelphia, PA 19123), and you will be able to look at my work and exchange ideas with me.

And then, beginning Nov. 13, the Alliance Francaise in Philadelphia (1420 Walnut St., Suite 700, Philadelphia, PA 19102) will begin showing my work for one month. On Nov. 13, beginning at 6 pm, you can join me at the Alliance Francaise for wine and cheese and conversation about painting.

Because of the three months I spent in France, and because of the number of French artists and other people who helped me and became important to me, I'm going to write a section of this blog in French.

Now, I'll talk about my work in Normandy this past summer. During the last month I was there, in the region around St. Aubin-sur-Mer, I was alone and I have to say I worked very hard. I got up early in the morning, pulled together my equipment and paints, etc., and hit the country roads in the area that I've gotten to know so well. I painted most of the day, except when it got too hot and my paint melted. Once home in the evening, I made some minor revisions to some of my works, and then I wrote my ideas about what I did in my journal.

What have I accomplished? Well, part of the answer can come from you. But I believe that my landscapes in Normandy at becoming more free and more nuanced. While I was painting, I believe I took more time, gave my work more thought while I worked, and tried to express more forcefully the feelings I got from the scenes. It's strange to say this, because I've been painting in Normandy for a long time, but when you look at "The Church at Bazenville," I think that the forcefulness of the church and the emotion of the cemetary come through with more feeling than I was able to achieve before. Yes, when I paint, it feels as though my hand moves on its own, as though it had a mind of its own. But maybe my hand was more in touch with my heart, and maybe my hand felt more freedom.

One thing is interesting. Many artists tell me that they'd rather not be disturbed while they paint, and this is true with me to some extent. But meeting and talking with the people in the villages in Normandy, I believe, can also give richness to my work. Just a few examples: In Bazenville, I talked with the mayor, a few couples and a farmer who was working neaby while I painted. In Tierceville, I met a charming little family, and a cute 4-year-old blonde girl made a point of showing me her artwork. In so many ways, I believe I can tell more of a story if I'm really in contact with the people.

I'm including a sketch in my blog for the first time. In fact, I often do a sketch before painting, to give me an idea how the painting will look on the canvas before I commit myself with paint. Now, in some cases, I gave people who were interested photocopies of my sketches. And in the case of the sketch of L'Aquilon, I gave the original to a wonderful elderly woman who used to live there. She told me that the sketch reminded her of so many good memories, that she talked over with her children.

Please remember: You can zoom in and double the size of the photos if you just click on them.

-0-

Mes chers amis:

Voici quelques tableaux que j'ai realises en France Cet ete. D'abord une note de remerciement. Beaucoup parmi vous m'avez aide, et j'aprecie votre aide beaucoup.

Je pense que, pendant le temps que j'ai passe en Normandie cet ete, j'ai acheve plus de liberte en peinture. A vous de juger. J'ai toujours travaille tres vite, mais cette fois j'ai essayer de reflechir plus en travaillant. D'habitude, ma main est tres independante, mais de plus en plus j'essaye de la guider plus sans controler trop.

Donnez-moi vos idees.

Merci encore.

William Kosman

#24: Please Stop Me!

2009-07-13T13:49:00.000-07:00

Fellow Art Lovers:

It's really something when you need to paint to feel good. Guilty. The other day, while making preparations for my departure, I was feeling a little blue. What did I need to do? You guessed it. I needed to paint.

So, I decided to begin one more of the paintings for my Brooklyn series. This is a work in progress. I think it needs some more work, and no title comes to mind.

But I want to tell you that painting it was a pleasure. I felt very free, and I think I'm starting to capture the subject's expression. He is, as you might guess, a fish monger, and he's one of those merchants who is a pillar of his community, and he seems like a very nice person.

And that might explain why I painted with pleasure and a good measure of confidence. He sent out good vibes, which I picked up. So, even thought a good bit of time has passed, I still felt involved in the painting.

Anyway, thanks for putting up with my obsession, but isn't that he way painters are supposed to be.

Thanks for listening.

Best,

William Kosman

#23: Really Big Challenges from Brooklyn

2009-07-01T07:45:00.000-07:00

"Prayer 2"

"Prayer 2" (Detail)

"Did you hear . . ? "

"Did you hear . . ?" (Detail)

"Red Tights"

"Red Tights" (Detail)

"Red Tights" (Detail)

Fellow Art Lovers:

At the outset, I want to apologize for my long silence. In fact, there are several reasons. First of all, I know that a true artist is devoted to his art above all, but I had some personal things going on. This is not the place for it, but I want you to know that these personal events were of the most positive nature. The second reason is that I've taken on some big challenges, and when I say big, I mean big.

Please look at the three paintings above. Two of the paintings - "Prayer 2" and "Did you hear . . ?" - are physically big. Compared with "Red Tights," which is 24 by 30 inches, the other two are a little larger than four foot by four foot. I wanted to throw myself into very large format, and I chose the series on Crown Heights, Brooklyn, for the change to bigger works.

I can tell you that working in such a large format is more complicated than just painting bigger. I learned that I had to change my way of thinking; I learned that a different set of rules take over. And I learned that I cannot simply boost the size from a smaller work to a larger work, as I initially tried with "Prayer 2."

And there are other things going on. I believe that I am achieving more and more freedom in my colors, brushstroke and in the ways I render objects and figures. For some reason, I believe that the very large format loosened up my work. You simply have to move more, and the act of swinging that brush around made me feel very free. Also, at least for me, when working on such a large format, there is little danger of getting fussy about achieving realistic details, which is certainly not one of my goals. I like painting that looks like painting. Seeing full brush strokes and free shapes of color give me pleasure. And I hope that they also give you - the viewer - the same pleasure. And, as far as color is concerned, the large format makes me feel freer to work in more colors.

Another thing that has been influencing me is time. I've been working on this series about Brooklyn for quite a while, for one reason or another, one reason being my dislocated finger. I see more and more proof that the farther away I am in time from my first impressions, the further away I can feel from some paintings. Of course this is true. The ideas, the impressions, the memories, the emotions are further in the past and are less real to me.

All except for the factor of emotion. Like any painter or individual, I have emotional responses to what I see, what I sketch and what I photograph. And, in so many cases, that emotion lives on in some cases with a certain intensity. Take, for example, the largest fiture in "Did you hear . . ?" I was impressed by the folds in the material of her swinging skirt. I wanted a great deal to try to get that feeling across, not the detail but the feeling. I'll bet I could wait a year and still painting that material in a convincing manner. Another example is the little girl in "Red Tights." I got such a positive feeling from seeing the mother and daughter together.

Of course, some artists work in formats exceeding four by four feet, which might even be small by some standards. But now, when I attack a larger format, I hope that my work is more successful, that is, gets the emotions across to you, the viewer, in a freer and more convincing way.

By the way, you may not hear from me for a while. For me, summers mean France, and I don't know if I'll be able to make new blog postings from there this year.

As always, I love hearing your ideas.

Thanks for listening.

Best,

William Kosman

#22: Visit My Studio May 2-3, and More Details from Brooklyn

2009-04-19T07:21:00.000-07:00

"Red Tights"

"Red Tights" (detail)

"RedTights" (detail)

"Discussion"

"Discussion" (detail)

"Brooklyn Street Scene"

Fellow Art Lovers:

First of all, I want to invite all of you to visit my studio (#407) and the studios of other artists at 915 Spring Garden St.(at Percy St., near 9th St.), Philadelphia, PA 19123, from noon to 5 pm, on Saturday and Sunday, May 2 and 3. More than 40 artists in our building will be opening their studios and will be ready to talk with you about their work. In particular, I will really enjoy talking with you about my work, hearing your ideas and explaining what I have been trying to achieve in a more personal setting.

Among the paintings you will be able to see are these paintings of the Lubavitch Community in Brooklyn, and I hope to have produced more of this series by the time the Open Studios Event arrives in two weeks.

These paintings have been a new kind of experience for me. Yes, I consistently try to develop my style and perfect each painting I do as an individual work. But there is something more. There is the desire to represent a community, to show some of the individuals and the groups, and give hints about how they interact.

For example, in "Red Tights" I wanted to show the enthusiasm, cuteness and pure joy of the little girl with her mother. As in any painting, I place the figures where they attract the viewer's attention and where they fit into the scene. There is the choice of the colors, bright and lively, because it was a beautiful day and the sun was shining, and it was striking the way the light came through the trees, and how the light coming from the back threw the shadows forward. I will be working on this some more this coming week.

But in addition, there is the detail. Yes, the overall composition is important, but the smallest detail, the smallest change in the brush stroke, its width and its direction, the texture and the color of each space, can change the expression of the people and the mood they transmit.

And there is something very strange, very reassuring about painting and people. When the painting, or any detail in it, is wrong, you know it. And when it's right, when it clicks, you know it even more. The feeling of achievement, of having done something decent, crosses you like a wave.

Frankly, I believe I did capture something in the little girl.

In "Discussion," I was struck both by the ordinariness and the beauty of the scene. Two people - two men in this case - stop to chat on a street corner. Common, but yet so reassuring. The act of communication is so important. And with the sun catching them and throwing their shadows to one side, I found the scene engaging.

"Brooklyn Street Scene" was started just a few days ago. I think it is interesting. Girls who attend the Beth Rivkah school in Crown Heights wear long, purple skirts. Here we see two walking away from us, and two whispering to each other at the side of the sidewalk. Here, I'm trying to capture the movement of the girls as they walk, and just the right gesture of the other girls talking. Again, a very ordinary scene, but very engaging. Again, it was winter, with warm coats and trees bare of leaves, but it was sunny and the sky was cloudless.

I hope to complete the painting within two weeks. It's a big painting, four feet by four feet, but the size of the canvas may actually speed my work, because I feel a great deal of freedom working on that scale.

Remember, you can get closer to any painting by simply clicking on the painting. And then using back to return to the normal size.

As always, I'd love to hear your ideas.

Thanks for listing.

Best,

William Kosman

#21: A View of the Lubavitch Community

2009-03-16T19:43:00.000-07:00

"Prayer"

"Prayer" (detail)

"Bouquet"

My Fellow Art Lovers:

First of all, I want to explain why I have been silent for an entire month.

A while ago, I decided I would do a series of paintings representing several different aspects of life in the Lubavitch community. While Philadelphia has a growing Lubavitch community, I decided to spend several days in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.

Well, I believe everything happens for a reason. I was welcomed into the community with a great deal of warmth and understanding for my art. Because of this, I was able to participate in different aspects of Lubavitch life, and in many cases, take a lot of photographs that I would use - along with my sketches - to paint some of the scenes of my visit.

Apparently, I needed more time to reflect on the meaning of what I had seen. That is the explanation I believe is valid for what happened. One evening, walking with my sister to a reception, I stumbled and fell on an uneven sidewalk next to a construction site. In the process of breaking my fall, I dislocated a finger on my right hand. Even though the emergency physician was able to reset the joint, I did have to wait a while before I could resume painting.

The painting I really wanted to do first was "Prayer." It was the biggest challenge, but it was also one of the most meaningful. I wanted to be able to reflect the belief, devotion and the sincerity of the men attending a small synagogue in Crown Heights. It was a big challenge from many points of view - composition, color, detail, texture. I could bore you about why I made certain decisions, but basically I had to decide how to size and place the figures, and then adapt the colors and style.

Right now, I am working on several other paintings in this series, but I believe the series could expand to five, seven or even more paintings. As I said, everyone was wonderful with me, and I have a lot of ideas and material for more paintings. For the hospitality, help, warmth and encouragement I received, I would like to thank my family and the other members of the Lubavitch community.

The other painting, the small one called "Bouquet," just happened. It was a scene in our living room here in Philadelphia that just hit me as beautiful. I just had to paint it. I did it on a small panel, and the painting just painted itself.

I've learned that my painting is at its best when a painting just happens naturally.

As always, thanks for listening. And, as always, I love to hear from you.

Best,

William Kosman

#20: The Human Face

2009-02-13T15:12:00.000-08:00

My Fellow Art Lovers:

What I am about to say has been said many, many times. It has been felt deeply many, many times. It has been written about, and sung about, and most certainly painted many, many times. But here I am. I am going to say it one more time.

The human face is an amazing thing.

It is a great pleasure for me to paint faces. Painting a face, and trying to express the person's character and emotions and situation is - for me - the greatest challenge in painting.

While painting a portrait, I can make just the smallest changes, just extend a line near the eye, or enlarge a small spot of color, and the impact of the face changes, the expression changes. I can just change a color, or extend a color closer to the eye or the nose, and suddenly the face is right, or it is wrong.

Transmitting what a person feels goes far beyond getting the proportions correct, even though this is important. And even though the artist can make the decision to alter what he or she sees to achieve a certain effect.

It's so important to be willing to experiment, to be willing to add a darker color here or use a different brush stroke there. Sometimes, while painting, I tell myself that if I try to change something, I may ruin what I have already achieved. But I have to force myself to keep pushing.

The achievement is when everything clicks, and the person suddenly comes alive, and you can see the emotion.

The top portrait is a woman with a bright, sparkling personality and a positive outlook on life. I think I did capture something of her, although I could go further.

The second portrait is yours truly. I had a self-portrait that I started maybe a year or so ago, and never completed. One painter, whose opinion I respect, told me that you should not rework paintings from the past, because your outlook and skill level have changed. So, I used the unfinished self-portrait as practice. There is something of me there. Perhaps someone out there will have an opinion.

The landscape you see on the bottom has a story. I had constructed a frame with a wooden panel for another purpose, but the original purpose evaporated. I decided to copy a landscape from Normandy on it. The landscape is a view of the village of Reviers, one of the most beautiful scenes I've painted.

Painting on the smooth surface gave the landscape an entirely different feeling, both in the application of the paint and in the final appearance.

What do you think?

As always, I'd love to hear your reactions to these paintings. As always, thanks for your time and your continued support.

Best,

William Kosman

# 20: Back in the Groove

2009-01-23T06:38:00.000-08:00

My Fellow Art Lovers:

What you're looking just above this text is a work in progress that is taking time to come to life.

I'm sure I've talked about this before: Like many other artists, and people in other fields also, I am not at the top of my game when I haven't painted for quite some time. The holidays were fine and wonderful for me, from a family point of view. But they were a setback from a professional point of view.

It really took time to get back in the groove.

The scene you see in this painting is right around the corner from my studio. In fact, it's the diner where I lunch pretty often. And at this diner, like at a million other locations around the world, when men see beauty, they turn to appreciate it.

For the light, for the setting, for the colors, and for the idea, I believe this is a valid painting.

I tried to get the idea across in the most interesting, artistic and pleasurable way. And, as always, there were some lessons in doing this painting, which I believe is perhaps 85 percent completed.

One of the lessons is persistence; I really had to fight to get back on track. (That, after in the groove, is cliche No. 2.)

Another one is patience; as I worked and thought and came up with new ideas and incorporated them into the composition and adjusted this and that, the painting got better. I think I have one more stage to go, because I just thought of more ways to make the painting even better.

And the last one I'll talk about is the creative act. When we listen to music, we can marvel at the fact that there are always new sounds possible - new melodies, new beats, new combinations - while the number of notes is limited. Of course, the same with books, even though the number of letters hasn't changed in a long time, and our language has only two million words.

It's the same with painting. I marvel at the fact that there are always new ideas and new ways to paint. Basically, an artist faces a blank canvas, and the only thing he can do is apply spots of colored oil to the canvas. But human beings can have such genius, such creativity, that even today, after hundreds of years, news things are happening, new forms and combinations are being used, new colors and textures are being developed.

In view of the great geniuses of our art, every artist has to be humble, and - believe me - I'm very, very humble. But even on my level, it's great to feel the surge of creativity once in a while.

My gosh, how did I get here?

Thanks for listening. Thanks for your support and interest. And, as always, your reactions are very, very welcome.

William Kosman

#19: The Artist Within

2008-12-17T11:44:00.000-08:00

Portrait of David from 2007

Portrait of Christine from 2007

Detail of "Untitled Portrait"

"Untitled Portrait"

Fellow Art Lovers:

Once in a while, I am guilty of losing perspective. That is, I get involved with one idea, and then somehow I lose sight if the context and of the similar ideas that predated my current obsession. Well, that may be happening now.

You recall that I've written a lot about the style I want to attain. That's natural for a painter. The style, the particular brushstroke, the very surface of the painting, has a lot to do with the pleasure the viewer experiences. One of the reasons I believe people like my paintings done with a palette knife is that the texture is simply pleasing to look at. Well, I've gone on about this a lot on this blog, concluding that I should meld the two styles - palette knife and brush - into one, and in this way achieve the best of both worlds.

Now I know that a lot was wrong with my thinking. My experience with my latest portrait, which is "Untitled Portrait," has been very instructive to me.

While painting this portrait, I just felt good. I was at ease with myself. I had no major personal concerns, or I succeeded in keeping them out of my head. And every brushstroke not only seemed right, it also was a pleasure.

The conclusion I draw is this: The style is within me. I can try to achieve this or that style, but if I am in a state of mind that allows my trule style to come out, then it will. Peace of mind gives me the freedom to express myself.

This is what I also felt when I painted the two other portraits from last year. As in the most recent case, I also had positive feelings about the other two subjects. I just can't imagine succeeding with a portrait if I don't feel good about the person I am painting. And, trying to regain some of the perspective I might now be losing, I must have learned a lot in the interval.

Like composition. Some of my artist friends told me that the head jutting into the top shadow and the cup jutting upward keep the entire painting connected. This was not the mark of genius. It just seemed right at the time. The same with the placement of the figure. It felt right.

Like brushstroke. Of course, I automatically paint a woman's face with more delicacy. They deserve it. And, as I move away from the face, I want to make the brushstroke more forceful and expressive.

If you want to invest some time, you might look back at previous blog entries and see what I think is increasing freedom and maybe better and better painting.

As always, I'd love to hear your ideas.

Thank you for your interest and support.

Sincerely, and I mean it,

William Kosman

#18: Taking Up the Brush Again

2008-12-02T07:15:00.000-08:00

1. "Untitled" (So-Far)

2. "Separate Paths"

Fellow Art Lovers:

It's amazing: I hear the same thing from almost every artist I discuss the subject with, and I even hear the same thing from people in other fields. What is it? When we are away from our beloved profession, in this case painting, for just a few days, when we are not in there moving paint around, we get clumsy or ineffective or uncreative or just unable to paint in the same way. For that reason, we feel we just can't miss two days, if we want to keep advancing in our art, or just stay in the same place. It's our way of responding to what we feel, and then feeling the confidence and freedom of rendering our vision on canvas in ways that are consistent with who we are.

I've even talked this over with people in other fields. A friend who's a physician tells me that he can't be as good a doctor for his patients if he's away from them for more than two days.

Well, with my preparations for my exhibit at ArtWorks at the Philadelphia Museum of Art and for Philadelphia Open Studio Tours, I did not take up a brush or a palette knife for maybe two weeks. Then, predictably, I felt the blockage between my brain and my brush hand. And then, just as predictably, I had to fight to get my powers, whatever they are, back.

Two two paintings you see above, are the result of that fight. I'm going to go out on a limb here. I believe I am back in the groove. (Please remember: you can get closer to the paintings by clicking on them.)

The top one, the untitled portrait, is maybe only 50 percent completed. But I believe the start is very strong. First of all, the subject is very strong, in features and visual interest. I want to thank her here; it's so important and appreciated when someone assists art - and me - by posing. Also, I felt that the painting felt right at every stage, and I hope it keeps going that way. The pose and the composition felt just right.

So often, a successful painting is the result of a series of good decisions. With this portrait, the position of the subject's body, and her placement on the canvas were just right. So far, I'm pleased with the style. As I advance, I have to adjust some colors and deepen the texture. Let's hope I have the courage to succeed here.

What do you think?

The other painting, "Separate Paths," is completed. It has several other lessons for me. One of those lessons is patience. I work relative fast when I paint, and I usually want to finish a painting in just a few sessions. But I'm learning that a little patience can go a long way toward achieving a valid work. In this case, I just kept working on several areas, like weeds just behind the subjects, to get them right. I believe I achieved a certain freedom in rendering the foliage, and that the foliage does not detract from the figures. That's important, because the figures have to get the idea of the painting across.

As always, what do you think?

Fianlly, I want to thank many of you for your loyalty and support during POST and the ArtWorks exhibitions.

Sincerely,

William Kosman

# 17: The Viewers Speak

2008-10-17T12:08:00.000-07:00

"The Daily Menu"

"Neighborhood Scene"

Fellow Art Lovers:

Over one weekend, nearly 200 people visited my studio at 915 Spring Garden St., in Philadelphia - thanks to Philadelphia Open Studio Tours. A good number of those visitors expressed some sincerely held beliefs about how they view my work. And that's what I want to discuss with you today.

Every artist has to be careful about how he or she is influenced by people who look and comment about art works. On the one hand, yes, of course, we are influenced by what we hear people say, and that's very important to me. As a matter of fact, it's a true pleasure for me to hear what people think about my work - the ways they are affected, the kinds of thoughts and emotions my work prompts in them, the ideas that rush to them, and the places my works take them.

But on the other hand, we as artists cannot allow ourselves to be too influenced by our viewers' comments. In theory, we should know who we are, what we are trying to express, and any changes in our styles should be the result of reaching deeper and deeper into ourselves to express what is there, or what we hope is there. In short, we can't just play to the crowd.

At the same time, I haven't hidden from you the fact that I've felt a bit torn between two styles, the freedom of the palette knife and the precision of brushes.

Okay, so what did people say?

One camp told me that I should focus exclusively on working with brushes. These people said that the scenes of Philadelphia with people in them - like "The Daily Menu" above - are such a pleasure to view because they show such sensitivity and feeling for people, the scenes themselves reflect the kinds of situations people live, the colors are bright and engaging, and most important, you can actually draw conclusions about the people's emotions and characters from my paintings.

This is great to hear for several reasons. All artists seek acceptance in some way, and frankly I'm not short on ego. And also, I'm sure I've written before about the pleasure I feel when I am actually fully engaged in the act of painting. Just thinking about nothing else and squishing paint around on the canvas.

The other camp told me that I should focus on using the palette knife. They said they respected the skill and precision of the images, but more than that, they felt that the surface and texture of the paintings completed with palette knives were more active and interesting and contained more energy. In fact, one gentleman said that he loved to move back and forth in front of the paintings done with palette knives because the images actually seemed to change. He said that when you start up close and move slowly away, at a certain moment the separate pieces seemed to snap into place, the blocks joined, and the entire image became whole.

Boy! That's great to hear. This gentleman actually spent time studying not only the painting, but also his reactions to it. And frankly, I don't know if I ever looked at my paintings in that way.

Ladies and gentlemen, I want to express to you how much I appreciate the time, the thought and the candor so many of you gave me.

Now, what do I do with this knowledge? There are no easy answers. And I don't know what will happen when I am actually in front of a canvas with brushes and palette knives in my hands. I think I've explained to you so many times that I am an emotional painter, and I often let happen what happens, depending on serendipity. But if I actually stand there with both brushes and palette knives, if I hold both tooks in my hands at the same time, who knows what will happen?

I will report back to you, and I will show you the result.

Please remember, if any of you want to visit my studio, you do not have to wait for Philadelphia Open Studio Tours. Just e-mail me, and we'll work it out.

As always, thanks for listening to me, and thanks for sharing your ideas, and thanks for your support.

Sincerely,

William Kosman

# 16: It's Show Time

2008-10-01T19:29:00.001-07:00

"La Coquette"

By William Kosman

Faces of Philadelphia

Philadelphia Open Studio Tours

Oct. 11 & 12, 2008 - 12 noon to 6 pm

Painter William Kosman

Studio #407

915 Spring Garden St.

Philadelphia, PA 19123

Fellow Art Lovers:

I want to extend a special invitation to all of you to come to my studio during POST to view many of the works you've seen on this blog - and much more.

The theme is "Faces of Philadelphia," and you will see many of the people and the city scenes I've painted and then talked about here. "La Coquette" is one of them. Now, in my studio, you will see almost the full collection of the actual works, and you will see the collection's development, from one work to the next. And, no doubt a real thrill, you will be able to discuss the works with me.

While visiting my studio at 915 Spring Garden St., I'm sure that you will take the opportunity to visit some of the more than 40 other artists in the building who are also exhibiting their work as participants in POST.

I also want to invite you to visit the ArtWorks Gallery, at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, to see about 20 of the landscapes I painted in Normandy. If you have any questions about that exhibit, please call 215-684-7965.

As always, thank you for your time and support.

Sincerely,

William Kosman

#15: Some Very Good Luck

2008-09-05T10:37:00.000-07:00

Chapel at Amblie III

Linen Field at Tailleville

Linen Field at Tailleville (detail)

Chapel at Amblie

Chapel at Amblie (detail)

A View of Reviers

Fellow Art Lovers:

First, I will give you the news, and then I will explain.

The news is that my new landscapes from Normandy will be exhibited at the ArtWorks Gallery at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. ArtWorks, which is located on the museum's ground floor near the main bookstore and the Van Pelt Auditorium, is operated by the Women's Committe for the museum. The most direct way to get there is by entering the museum's west entrance.

My landscapes should be available for viewing starting this coming Monday, Sept. 8, 2008. Also, it's possible that there will be an opportunity for me to be at the exhibit, so that I can talk about my paintings and answer any questions people may have. Please let me know if there's any interest in that kind of event. If you have any questions about the exhibit, you can telephone ArtWorks at 215-684-7965.

Now, some explanation. In my last blog entry, which I filed from Normandy, I posted some photos and talked about the process of painting outdoors, in the fields and on the roadways of Normandy. Well, I worked pretty hard for quite a while, getting out early so I could paint before it got too hot, painting well into the evening, and making necessary revisions at night.

The paintings you see here and the paintings in my blog entry from Normandy will be in the exhibit at ArtWorks. In addition, there will be just a few other paintings that I completed a while ago, also - of course - in Normandy.

We were able to transport a lot of my paintings back from Normandy. On my return, I talked with the people from ArtWorks, and they told me that there was a lot of interest expressed in my paintings shown at Two Commerce Square (explained in blog #9), and that ArtWorks would like to exhibit more of them.

I'm not going to hide it from you. Truly, it means a lot to me that more people appreciate my paintings, that some of my ideas about the beauty of nature are getting across to more people, and that I will have the opportunity to expand the number of people who can view my work.

Now that I am really charged up, I will be working like a devil during the year on scenes of Philadelphia, and next summer throw myself into more Normandy landscapes with even more energy.

For all of you who have expressed enthusiasm for my work, I want to thank you sincerely for your support. And, just in passing, I want to let you know that you will be able to see some of my Philadelphia work during the upcoming Philadelphia Open Studio Tours, which will be on Oct. 11 and 12, at my studio #407, at 915 Spring Garden, in Philadelphia.

But more about that later.

Thank you for listening to me.

Sincerely,

William Kosman

Back to the Future

2008-07-15T02:48:00.001-07:00

Fields of Linen near Tailleville

Fields of Linen near Tailleville (detail)

Park Path in St. Aubin-sur-Mer

St. Aubin Park (detail)

Trees in St. Aubin-sur-Mer

St. Aubin Trees (detail)

The Road from Douvres to Caen

The Road from Douvres to Caen (detail)

Fellow Art Lovers:

You haven't heard from me for a while, and there's a reason. I'm posting this new entry from France, more specifically from Normandy. You know that landscapes of Normandy, where I spend my sumers, are important to me. I hope you like these landscapes, because Normandy is one of the most beautiful areas in France (There are many.), and I've been trying for years to capture the beauty of the fields, the trees, the villages, the skies. I hope I succeed in giving an idea about the beauty.

Okay, fine, but why, you could ask, haven't you posted a new entry? Well, it's taken quite a while to get a new high-speed Internet line installed. And, of course, I have to have something to show you and to tell you. Which leads me to my subject. Back to the Future.

All fall, winter and spring, I've been focusing on scenes in Philadelphia with people. Well, doing landscapes is another ball of wax. Of course, I've run into a few challenges, like the famous weather in Normandy, which even in summer includes cold, rain and wind. But I also have to pull my mind and my senses back to Normandy, back to the world of landscapes, to work the way I want, to get the ideas across that I want.

I've talked about those ideas a lot. Nature is just so beautiful here. Sure, I can write about it. But my job as a painter is to show it.

Please let me know if you think I'm getting some of these ideas across in my paintings. Please remember, that you can click on any image, and you'll get a lot more detail. This will help, because photos just can't get the images across.

In some cases, the more dramatic the image, the harder it is to paint, on a very practical level. For example, I was out on the roadway that goes from the small city of Douvres-la-Delivrande to the major city in Normandy, Caen. The wind was blowing, and the trees were shifting and rustling and blincking in the wind. They are big trees, but the power of the wind shifted them all to the same side, and at the same time, formed rivulets in the grass in the fields. Well, guess what that does to your canvas on a portable easel. You have to get clever to keep things in place. But there's no way of forgetting about the power of the wind for your painting when you're in the middle of it.

And the more you are outdoors, en plein air, the more you think and try to develop more and more ways to show what you consider so beatuiful, trees in the wind, bending grass, the clouds shifting across a blue sky, the more you succeed. I hope to succeed more and more.

Please let me know what you think.

Thanks for listening.

William Kosman

#13: The Battle Moves Toward Resolution

2008-05-31T12:17:00.000-07:00

"The Daily Menu"

"The Daily Menu" (detail

"Girls at the Mall"

"Girls at the Mall" (detail)

"Neighborhood Scene"

"Neighborhood Scene" (detail)

"Man and his Machine"

You have, right in front of you, the partial resolution of a conflict - a conflict waged with dangerous weapons, a paint brush and a palette knife.

You've been hearing a lot about how Iwant to achieve the freedom I feel with a palette knife when I paint with brushes. I don't know, maybe it's just not interesting to you. Just give me the pictures, I don't care how you get there, I could almost hear someone say. But, if you want to know what I go through, and you're reading this blog, then you have to give me some liberty and suffer a little.

After painting "Blue Bicycle," which I showed you in my last blog, I felt I could do almost anything with a palette knife. The paintings would just roll out, I thought. I was so overconfident, I thought I found the key, and at least my knife work would come almost automatically. Well, nothing is automatic, as I found out. "Neighborhood Scene" did happen fast, but I believe that was because I felt an emotional tie for this friendly corner near my home. And "Girls at the Mall" was a way to become just a little abstract with the young women from another painting, "Grand Opening," which was painted with brushes and which I showed you in my last blog. I just took those four women and imagined a scene for them and then painted them with a knife. It was a way to free myself up. And since I was really rolling, I did "Man and his Machine," but to be quite honest with you, I don't think this painting is as complete or has the emotional content of "Neighborhood Scene." The reason, I don't know. Maybe it was rush. Or maybe I didn't think it through before taking palette knife in hand.

Then I went through this internal monologue. I asked myself the same question that had been troubling me for a while: How do I achieve the same freedom with a brush that I feel with a palette knife? Same question, but different answer: It is through visualization. You have to visualize, I told myself, just how the brush painting would look - every brush stroke, every color, every space.

I really liked the scene and the idea behind "The Daily Menu." I chatted with the waitress from the restaurant "Le Cochon," in Philadelphia. She is very nice, and also a photographer and artist . I felt maybe fortune was smiling on me, because I happened along just at the moment she was writing out the menu for the evening on the sunny late afternoon in this nice corner of the city.

Ladies and gentlemen, I like the painting. I did move toward more freedom and expression. Not all the way, but a bit of the way. realistically, very few things happen in sudden changes, but rather in gradual evolution. And for me and my painting, maybe that is better.

What do you think?

Thanks for listening.

William Kosman

# 12: The Battle Continues

2008-05-21T08:33:00.000-07:00

Blue Bicycle (detail)

Grand Opening

Grand Opening (detail)

Blue Bicycle (detail)

Blue Bicycle

Fellow Art Lovers:

I've written a lot - maybe to your exasperation - about how I'm looking more freedom, and how I feel so much more free when I work with a palette knife than I do when I work with brushes. Well, a few things have been happening, and you have above then examples of those events.

Maybe two weeks ago, I rode my trusty bicycle around the streets of Philadelphia for scenes that struck me, that had something that I wanted to commit to canvas. You saw one example in my last blog - #12, "Street Scene."

On that same trip, I passed another great scene: A taco restaurant on 5th Street, just north of Girard Ave. (Taco Riendo, 1301 N. 5th St.). The scene appealed to me because it showed that people are doing there. The local people are working and investing in their neighborhood, trying to improve it, and they are succeeding to a large extent. Also, the young woman standing in front of the restaurant, Nancy, was both sweet and ambitious, and she agreed to stand for a photo.

I have to say that, as I worked on the painting, Nancy painted herself, that is, she appeared very naturally. The rest of the painting worked out well. While the painting needs a little more work, even at this stage, I believe it is a good represetation of a scene. It gives the viewer a good idea of what's going on there. The style is straight-forward, and Nancy is painted in a competent way.

But the painting doesn't grab me and shout that it's important and what it says is important.

Now, for the last few months, a lot of people have been telling me that I should use a palette knife on urban landscapes. You saw one example of that - "Street Scene." Those who tell me I have to keep working that way were enthusiastic about the painting - the emotion, the texture, the freedom, the ideas it gets across.

I decided to do a little experiment. On another walk through the city, I happened to be on 16th Street. It was a wonderful spring evening and a pleasing scene - a lot of people out strolling, sitting in front of restaurants, a freshness and a good feeling in the air. A young couple walked past me. I thought they would be great in a painting, and they were nice enough to take a minute so I could photograph them.

In my studio, I did the experiment you see, and it worked out well. Then, the painting "Blue Bicycle" just worked out wonderfully. I can't tell you what it is. But once that palette knife starts moving, the painting just built itself. Sure, there were moments when I took a breath, looked at it and decided I needed this or that. And, the painting is a bit more complicated than many others, so I worked on it over several days. Right now, I think it needs a few minor adjustments.

But I did feel that same excitement and freedom of expression. The easy movements. The confidence. The pleasure when I squished a mixture of several colors onto the canvas and said to myself, "That's not bad."

What do you think?

Thanks for listening.

Best,

William Kosman

# 11: Freedom Revisited

2008-05-08T07:45:00.000-07:00

"Street Scene"

"Street Scene" (detail)

Two Commerce Square exhibit

Fellow Art Lovers:

You've been lucky enough to hear me talk several times about freedom, that feeling I get when I'm slashing left and right, up and down, and every which way, with either a brush or a palette knife. It's the emotion I feel when I'm sure and confident, every stroke seems right, and a work seems to create itself in front of me. It's that hormone rush that carries me for a time I don't even see passing.

A few blogs ago, I talked about how I feel this with a palette knife when I paint landscapes in Normandy. Well, a while ago, I was asked why I didn't use the same technique on urban landscapes here in Philadelphia. What you see above, "Street Scene," is such an attempt.

The painting isn't bad. I felt all the right things. Of course, if you ask any artist about his or her painting, and you'll hear someone tell all the things they wish they could have done. I'm the same. I'm constantly reminding myself to simplify, to achieve more power through more unified statements, larger spaces, stronger contrasts, less detail, big ideas and objects. But this is a good first entry in what could be considered a different genre for me.

What do you think? (Do you know that you can enlarge the photos above by clicking on them?)

A new subject: The exhibit of my Normandy landscapes at Two Commerce Square, at 2001 Market Street, Philadelphia, between 20th and 21st Streets.

The last time I sent out a message signaling the show, I made a hash of my e-mail. I just want you to know that the exhibit is going fine, and it will be there for another two months. Last time I mentioned that the poster announcing the show had not yet arrived. Well, it's there, and it clearly says the spring show is sponsored by the Thomas Properties Group and the Philadelphia Museum of Art. And it even mentions a little information about me. I've included a few photos of it.

Until next time. Thanks for listening.

William Kosman

#10: The Rewards of Serendipity

2008-04-23T13:29:00.000-07:00

"Who's that coming?"

"Who's that coming?" (detail)

My Fellow Art Lovers:

First, I want to apologize. I hadn't posted a new entry for a while for some personal reasons. To keep you from wondering, that reason was the wedding of our daughter. As I mentioned in the past, I'm an emotional painter, and when I feel pulled in another direction, for either positive or negative reasons, I just can't paint.

The wedding was wonderful for a lot of reasons, but now I am back on the job. I pushed and pushed to refind my groove, to clear my mind, to find a tranquil place. I believe the struggle was worth it. I believe that "Who's that coming?" is a good painting that gets across a fun idea in an artistically and graphically interesting way.

In detail, what impressed me about the scene were: The independence of the frisky dogs, the owner's tranquility, the familiarity of the location, which is my neighborhood, the pattern of light and shadow breaking across the scene, and the complex of colors in a lot of the elements.

Once I refound my groove, the painting was a pleasure.

What do you think?

Thanks for listening to me twice (Oh, my gosh!) in one day. I promise my blog entries will not come so fast and furious in the future.

William Kosman

#9: New Opportunity for Landscapes

2008-04-23T07:04:00.000-07:00

On this blog, I have emphasized my work of Philadelphia scenes and people. I'm painting more and more scenes of people I know or may not know, as they face life in many different ways, but with one similarity: they face life with courage.

But, for those of you who have visited my website, you know that there is another side of me. During the summer, I am lucky enough to spend perhaps three months in Normandy, France, and paint some of the spectacular beauty of the Norman countryside - the fields of wheat and hay, rows of trees blowing in the wind, country roads winding through farm land, and powerful forms of clouds in blue, and sometimes, gray skies.

When I work in Normandy, I set up my portable easel on the sides of roads and in fields and near beaches, I use big canvases, and I work almost exclusively with a set of palette knives. Once I start painting, I have little control over the final result. Something happens, and my right hand works almost automatically, mixing colors on the palette and squishing them onto the canvas. I've been asked to explain the process, and I can't. It happens.

I could try to draw some conclusions about it, and I would say that I feel a whole lot of emotion about the beauty of the scenes I paint, and those emotions work their way out in my paintings. In fact, I do feel a lot of emotion for the scenes I paint. I can be standing on a roadside, looking at a roadway and a line of trees, as they wend their way away from me, as the wind pushes the leaves and the branches and the stalks of hay and the wild flowers, and the white clouds shift above my head, and I tell myself: Boy, God sure made a beautiful scene, and I'm so lucky to be here and able to offer a few lasting impressions of it.

And some of the people who have bought some of these paintings, tell me that they slow my love for this corner of the world, and this is very true.

But, since I can't explain the process, I've decided to accept it and appreciate it.

Now, because a good person from the Philadelphia Museum of Art reviewed my website, one dozen of my best and largest landscapes are on exhibit in Center City, Philadelphia. They are being shown, along with the work of three other artists, in the lobby of Two Commerce Square, which is at 2001 Market Street, between 20th and 21st Streets, on Market Street.

I've posted photos of three of the works being shown. In addition, a few others are on my website. (A link is on the blog.) I would be honored if you visited the exhibit, reviewed the paintings and gave me your impressions of them. If you are interested in any of the paintings, please call the telephone number listed on the Philadelphia Museum of Art panel (215-684-7965). If you want to talk about my landscapes in general, you can e-mail or telephone me.

One small problem, which I hope will be corrected soon. The panel in front of the show announces it as the winter show and does not list the names of the current exhibitors, including mine. I'm told there has been a delay in the production of the panel.

#8: It Really Clicked - Introducing "La Coquette"

2008-03-26T13:22:00.000-07:00

"La Coquette"
Detail of the diners in "La Coquette"
Detail of the waitress in "La Coquette"

Dear Fellow Art Lovers:

I don't know if I've done this before, but I'd like to begin this blog entry with a story.

Several weeks ago, my family and I dined at a restaurant in our neighborhood, Coquette, at 5th and Bainbridge Streets, in Philadelphia.

We were offered, and we accepted, a booth table with a direct view onto Bainbridge Street through the large, front window.

The view was spectacular. It had just started snowing, and as we looked past the other diners in the restaurant, and past the play of lights in the restaurant, in the street in front of us, and reflected in the window, and as I looked at the candles on the tables, and the subtle colors in front of me, I said to myself:

"This would be a great painting."

I'm not in the business of plugging restaurants, but we love seafood, and it was spectacular. Our waitress was professional, speedy, and warm and welcoming. The evening was delightful.

Late, with permission and enthusiasm from the owner and the waitress, I took a bunch of photos to serve as guides for the painting.

As is now my practice, I did an ink sketch of what I wanted the painting to be, to make sure I had the best composition and I was getting that feeling of coziness on a wintry night I wanted to transmit. I used to do small oil studies, but I found that the studies were often freer and more appealing than the larger paintings I did. This is probably because the small studies took advantage of my first wave of enthusiasm.

I decided to focus on the waitress, placing her just right of center, and I placed her in between the row of tables just in front of us, at our table. I decided to take advantage of the dulled colors and the reflected light, and I told myself that I would use a light glaze over the windows to show the surface of the glass and hint at the blowing snow.

In the past, I've discussed my desire to feel free and focused when I paint. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I felt great while I painted this work. I can only speculate that it was the enthusiasm I felt for the experience, or how I was touched by the beauty of the scene, but I really felt I knew what I was doing.

One issue that took some thought was how large to paint the waitress. I wanted her to be very present, but now look like the giant who invaded the restaurant. I think I chose well.

I don't know if I every mentioned this to you, but my painting colleagues, who are on the same floor as my studio, have been very helpful. And, in this case also, they gave me input and moral support.

I believe must painters truly value the input from both viewers and other painters. That's one of the reasons I'm writing this blog. I want your opinions, also.

I won't bore you with the same monologue I went through before, about every brush stroke, etc., but it was all true.

I decided to call the painting "La Coquette," in honor of the restaurant, and also because coquette in French means a woman who makes an effort to look good, with the understanding that she succeeded. Which was the case in this case. It's a play on words.

Now, I'm waiting to see what people's reaction to the painting is.

What does it transmit to you? (One thing I should mention to you. If you put your cursor over one of the images above and click, you can enlarge the image for a better view.)

Right now, I'm working on a commissioned work, which Iwill share with you when it's finished.

Thanks for listening to me.

William Kosman

#7: Steady Progress

2008-03-13T08:46:00.001-07:00

"How's this look?"
"How's this look?" (closeup)

I believe that my sessions with the model for this painting have ended, and I think the painting is just about completed. I think you can see what I've done. I've refined the face, which is really the most important part of this painting. I want to get her expression just right. I've sharpened the dress-shop background. And, I've applied what's called a glaze over the mirror, to make it clear to the viewer that this is a mirror. In fact, I added just a few hints of reflections.

Frankly, I'm pleased with the painting. I believe it gets a pretty interesting idea across to the viewer, and it's pleasant to look.

I might make a few minor adjustments, but the painting is really completed.

I'm an emotional painter, and the way I feel while I paint is important to me. I felt good while working on this painting. The model is a good person, and I believe we had good professional rapport. She has a very sweet nature, and I tried to express that.

What do you think?

Also, I felt a level of confidence in my skills while I painted. Applying each brush stroke, knowing that your hand is steady and sure, knowing that your choice of colors and tones are right to express the contours and emotions you want to show, knowing that the kind of brush stroke is right to express your ideas - all of this is important, and I felt good about it.

In the next few days, I will be beginning some new, frankly exciting projects. I'm not going to talk about them until I have something concrete to show.

But they are the result of the support my work has been receiving. I want to thank the people who have expressed support. Frankly, producing work that gives pleasure and stimulates new ideas and insights and emotions, work that tells us that we are reaching high among the capabilities of human beings - all of this is a slow, steady process, and we have to accept each step.

Thanks for your encouragement.

#6: In Touch With Myself?

2008-03-07T06:11:00.000-08:00

Model reviews "How's it look?" in progress.

"How's it look?" in progress.

Closer view of "How's it look?"

Fellow Art Lovers:

I'm back, to describe, explain and maybe help myself, also.

You remember that the last time I wrote, I wanted to see how I would feel and how I would work with a live model, hoping that I would feel closer to my work and free up my emotions and maybe even produce a more valid painting.

Well, I hired an excellent model. She's very professional, sensitive, has very good features, and has the right appearance for the idea I want to get across.

The idea is to show a young woman in a dress shop. She's trying on a dress, and she turns from the mirror to show another person, perhaps her mother, how a dress looks on her. From the front, you only see her wearing the dress. But in the mirror, you see that she's actually more casual, wearing only jeans. The idea has been in my head for quite a while, but actually in carrying it out, it evolved somewhat. I had imagined that the viewer would see the young woman's back and jeans, and only see her face and dress in the mirror. But when we tried that out, the focus of the painting, her face, was too small. So, we changed it.

During the first session, we spent a lot of time setting up the pose. I sketched the initial idea, and realized it wouldn't work. Once we set up the final pose, I was able to block in the main forms of the painting. Then, during the five days I did not see the model, I used some time to block in the background context of the painting from other material I had - the dress shop, rows of hanging garments, etc. Finally, during our second session, I was just about able to complete the model, both in the front view and the reflection in the mirror.

So, what did I feel? While I was painting, I was totally engaged in the act of applying paint to the canvas. I moved fast, almost nervously, mixing paint, perfecting colors, applying wide brush strokes to the canvas, defining with finer strokes. Honestly, I thought of nothing else. Just the subject I was painting and my developing work in front of me. As I said, I felt almost nervous, with a lot of energy. I heard the sounds around me, like the construction of condos outside my window, but they made no impression on me. Every brush stroke felt good. This was the way to paint.

In fact, his was one of the method's used by some of the Impressionists, as recounted in "The Private Lives of the Impressionists," which I mentioned in an earlier blog entry. That is, using a living model in the studio, and then painting that person into a scene.

As I painted, I felt sure of what I was doing partially because of the many lessions I learned over the last so many years. I knew where to place the paint, how to vary the thickness of the paint, what colors to mix, when to use a soft brush and when to use a bristle. And also, as I painted, something within me told me what was right. I knew what was wrong, and I could scrape it off immediately. I knew what was right, and I could be confident about it, but not overdo it or overemphasize it. I guess that's one lesson I've learned - knowing when to stop.

Was I in touch with my inner self? Frankly, I don't know. I felt a connection with the subject, and I felt I was painting clearly and honestly. I felt I was trying to transmit an idea to viewers. But I don't know if I went deeper than that.

I do know that I was able to represent one aspect of human beauty - the freshness, the gleam in a young woman's eyes, the expectation, the youth. Of course, this is just one form of beauty. As I mention on my website, beauty comes in many forms. They all have to do with the courage in facing life and fighting to be consistent with our natures. But that's a very big subject.

Once "How's it look?" is finished, I'll share it with you.

#5: Some Freedom Regained

2008-02-28T06:53:00.000-08:00

"A Morning with Friends"

My Fellow Art Lovers:

Things are getting better. Quite frankly, I've gone through a period with a few challenges, but the final result has been positive.

You remember that last time, I was in a quandary about my style and the ways to gain and use a feeling of freedom in my painting. Also, I had completed a number of paintings, and I just didn't have any other interesting subjects to paint, something that prevents you from placing the first brush stroke on canvas.

Well, in the last two weeks, there have been several positive developments. One of them is that I worked on some sketches of Philadelphia, a broad view of the skyline from New Jersey, with the towers and the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. The project worked out fine, and I believe it is completed. The other is that, after wandering through the city and my own neighborhood, with camera and sketchbook in hand for days, I now have an entire list of projects.

One of the projects, which is above, shows the importance of the loyalty of friends. One morning, from my study's window, I just happened to see a friend walking dogs on the street below. Something told me that there might be a painting in it, especially since there is a park with a view of the Delaware River and the Benjamin Franklin Bridge at the end of our street. I joined my friend for his walk, and the result is "A Morning with Friends."

The painting came very naturally, with what I consider a clean, direct style. It's true that I decided to make my friend just a hair taller, but the representation is pretty close. But one of the important things is that the process of painting - the composition, the colors, the brush strokes - felt good. And the work went very fast, certainly compared with some of the paintings that I struggled with and agonized over.

The painting needs just a bit more work, but when I look at it, it just seems right and a pleasure to look at. Either out of conviction or consideration for my feelings (I hope it's the former.), other artists near my studio felt the same way. What do you think?

At the same time, all of a sudden, I seem to be swimming in subjects. A scene of some construction works building condominiums, showing human beings working in the shadow of machines. A wonderful scene of a cozy restaurant at night during a snow storm. Some scenes with a model I hope to work with.

But I'm drawn back to my original question from my last blog: What gives me freedom? Is it a human model, or is it some human tie with the subject? Or is it a question of time? "A Morning with Friends" leads me to believe that it's the emotional tie and the timing. But I may never have the answer to the question.

One thing that's interesting is the fact that the Impressionists faced so many of the same problems I am facing. Of course, I can't compare my work with their greatness, but there are parallels. I'm reading "The Private Lives of the Impressionists," by Sue Roe (Harper Perennial), and it's interesting that, in addition to their constant money problems and efforts to sell, they were constantly hunting for models to paint, subjects to paint, suffering from critics who faulted their changing styles, and a lot of other problems.

As the French say, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

There are some other things that wanted to say, but I may be wearing out your patience, so I'll save them for another time.

Thanks for your support and for listening to me.

#4: The Challenge of Freedom

2008-02-14T06:52:00.000-08:00

"What Now? #3
"Study in Emotion"
"Sunday Morning"

Dear Fellow Art Lover:

Not every blog can tell the story of a great success. Sometimes, I'm just not going to accomplish what I want to. That doesn't mean that I've failed in a horrible way. But I did not really go as far as I wanted to.

You receall that I did the mural of "What Now?" for the wall outside my studio, and I felt a great wave of freedom, working with acrylics and being force to move fast and not not stall and agonize over every stroke.

Well, when I tried to use that new-found freedom, the confidence and skill that I thought I had developed, the result was not what I really sought. "What Now?" is okay. The scene is painted with both skill and confidence. And willie's face is fine. But it doesn't have the power that I was looking for. I wanted a stronger, more forceful brush stroke. I wanted the inclusion of more color. I wanted less realism and more emotion.

While I was painting, I did feel a certain confidence. But I failed in being as forceful as I wanted to.

And then, when I compared "What Now?" #3 to the painting "Study in Emotion," I saw a big difference. "Study in Emotion" was pained at the Fleisher Art Memorial with a live model, a real professional who was a nice guy who was trying to evoke an emotion. I just let myself go, doing what I felt like doing, with no regard for the final result. The brush strokes just came, and everything felt right. One indication that this painting was more successful is the fact that it
won the Hazell Award in the Fleisher's end-of-the-year exhibit.

So, why did this painting succeed, where "What Now?" #3 failed. I think it was a question of the emotion I felt. You remember that I was working with photos for the entire Willie series. Maybe, in the beginning, I felt more true emotional involvement with the subject, and the passage of time may have chilled what I felt. I don't know. It's tough to analyze something like this. In any case, I don't think it was only the fact that I was working with photos. "A Moment in Old City" was completed with photos, and I think it lived up to what I was trying to do.

And the third painting above, "Sunday Morning," was completed with photos, but felt good and had - at least for me - an emotional impact. It was, in fact, a Sunday morning. I was leaving the kitchen of my home after breakfast and a lot of time with the newspapers. I turned, saw the scene of my wife, son and his girlfriend. The sun was flooding the scene, and it was a perfect painting. Within the next few days, the painting was completed.

These thoughts are all uncertainties and suppositions. I hope they are interesting to you.

If you have any thoughts to share, I'd be interested in reading them.

For the moment, I'm working on a cityscape of Philadelphia, and looking for new projects. I'll let you know that happens.

# 3: The Question of Freedom

2008-01-31T12:58:00.000-08:00

"What now?"
"What now?" (closeup)

I want to consider the issue of freedom, that is, the freedom I feel when I paint. I believe I'm like a lot of painters. Sometimes we feel so free, like we could do anything. And other times, we feel very reflective, bound by inhibitions, once in a while frozen by an emotion that's close to fear.

Personally, I like the totally free feeling, holding a paint brush like a sword and slashing right and left, knowing that every stroke is genius, or at least good. And, of course, finishing paintings in no time.

Well, if that's the ideal, it doesn't happen that often. More often, I think a lot about my paintings, about what I'm trying accomplish and the best way to get there. Yes, when I'm actually painting, the act of painting just happens. But the thoughts about painting take over a lot of my time.

What you're looking at above is a large mural - a hunk of parachute cloth about 4 feet wide and 5 or 6 feet high - painted in acrylics. With acrylics, you have to move fast, because the stuff dries almost immediately, on your support or on your palette.

I thought that painting in this big scale in acrylics would free me up. Well, it did. Yes, I became that swashbuckling pirate of a painter. I did feel really free. And for more reasons than just the fast-trying nature of the acrylics. Also, there is the knowledge that, because the paint dries so rapidly, you can go over any mistake or changed decision in the next three seconds. Literally.

And something else happened. One of my favorite styles, depending of course on the subject and my goals, is kind of a rough-edgd, impulsive style. Here it is. No illusion of realism here. We all know this is a painting, and we all know that this line or that shape of this or that color is there just because of what it does to the painting, not because it could make the painting more convincing.

This is important, because - as I said in one of my earlier blogs - a level of abstraction is better at expressing emotion.

What do you think?

The other issue I want to talk about is adding words to a painting. On the one hand, you could say that the painting should speak for itself, so why does an artist have to explain it? On the other hand, why not add words? A lot of painters do, especially with graphic novels.

But do the words demean the subject? Willie, the homeless man, explained to me that he wanted to get home, and I assume that he had family and a support network of friends in Trenton. But are the words too glib to show Willie respect?

Frankly, I can't make up my mind. I just painted those words because they came to me, and I was in this rush.

What do you think?

If you want to see the original, now hanging outside my studio, you can email me through this blog, or call me at 215-280-9580.

Again, thanks for listening.

#2: The Painter's High

2008-01-26T11:37:00.000-08:00

"A Moment in Old City"
"What Now?" #1
"What Now" #2
"Singing Free"

Fellow Art Lovers:

There is a lot I want to tell you. In fact, since the last blog, some positive things have happened.

First of all, and maybe the most important thing, I feel confident, in control and a form of painter's high, when I'm painting. This happened with the painting I've been working on - "A Moment in Old City." Everything just seemed to work well.

Like probably a lot of things in life, at least for me, painting is kind of an up and down activity. That is, there are moments when everything seems to be going just fantastically, and there are moments when nothing works. This has happened to me in painting, and before in writing fiction. But for a while, the more I've painted, the better I've felt. It's up to others to judge the work.

But the latest version of "A Moment in Old City" just seemed to work well. As far as I'm concerned, the composition is pleasing to look at. I mented the last time that I didn't want the viewer to be prompted to look outside the frame. Now, the placement of the objects appears balanced and at ease. The style has to be soft, to show the young woman's softness and delicacy. And the objects and people in the background, have to be just a bit misty so that the attention is really on the young woman, involved in her own thoughts.

My goals with "What Now?" The homeless man we see is Willie, and he's from Trenton. He told me he was trying to get home. He asked me for a donation, which I gave him. I wanted the painting to have an edge or a certain roughness. So the style has a simplified color scheme, and the brushstrokes are more forceful. There was no softness in the scene, and I didn't want there to be any softness in the painting. The old, rusted railroad bridge, the cops, the light breaking through the scene - I wanted everything to be strong. I wanted the contrast to be strong. And I wanted Willie to be saying: "What now? I hope I get home to Trenton.

The first version is relatively small. The version you see below it was started just a few days ago. It's larger, and it's starting to feel even more free than the first one. And this is a funny thing. When I paint a second version of a painting, or if I sketched the painting in a certain amount of detail, I feel more confident, and I can be freer with my brushstrokes. As you see here, there is not the softness of "A Moment in Old City."

And this raises a point in my painting that I think is important, at least for me. For me, I feel less able to express emotion with a very realistic painting. I believe that moving a bit in the direction of the abstract gives me the expressiveness to give my paintings more emotional impact. This is one thing I am striving for, to constantly express people's emotions. And I believe the more I paint, the better I get at it.

The last painting above is "Singing Free," which is based on an evening when my wife and I watched a friend sing in a local bar. There was a great atmosphere that night, and I felt it. The painting just happened, and I guess it's because I was impressed by the emotion.

Look, I've been talking for a while, and I don't know if you have the patience to read all this. So, that's all for now. Until next time. Thanks for listening.

William Kosman