One of the few benefits we get from this COVID 19 pandemic is plenty of time for Zoom visits with family, friends and reminiscing. Forty years of working non-stop at being an artist, packs away a lot of memories - of workshops and shows and painting trips.
Thinking back on those times - painting in Old Quebec City, setting up along the Icefields Parkway in Banff - I periodically ask myself “What have I gained from those experiences besides good memories?” Certainly, I acquired a serious respect, for the limitless ways artists go about their life’s work, and many long-lasting friendships.
And a burning desire to discover better ways to express myself through my art. It’s what keeps me painting.
Recently I was pleased to be asked to be one of several jurors, for an art exhibition; to grade, all the entries without the benefit of interviewing the artists. I dutifully applied my experience and knowledge in making my judgements, but in each case,I could only guess at the artist’s intent. I find it difficult to separate the work from the artist. Similarly, when I am asked to critique someone’s work. I need some dialog with the artist so that my remarks can be both personal and thoughtful.
But I digress, memories and nostalgia are important to me. They give me a foundation on which to move forward. I am convinced that the work I am doing now is the best work I have ever done. It’s been a great road to travel with no end in sight.
One of Patricia and my special treats, before COVID-19 that is, was dinning at Cabotto’s Restaurant on Hazeldean Road in Stittsville. Not only is the food and presentation at this award-winning restaurant special but just walking through the front door of this 155-year-old stone Ontario Heritage building is a warm and welcoming experience. The restaurant offers six dining areas and two fireplaces surrounded by stained glass windows and white tablecloths.
The building itself has a lot of history, I discovered. Originally called Kemp’s Tavern, it was built in 1868 to serve as a respite for horse and buggy travelers. It survived the Great Carleton Fire in 1870 that ripped through 250,000 acres, from Ottawa to Smith Falls and Carleton Place two years later. With the advent of the CPR railroad in 1871, there was a reduction in traveling customers and the building was eventually sold. Following a series of owners, in 1982 it became Checquer’s restaurant.
In 2003 Mr. Vinncenzo Pucci purchased the property and relocated Cabotta’s Restaurant there. It remains owned and operated by the Pucci family.
May 1, 2021
Sadly, I just read of the passing of Vermont artist Richard Schmid at the age of 87. There will be some artists that won't recognize the name. He was not the type to seek publicity, even though his paintings have become very valuable. I have followed his career for many years. Primarily a plein air painter, Richard Schmid took his Impressionist realistic work to the highest levels in his studio. His art and painting process has been a beacon for me. He led by example, demonstrating plein air techniques without short cuts or showmanship. Today, his art books and teaching videos are widely treasured, including myself.
Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to meet this quiet gentleman. I admit that his beautiful paintings derived directly from nature – alla prima - have had some influence on my work. His memory will remain for as long as I can lift a brush.
For more information, go to: www.Richardschmidofficialsite
In the April 13th bi-weekly Painter’s Keys post, the late Robert Genn’s blog explored the positive feedback artists perceive when they are painting. To read the full story go to Painters Keys.
I experience a lift while painting. Not all my efforts are successful of course. But oh my, especially when painting in the field, when I step back for the n’th time and see my painting coming to life, I feel a rush. In fact, I have been caught doing a two-step to the jazz floating from my car radio when I believed that no one was watching.
After many years painting plein air I have learned to avoid copying exactly what I see. I settle on a narrative and try to rearrange things to develop a composition. I purposely paint in a circuitous way so that good things may happen on the canvas unintentionally. Sometimes I surprise myself.
Back in my studio, the euphoria has worn off. The challenge is to rekindle the inspiration with minor adjustments while preserving the moment. This is the final step in the process.
A shaft of sunlight meets the day on our couch in the sun room these mornings; a welcome harbinger of warm spring days as we struggle to get past COVID-19. The gift of light has a special place for artists as we learn to appreciate the incredible sunlight spectrum reflecting from everything we behold as colour. Like dogs and cats sleeping in the sunlight, we draw on the light for a sense of well-being and inward pleasure.
I have watched the sun’s rays gaining strength day by day as we move into April. Out in our sun room, I look up from my book, to see the light reflecting across the couch and pillows and glass tabletops. I am moved get my sketch book. As I start to outline a composition, I perceive evidence of the effects of the light on a vase of flowers, the pastel shades on fabrics and glass surfaces. These are the elements that put life into a painting.
I am pleased with my recent website make-over. I wanted to update my Weebly site that many know at www.cspratt.ca rather than start afresh. I have been managing my site for years including Charlie’s Blog, Art News and my paintings. Don’t need any more systems than necessary.
Janet Watson, Mejan Graphic Design in Merrickville was recommended to me and the result is more than satisfying. Thanks also to Paul Powers for the photography and Ottawa author, Barbara Robson for editing my CV information.
On a frosty morning in February, following several days of snowfall, I pulled my van over and stopped to admire the sunshine finally breaking through heavy clouds. The effect of sunlight warming the laden boughs, gave me a strong impression that all was right with the natural world. That this Covid 19 pandemic will just be a memory soon.
It was far too cold to paint with acrylics outside. But, from the warmth of my vehicle, parked safely and with a canvas propped up on the steering wheel, I was able to get the essentials recorded enough that some finishing touches, under studio lighting, caught the effect I wanted.
Respite 24x24 acrylic #221969
It’s cold this February and the wind, ever present, is driving the temperature down. Worst still is the thought that we could be basking in the sun somewhere south if it wasn’t for Covid 19. Bundled up and taking our usual walk along the Poule Creek path we stop for a break and an opportunity to take in the beauty one only finds in a northern winter.
Pausing on the footbridge, we see the vibrant blue and deep purple shadows with the afternoon sunlight reflecting on the frozen surface of the creek. In that moment, in the calm and the peace of the forest, I felt a release from the ache of cold and the ubiquitous Covid tension.
Fortunately, I had my camera with me. I call the painting Respite.
Respite is one of twelve C.Spratt paintings that will be showing in an exhibition at the newly renovated Amberwood Gallery, in Amberwood (Stittsville) for the month of April.
CORRECTION Due to the Covid 19 pandemic the Amberwood Gallery will remain closed for now and the exhibition has been postponed until later this year. Charlie Spratt March 13, 2021
February 21, 2021
Last Snow Lanark, ON 10 x 12. Painted in 1985.
A few weeks ago, I received an email from a lady living on the West Coast. She was pleased to have just purchased an original painting that she admired and was inquiring if it was one of mine. She had inspected the back of the small oil and found my name and a catalogue number. Digging through my records, I found an entry for a painting with the same catalogue number, showing that it was painted in 1985. I asked her to send me a picture of it, which she was happy to do.
From the catalogue number, the painting date, and the image she sent me, I assured her that it was, indeed, one of mine.
Afterwards, I recalled that I had painted it in early spring in Lanark County. I would have been painting then in oils. I am fairly certain that Grant Tigner, artist and mentor, was with me when I set up and painted that day on a favourite back-country road, one that we had visited on a number of occasions.
Memories of painting on back roads go back so many years - great friends, wonderful adventures, and memorable painting experiences. The journey, starting with my first night class at the Ottawa School of Art in 1980, continues thanks to family and friends making it all possible. Forty years later, I still enjoy painting back roads - closer to home – with friends. I can’t wait to be going out again in the spring, hopefully, when this Covid - 19 is finally under control. In the meantime we hope everyone can stay healthy.
January 22, 2021
Transition 20x24 acrylic #221966
I turned off the March Road one cold December day onto the Peter Robinson Road to check out the heritage buildings on the west side. Nothing grabbed me. However, turning around, I gazed at the ancient creek, dusted with snow and frozen over, the broken sky reflecting on the clear ice. It was a peaceful scene yet disquieting to think that the creek and low area are in a state of transition. Just as we are, I suppose. I discovered that the creek is called Coody Creek.
On country roads I see large tracks of farmland being taken for new development. This meandering creek, part of the natural drainage system flowing northward to the Ottawa River for thousands of years, will eventually succumb to the Big Plan. “That’s life”, I tell myself – ever more conscious of the fragility of my own time here.
So, let’s capture the momentary beauty of this amazing old creek frozen in time, I decide.
The weather is too cold for acrylics outside - and for me too - and there is no safe place to park my vehicle and paint from inside. So, after four trips back to the area on days with varying weather patterns, and several accumulated photographs, I decide to make a stab at the painting in my studio. A 20 x 40 canvas is unwrapped and placed on my studio easel.
Two weeks later, after many adjustments and another drive-by, I feel that I have accomplished what I set out to do. The painting speaks to me. And it feels very satisfying. I call it Transition.
January 3rd, 2021
The Art of Charles Spratt