"Drawing with Barbara Grossman" by Minwoo Han

Drawing with Barbara Grossman - Minwoo Han

In my art education before coming to Mount Gretna, drawing had belonged to a different realm than painting. In every aspect they were “misaligned”: drawing was the doodle, the crosshatch, the wild squiggles with ball pens that appeared whenever the classes got too boring; painting was the color, the composition, structure, balance, and rigor. Drawings were brutal, and candid, but hidden away under the wide of my forearm whereas paintings were hung high under bright lamps, cradled and carefully framed in exhibitions.

This crevasse between the two kept on growing as my college years went by. I only did a few “academic” drawings - “academic” in the sense of having a total composition. Perhaps a charcoal might have been used here and there in preparatory sketches, but they were, again, “preparatory” which meant I threw them away once I got my oil out. It got to the point that I had to make one solely for the MGSoA application. I had no fun doing it and that was probably obvious.

So, really, it was no surprise that I wasn’t excited about the drawing class. Not especially after Barbara Grossman walked into our studio space, wrangled around with the easels twice her height, and proclaimed that “[she] will push [us] to [our] limits for the next two weeks to come.” 

Barbara was a character. She was not large, not at the very least, but her presence was felt in every corner of the Heights Community Building. One second you take your mind off of the drawing and you’ll find her right behind, beams from her eyes just hot enough to grill you without burning the paper. Her drawing sessions were rapid and intense, often having to make four to five drawings in quick succession. Even outside of class, the intensity was maintained: we once had to make fifty drawings (FIFTY!) over the weekend of the same subject. But, somehow, I was having fun. It was a different kind of fun than doodling or with quick sketches. It felt fun to tell so much with so little. They were just lines - no tones, no color - but I could communicate volume and space and guide the viewer’s eyes around.

Her lessons extended outside of her drawing classes. I started to feel the effect on my paintings. I developed a new mindset, so to say, reminding myself of Barbara’s remarks on totality and tightness.

“More legible, more total, but not tight.”

Meeting Barbara Grossman was something. She was such a cool person to hang around with. Apparently, she’s met Giacometti in person, but what’s “cooler” was how committed she was to teaching. She would spend the whole length of the 4-hour class jumping from one easel to another, examining our drawings with obsession - the healthy kind. I will end this blog post by sharing a conversation that took place in one of her “examinations.”

I was drawing and she came up to me with her blue milk-box. She stepped on it to keep her eyes level to mine, to see my paper better. “It’s too steep,” she pointed at a line, so I erased it and redrew it. Then she stopped me and smiled: “You know what you did?” She said that I drew the angled line without even looking at the still life. It was true - I just believed what she had told me. She looked straight into my eyes.

“Don’t do that,” she said, “Draw as if your life depends on it.”

For me, drawing was always the more brutal, the more informal and “hidden-away” of the two - it was always stuff in my mind that I would draw, some random scenes that would pop up, whereas in painting classes, we would scrutinize a still life, all the “negative space” (Barbara is insistent that space is NOT negative) between the figure and the chair, and so on and so forth.

(Before MGSoA) There was this gap, this crevasse between my treatment of painting and drawing. All my paintings I kept: my drawings, I don’t even know where they are. I haven’t exhibited any of my drawings, let alone share them with anyone - usually, I am busy hiding them under the wide of my forearm from the professor. Paintings, I carefully handpicked my very best for the Mount Gretna School of Art Summer Program application while drawings - sorry, Jay. (now I get it).

"lil' pep talk." by Liam Murphy-Torres

On Tuesday, June 25, Jay Noble taught the first drawing class of the program. As a Studio Seminar student I am not obliged to go to them all, but I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. He begins with what I would describe as a short lecture. Jay, a far less formal personality than myself, calls it his “lil’ pep talk.”

It truly is a short talk, but it covers an incredible amount of information. It ranges from the practical (blue tape or clips are visual distractions, and there are better ways to adhere your paper to the drawing board) to the abstract (seeing is not limited to the eyes and mind, but is rooted in the body.) He has us run our hands along the edges of our paper before we begin, to give us an awareness of the page. 

I was in this drawing class four years ago, when I first attended the program as a core student. At the time, I was perplexed. This seemed a bit silly. Weren’t we going to talk about the figure? What about the relationship between the three major masses of pelvis, ribcage, and skull? After all, every drawing teacher I had known before had insisted that was really the key thing here. This time, I had no such hang-ups. I found myself anticipating what Jay would say. I remembered every word of my last go around, with the exception of a few new metaphors he has come up with in the years since. I have a deeply imperfect memory. If somebody says something to me once, four years prior, and I remember it verbatim, chances are it’s something I really needed to hear.

I might have been comfortable when Jay was talking, but that should not suggest I was comfortable while we worked. Truly perceptual drawing (drawing without relying on what you already know, or think you know, and actually putting down what you see) is hard. It requires an incredible amount of energy and focus. There is always a way to be better than you are. It is exhausting, even as it is fulfilling.

But in the time between the drawings, when all the work was up on the wall and it was time to talk about it, I was again in a place of confidence and comfort. Despite this, I do remember the confusion my former self experienced in this very room. We were looking at figure drawings. When I arrived four years ago, I expected to discuss the figure. Instead, we discussed the drawings. 

Did you lock the motif into the edges of the rectangle and create a compelling totality? Do you see the way that combination of marks creates a pocket of space, but these marks feel forced? We discussed interstices, intervals, and rhythm. This time around, Jay makes a few offhand comments, the kind of thing I couldn’t anticipate from memories of past summers. Looking at a drawing that had some nice moments, but that failed to resolve itself into a unified whole, he reminded us that the Egyptians knew how to deal with the bottom edge. He casually mentioned that “poetry is often not in the things, but the spaces in between.” We had a conversation about democracy in drawing: treating the ground with equal consideration to the figure. These are big ideas. None of us will figure this stuff out in seven weeks. If we’re lucky, we’ll never figure it out. We will be wrestling with these ideas for the rest of our lives, and any resolution or conclusion we could come to would be a premature one. 

For the most part, I am spending this summer on my own studio work, unassigned by a particular teacher. But that work is accompanied by a series of really rigorous conversations. Seminar students have weekly meetings, led this year by the painter and art writer John Goodrich. We have had two discussions so far, the first about Light and Gravity in Painting, using Bonnard as our lens, the second about the relationship between Painting and Motif, the question of mimesis, and the extent to which that may or may not be an appropriate framework for our practice. We also have critiques. Every week, sometimes more frequently, a rotating member of this summer’s faculty visits our studio and reacts to what is happening there. We take extensive notes. I still have some of mine from 2020. Seven weeks is not nearly enough time to process what we are told, and incorporate it into our work. But during a critique, the day before it was time to write this blog post one of my critics, looking at a landscape, thought a few of the marks I had made were the indications of a hothouse, an enclosed environment that is designed to provide a warm and protected space for plants to grow. They were wrong about the literal content of the painting, but the idea of a hothouse has entered the space of my imagination. It is an apt metaphor for what is happening here. Seeds are being planted. A nurturing environment is provided for their first sprouting. They will then be taken out, returning to homes as local as Lancaster, Pennsylvania and as distant as Perth, Australia, and put in the ground to take root.

"Looking Every Day" by Maris Brewer

The Mount Gretna School of Art logo has haunted me for 3 years. Last week I arrived in Mount Gretna Heights and witnessed the school in person for the first time, ending my 7-hour drive from Dayton, Ohio by stumbling out of my car and apologizing to my cottage leaders about what I thought was a copious amount of art supplies in the trunk. One week into the program and I’ve begun drawing plans in my head for how all the supplies I’ve accumulated since then are going to fit in my car on the way back.  

When I transferred to a school with a painting program and decided on my major, I had no idea what was ahead of me. All I knew was that I liked to paint, and that the MGSoA logo in the hallway looked pretty interesting. I walked past a poster advertising the intensive program here nearly every day on my way to class and imagined what it would be like to take painting seriously enough to give up my summer. Often, I would stand in front of the hall bulletin board for stretches between classes, reading about all the different programs, and always I ended up staring into the picturesque photo of the woods around me now. Looking back, I’m not even sure I ever read any words on the poster. As I learned more about painting and spent more and more time at an easel I thought harder about applying. Last year, my professor Glen Cebulash began asking me how serious I was about painting. He suggested looking into a summer program to test my resolve as a painter and figure out what I really wanted to do. I suspect he was tired of listening to me waver back and forth about graduate school and lament about how I “don’t have time” to paint outside of class.  

Luckily, there is no such thing as “no time to paint” in Mount Gretna. We paint every morning, and every chance we get after that. When I was younger, I used to ask artists how they got something to look so good and the answer was always “I do it every day”. Those artists' voices are rattling around in my head as I witness myself and 20+ other students improving by the hour, never letting a brush grow cold. Even last night during my 10:00 pm trip to the classroom two students had been there for hours prior, painting away.  

During our studio visits in NYC this past weekend the voices got even stronger, meeting serious painters and being in their space, witnessing their success and their process, there is one throughline, and that is that they do this every day. When they aren’t painting, they’re looking, or they’re reading about looking, or talking about looking. In conversation with my housemates, we reflect on our first week in Mount Gretna and recount how it feels much longer than seven days—that we could have been painting here for months already and are looking forward to many more. In another conversation with the same group, we all panic a little about the midterm requirements for paintings from outside of class and for a moment I forget we’re already doing it. We’re just as serious as the rest of them, those artists who do this every day, we’re doing it too. I am a little less haunted by that green and gold logo now that it takes up the whole of my vision instead of a little corner in the back of my mind, following me wherever I went. As my peer Anumi Wickramasinghe aptly put it the other night, in our newfound obsession with looking and dragging each other around the neighborhood to go “wouldn’t that be a great painting?”, it’s possible I have gone from haunted by Mount Gretna’s brilliant green to seduced. I now stand and stare into those picturesque woods every day, looking more than I ever have before.  

"Figuring it Out With Stanley Lewis" by Morgan Binkerd

On a Monday night, we gather in Mount Gretna’s Hall of Philosophy to hear Stanley Lewis talk about his work. Instead of showing his own paintings Stanley puts up a slide of Egyptian relief sculptures and commands that everyone in the audience draws from it. “We are all going to figure this out together!” This is the resounding theme of Stanley’s presence: There is something essential that we are all figuring out and the only way we can attempt this, is by joining each other in its demand. 

There are 20 of us studying at Mount Gretna School of Art over seven weeks of nonstop painting, drawing, attending lectures, and receiving critiques. We are a varied group with a wide range of ages, and backgrounds, and have come from all over the country to dedicate our summer to working and learning alongside each other. Despite our differences, we are all united in one thing: a love for art and a commitment to making it a rich practice in our lives. Stanley Lewis encourages us to understand our lineage as painters, “Who are you? Who am I? Who was my teacher– you’ve got to figure out where you are. You have to go back and figure out where you are and work your way up from the start.” 

On our first morning, Stanley confesses, “I think of myself as really, a kind of disaster. I’m leading you down a horrible path.” Stanley’s self-deprecating humor always gets a reaction out of the group. He claims his true influence is negativity, that he’s scared to go out into the landscape, and that the drawings he makes alongside us are horrible. “I thought today we’ll have a terrible day together. We’ll all make horrible paintings. We are all going to suffer, but we’ll have fun with it. We know where the coffee and donuts are.” 

Stanley doesn’t get caught up in the barrier between student and teacher. He doesn’t impart wisdom or advice in the way you’d expect a teacher to. There are no formalities, no right or wrong answers. He extends advice to us as someone who is farther on the path. He puts the struggle in our hands and tells us how hard it is and will be. Fear and doubt permeate his language, but always, he tells us to keep pushing through and encourages us to figure it out.

“I paint in desperation and if you really suffer and do terribly for long enough you learn that you can handle it. It’s not impossible to be a true failure for a long, long time.” It is exciting to be in his presence. He has a contagious energy that seeps into our urgency for being out in the landscape. He sees painting as the ultimate challenge, a puzzle that can never be solved. We can only continue to fail toward it and see what the practice has to teach us.

"Painting as Seeing," by Isabel Llosa

Painting as Seeing, by Isabel Llosa

Yesterday evening, as I watched firefly-spangled fields whir past the car window on the way back from Lancaster Galleries, I realized what being at Mount Gretna these past two weeks has taught me: that the more I paint, the more I see the world around me. After two intense weeks of nonstop painting and drawing and looking at art, I see more than I’ve ever seen: the way dark green trees frame the edge of a slanting sunlit roof, the dancing geometric shapes that connect path to tree to field, the lines, or intervals that connect points in space and form the basis of all drawing, as Ro Lohin taught us this past week in her lecture and critiques. 

   In our drawing class last week with Jay Noble, we began by looking, searching drawings by Matisse and Giacometti for the shapes beyond the figure, the tension and pressure built by marks upon marks, always correcting, seeking to see what’s there and translate it to the page. Giacometti said, “My drawings and paintings don’t look like things, they look like looking at things,” a testament to the process of slow, meditative looking that is deeply rooted in the practice of observational painting.

Over the past two weeks, Carrie Patterson has taught us to see each color’s value and hue as relative to those of the colors around it. “Find your glue color,” she reminded us last Monday as we mixed palettes for color studies. “That’s a midtone that can change in value and hue depending on what you surround it with.” 

I think I have yet to find the glue color in my paintings, that elusive element that ties together all the varying hues and tones and makes a painting whole. But I’m beginning at the beginning, the first step, which is to look at the colors and shapes around me and try to really see them. Oftentimes we don’t see what’s around us, or the people around us, not in a tangible or meaningful way. We go about our lives, keeping busy, always seeking to produce more, make more, and accumulate more. But if you stop and look, observe the everyday things around you, something magical might happen. Today I was sketching in the woods behind the community center when all of a sudden a deer crashed through the trees ahead of me, leaves quivering in its wake. Seconds later it was gone. I was filled with gratitude for this moment, for the gift that drawing and seeing had given me.

Seeing what’s around us is an integral part of being rooted in a place and connecting with the land, ecosystem, animals and people of that place. In our modern society, a deep connection to place is not so common anymore, but here in Mount Gretna I feel connected to a community of artists and people who are thoughtful about their relationship to place. Yesterday evening was the first time in over ten years that I’d seen more than five fireflies in one place at once. As human activity has altered ecosystems over the years, insects have lost their habitats and decreased in population, resulting in a decline in both the function and beauty of the natural world. In her lecture on Wednesday, Carrie answered environmentalist and naturalist John Muir’s question: “The astronomer looks high, the geologists low, but who looks between on the surface of the earth?” Her answer was us: the artists. It’s up to us to describe, to see and to help others to see what’s around us, so that we learn to care for the places we inhabit.

"Constant Change" by Sachika Goel

Nearing the end of the program, I sit on the porch outside my cottage, looking at the raindrops that fall, taking up space in this world that I know so little of. I sit, and I look. Closely. Trying to understand its importance. And suddenly, with a paper and pencil in hand, I start drawing, scribbling to make sense of what I am seeing.

On the very first day of our drawing class with Scott Smith, he quoted Kossoff saying, “Drawing is not a mysterious activity, It is making an image which expresses commitment and involvement. This only comes about after seemingly endless activity before the model or subject, rejecting time and time again ideas which are possible to preconceive. And whether by scraping off or rubbing down, it is always beginning again, making new images, destroying images that lie, discarding images that are dead. The only true guide in this search is the special relationship the artist has with the person or the landscape. Finally, in spite of this activity of absorption and internalization, the images emerge in an atmosphere of freedom.” And with that in mind, I let go of the things in my drawings that make me question their importance.

These past few weeks have been very important in my journey as an artist. I learned a lot about letting go and starting afresh. Whether it is going to Cornwall to paint or drawing from a model in the studio, one thing that we did fearlessly, was rubbing off or scraping down the parts that were beautiful, but had to be erased, to make way for something new, something better (or worse). And the more you do it, the faster you realise how easy it is. At this stage, it is not about making final pieces, but about trying things out. Those things that we are afraid of trying because of the weight of failure that hangs on our heads. I feel we construct lies about the truth just to make ourselves feel more comfortable, but art is in the uncomfortable. It disturbs the comforted and comforts the disturbed. After listening to what Clintel Steed and Deborah Kahn had to say in their lecture and critiques, I realise now that it is about being true to what you are seeing and feeling. That truth might not be pretty or nice, I might not even know what it is yet, but we have to try and look for it, find our own eyes, from our paintings. And sometimes, this vision can come from working and reworking your worst pieces too.

I cannot recall the number of times Megan has walked over to my painting asked me to move everything, or zoom in. Painting over everything with strokes that mean so much and nothing at the same time has a lesson that can only be learned if one is fearless; to be true to every mark.

And so, as I try to portray this feeling of rain falling, I also think of all the things that have made me understand space and movement better, and I know that there is no going back. Because this lesson wasn't a step forward, but a leap into the unknown, where I have to set my foot onto a ground I cannot see, and a world that changes as swiftly as it remains constant.

"Community Embedded Support" by David Holmgren

It’s difficult to overstate how important it is to have a community of artists around me. This is something I realize now, having been part of Mount Gretna for just 4 weeks. A recent graduate from college, I found myself in an awkward place that I assume many artists can appreciate – not knowing exactly what to do or how to get where I want to be. This past year I felt isolated, alone in a studio, and I had come to a point that I was convinced that this solitude was the only way to learn and to make art. Following that logic, I originally planned to use the summer to isolate myself even further – just try to make as many things as possible and learn through brute force. Late in the spring however I had a change of heart and applied to Mount Gretna. The following experience (not yet finished) and the communities associated have been irreplaceable.

Many people relate to the need for a community of artists that ultimately brought me to Mount Gretna. However, this school has proven to be far more than even that. These artists, students and instructors alike, are embedded in an even larger community of people, interested in what they are doing and supportive of the school and its vision. I have personally experienced this on many occasions.

After spending one day painting by the Tabernacle, I decided to settle in on a longer painting. This is a piece I plan to return to both on location and in the studio for the remainder of my time here, and have already spent multiple days on. Set near a row of cottages, painting in the afternoon, I have not escaped the notice of nearby residents as they sit on their porches. They are all respectful, understanding that I am there to make a painting and to focus on that, but they also have an involved interest. I am comfortable talking while I work, as long as it’s not about the painting and everyone knows that the painting comes first for me. Knowing this, one man takes it upon himself to come down from his porch to check on me multiple times each day – grumbling each time – always committed to supporting me if just with his presence. On hot days, the residents offer me water and on days when there are band performances in the evenings, they tell me who is playing. When they see me around walking, they recognize me, ask when I’ll be back and say how they look forward to seeing how the painting is going.

The effect of these little things is a community of support around the artists here. We are a community inside of a community. The students are welcomed to paint where we want to paint and work and learn throughout the world of Mount Gretna without being treated like intruders. Immediately upon arrival, it was expected of me that I would set up and make art, whether viewed by others on porches or not. This culture of work and creation – of learning with multiple voices teaching and creating every day – is a product of the community. As a student here, I have felt welcomed as well as pushed, and I am not alone here. We are all working together to make the best art, learn the most about the visual world, and grow as artists. This dedication and drive is something I could not have found elsewhere.

"Space, Air, & Seeing the Masters" by Ryan Kerr

Much of the instruction from artists Jay Noble,  Matthew Lopas, and Tai Laipan has been around ways of conceiving and organizing space. It's making me think of space in an entirely new ways and more importantly making me realize how many different ways there actually are of conceptualizing space. Matthew Lopas’s panosphere painting was challenging but forced me to apprehend space in an encompassing way. Objects in the periphery suddenly became more apparent.

At John Goodrich’s visiting artist lecture, he made a point about the very narrow angle we generally experience the world through and how little we look up at extreme angles.

Objects of focus are often bound to the ground by gravity so it makes sense. I find myself looking up a lot more here, happily fulfilling the cliche of an artist with his or her head in the clouds.

On one late night trip to Walmart not unlike any other taken before, we were picking up some minor art supplies. I found myself struck by the perfectly repeating, receding fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling when viewed from the front checkout lanes. It gave a measure to the space that was beyond what the maze-like aisles might have you believe.

The drawing instruction has also focused on space. Tai Laipan introduced us to Persian miniatures and their stacked space logic. Overlaps become very important in these contour heavy drawings and figure ground reversal can easily be incorporated because of their graphic nature. There was one minature in particular where the sky was white and one of the figure’s turbans was too. It carried the weight of the sky downward in the picture making the billowing clouds that much more affecting.

Over breakfast one morning with the other intensive program students, David Foster Wallace’s ‘This is Water’ commencement speech came up. After reflecting on it, its making me think about figure ground reversal and that trip to Walmart. So much of the time our perceptions play tricks on us for the sake of convenience. It's so easy to to slip into a narrowed view of the world and get tied up in specifics, to forget the big picture, to walk around with horse blinders on.

Another drawing technique that I was introduced to here is intersection drawing. It consists of drawing little T’s where overlaps occur, areas where things create little pockets of air. It feels really satisfying to record the entirety of a space this way. It becomes about simple relationships and reduces the process to ticking little space making events. In this way the task seems drastically less daunting. It gives permission to get caught up in specifics with the aim being big picture.

Drawing the air in the room is difficult. Seeing the Giacometti show at the Guggenheim during the New York trip made this idea seem worthwhile, but no less difficult. What if the object of focus was the air in the room?  Is it as lonely as Giacometti makes it feel? It sobers you up to the psychological scale of objects for sure. Form is suddenly battling against void, commanding the area it occupies with exactness. The Soutine show in New York also left an impression. He was so focused on the presence of his still life subjects, their forms filled the rectangle with the feeling of wanting to burst past the edges. These two shows were, in this way, polar opposites but seeing them in tandem made a contrast of concepts that heightened my experience of each show.

"Rhythm and Subjectivity" by Tristen Demmett, June 15th 2018

Exaggerated skyscrapers and towering lights have turned into monumental trees and shining stars. As I walk up the hill that is First Ave towards the studio I walk by neighbors that recline on their rocking chairs, set up porch sales, and greet my classmates with hearty smiles and friendly hellos. Being conditioned to the neighborhoods of Brooklyn, I have to do a double take and readjust my social gears. When I go for a walk around Mount Gretna, it feels as though I have returned home after being abroad for years. After living here for only a week, there seems to be an endless amount of sights to discover within the tight knit community. Watching John Goodrich talk in the Hall of Philosophy, I can’t help but be afflicted by the rich history of events and discussions that have taken place. It’s refreshing to be within such a historical place (Mt Gretna), as I am accustomed to constant infrastructure renovation and rebuilding (in NY City) that projects a sterile environment.

Having studied in New York my entire life, I find myself coming across a term that I am unfamiliar with, within painting: rhythm. It seems so fundamental and innate, yet I have not once come across the interpretations of rhythmic forms in art as I have here. I feel so drawn to the intensity of the subjective understanding that classmates and faculty can see through masters, like Titian and Rembrandt all the way to work of my contemporaries. These instinctive abilities that seem overlooked in my experience at New York academy are what I hope to learn through humble and modest eyes.

- Tristen Demmett

Alumni Impact Statements from November, 2017

In November of 2017 I asked alumni to write short impact statements to help drum up excitement for an online fundraiser, and have since thought it appropriate to enter them into this student blog page for others to enjoy.  - Jay Noble, Executive and Artistic Director

MGSoA impact statements:

"It is hard to quantify the impact Mount Gretna School of Art has had on my work and my life. I learned more during my two summers there than I did during my entire undergraduate program. The program gave me a chance to learn and grow in a concentrated, uninterrupted way in a supportive artist peer group. The Mount Gretna program enables students to develop their work through a rigorous schedule of classes and visiting critics. I live in Alabama. There are not many artists in town, and having those summers to live and work in a community of other artists has been life changing. The only reason I was able to attend those two summers was because of the generous scholarships I received. Please consider donating to this extraordinary school!"

-Maggie King (attended in 2017 and 2015), https://www.maggiekingart.com/

"It’s amazing to consider how one decision can so significantly affect one’s trajectory. For me, attending Mount Gretna School of Art was one of those decisions.

I spent two summers in Mount Gretna’s six week intensive program, and one summer in the Capstone Seminar Program. Both programs have a rotating lineup of faculty, and critics. Director Jay Noble has worked tirelessly to bring some amazing artists to Gretna. The rigorous curriculum is centered on painting and drawing in the landscape and from the figure. The Capstone program focused on our individual studio practices and work development. We met with critics and faculty each week, which was a helpful precursor to grad school. The gift of time and duration devoted to painting is invaluable. My first year, Martha Armstrong said to me, “you can’t always paint what you see to paint what you see,” emphasizing the intimate connection one can have with the landscape. I’m still engaging and fighting with that dialogue in my work now.

One of the most valuable things about Mt. Gretna is the community of dedicated artists. Students and faculty live in neighboring cottages. We eat dinner together, sit on the porch at night looking through art books, work in the studio together. Eating, sleeping, breathing painting all the time. I have made lifelong friends and connections in Gretna, and for that I’m thankful.

Mt. Gretna is built of students, alumni, community support, faculty, and lots of oil paint; it’s a web of support and love. Through generous donors, I was able to attend Mount Gretna. I encourage you to consider donating to the school to give more hardworking painters the invaluable, formative experience of this program.

Tomorrow, November 17th Mt. Gretna is participating in Lancaster’s Extra Give program, a single day fundraising event for non profits. I can’t think of a program more deserving, and I’m eternally grateful for my time spent there, lessons learned, and friends made."

Elizabeth Flood (attended 2013, 2014 and, 2016) - http://elizabethfloodart.com/home.html

"Mount Gretna School of Art intensive art program is life changing. In 2014 and 2016 I was given the opportunity to attend MGSA in Pennsylvania USA. I was completely immersed in painting landscapes, figure and still life. Being away from distractions while focusing solely on painting and drawing proved an invaluable experience. I gained a deeper understanding of myself as both a person and an artist.

This program allowed me to meet other students and artists from across the country who have taught me to see the world in interesting ways. I cherish the daily interactions and conversations; cooking, eating in the porch with professors and gathering for evening artist talks in the living room. Those were a meaningful experiences that I would have not had in any other context.

MSGA has broaden my horizons, further preparing to follow my path as an artist. Thanks to the hard work of the director Jay Noble and its donors for so generously offering scholarships that allowed me to attend. Please consider continuing donating to this amazing art school so that it keeps allowing other aspiring artists to afford the opportunity that will impact their life."

- Velazquez Patricia

“Mount Gretna School of Art holds my fondest and most exciting memories of painting and fellowship. I remember receiving with tears an email confirmation from Jay regarding my acceptance into the program along with the scholarship sponsored by all the generous donors. In the following six weeks, I was influenced and encouraged by the most dedicated peers and insightful artists that showed me their way of seeing the world. The program provided us opportunities to attend artist lectures, weekly critique by visiting artists, and workshops outside of class time which consisted of painting and drawing everyday. We also spent a good amount of time chatting on the porch, sharing our struggles and joy of art-making with one another; the local community itself was also such a supportive environment that our neighbors were always interested in knowing our works and cheering us on when days were hard. The insurmountable knowledge, inspiration, and upbuilding had become a catalyst for my drive to paint and grow more. I am sincerely grateful for all the faculties and donors who had contributed significantly to make this possible. Therefore I encourage everyone to consider donating to the cause in light of the accomplishments this school has already achieved. Mount Gretna School of Art is where I learned most about art, about painting, and about seeing the world through the lens of an artist.”

 - Misato Pang

"MGSOA made a huge impact on me and I am so happy that I got to be part of the program. My time there was great. Mt.Gretna offered what I was seeking outside of the University environment. It offered a relatable community with other people like myself. The intensive program really helped my skills to develop and move forward. It’s the kind of place where young artists can come to grow and flourish. It really widens my horizons in terms of knowledge and the amazing professors/students I got to meet during my time there.My time there would not have been possible without the generosity of donors. I can’t stress enough how great the program is!"
 

-Miguel Cruz-Cuevas, (2017)

"I was given the opportunity to spend the summer of 2016 at the Mount Gretna School of Art in Mount Gretna, Pennsylvania. As fate would have it, it happened to be the summer before I started an MFA program in painting. During that six weeks I was able to meet, spend time with, and learn from highly esteemed painters/professors from all over the United States. A typical day begins around 9 am with painting, stopping for lunch, drawing follows lunch and lasts until dinner; it is this type of rigor that helped to set the tone for a good studio practice in graduate school. In the middle of the week visiting artists meet individually with students and provide feedback on work, in addition to that, special topics are provided in the format of a workshop on Saturdays, artist talks are given on Mondays and Wednesdays, trips are taken to visit museums and artist studios... I could go on. Jay Noble has done an amazing job creating this program and continues to do so. 
Working and living with other like minded people for six weeks resulted in memorable shared experiences and what I know will be lifelong friendships. Living in Oklahoma can feel isolating, the local art community isn't very big. Thanks to the Mount Gretna School of Art I am now a part of a much larger community of artists. 
This program was absolutely one of the best experiences of my life and would not have been possible for me without the generosity of its donors. I encourage everyone to consider donating to this amazing program."
 

- Devin Howell

"I attended the MGSoA program for the first time this past summer, and found it to be an amazing opportunity for artistic development. The curriculum was rigorous and challenging and invigorating to a young painter, our instructors were thoughtful and inspiring, and my fellow students were driven and motivating! In addition to the sheer joy of painting en plein air that the program affords its participants, the director and organizers work tirelessly to ensure that every student can afford to attend, by offering incredibly generous financial aid and many work/study opportunities. Without their efforts, and without the donors who continue to support the students year after year, this program wouldn't be the weird and wonderful experience that it has become in the 5 or so years of its lifetime. I look forward to watching it continue to grow and evolve, and I hope to come back again soon!"

Lucy Copper,  summer 2017

"Mgsoa is a rare program. The setting, community and calibre of education converge to create a launching pad for students who are now some of the best painters I know. I think the quality of work produced by alumni speaks volumes, but the best qualities of the program have to be witnessed first hand. Since attending the program for its inaugural and a few subsequent years I’ve had time to reflect on my experience. The hallmarks of my experience are the palpable enthusiasm for big painting ideas, pushing yourself and your work as hard as you can for six weeks straight, and being supported and driven by phenomenal teachers. You would be hard pressed to find the same amount of sheer passion and excitement for painting elsewhere. Every time I paint I am driven by ideas and lessons learned during my time with the program. I think it was an irreplaceable experience for myself, and for many other students as well. I hope you’ll consider donating to this program so it can continue to grow and benefit students' growth as painters."

- Benjamin Lowery

“One of the most influential times as an artist has been the summer I spent in Pennsylvania at the Mount Gretna School of Art.

This six-week program consisted of intensive painting and drawing courses throughout the morning and into the evening, working in front of a rhythmical landscape. Evenings at Mt. Gretna were a time for fellow painters to come together. A time to cook, to eat, to learn, and to live among a community of like-minded individuals. Trips to museums I never dreamed of stepping into - MoMa, the Met, Met Breuer, Rodin, the Barnes Foundation, the PMA - allowed me to dive deeper into the world of the arts, understanding my footprint in this lineage of time. Artists I never thought to meet and learn from were graciously brought to us through their relationship with Mt. Gretna’s director, Jay Noble. The relationships i built in those cottages have had a lasting impact on my understanding of the arts.

I would not be where I am today as an artist, student, and human being - if I had not been granted the opportunity to attend the Mount Gretna School of Art. This opportunity was only afforded to me through generous donations provided to this school.”

- Annabelle Schafer, annabelleschafer.weebly.com

"At that time when I just graduated from college without knowing what to do or even where to go,I was overwhelmed by the fact that I decided to drive all the way from OH to a strange place and started my new life.The first summer at MGSoA, however, gave me so much feelings of being at home. I met the most amazing peers and teachers that I am still connected with very often. I made my mind to be a painter while I was at MGSoA for the first time, and that continues my pursue to study in graduate school. Please make any possible donation to the program, because I know it will truly change some people's life."

- Mona Shen, http://monashen.org/

"In 2014 & 2017 I was given the incredible opportunities to participate in the Mount Gretna School of Art Intensive Summer Program. Each year I was able to engage in a community of artist students and teachers in a rigorous practice that has influenced and changed my studio practice on my journey and growth as an artist. It introduced me to the landscape and ever since I've been in a relationship in trying to understand shapes and forms in color and value. It's left an impression on me that influences the way I think about and see the world around me. I hope to be as much a part of this amazing school as it continues to flourish and see it grow in the years to come for future students. I was able to participate in this wonderful program by the help of exceptional donors and generous scholarships. I encourage you to contribute to it's growth as well to help it foster new students."

- Marisa Smith

"It’s hard to quantify the impact Mount Gretna School of Art has had on my life as a painter. I attended in the summer of 2015, three years after my graduation from college and immediately preceding my master’s program. Although a dedicated painter from a young age and a student of art in college, I struggled prior to attending MGSoA, finding minimal time to paint after college and largely clueless of how to take charge of my own artistic development. MGSoA taught me how to be the agent of my continued growth as an artist—how to paint now, without assignments, rubrics, or rules to follow. Surrounded by 19 other dedicated and talented students, I formed invaluable friendships and saw in my peers a committed work ethic I strove to emulate. Thank you Jay Noble for throwing yourself into the creation and continued growth of MGSoA. The invaluable instruction, camaraderie with other young dedicated artists, and intensity of focus proved pivotal in my continued development as a painter. Thank you Brian Rego, Catherine Drabkin, Stephanie Pierce, and Mark Lewis for giving of yourself and inviting your students to see, search, and paint with greater gusto and maturity. I am indebted to each of you and grateful for the life altering 6-weeks I spent studying at Mount Gretna School of Art.

So readers, you have a chance to participate in the flourishing of students like me by donating to Mount Gretna School of Art...

Do it! "

- Kristen Peyton

"I am one of many young artists who can attest to the transformative impact that Mount Gretna School of Art has had on influencing an enriching, holistic art education that leads to a professional approach to art making and personal growth. For the past two summers, I have been fortunate to attend MGSoA to study plein aire painting and figure drawing in addition to many workshops offered throughout the six week intensive program. Each year, MGSoA brings together a dynamic group of professors, critics and lecturers, comprised of working artists from all over the the country, to work closely with students to challenge and encourage students to be deeply committed to an investigative inquiry to the painting process and analyzation of perception. The opportunity to concentrate on painting and drawing for six weeks, all day and every day, allowed me to be immersed in an environment that continually poses questions and ideas to consider in my paintings; it gave me the much needed time to develop my ideas. Working in nature, for me, is entirely different from working in a classroom. There is a rhythm and vitality that runs through nature that brings life and poetry to a work of art. I am always more inspired by the end of the program which leads to new ideas when I return home. Attending MGSoA helped me tremendously to see new possibilities in art and life, enhanced my appreciation for art, and community involvement.

I would like to greatly encourage people to be a part of this growing school by donating this coming Friday, November 17th, to MGSoA. MGSoA is extremely invested in making high-quality education accessible to deserving students. I would never have had the ability to attend such an amazing program if it wasn't for the generosity of donors. MGSoA values every donation and works diligently to have funds directly impact students’ lives. I believe this school goes beyond benefiting students; it enriches the entire community. I have experienced at Mount Gretna how art is a love that nourishes and grows deeper in a supportive community, and it is a joy that increases when shared with others."

Sincerely, 
Abigail Dudley

"It is truly amazing to watch this program grow over the last 5 summers and I feel so honored to have been a part of it every year. Donations and scholarships were the only reason I had the opportunity to attend in 2013 and I don't know what I would have done without it. I owe so much to this program as a person and as a painter and I think there are many alumni that can say the same. Please consider donating whatever you can! It really can make such a huge difference."

-Sarah D'Ambrosio

"Attending the Mount Gretna intensive program was the most life-changing experience I've had during my artistic and educational career. Being a student at a small liberal arts college, I always assumed I would "do painting on the side", but this program completely changed that for me and opened my eyes to the opportunities that are available to me in the art world. My skills improved vastly over the six week period and the lessons I learned still echo strongly in my current practice. Because of the immersive nature of the program, I was learning in and out of the studio; everyone was constantly painting, talking about painting, or looking at paintings. My artistic growth was more in those six weeks that during my first year of university.

I cannot express enough how important Mount Gretna has been to me, and my experience would not have been possible without donor funding. Please consider donating to this exceptional school so other students can have an experience like mine."

Meera Chauhan

I made this painting "Searching for the Sky" summer of 2016 as a seminar student at Mount Gretna School of Art. At the time I had just moved to Philadelphia and felt overwhelmed in a big city on a busy street with no studio! It was a true gift to spend four weeks in a cottage in the woods, surrounded by the inspiring landscape and supportive artists. I engaged in meaningful conversations with new and old friends about our work, and got the time and space I desired to fall into a rhythm of painting a section of the woods during the day and working from memory in my studio space at night.
I was able to attend the program with financial aid I received through the program from its donors, and I am extremely grateful for this. Please consider supporting MGSoA so that this program can remain accessible to art students who need and deserve it!

-Quinn McNichol, http://quinnmcnichol.com/home.html

"I spent the two most memorable summers of my college experience in Mt. Gretna, Pennsylvania, at the Mount Gretna School of Art.
I lived in a small cottage rented by the school the first summer, in a room that had lots of framed portraits of teddy bears, and a closet full of Christmas decorations. 7 other painters shared the house with me, and a few more in neighboring cottages down the road. We'd have drawing and painting classes during the day, and paint and talk into the night. This was the happiest part of my college experience, and the first time I felt such a feeling of community among my peers.

My paintings changed dramatically after this first summer.
I discovered a myriad of visual languages students had brought from their own educations and upbringings and visual experiences, and these became options for my own work. I often felt that I was learning as much from my peers as I was from the visiting artists the director Jay Noble had brought to the program, and the friends I made there continue to be an important part of my life and my work.

Among the merits of the school was the gift of time - the opportunity, at least for a short while, to devote the entirety of my time to art-making in an environment unmoderated by objective academic standards, or commodified value systems.

I was only able to attend Mt. Gretna through the generosity of its donors. I encourage you to consider donating to Mt. Gretna to continue to make the program accessible and transformative to the most deserving students."

-Jason Lipow

"Mount Gretna School of Art 2016 was one of the most influential periods in my life as far as artistic growth and development. Not only did it teach me to see light and tone in a whole new way, but it taught me the vocabulary to communicate with other artists. I’ve never been anywhere else where a group of people can happily talk about the benefits of oil mediums for an entire dinner.

There were challenging moments where I wondered what I was even doing in the program, but the amazing teachers that are brought in know how to turn you around to inspire, and channel frustration.

It is thanks to this program that I have the confidence in my ability to paint from life. I now do live wedding paintings, plein air shows, and portraits from life. I know at any time how to set up and capture the world in front of me."

I will never forget my time there and I hope the program will continue on to inspire and educate future students.

Please donate!

-Kara Oldenburg-Gonzales

With only about a day or so until the Extraordinary give I'd just like to say that 5 summers ago I had the opportunity to be a part of the MGSoA. Fresh out of undergrad I was an awkward, timid, anxious 23 year old who had never left NY on my own. I had no idea what I was getting into when I arrived that summer and honestly I was terrified. I quickly learned what an unique and incredible opportunity it was to be surrounded by a community of painters who cared about painting as much I did and to work with some truly wonderful people. This program gave me the ability to work, form meaningful relationships with other artists, gave me space, 
, the confidence and the time to become a better painter. I am so grateful to have been a part of this program and quite honestly I don't think it is possible to be able to give back as much as it has given me. I think it has really had a personal affect on me and I would not be the person I am without and especially Jay Noble's support. Jay trusted me with a lot since the very first day I met him and taught me more than he might ever know. I am so grateful for his support, trust and confidence in my abilities over the last few years. The bottom line is this: I think this program can do a lot of good for a lot young artists out there and many of them can not afford to go to good art schools and residencies. If you can support this program in some way you would be supporting generations of artists for years to come who are lucky enough to be at MGSoA. 

Sarah D'Ambrosio

On Painting Trees. by Ryan Strochinsky, July 1st 2017

How do you learn landscape painting? In a Corot you can feel a naked animism, the wind some how whirls within the umbers and ochres. The painting is as natural as the world it depicts, as though its always been here and will always be. We are here to study, yet the trees we paint are aggressively untaught. We work in the shadows of the old masters just as much as we work in the shifting shade of now spruces. If Constable, Van Gogh, and Monet are our teachers, then trunks, boughs, and branches are our guides—guides to the alchemy of poetry, catalyst to enchantment, components of evocation.

In a world of Hollywood cinema, mass production, standardization, and environmental uncertainty it is somehow just as passé as it is heretical to paint a tree, or maybe it is heretical because it is passé. It is a tired subject after all, but one that carries its fatigue with dignity, one that rest, but refuses to sleep. The poetic echoes of trees run deep, from the Christian Tree of Life to the Buddhist Bodhi Tree. Every Christmas we bring trees into our homes, and every breathe we take is filtered through a tree’s leaf.

In 2017 my wrist bends to articulate a curved branch and some how the bones in my arm translates pigment to the language of light and shadow. It’s easy to be romantic about landscape painting, landscape painting is romantic. But we work hard here, hard and thoughtfully. We are trying to capture what is present, what is eternal.

True to the... name. by Tia Calkins, June 25th 2017

Well the first week is almost over, and good things are already in motion here at Mount Gretna School of Art. Whenever a large group of creative people come together, there’s going to be an interesting energy ebbing and flowing as a new community begins to form.

           True to the program’s name, it has been intense so far with four to eight hours of classes, workshops or lectures everyday. From what I’ve seen at this point, one of the main ideas stressed by the instructors is about thinking in different ways, or using a different part of your brain than you normally would. This seems to be a reoccurring point made, though they go about explaining it to us in their own unique teaching methods.

           Learning to think abstractly about space, shapes and just the art making process in general also seems to be an important theme among the teachers. There’s so many exercises-so much information- that has been passed down this week. It really gets you thinking about what you’re doing when you make art, or more importantly, introducing stimulation to make sure those creative juices are really flowing.

           I’m excited to see where the next five weeks are going to lead us as a group and I can’t wait to track my own progression as an artist after completing this course. Lots in store to say the least.

Some observations on painting and life. by Shayna Denburg, July 15th, 2016.

Some observations on painting and life. 

Painting is an experience in growth.

I like to think that anything learned from one experience is applicable in many, most, other avenues of life. 

Before I jump into what I've learned from painting, I'll preface with this. 

No piece of advice exists in a vacuum, and you'll receive lots of conflicting information. It's up to you to sift through and take what you need. What I'll share are pieces  that I've found important to bear in mind as I embark on a (hopefully) long journey of seeing, listening and transcribing. 

1. No mark is precious- don't be scared to change. Often you start a painting and when you step back, you see something is off, but changing it risks ruining it. Or else it means having to change so many other things. So you hesitate. There is a possibility to have something so much better but we are scared to make changes lest we ruin it or end up in a tough space where we don't know where to go. Don't be scared. Make changes. There will always be a new way to figure it out. It may be a longer, more difficult road but it'll be better. Or it won't. You might ruin it. That can and will happen if you paint enough. Accept that possibility- but don't settle. Don't settle for a mediocre situation because you are scared to make hard changes. 

2. This painting is yours. One day, I was painting and my professor walked by, looked and didn't comment. She walked on. My thoughts shouted, "come back! Tell me what to do! I don't know where to go." As she drove away I realized- This painting is my painting. This is my baby. You can read every baby book, hear advice from your mom, grandma, friend, sister or stranger on the bus and take it all in. But at the end of the day, it's your painting and you must make the final choices about it. You'll work on pieces and people will tell you when they think it's finished, what you should do next, what you should scrap. While it's crucial to development to open-mindedly and thoughtfully consider those options, don't listen so hard that you forget why you're painting. One day you'll be painting alone and you will be the one who will have to look at your own work and discern. Practice that discernment. Own your judgments. Trust your gut. 

3. Ask yourself questions. This is advice from my housemate, Beatrice. Sometimes if you are not sure what you see, not sure if you can trust your eyes, yourself, know that it's about asking yourself the right questions and then your gut instinct will kick into action.

4. Every painting needs something else. It must be treated differently, freshly. Each is like a person you encounter. Some will be quick meeting. You'll meet, get what you need and move along with your life. Some you'll meet and not get along with. Some will be a long term relationship, ups and downs, endless time where you feel like you're doing nothing, moving forward and back. Sometimes there'll be resolution and it'll be wonderful. And sometimes there won't be. But it'll move you a step forward. Allow each painting the elements and the time it needs.                     

There are endless lessons to be learned here but for the sake of brevity, I'll end here. I'll finish with a practical note, in form of advice from Paul Manlove. "Know what is so that you can create what isn't." I cannot disregard the invaluable nature of formally studying, hearing critique and yes, following rules. All this learning and listening and advice following is essential for growth, but don't, don't forget what this search is about. Remember to trust your gut. To follow that compulsion that brought you to paint in the first place. Search for it. When you find it, it won't be all at once, it'll be a small glimpse of honesty that will strike you,  like Deja vu. It will be fleeting like that moment you wake up from an intense dream. And then as quickly as it came, it'll be gone. Dissipated as mist in the air. Hang on to those moments, relish them, they are you speaking out, reaching from the buried ground of life's shit piled up. Be like a willow, which sways to and fro with the wind yet keeps its roots firmly in the ground. Be flexible enough to accept wisdom and judgment from wherever it comes, yet be self-discerning in time of decision. So, listen, accept, learn from teachers and students alike, yet at the end, it's you, it's your painting, it's your life and only you can make it authentic.

Cooking Breakfast. by Garrett Moore

I enjoy this comment from Robert Barnes; "There isn't a painter I know that is not also great at cooking breakfast." With these words I get a mental image of Max Ernst making an omelette. It sheads light on a way the artists shared life together. I can relate to Bob this morning in Mount Gretna as I enjoy Quinn McNichols potatoes.

So much is being made with and around us; the food on our plates after a long day of painting, the cottage we rest in, the relationships with Mount Gretna locals, faculty, and students of MGSoA.

Another idea that keeps coming to my mind is Jay Noble's comment, "artists don't simply keep ideas in their heads, they (ideas/thinking/dreaming) happen physically (in the medium)." The vision for artists working and living cooperatively has been shared through and with each of us here.

Mount Gretna School of Arts doesn't happen to us but with us.

Dialogue is a word I hear at least once a day, and it is so fitting for describing painting. Our teachers welcome us to engage different modes of cognition. We are working with a language that has so much to it. At some point in each of our group critiques a teacher will say, "That's enough from me, let's hear what you are thinking."

Many of us would rise to point out shapes, repetition, and dramatic narratives within each other's work and in projected images of master paintings. We learned to be more receptive and active. The care to learn from one another felt richer than imagination. Fingers danced across the surface, it was rythm, it was music.

It is beautiful to see artists fully engaged in their work. I'll sit for a moment and just look and I'm in awe at the drive and focus I see. I can catch moments like this during late nights in the studio, or watching someone sing their heart out on stage.

On July 8th. Our class spent the evening listening to Jubilant Sykes & Christopher Parkening. At the Mt. Gretna Play House.

On my right, I hear a student's pencil as she sketches the activity on the stage.  

Colorful silhouettes are cast upon the white grided wall behind the two performers.

The curtains that line the outer ring of the play house have been drawn open, and the birds are joining the songs.

Sykes acknowledges the birds and is delighted, the crowd laughs with pleasure.

We often get excited about tensions within a painting that somehow contribute to the unity of the image. I like to draw parallels between the act of painting and living together in the summer intensive.

Matt Phillips, during his artist lecture at the hall of philosophy had an observation about his experience with the program as a visiting critic. "I can't find the boarders.  I can't identify where the school ends and the Mount Gretna Community begins."

Process Over Product. by Meera Chauhan, June 30th 2016

My first three weeks at the Mount Gretna School of Art have vastly altered my perspective on both my artwork and the world around me. Learning from established artists such as Elise Schweitzer, Barbara Grossman, and Nancy Barnes to name a few has allowed me to intimately understand the various processes employed in drawing and painting. There is no one right way to do things, and that is a difficult lesson to learn. 

For most of my artistic career, I prioritized the product over the process. Paradoxically, this led to worse end-products as the process is what actually makes a piece successful. In drawing class at Mount Gretna, we have been doing exercises that connect our hands to our brains. Basically, we are learning how to see again. To most, these exercises would look like meaningless scribbles, but to us they act as maps for the environment we are depicting. Creating these maps has forced me to stop focusing on the idea of a final drawing but to actively engage with what I am seeing. 

Being around so many other motivated artists also contributes to this desire to understand rather than to produce. All of the students here at Mount Gretna are here to learn and to grow, which encourages me even more to improve myself and focus less on what other people want from me. When initially accepted into the program, I had fears that the other students would be better than me or would judge me by my skill level. Once I arrived, I was delighted to find that everyone was here to learn about what they love and better themselves. The connections we have made are strong because they are genuine; we all want to support and uplift each other in order to be the best artists possible.

The incredible teachers coupled with the equally incredible students come together to create the ideal environment for growth. I surprise myself everyday at what I am able to do when I stop thinking about the end product and start thinking about what I am seeing. Art is a constant journey and I have learned to accept that there really is no destination

Not Alone in That Search. by Devin Howell, June 24th, 2016

"Who gets to measure the distance between experience and representation? We do. Anyone can." - Richard Siken

   Myself along with 24 other painters are learning to accept that we can and are actively measuring that distance, as we push into our third week here at the Mount Gretna School of Art.

  Elise Schweitzer has been leading us out into the woods, across rolling hills, through winding roads to chase the light with our brushes. She has not only shared her process, but her support, along with some of the tough questions she's encountered as an artist; "as artists we have a catalog of art history, how do we work with that and make it our own?" Working with Elise has invigorated the foundation we came with, and ushered us into an entirely new place as painters.

Last weekend we traveled as a group to New York City, visiting several museums. The unfinished works at the Met Breuer continue to haunt me. Seeing the rough and unpolished paintings of Titian, Picasso, Monet, Sargent, Freud, and Turner just to name a few, reminded me that they were indeed human, who not only created, but sometimes abandoned their creations, became frustrated, and worked tirelessly. It reminded me of what it's like being a painter, and part of the community at Mount Gretna. At one point or another we we will feel like giving up after several hours every day creating, and more than likely some of the drawings and paintings will be abandoned in our search, but it's a sign that we are on the right track, that we continue to search, and that we are not alone in that search.

   We rounded out our trip with a final stop in Jersey City, New Jersey to have a private studio tour with John Dubrow. Walking around, looking at several paintings in process, and hearing what he had to say about being an artist for the last thirty five years was energizing. His palette, a giant piece of wood with twelve years of paint built up and crusting around the edges was centered in the room, it served as a reminder of his searching, and how after thirty five years, he is still "always in transition." He discussed his goals changing from week to week, and how important it is to never have "your thing" down too well. He left us with one final thought; every painting begins with looking for something that only arrives through the process of painting. Though the outcome is in no way what you might have anticipated, it brings you even closer to the spirit of what painting truly is.

  This experience has been transformative for my painting. I realized that although I may have been trying to see something, I wasn't actively looking and responding. Being surrounded by hard working, self-motivated creatives has engendered me to paint more intentionally, have a dialogue with my work, and constantly ask myself questions along the way.

"Have no Expectations" by Annabelle Shaffer, June 17th, 2016

Friday, June 17, 2016

I arrived to Mount Gretna, through tree lit paths and sun soaked farms, to find the people, the place, the community far different than anything I could have imagined. I departed Indiana with the words “have no expectations” ringing in my ears. Now, after a week of living in the South-Western part of Pennsylvania, I have discovered a group of artists with such personalities, and stories, all beaming with light.

Home is indefinable - we float between schools and families, settling into cottages for a short six-weeks of intensive painting, before we once again pack up, and move to the next ‘home'. Wherever we end up, relationships naturally occur, a community built around these unique experiences we all have. Most surprising of all was how quickly these relationships formed, I expected many independent, quiet, motivated individuals, whose concern was not all geared towards new found friendships. In a way this was my mentality as well; and although these qualities can still exist, it does not disregard our need for community. These people, from New York to California, have quickly become a family.

The artists and professors we have been privileged to work with in this first week - Elise Schweitzer, Dorothy Frey, Barbara Grossman, Jay Noble, Al Gury - opened their minds and showed courtesy to eager hands so diligent and hardworking. Townspeople often stop by to engage with the work, as students display the landscape through their own eyes. White-wicker rockers on blue porches become home to like-minded individuals, as conversations lean towards the events unfolding of the day, a meal shared, and admiration for varying artists expressed.

Last summer I would have never thought to find myself here, seeking counsel from Elise Schweitzer and Barbara Grossman, I am learning to take risks, to try and fail and try again, leaving ‘thousands of canvases behind me’ - as Joseph Hawthorn would say. Understanding to build each painting like moss on a rock, a patch of green, and brown, interlocking swatches of color folding into another, building into an image  - these transcending truths of Edwin Dickinson expressed during individual critiques with Elise.

Shifting shadows from nine to one contrast with the never changing truth and goodness of my Heavenly creator, Christ Jesus. Painting becomes such a personal experience, to create the image that stands boldly before me, His glory revealed through every mark made, and color mixed. In this short time remaining, I hope to grow immensely - artistically, academically, and spiritually. After a hard year in the midwest, I want to take the majority of this experience as a way to heal through my paintings, to walk in the freedom of being a daughter of the King, praising and glorifying Him as I learn more about His abounding love.

So through these rolling hills of tree lit paths and sun soaked farms, I’ve been placed in a community - a community that is full and alive and eager to experience the breadth of landscape painting. And it is in this place that I am able to use the gifts that were so generously given to me in order to bring glory to the master author and perfector of my life.

On Sunday we leave for New York City, the MOMA, the MET, these places I’ve yet to see, and oh how giddy I am just knowing I will be standing in the same room as the works of  artists who are purely astonishing.

Lectures Enrich Us. by Kristen Peyton (class of 2015)

We finished our second week with our new lead painting instructor, Stephanie Pierce, and our fifth week of the overall "Intensive Program" here at Mount Gretna School of Art. Time is flying, as our paintings have grown larger and more ambitious. A devoted and hardworking mind-set grew among the group last week, week 4, as we stepped out from painting what we see in the landscape to painting what we imagined. Jay charged us to work large and make a painting from invention; “work inconveniently large; make a big inconvenient painting.” This challenge sparked nights of late night group painting in the studio, a frenzy we have carried into week 5. I am thrilled to be among a talented, hard working group of students, who work diligently morning, afternoon, and night. The devotion is contagious.

In addition to making work, we have been enriched each week by artist lectures from professionals across the country. In this week alone, we heard talks by Jeffery Reed, Sam King, and Stephanie Pierce—Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, consecutively. Jeff Reed spoke Monday night after a group meal. He talked to us about the essential need in painting to convey pictorial ideas not "postcard scenes." His landscape paintings demonstrate a strong understanding of space, light, and atmosphere. He brought many of his paintings from his time in Ireland and also showed many scenes of rural Pennsylvania, a landscape we have become familiar with over the past 5 weeks. His works served as small windows capturing a fleeting atmosphere and light. He urged us to paint what we love, to make a connection to our subject, and to strive to paint evocatively instead literally.

The next night, Tuesday night, abstract painter Sam King shared with us his work and ideas. He began as a perceptual painter, painting landscapes in Indiana and Arkansas. His early work focused on the changes he observed in the landscapes surrounding him, such as the destruction of an old rail line and the building of a new road through a bird sanctuary. He has taken his perceptual sensibility and applied it to a new abstracted way of painting. He encouraged us to never stop searching for what it is we want to paint and what it is we want our paintings to say. He challenged us to take risks with our work. We should make work that causes us to ask the question, ‘is this good or is this dumb?’ “Learn to push your own buttons. Throw wrenches in familiar ways of painting and familiar ways of seeing.” One student asked how he decides when an abstract painting is finished, and he responded that his paintings are resolved when he still wants to be in the painting but there is nothing left to do. He is finished when the painting needs nothing more to keep him into it—advice I am trying to internalize this summer, as I wrestle with the struggle of knowing when a painting is complete.

Lastly, Stephanie Pierce gave a powerful artist talk during our Wednesday morning lecture series at the Hall of Philosophy in the Pennsylvania Chautauqua. She talked about her fight between representing the image of what she sees verses the experience of seeing. Her work is about movement and transience.  Nature and light reveal itself to us in a "now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t" manner.  This is also something the writer Annie Dillard heightened in awareness to this summer (we read her thoughts on “seeing” before starting our last three weeks of the summer with Stephanie).  Stephanie’s paintings deeply connect with light’s movement across space and time. She spoke of seeing the rectangle of her paintings as a container of space holding restlessness. She confronts the fear of not knowing where the painting is going, an ideal that many painters, including myself, often hold on to tightly. Elements and moment in her paintings compete for importance and existence in the painting. She searches to find what matters to make it into the painting. Wisdom that has resonated in my head from Stephanie’s talk is her belief that painting can point to something outside of itself. Her paintings undeniably point to an experience of looking and the impossibility of capturing reality.   

Space brings objects into being. by Mengdan (Mona) Shen (class of 2015)

I just interviewed for a job that should start right after the program ends in Lancaster, which excited me for a second, mostly because at least I know where I will be when this summer intensive painting session is over. But on my way driving back from this successful job interview the awareness of the program ending in two weeks made me miss Mount Gretna badly. And that’s when for the first time, I thought I liked and enjoyed being in this group much more than I had expected. Two months ago, I was still at art school, surrounded by critical thoughts to think of painting more as a concept. I struggled with whether I should choose painting as my language or not, but at the same time my defensiveness of form, against critics of form’s validity in art, persisted and sustained my interests in paintings.

Honestly art school is a community where all the smartest and dumbest people are, and, when you try to get through and figure out the concepts and theories (however meaningless they are sometimes), you will be more or less reflective on your own thoughts and work. But when people asked me about the feminism or psychology in my figurative paintings without really looking at them, and a professor who I still respect called my painting ‘academic’, I just wanted to walk away and paint without any explanation. I appreciate them truly responding to my work, but I trust my eyes more than any word.  I accept painting as a form as it is. So being in this painting program right after school has been such relief for me. I am finally out of theoretic art talk and am back to what I want and who I am. Nothing is any better than improving through exchanges of thoughts with people who care about things as I do.

The first two weeks were very cheerful, while the third week was a lot more overwhelming and struggling. I think that this was after Brian Rego, who just left, showed us the impressive paintings he did with built-up surfaces, which led me to question the ways I naturally paint. I’ve been too comfortable with the way I paint and most paintings I did resulted in sameness. How anxious can you be when you find out that you have been missing possibilities? VERY. I was stuck in a situation where is no exit last week.

Monday was coming finally, with a new assignment by Jay. We were supposed to make a big painting without seeing directly from life, the subject could be anything or anywhere, as long as it made good sense on a painting. I didn’t get the point till I started. For me it’s perfect time to push the limit of one specific aspect and open up the possibilities of it. For example, what’s happening if a tree is composed structurally by lines only?  - or a path is in the same tone as the sky but still reads as spatial due to slightly shifting temperatures in it?  As a result I decided to give up the solid defining of form (at least not being so decisive about it at first), and apply the paint by many physical actions across the canvas. I began to see what paints and colors could do with space and environment if they are more open and not solidly formed into things. In other words, let the pieces of paint speak by themselves. It seemed a good start.

At the same time, I’m still trying to find a new and different position in which I find myself seeing and considering the things of so-called nature. I still cannot tell what my focus and intention is through making a painting, except to say that different points are happening all at once and I capture very little of them.

Some good conversations have happened. Once I brought up a question, ‘What if Cezanne were to paint something he’s actually not interested in, will it be a good work?’ Maggie King and I agreed on the conclusion that a good painter can paint everything well. She mentioned David Park’s sink painting as an example of something unimpressive that was painted well by a great painter (I’m searching for an image). Eventually both of us agreed that going through a process we sometimes hate and pushing through it, can actually lead us to somewhere good.

The most exciting thing that happened this week was the arrival of two new teachers, Stephanie Pierce and Mark Lewis. They both brought to mind thoughts that I have never taken seriously. Mark showed us his works and process in a lecture on Wednesday, and I confirmed that artwork is one of the best approaches to get to know a person. His passion for working on collages on-site is so impressive and inspiring. On Thursday morning, Stephanie had a lectured about the idea of finding the space in between objects by means of breaking the edge, deconstructing the solidity of form, and opening up the possibilities of color pallet. She emphasised the use of horizontal and vertical marks that pull around in space in an approach to treat everything in a painting equally.  I’m very interested in her idea because it makes me think that space brings objects into being, and all we do is find the relationship through space as we truly respond to them. I saw the possibilities of how marks could create space as a unity with all the shifts responding to each other during her demo on Friday morning. She also showed us the media she’s using and how to organize it. On that painting day, I described the main areas of form as little as possible, and found the relationship by the light touch of overlapping color and merging edge.

My housemates have been working hard this week. Usually we aren’t back from the studio till midnight. Their small studies of still life always inspire me to work more.

On our way getting back from a museum trip to Philadelphia, I started to write down some thoughts that have never crossed my mind. First we went to the Barnes Foundation that has an intensive collection of modern paintings. I was already exhausted after walking around only the first of two floors! Cezanne intrigued me most as usual, but in different ways this time. He doesn’t necessarily paint light to bring you into a space, which I’ve been struggling with recently. The image is totally made calmly without the sense of time and emotion. He pulled out the essence of what’s always there by concise analysis of structure. So the whole image is glowing even though I cannot find any narrative light. The more I looked at his painting, the dark spots started floating around to hold up the space. His later works of rocks, trees and earth are the most ambitious.

When I was in high school, the first few painters that I liked were Maurice Utrillo and Amedeo Modigliani. I haven’t looked them up for a long time.  When I walked into some rooms in the Barnes, I noticed their studies immediately among dozens of works on the wall. It felt like running into old friends that one can continue a good talk with.

The special Impressionist exhibition at PMA was interesting. Pissarro’s works are as good as always, so are Sisley’s early ones. Some painters are not the best, but I can see myself through them more. Monet’s Poplar Series is one of the best models on how to take one single element of landscape, explore the fleeting elements of light, weather or atmosphere.

I did three drawing studies from Cezanne in the PMA. There was no one in the circle room where his collections are for few minutes. Spending some time with him alone felt surreal.

Once we had looked at everyone’s drawings outside of PMA, everyone was finally exhausted after being exposed to so much art in one day. A group of us treated ourselves to a good dinner in a Chinese restaurant.

Sunday morning was coming with a burst of light on my bed. My goal in the upcoming week, the second to last week, is being as productive as possible.

Reflections on the Third Week. by Liam Corcoran (class of 2015)

Reflections on the Third Week

Monday began spontaneously. The second week's momentum continued over the weekend and built into excitement that was quietly shared by everyone as the third week began. If the weekend hadn't been there at all we wouldn't have minded nor noticed; the necessity of work flew right behind us as we entered the studio Saturday and Sunday, as it did 8:30 the following Monday morning. With the idea of Corot's abstract X's hidden in deep space (yes) to keep our faith primed, we painted in town and added wet media, painter's tape, and tracing paper to our repertoire in drawing class.

That night we had Chinese takeout, as we do every Monday for dinner, which once again brought me into contact with the object of my weekly dose of mysticism, the fortune cookie. My newest fortune as of Monday: "You will have good luck and overcome many hardships." It's times like these, away from home, holed up in relative isolation, that I find myself more apt to adopt pieces of wisdom from superstition. It's funny, later in the week I received an email from my grandmother who, knowing of my artistic expedition to Mount Gretna said she almost fell over in shock (!) when she read the horoscope for Capricorn (my own): "Now is not the time for mild cautious, delicate turns of thought, but rather for vigorous meditations, rambunctious speculations and carefree musings." It seemed destined to be an eventful week...

Tuesday brought a trip to the Union Canal Tunnel Park, a short drive from the studio, and another day of furious work. Wednesday was our lecture on Abstraction, Perception, Experience, and Landscape given by Carrie Patterson. Her talk, to me, reopened an idea with which I believe all of us have been struggling with in some respect, which deals with seeing abstraction in the subjects of our paintings. That is, not only seeing abstraction but accepting that it exists within the landscape, still life, portrait, of our interest and that we can only see it if we allow ourselves to let go of our preconceived notions of how objects exist within our field of vision.

With every step towards our goal of growing as artist we return to the essential truth in perceptual art: that we find truth when we paint faithfully what we see. If, through response to our visual experience we wind up with something that looks more like abstract shapes than the objects of our interest, we should trust that we are on the right track and that we don't need to pretty it up with preconceived ideas of how our objects should look.

This idea was echoed on Friday during critiques. Jay discussed the importance of being receptive to a diversity of color when responding to nature. He cited the Fauves, a group of artists in the early twentieth century famous (or infamous) for pushing color to its extremes. They used color right out of the tube. When they painted a warm color became a red, a cool became a blue and a value shift was indicated instead with a color shift. The result was a vibrant array of work that challenged present ideas concerning what colors could be used in which situations. The vibrant color use could be thought of as an abstraction from nature, and it is. The idea Jay conveyed to us during Friday critiques (relating intimately to Carrie's talk) is that the fauves did not merely use those colors because they were bright, but that they really saw those colors in the landscapes and figures they painted. This is how we should think about abstraction -- that it is the product of honest response during painting.

The momentum that had been building throughout the week stopped on Thursday. Instead of painting we devoted the morning to critiques. It was time for deconstruction (analysis). In sequence, each one of us hung our work, and allowed it to be subjected to the crude flailing remarks of our peers formulated with no regard to any preconceived verities that we may have formed in our own minds about our own work. These external voices are the real truths with which we must reconcile in order to grow. We must strive to remain open.

But the emotional smack down of Thursday wasn't over. The first of our venerated teachers to say his farewells that morning, Brian Rego, after giving us an eye into his own recent work, presiding over our critiques, and lending his final wisdoms, packed his supplies for his journey home. Brian, you will be missed. The afternoon brought our final drawing class. We all felt the drive to perform our very best that we might have a record of the great lengths we had come in just four sessions with the wonderful Catherine Drabkin. After dinner she too departed, leaving us only with an embrace and a lingering ghostlike voice within each of our heads imploring us all to remember to draw the feet too big..

Both teachers have been instrumental undoubtedly to our growth not merely in terms of technical skill in mixing color and handling charcoal but in our development as painters and drawers and the human beings that are attached to them. They encouraged us to acknowledge the difficulty of the work but also to think of our process as play and furthermore to appreciate with pride the poetic weight that our products convey.

Friday we had our critiques with Jay, and I struggled to make a few studies for future projects, but in the wake of critiques and the exodus of our mentors, Friday seemed a confusing time. I went to bed early. Today is Saturday, the fourth of July -- a fitting way to end an explosive week (ha-ha). I didn't work on my paintings or even draw today. I couldn't. My housemate said it felt like there were too many voices to interpret to really get any meaningful work done. I understood that; with the critiques so close behind I felt I needed to do some serious reflection before I could start making any tangible progress again. John Marin said "Beware of the ambitious one and the one who works all the time -- he hasn't time to think." I needed time to think! And so I suppose it was a gift that I had been given the "writer" task create the student blog post for the week. It justified my taking the day to process the most recent events. So I took a walk around the lake, I explored some more of Mount Gretna, saw a really big snake, I called my father. In a journal I wrote some notes down about what I thought had been the most important parts of this week, and later I used a lot of them to make this blog post.

We had a big dinner at Boehm cottage tonight.  There were sparks and smoke as we watched some neighbors light fireworks. Though I felt that we were all in some degree exhausted by the culmination of the momentum that we had been building since we arrived at Mount Gretna, there was also a pervasive energy and excitement for the incoming teachers and work in store. Tomorrow marks the half way point of the program, a day to take stock of supplies, prime canvasses, and make studies to hit the ground running on Monday with the start of a new momentum aimed always towards higher states of observation, of further growth, and of sustained reflection.