Work and sense of family. by Emily Arndt (class of 2015)

Mount Gretna is an inspiring and unique place that brings dedicated students from different parts of the country together. While at Mount Gretna, talented and professional staff have helped me achieve many goals by challenging me to further explore and develop my artistic skills and techniques. I have become more knowledgeable and passionate about my overall artistic painting and drawing process. In order to create a successful painting or drawing of a landscape, I knew that I needed to immerse myself in a program that is committed to training individuals who are serious about making art.

I have never made a more wise decision than the one I made when I chose to attend the Landscape Painting Program offered at Mount Gretna. While at Mount Gretna, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting many new people with different backgrounds. These students, and I have created many new and unforgettable memories and have become friends. Besides sharing different art techniques throughout our daily critiques, these artists have shared interesting things that have happened during their painting sessions throughout the day to more personal things such as unforgettable stories that have made me laugh and cry. I feel strongly that these people are more than just art students they are a small group of people I can call family.

My art friends and I often spend our time painting on location around our studio in the woods where we paint our landscapes and occasionally work on self-portraits.  We also enjoy venturing off to other areas of Mount Gretna that are easier to get to by car. When travelling to these destinations during our free time, our group often makes small stops to local farmers markets and other places such as the local art supply stores. During car rides on our way back to the studio, our group often share jokes and tells stories about our families and friends at home. My new friends are always considerate about what it is that I have to say and always make me feel welcome. During the week after a day of work at the studio, we sometimes go out for a meal together to the local pizza shop, or gather together on one of the cottage porches and share dinner with faculty and visiting artist. After dinner and before resuming work, we often play board games or card games for fun.

Our cottages are small quaint places that make a person feel at home. Every necessity I need is always there thanks to the support of my cottage leader. My favorite area of the cottage I stay in which is known as the Markwood cottage, is our kitchen and dinning room area.  Here I am able to have a sit down breakfast and dinner with the people I live with. We often joke about who will have the last cup of coffee and discuss artists we know.

Our classes during the day are run by hardworking staff who make learning more enjoyable and keep their students their first priority. My teachers always provide us with new material that helps to strengthen our learning experience. My teachers also provide me with new problem solving solutions that allow me to view the world I paint around me from a different perspective. It is during these lessons that I am able to break what I see down into different shapes, colors, and values. While in my drawing class, I learn how to properly draw an object’s proportions by sighting what I see. Over class breaks the other students and I often gather on the porch and read books on famous or popular artists. Other times during my break, I find myself sketching the beautiful landscape around me.  Mount Gretna is a wonderful place, with wonderful people that continuously inspire the work that I make.

That Particular Green. by Elizabeth Flood (class of 2014)

Pablo Picasso once said, “They’ll sell you thousands of greens.  Veronese green and emerald green and cadmium green and any sort of green you like, but that particular green, never.”  I have developed a love hate relationship with the color green during my time at Mount Gretna—constantly grasping for that particular green in the particular light of a particular instant in time.  For the first week or two that I was here, I was so caught up in mixing exactly the green that I saw, but it became clear to me very quickly that it is nearly impossible to paint exactly what you see  As I tried to grapple with creating space and variety among a dense patch of trees, our first painting instructor Martha Armstrong told me something that I will never forget.  To paraphrase, she said that you can’t always paint exactly what you see in order to paint what you see.  The more I’ve painted here, the more Martha’s words of wisdom have really sunk in.  Upon a first glance into the woods, or across a field, everything looks green, but as artists, we develop a unique language of line, color and value that expresses the world however we see and feel it.  Our current painting instructor Xico Greenwald constantly encourages us to paint in a way that feels authentic.  Like Martha’s advice, I’ll certainly keep Xico’s guidance in the back of my mind while painting. 

            On July 4th, we had a show displaying the work we’ve made throughout the summer.  When I walked around to look at everyone’s work it dawned on me: not one of these paintings has the exact same green in it. Every one of us has learned to embrace our own artistic language through painting, whether its expressive and chaotic marks or more structured blocks of color, there is no one particular way to paint, no predetermined shade of green.  Picasso’s “particular green” is different in every one of our paintings, and that to me is just awesome.  I’ve learned so much here, and made so many fantastic friends.  Although I’m sad that my time at MGSoA is coming to a close, I’m so excited to take everything I’ve learned here, continue to develop my own artistic voice, and carry on my wrestling match with the color green wherever I end up. 

Landscapes, as a subject, engulf us. By Adam Campbell (class of 2014)

It seems that all great artists spend some time in their careers painting landscapes. As a subject, it engulfs us. Our instructors have told us to ask ourselves “what is essential?”, to come up with a system of shorthand, to look for the planar structure and see interlocking shapes of warm and cool colors. The landscape still overwhelms. Every scene presents a different set of problems. Landscape painting holds the keys to understanding light, abstraction, and the necessity of immediate action. In some way, landscape painting is a practice of religious devotion, if art were such a thing.

Union Canal Park, Lebanon PA

Last week we received our new painting instructor, Xico Greenwald. His advice has broken me of some bad habits and also helped me understand how to answer the question posed by our previous drawing instructor, Brian Kreydatus. What is essential is the love we give to what we are attracted to in the landscape. Seeing is a deliberate act of caring about what I’m looking at. It operates just beneath the intellect and arouses a feeling of excitement to share my perception of the world.

As we enter the last two weeks of our time at Mount Gretna, I’m excited by the prospect of being able to communicate, through paint, the beautiful things I see in nature. It is mind-boggling how complex the simplest things are when looked at carefully. And inspiring how beautifully mundane things become when we pay close attention to them.

Chasing the light, By Natalie Brown (class of 2014)

Week three began with an ambush. I believe that it was part of a strategic plan. Right when most of us had begun to get our bearings with landscape painting, we were exposed to some incredible artists and instructors who made it impossible for us to get comfortable or lazy with perceptual painting and drawing. Thanks to Ken Kewley, Deborah Kahn, and Lynette Lombard, my comrades and I have no illusions—this is an uphill battle.

Maybe I should abandon the war metaphor. The treachery we experience here is limited to bug bites and sunburns, both due to our own failings to prepare our bodies in addition to our painting materials each day. We are enjoying lovely weather and painting (and drawing) our way to the blissful psychological state of really seeing. Get up, have breakfast, paint for several hours, critique, take lunch, and then draw and/or resume painting. Then we have an elaborate and delicious dinner as a group (like the multi-course Italian dinner we had Wednesday night), and finally go work until it’s time to sleep. We’re here because we are the kind of peculiar people who want nothing but to study, make, and talk about art, and so really this is our utopian society. It is a perfect balance of the relentless artistic pursuit and optimal living conditions. What we’ve been reminded of this week, though, is that we love art because of the perpetual challenge, and therein lies the battle.

Capturing what I perceive is not the end goal; it is one of many components to making real art. The artists who graced us this week demonstrated the importance of controlling, manipulating, and sometimes taking lightly what we embrace as subject matter. These artists don’t produce realistic images, but work that requires a more active role for the artisit. Ken Kewley’s lecture and workshop last weekend taught us to distill visual information by working quickly with a laissez faire attitude toward image and product. In his workshop, students drew quickly and simply from perception to create compositions with abstract priorities. We then quickly made swatches of color observed from the landscape and figures, and collaged them into drawings back in the studio to synthesize what we had observed from multiple viewpoints. It was a stark contrast to the intense and scrupulous approach to looking that we’d been taught by our first drawing instructor, Brian Kreydatus, but with the same goal of capturing what is truly important.

Ken taught us that working from perception does not necessarily mean painting something that you observe simultaneously. He introduced to us the dimension of time. With trained eyes, we come to remember what’s important, and in the studio that can be balanced with formal interests that serve each piece as a work of its own. Deborah Kahn then expanded upon that theme of working perceptually with the filters of time and memory. She describes her own work as perceptual, but based primarily on what she perceives in her work in progress, and informed secondarily by her understanding of visual perception of the world. I was amazed to hear perceptual painting defined in this way—the important perception is not only of subject matter, but of the created image. Drawing and painting can be reactive, fluid, and alive on the paper or canvas. Composition and emphasis are not fixed from the start, but should be found through the application of marks on a surface.

Inspired by our guest lecturers, I did some experimenting, but failed to find methods to execute the artistic control I wanted over my drawings and paintings. Fortunately, Lynette Lombard entered in as our new drawing teacher just in time to enlighten us on how to take the reins. I just want to say right now, Lynette’s drawing classes are absolute magic. Four hours with her flies by, and leaves me wondering how I survived without the new things she had just taught. Her classes begin normally enough with drawing models and the studio as we see them, but then we are introduced to axes, alignments, and wealth of other tools for controlling our drawings, and implement these upon what has already been drawn. We edit and adjust continuously, even during critique (brilliant!). And then we all have to be herded off to dinner, for though we are starving after a long studio day, we are on fire and want to keep going with our drawings.

I can’t express the kind of overwhelming excitement this week has provided. On the one hand, I’ve seen artists whose work seems so far from where I am. I’m dying to reach that territory, and know that the only way to get there is to work constantly. It’s all I want to do. I don’t want to stop to eat or sleep (I don’t care how nice and cute my new cottage is). I want to work until my paintbrushes and I fall apart beyond use. Right when I felt I was getting a grasp of color, space, and movement, I was reminded of the elements of imagination and feeling. Rather, I wasn’t reminded, but allowed and encouraged to let those things matter again. I’m getting a good enough grasp now of the straightforward technical aspects of image-making to let impression and emotion play roles, and I don’t know what could be more motivating than that.

Structure is key, to art, and to life. by Paige Stewart (class of 2014)

by Paige Stewart, class of 2014

I've been at Mount Gretna for about two weeks now and I've never felt more confident that I have been on the right path.  I'm at a point in my life where my enthusiasm for art matches my intensity of creating and it's bringing me a feeling of personal achievement.  I'm not afraid to make failed paintings because I realize that failures are part of the learning process and will ultimately bring about a successful piece.  I'm learning that there is no right way to paint, which is very liberating and brings me more freedom in my process.  The voices that have continually haunted my practice, by constantly telling me "this is the the way painting should be done", are disappearing and i'm rediscovering a way of painting that simply works better for me.  I'm finding the value in working in repetition and multiples while painting, drawing, and studying an object. Martha Armstrong has said "why would you move on quickly from a subject when you're just beginning to learn it."  I'm paraphrasing of course.

Martha Armstrong conducting a critique of the day's work.

 As I'm discovering a process that works for me, I have also been encouraged and reminded by Chris Dolan to be scientific, yet childlike, and keep playing in my artworks that focus on the same subject.  He has given me the very helpful advice that if working in multiples, it can only be helpful to make small changes in each painting, as a way to see and know if that certain change works or not. By doing so you will understand what exactly was the success or failure of the painting and what made it captivating or disengaging. What amazing and helpful advise, as I would usually try too many different changes at once and then be confused to what worked and failed. 

Bryan Kreydatus has brought a great deal of knowledge to this program and I'm envious that I can't work with him longer.  He helped me rediscover looking and I mean really looking, by only seeing what's essential.  I never realized how much of my drawing and paintings have become made up, created on assumptions and quick tricks I have developed for myself, habits that needed to be broken.

 "Make the familiar unfamiliar by the intense act of looking" - Bonnard

Brian Kreydatus teaching a mono print session from  the model.

I am continually reminded by all three of these artist how important it is to study the old masters, draw from them, steal from them, learn from them.  I have also have learned of how color is relative.  I have always been taught this and thought I understood, but I have just recently made a connection to what those words really mean.  I can not just mix what colors I think I see on my pallet, then expect them to read the same way when placed next to another color on the canvas.  If there's a really saturated color that can not be mixed, I may have to put a muted color beside it.  If I need a light area, I may have to darken the other colors to give that illusion.  If I have a color in the background, say green, I can't have that same green in the middle or foreground and still have the same space and structure.  Everything I have needed to hear for the past two years since college, has been said and has been understood.  

Not only have the teachers and my peers been of great importance to me, but the way this program has been structured has promoted a work habit in me that I needed to be exposed to.  Jay Noble has done an outstanding job with the structure of this program and it is by far one of the most important parts of my experience. We have two eight hour in class work days, two four hour in class work days, and then a lecture day, with the rest being independent study.  This schedule is so helpful to me.  The eight hour in class days are the core structure and foundation to what my work ethic should be.  The four hour in class/lecture days get me up and moving early, keeping me from distractions, while also setting the pace for the rest of my independent study.  In between class, we have lunch and dinner breaks, which are also of importance because they are like scheduled relax time off.  We are busy from the time we wake up to the time we're too physically and mentally tired to do any more work.  I have never been in a program as well structured and intense as this one and I will try my hardest to bring this structure into my practice after this residency because I feel it is the biggest foundation to creating, learning, and growing.  I have learned more in the last two weeks then I have in the last two years and I'm really excited to use all this knowledge to develop as an artist.

I could go on and on about this program, everything I have mentioned so far was only a little slice of heaven.  I could create an entire series of blogs about how welcoming and supporting the Mount Gretna community is, the New York trip to see galleries and the met, and the weekly artist talks, but I think i'm going to conclude that I highly recommend his program and I hope I get a chance to come back next year.