tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90175161871119279532024-03-14T00:46:18.919-07:00richard britell Image + TextA series of Images and their texts, created between 2000 and 2007. Most of these works have been sold, but signed and dated reproductions are avalable. Inquire : prbritell@yahoo.comRichardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-42103955795484635502012-06-17T16:45:00.000-07:002012-08-04T15:53:01.567-07:00Drawing Amiens Cathedral, detail above the portal, drawing<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5D7lNQPBO0I/T-H8MCkouCI/AAAAAAAABLA/ke9f9-k9MTg/s1600/1.5.Amiens.Cathedral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5D7lNQPBO0I/T-H8MCkouCI/AAAAAAAABLA/ke9f9-k9MTg/s320/1.5.Amiens.Cathedral.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
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"The Fourteen Saints", Amiens Cathedral, above the portal, 10" x 13.625", Richard Britell June 2012</div>
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The drawing is on cream color, 100% rag paper. I used only an hb, and a
2h pencil in this work. The overall effect is of tremendous patience
and precision, but an enlargement of details shows an expressionistic
feel. Signed and dated at the bottom. Richard Britell, June 2012<br />
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<br />Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-2061638073875825322012-05-14T13:40:00.002-07:002012-08-04T15:45:12.602-07:00Drawing Amiens Cathedral, Richard Britell<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-keNZujtUvak/T7GlMhBNz3I/AAAAAAAABBE/mqSrroXnAzs/s1600/amiens+cathedral+richard+britell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-keNZujtUvak/T7GlMhBNz3I/AAAAAAAABBE/mqSrroXnAzs/s400/amiens+cathedral+richard+britell.jpg" width="308" /></a></div>
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The drawing is on cold press watercolor paper which was prepared with
gesso, and a wash of a very light tint of watercolor. Because of the
gesso preparation the heavier marks have almost an engraved quality. I
used only an hb, and a 2h pencil in this work. The overall effect is of
tremendous patience and precision as in a rendering, but an enlargement of details shows
an expressionistic feel. The drawing measures 12.5" x 9.25", and is
signed and dated at the bottom. Richard Britell, May 2012</div>
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<br />Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-67258154008425407782012-05-03T15:30:00.002-07:002012-08-04T15:46:00.543-07:00Northampton Skyline Near Smith College<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<a href="http://i1060.photobucket.com/albums/t456/britell1/2nfull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://i1060.photobucket.com/albums/t456/britell1/2nfull.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This drawing is of the Northampton skyline near Smith college. The tower with the flag is the bell tower at the entrance of the college. The view is from State Street, near the corner of Button street, looking west. The drawing measures 7.25" x 10.5" on 8.5" x 12 " watercolor paper, and is drawn with sepia wax pencil. The paper has a slightly rusticated surface do to its being painted first and some fine brick dust pressed into the surface. I prepare the paper this way for several reasons. First it makes the surface stone like, as is the subject matter, secondly it gives the paper a beautiful tint. Also, a drawing done this way is unlike any reproduction of which we see billions. The surface has an identity, like a fingerprint, or like the texture of the surface of polished marble. I have included a detail of the surface below. This is just the sky in the right hand top, though there is nothing there, you can see that it is lively with fine textures and tints like an abstract painting. The drawing is signed and dated along the bottom, Richard Britell, 2002. </div>
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<br />Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-81928676210676800802012-04-18T14:26:00.000-07:002012-08-04T15:47:19.210-07:00A Victim Of The French Revolution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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The thing about architecture of this
period is that every square inch of the edifice was attended to with the
same minute devotion. This drawing approaches the subject with the
same attitude. In a work of this sort you will not find anything
artistically unfinished or scribbled over as in the vignettes of the
19th Century. From the grass among the loose rubble to the single
overhanging stone everything is look at with the same attention.
Even so, if you look at details carefully you will be able to detect my
left-handedness in the direction of the strokes of the shading.
A two point perspective rendering, done with hb graphite pencil, on hot
press Arches watercolor paper. Image size 10.5" x 7.75" Signed and
dated across the bottom, Richard Britell, April 2012, an original
drawing.<br />
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Some information about Jumieges Abbey ruins: The abbey
was founded in 654 by Saint Philibert, who had been the companion of
Saints Ouen and Wandrille at the Merovingian court. Philibert became
first abbot but was later on, through the jealousy of certain enemies,
obliged to leave Jumièges, and afterwards founded another monastery at
Noirmoutier, where he died in about 685. Under the second abbot, Saint
Achard, Jumièges prospered and soon numbered nearly a thousand monks.<br />
In
the ninth century it was pillaged and burnt to the ground by the
Vikings, but was rebuilt on a grander scale by William Longespee, Duke
of Normandy (d. 942). A new church was consecrated in 1067 in the
presence of William the Conqueror.<br />
Enjoying the patronage of the
dukes of Normandy, the abbey became a great centre of religion and
learning, its schools producing, amongst many other scholars, the
national historian, William of Jumièges. It reached the zenith of its
fame about the eleventh century, and was regarded as a model for all the
monasteries of the province. It was renowned especially for its charity
to the poor, being popularly called "Jumièges l'Aumônier".<br />
The
church was enlarged in 1256, and again restored in 1573. The abbots of
Jumièges took part in all the great affairs of the church and state. One
of them, Robert Champart, became Archbishop of Canterbury in 1051,
after being Bishop of London. Many others became bishops in France, and
some were also raised to the dignity of cardinal.<br />
The fortunes of the
abbey suffered somewhat through the English invasion of the fifteenth
century, but it recovered and maintained its prosperity and high
position until the whole province was devastated by the Huguenots and
the Wars of Religion. In 1649, during the abbacy of Francis III,
Jumièges was taken over by the Maurist Congregation, under which rule
some of its former grandeur was resuscitated.<br />
The French Revolution, however, ended its existence as a monastery, leaving only impressive ruins. </div>
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<br />Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-28364241231005474312012-04-06T12:51:00.000-07:002012-08-04T15:48:39.074-07:00Cathedral of Notre Dame De Brebieres, wash drawing on prepared paper<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CeRVeo4_KJM/T39HRZl0jGI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/nUSjGqnLbi8/s1600/1.bieb.300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CeRVeo4_KJM/T39HRZl0jGI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/nUSjGqnLbi8/s400/1.bieb.300.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
This is an original drawing on prepared paper of the cathedral called
Notre Dame of Brebieres, which was destroyed in World War I and later
rebuilt. The drawing measures 8.6" x 6.2", and is signed and dated
across the bottom as can be seen in the enlargement above.<br />
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Some information about this historical site below:<br />
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During
World War I, the statue of Mary and the infant Jesus - designed by
sculptor Albert Roze and dubbed the "Golden Virgin" - on top of the
Basilica of Notre-Dame de Brebières was hit by a shell on January 15,
1915, and was put on a horizontal position and was near falling. The
Germans said that whoever made the statue fall would lose the war, and a
number of legends surrounding the "Leaning Virgin" developed among
German, French, and British soldiers. The Leaning Virgin became an
especially familiar image to the thousands of British soldiers who
fought at the Battle of the Somme (1916), many of whom passed through
Albert, which was situated three miles from the front lines.<br />
In his
letters home to his wife, Rupert Edward Inglis (1863–1916), who was a
former rugby international and now a Forces Chaplain, describes passing
through Albert:<br />
We went through the place today (2 October 1915)
where the Virgin Statue at the top of the Church was hit by a shell in
January. The statue was knocked over, but has never fallen, I sent you a
picture of it. It really is a wonderful sight. It is incomprehensible
how it can have stayed there, but I think it is now lower than when the
photograph was taken, and no doubt will come down with the next gale.
The Church and village are wrecked, there’s a huge hole just outside the
west door of the Church. <br />
The German army recaptured the town in
March 1918 during the Spring Offensive; the British, to prevent the
Germans from using the church tower as an observation post, directed
their bombardment against the basilica. The statue fell in April 1918
and was never recovered. In August 1918 the Germans were again forced to
retreat, and the British reoccupied Albert until the end of the war.<br />
Albert
was completely reconstructed after the war, including widening and
re-orienting the town's main streets. The Basilica, however, was
faithfully rebuilt according to its original design by Eduoard Duthoit,
the son of the architect who had overseen its construction in 1885-95.
The present statue is an exact replica of Roze's original design, and a
war memorial designed by Roze and featuring an image of the "Leaning
Virgin" can be seen in the "Abri" (Shelter) Museum, which houses
souvenirs of the war. The underground shelters in which the museum is
located served as protective bunkers for Albert's residents during
aerial bombardments in World War II.Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-44680231386170055932012-03-29T06:39:00.004-07:002012-08-04T15:51:45.451-07:00The Dakota, 72nd Street, New York City<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k_K23x8m4-k/T3RptvxNKsI/AAAAAAAAA3s/VYlKUr6Rb3Q/s1600/dakot.300.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="302" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725317260932623042" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k_K23x8m4-k/T3RptvxNKsI/AAAAAAAAA3s/VYlKUr6Rb3Q/s400/dakot.300.jpg" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is an original drawing in pencil. The paper is not white, it has been tinted with watercolor to a light tan similar to the trim color of the building. This style of drawing is considered an architectural rendering. The drawing measures 9.125" x 12.25"<br />
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The subject is famous Dakota apartment building in upper Manhattan, this is the 72nd street entrance. It has been rendered with an hb pencil on hot press watercolor paper. Under the tint are two coats of white gesso for luminosity. This drawing is signed and dated across the bottom, Richard Britell March 2012<br />
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Some information about this famous building:<br />
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The Dakota, constructed from October 25, 1880 to October 27, 1884, is a co-op apartment building located on the northwest corner of 72nd Street and Central Park West in the Upper West Side of Manhattan in New York City, at 1 West 72nd Street, New York, NY 10023.<br />
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The architectural firm of Henry Janeway Hardenbergh was commissioned to create the design for Edward Clark, head of the Singer Sewing Machine Company. The firm also designed the Plaza Hotel.<br />
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The building's high gables and deep roofs with a profusion of dormers, terracotta spandrels and panels, niches, balconies, and balustrades give it a North German Renaissance character, an echo of a Hanseatic townhall. Nevertheless, its layout and floor plan betray a strong influence of French architectural trends in housing design that had become known in New York in the 1870s.<br />
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According to often repeated stories, the Dakota was so named because at the time it was built, the Upper West Side of Manhattan was sparsely inhabited and considered as remote as the Dakota Territory. However, the earliest recorded appearance of this account is in a 1933 newspaper story. It is more likely that the building was named "The Dakota" because of Clark's fondness for the names of the new western states and territories. High above the 72nd Street entrance, the figure of a Dakota Indian keeps watch. The Dakota was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1972, and was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1976.<br />
<br />Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-836897669021633722010-05-08T11:28:00.001-07:002010-05-08T11:54:54.641-07:00Fear of Gypsies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/S-WzVw_EV8I/AAAAAAAAAvU/4mua7wLgKJY/s1600/fear+of+gypsies.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/S-WzVw_EV8I/AAAAAAAAAvU/4mua7wLgKJY/s400/fear+of+gypsies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468974509019387842" border="0" /></a><br />This is a work in progress. Julia <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Britell</span> is the model, but the features have been adjusted to fit the idea of the painting. When Julia was a child she was afraid of gypsies. This fear was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">aggravated</span> by the fact that she liked to listen to the song, "The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Raggle</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Taggle</span> Gypsies O". In the painting the dress represents the idea of the Gypsies, or at another level, all of the infinite <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">influences</span> over time, that compose a personality.<br /><br />This is in the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">under painting</span> stage, and when finished will measure 64" x 18", or life sized. Oil on canvas, May, 2010, Richard <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Britell</span>Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-49096050234893842612010-02-05T13:20:00.000-08:002010-02-05T13:24:26.170-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/S2yLwj_q02I/AAAAAAAAAvE/fwecLKhpN18/s1600-h/fox.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 251px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/S2yLwj_q02I/AAAAAAAAAvE/fwecLKhpN18/s400/fox.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434872516741616482" /></a>Richard Britell, "Fox and Parking Meter", oil on canvas 30" x 48", February, 2010<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica">Things in this painting: A red fox, two urns, a parking meter, a fire hydrant, and a parked car. The parked car is out of focus, and the hydrant is blocked out by the urn. These are all various parts of a banister, an imaginary banister on the top of an imaginary building. Down below are crowds of imaginary people rushing too and fro, along Fifth Avenue, just two blocks south of the Metropolitan Museum. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica; min-height: 17.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica">I would like to say a few things about the symbolism of this painting. First of all there is the red fox, which is a symbol of a fox. Then comes the parking meter, which is a symbol of a parking meter. You can figure out the symbolism of the urns for yourself, but i will give you this clue. They are either very large urns in which can be grown those wonderful dwarf orange trees, or they are funeral urns.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica; min-height: 17.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica">Now I would like to say something about my procedures in doing this painting. Before I began I consulted the very best animal painting that I know of, which is Durer’s portrait of a rabbit; I am sure you know the one. I looked at this very carefully and I noted that the rabbit is painted in such a way that you can practically see every single hair on its body. This was a rabbit who was willing to spend a long time posing , in daylight, standing stock still for his portrait to be done. This was exactly what i did not want to do in my painting. I wanted my fox to look like one of those foxes you see running along the side of the road, at night, and you only get to see a little light glinting along the edge of his eye, as he bounds along in the darkness. For this sort of thing one has to consult Caravaggio, or perhaps the x-files, where things are sucked up in shadow, or obscured by mist.</p> <div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-82153391266235795502010-01-07T15:38:00.000-08:002010-01-07T15:54:09.216-08:00Portrait of Amy Climo, from directions of Cenniniclick image to enlarge<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/S0ZxrCiCUdI/AAAAAAAAAu8/e2_x5PhQGP0/s1600-h/amy4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/S0ZxrCiCUdI/AAAAAAAAAu8/e2_x5PhQGP0/s400/amy4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424147785442283986" border="0" /></a>Richard Britell "Amy Climo" acrylic and silver point on copper panel, 8" x 5.5" 2010<br /><br />From "The Crafteman's Handbook", of Cennino Cennini<br /><br />How you Should Regulate Your Life in the Interests of Decorum and the Condition of Your Hand; And in What Company; And What Method You Should First Adopt for Copying a Figure From High Up .<br />Chapter XXVIIII<br /> Your life should always be arranged just as if you were studying theology, or philosophy, or other theories, that is to say, eating and drinking moderately, at least twice a day, electing digestible and wholesome dishes, and light wines; saving and sparing your hand, preserving it from such strains as heaving stones, crowbar, and many other things which are bad for your hand, from giving them a chance to weary it. There is another cause which, if you indulge it, can make your hand so unsteady that it will waver more, and flutter far more, than leaves do in the wind, and this is indulging too much in the company of woman.<br /> Always go out alone, or in such company as will be inclined to do as you do, and not apt to disturb you. And the more understanding this company displays, the better it is for you. When you are in churches or chapels, and beginning to draw, consider, in the first place, from what section you think you wish to copy a scene or figure; and notice where its darks and half tones and high lights come; and this means that you have to apply your shadow with washes of ink; to leave the natural ground in the half tones; and to apply the high lights with white lead.<br />First take the charcoal, slender, and sharpened like a pen, or like your style; and, as the prime measurement which you adopt for drawing, adopt one of the three which the face has, for it has three of them altogether: the forehead, the nose, and the chin, including the mouth. And if you adopt one of these, it serves you as a standard for the whole figure, for the buildings and from one figure to another; and it is a perfect standard for you provided you use your judgment in estimating how to apply these measurements. And the reason for doing this is that the scene or figure will be too high up for you to reach it with your hand to measure it off. You have to be guided by judgment; and if you are so guided, you will arrive at the truth. And if the proportion of your scene or figure does not come out right at the first go , take a feather, and rub with the barbs of this feather--chicken or goose, as may be--and sweep the charcoal off what you have drawn. That drawing will disappear. And keep starting it over from the beginning until you see that your figure agrees in proportion with the model. And then, when you feel that it is about right, take the silver style and go over the outlines and accents of your drawings, and over the dominant folds, to pick them out. When you have got this done, take the barbed feather once more, and sweep the charcoal off thoroughly; and your drawing will remain, fixed by the style.<br />How You should Draw and Shade with Washes on Tinted Paper, and Then Put Lights on With White Lead.<br />Chapter XXXI<br /> When you have mastered the shading, take a rather blunt brush; and with a wash of ink in a little dish proceed to mark out the course of the dominant folds with this brush; and then proceed to blend the dark part of the fold, following its course. And this wash ought to be practically like water, just a little tinted, and the brush ought to be almost always practically dry. Without trying to hurry, go on shading little by little, always going back with this brush into the darkest areas. Do you know what will come of it? --If this water is just a little tinted, and you shade with enjoyment, and without hurrying, you will get your shadows well blended, just like smoke. Remember always to work with the flat of the brush. When you have gone as far as you can with this shading, take a drop or two of ink and put it into this wash, and mix it up well with this brush. And then in the same way pick out the very bottoms of those folds with this brush, picking out their foundations carefully; always remembering your shading, that is, to divide into three sections: one section, shadow; the next, the color of your ground; the next, with lights put on it. When you have got this done, take a little white lead well worked up with gum Arabic. [I will explain this to you later on, how this gum is to be dissolved and melted: and I will explain about all the temperas.] Ever so little white lead in the little dish, especially if this is dried up. Then dress it on the back of your hand or your thumb, shaping and squeezing out this brush, and getting it empty, practically draining it. And begin rubbing the brush flat over and into the areas where the high light and relief are to come; and proceed to go over them many times with your brush, and handle it judiciously. Then, for the accents of the reliefs, in the greatest prominence, take a pointed brush, and touch in with white lead with the tip of this brush, and crisp up the tops of these high lights. Then proceed to crisp up with a small brush, with straight ink, marking out the folds, the outlines, noses, eyes, and the divisions in the hairs and beards.<br />How You may Put on Lights with Washes of White Lead Just as You Shade with Washes of Ink.<br />Chapter XXXII<br /> I advise you, furthermore, when you get to be more experienced, to try to put on lights perfectly with a wash, just as you do the wash of ink. Take white lead ground with water, and temper it with yolk of egg; and it blends like an ink wash, but it is harder for you to handle, and more experience is needed. All this is known as drawing on tinted paper, and it is the path to lead you to the profession of painting. Follow it constantly as much as you can, for it is the essence of your study. Apply yourself to it enthusiastically, and with great enjoyment and pleasure.Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-45599123961665708992009-03-02T15:16:00.000-08:002009-03-03T13:48:49.218-08:00A Berkshire Sampler<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SY2zDy2qfEI/AAAAAAAAAo4/9d9NfB0qJ_o/s1600-h/berkshire"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SY2zDy2qfEI/AAAAAAAAAo4/9d9NfB0qJ_o/s400/berkshire" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300089214256970818" /></a><br />I call this drawing a Berkshire sampler because it contains nine small sketches of things or places in Berkshire County that are particularly interesting or beautiful. Berkshire County is in Western Massachusetts. It is a summer resort area with many very serious cultural attractions, especially in the category of preforming arts. Tanglewood is here, the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Tanglewood, as it’s name implies, is a huge area of beautifully landscaped grounds with gentile hills, large meadows, and ancient trees of great beauty. It not a manicured beauty, but a beauty rough about the edges just like a Hudson River School painting, which it is really connected to geographically. <br /><br />Looking at my drawings left to right from the top: The first image is Hawthorne Street looking South. The big hedge of bushes on the left is .over twelve feet high and forms the border of the Tanglewood property. Out of the hedge rises a large tree part way down the road, this is the Lion’s Gate entrance to the grounds, so named because of the lion sculptures on top of flanking pedestals at the entrance. This view is especially interesting because it contains the entrance to the grounds used by non-paying teenagers, attending popular music concerts. At the extreme left bottom of the hedge is a little tunnel through the hedge which also passes safely through two chain link fences which run down the center of the hedge. I have never used this entrance, my daughters pointed it out to me one day.<br /><br />The second image is one of the lion faces from the lion’s gate entrance. The third image is what you see if you look to the right when you are looking at image number one. This is the view looking South from Hawthorne Street. Here the land falls sharply away cut by rows of trees at intervals which were formerly the borders of farmers fields. These big fields are also giant parking lots whenever there is a concert. There are three of these big grassy fields bordered by trees and then your eye gets to Stockbridge Bowl, a very round lake that can be seen right in the middle of the drawing. After the lake the landscape rises up again with a series of receding hills. It is just this tendency of the landscape here, to rise up and down, cut by open fields and variegated patched of various types and colors of trees that makes this landscape so famous for it’s beauty. It is really like the Isle of the Sirens in the Tale of Odysseus, once you see it you can’t tear yourself away from it. <br /><br />Hawthorne Street, of the first three images, is so named because at one time Nathaniel Hawthorne lived there. I decided to do a drawing of the famous Hawthorne House which is almost directly across from the Lions’ Gate, but I was amazed to find that the original house burned down over a hundred years ago. The house in the drawing is the very next house after where the Hawthorne house once stood. It is a modest little house but one of my favorite houses in Berkshire County. It is old, unpainted stucco, with an orange Mediterranean tile roof. What looks like two entrances is really a door and a symmetrical opening for a porch.<br /><br />I thought if I made mention of Hawthorne in my set of drawings I should also include another equally famous American author who lived here. In Pittsfield is Arrowhead, the home of Herman Melville. He lived in a large very ordinary looking New England farm house. I went there but could find nothing I wanted to draw. When I was leaving however I came across this very beautiful piece of sky at the back of the visitor parking lot, so I have included that. It is drawing number five, right in the center. Here again, as in the Tanglewood images, the landscape shows the sky to best advantage by dropping down a long way into a valley, and then rising up again in the distance clothed in blue like the sky itself.<br /><br />The next image is more up to date. This is the Lenox Coffee Shop in the Town of Lenox. This is my favorite place to drink coffee and read a book on a summer afternoon. I am sure there are many people who believe two dollars is too much to pay for coffee but I am not among them. To have an equivalent coffee drinking experience you would absolutely have to fly to someplace in Europe, and that would cost at least $1200 by today’s rates. So every time I have coffee here I feel that i have saved myself a thousand dollars at least, and soon, at the rate I am going, I will be able to buy the little stucco house on Hawthorne Street. <br /><br />The seventh drawing brings us back to Hawthorne Street again but this time looking North. I put this view in for three reasons, first because it shows how in just one spot there are interesting views in all directions, but also because of a detail. The trees and foliage grow over the road in a full simple arch and the road passes through a tunnel of foliage as it dips and turns around a bend. As an experience, if you are driving, this is equal to the most sophisticated V.W commercial. Also, this view has a hill in the background where once stood the gigantic summer home of Andrew Carnegie. The Carnegie estate was called Shadowbrook, and it succumbed to a huge fire long ago just like the Hawthorne house. Carnegie was just another one of a great many famous people past and present who chose to live here, though they could have lived anywhere. <br /><br />No survey is complete without a restaurant recommendation, and for this I include my favorite. The eighth image is the D’Amico hot dog stand just South of Great Barrington, on Route Seven. This is the best place to eat ,complete with picnic benches of peeling red paint under the shade of five or six towering pines. Across Route Seven, and just a few steps North of the hot dog stand is an old piece of rusting farm equipment, I only noticed it because I was walking up the highway looking for a good place to do the Hot Dog Stand drawing. It is down in a depression and I include it because I was reminded of how there used to be farms and old farm equipment all over this landscape and now there are none, the same is true of the hot dog stand, this is our only one.<br /><br />Dimensions:7.75” x 9.75” <br />Materials: Pencil on cream color drawing paper <br />Signature: Along the bottom edge: Richard Britell, July 27, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-42536976699744213322009-02-20T15:08:00.000-08:002009-02-24T12:01:16.362-08:002017 Broadway, The Ansonia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYzD0rIVBII/AAAAAAAAAow/MhXCfVPRhIo/s1600-h/20.ansonia.a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 254px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYzD0rIVBII/AAAAAAAAAow/MhXCfVPRhIo/s400/20.ansonia.a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299826171206501506" /></a><br />I am not a New Yorker. This fact came home to me very vividly the first time I ever entered a gallery in New York hoping to interest it’s director in my work. I chose a gallery which was exhibiting huge images of woman’s heads in black and white, images over eight feet high and six feet wide which filled the windows of their space on Madison Avenue. I went in feeling some trepidation. In a large empty room sat a beautiful foreign looking woman at a huge desk. I walked up to her and said, “I would like to show the gallery director a portfolio of my paintings and drawings.”<br /><br />She said, “I’m sorry sir, but this isn’t a gallery, it’s a hair salon.”<br /><br />The above is the truth, it’s the absolute truth. But nevertheless I did manage to have several one person shows in New York City. My first show consisted of only paintings of architecture. There were thirty-two paintings in the show and I sold every one. The show was reviewed in the New York Times by Hilton Cramer. This is an excerpt of what he said.<br /><br />There are modes of realism in which the depiction<br />of concrete detail is so concentrated- and so obsessive-<br />that the visual result bears a distinct esthetic kinship to pictorial<br /> abstraction. Mr. Britell’s subject matter is drawn from the world<br /> of pre-modernist architecture. What he focuses on are the brick<br /> facades,stonework structures and the elegant decorative<br /> embellishments that were once a standard feature of neo-<br />classic and other historicist styles of American urban<br />architecture. These he depicts with a great deal of pictorial<br /> force. Often the facade of a building is observed in the kind of<br />close up view that becomes, in effect, the equivalent of <br />a geometrical abstract painting. He has a very analytical<br />eye, and he commands an impressive technique. If there is also an<br />element of nostalgia in these works it isn’t particularly bothersome.<br />After all, we all have ample reason to cherish this architecture<br />today, and Mr. Britell’’s homage to it proves <br />wholly equal to it’s quality.<br /> <br /><br />The drawing in this listing is an example of what he was talking about.Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-71754785433467993972009-02-11T07:37:00.000-08:002009-02-12T09:22:04.943-08:00Fear Of Flying<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYxZjDggteI/AAAAAAAAAoo/1ar0RKyxODg/s1600-h/27.+:16:2:eclipse.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 338px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYxZjDggteI/AAAAAAAAAoo/1ar0RKyxODg/s400/27.+:16:2:eclipse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299709320280192482" /></a><br />I flew to Europe once. The plane took off at dinner time and by two in the morning we were somewhere over the mid-Atlantic. I was very afraid of flying and sat wide awake, staring out of the window. I had a seat over the wing. it was a brand new plane, just put into service. I stared intently at the wing, the curve of the engine, the flaps of the wing, the rivets. <br /><br />A small dark spot appeared on the wing just above the engine. It was very small at first but gradually it got a little bigger. I thought that my eyes were playing tricks on me, but after a while I could see a distinct triangular dark patch on the wing above the engine. But where could a dark patch come from on the wing? Could the engine be heating up the wing because of some malfunction. I decided to wait and see if the dark patch got large enough to cover a certain rivet on the wing. Gradually the dark patch got larger and larger until it covered the rivet and most of a flap. <br /><br />I went to the back of the plane where a hostess was dozing contentedly sitting on a milk crate. I said, “Can you tell me why there is a dark patch on the wing?” The hostess came to my seat and looked at the wing, then she said, “I don’t know, I’ll go and find out though.”<br /><br />Then passed a very curious few minutes, which I thought would be my last. I gazed at the sleeping travelers and thought to myself, “I’m the only one that knows that we are all about to..........<br /><br />But the hostess came back with this explanation. The dark spot was the shadow of the tail fin, cast upon the wing by the light of the moon. It “appeared” because that night there was a total eclipse of the moon, and as the moon emerged from the shadow of the earth it’s light lit up the plane, forming the shadow on the wing.<br /><br />Hearing that was a big relief!<br /><br />Dimensions: 5.5” x 7” <br />Materials: Acrylic paint on gessoed paper <br />Signature: Along the bottom edge: Richard Britell, July 16, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-82804115350068150372009-02-09T03:03:00.000-08:002009-02-09T04:25:03.427-08:00The Metropolitan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYw4hMT6hxI/AAAAAAAAAog/K432LFzHgpM/s1600-h/met.blog..jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYw4hMT6hxI/AAAAAAAAAog/K432LFzHgpM/s400/met.blog..jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299673004399822610" /></a><br />This is a difficult perspective because the lines across the face of the drawing recede at such a slight angle that the vanishing point that they converge to is out of range of a ruler, or even a yard stick. What to do in this situation is to mark off a set of measurements down the left of the drawing and a proportionally larger set of marks, outside the drawing, down the right. These marks then act as a guide for any important line in the drawing one wants to check. The image shows these marks down the left hand side outside the drawing border. I have never seen this done by anyone else, I made the method up years ago when I was doing a large painting and the vanishing point of the perspective was out in the yard someplace. Nevertheless, with this drawing the method wasn’t accurate enough so I had to resort to the nail and string method. You find the vanishing point and place a nail there, and pull a string over to the drawing and check your lines with it.<br /><br />I love this view of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which shows those strange piles of marble above the doorways, have you ever noticed them. When the Met was built they intended to put huge sculptures of things like naked men with swords up there, but the times caught up with them and before the sculpture was commissioned the idea of marble people up on the roof had become out of date. But those piles of rough cut marble give the Met a grand, ancient, unfinished look like the Cathedrals, or Pyramids. This was not what the builders intended, but great nevertheless.<br /><br />Dimensions: 8.5” x 14” <br />Materials: pencil on buff color watercolor paper <br />Signature: Along the bottom edge: Richard Britell June 13, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-10575714334064414722009-02-08T04:41:00.000-08:002009-02-08T08:58:07.840-08:00I Was Born in Utica<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYw0X25VT_I/AAAAAAAAAoY/gttb7OZgXog/s1600-h/31.utica10.22.3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 145px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYw0X25VT_I/AAAAAAAAAoY/gttb7OZgXog/s400/31.utica10.22.3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299668445985853426" /></a><br />Like everyone else I am very egocentric. I imagine that upon very careful and thoughtful analysis, the place where I live will turn out to be the center of the universe. And after all how is one to calculate exactly where that center is. As far as I can understand modern mathematics, the center of any system is determined by how you are looking at it. Furthermore I think that everyone feels that they are in the center of the universe, but they are just too shy to say so.<br /><br />Anyway, my notions are grounded in a curious historical fact. I was born in Utica. When I was growing up, the New York State Thruway was being built. On the thruway for many years the mileage markers at the ten mile intervals were set from Utica. Therefore as you drove along you would pass signs saying: Utica 80 miles, and then Utica 70 miles and so on. It was therefore natural for me as a small child to imagine that there would be similar signs in France, or Belgium, or even China for that matter, telling everyone how far away Utica was.<br /><br />The mileage signs on the Thruway have been changed now, and I did sometimes wonder how such an inconspicuous collection of dilapidated buildings in upstate New York could be so important.<br /><br />Dimensions: 2.5"; x 7" including the black border <br />Materials: Oil paint on palladium, on paper. (Palladium is a precious metal that does not tarnish. It looks like silver but costs more than gold.) <br />Signature: In the bottom right corner: Full signature and date on the back: Richard Britell, May 4, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-69818730150478277522009-02-07T03:52:00.000-08:002009-02-07T08:16:29.065-08:00Faraway Look<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYsLm_qIKLI/AAAAAAAAAn4/jxpkX9qgKQE/s1600-h/far+away.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYsLm_qIKLI/AAAAAAAAAn4/jxpkX9qgKQE/s400/far+away.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299342151082584242" /></a><br /><br />It’s math class in grade school. The teacher says “I have five apples and I buy five more apples, now how many apples do I have, Johnny?” Johnny says, “I can’t answer the question because I don’t like apples.”<br /><br />It’s not like that in math class but it is always like that in art class. People want to draw and paint pictures of the things that they love, and you can hardly get them to look at or draw pictures of things that they hate. <br /><br />When I taught school often a woman would say to me “My daughter is drawing and painting all the time, will you look at her things and tell me if she should go to art school.” Then the mother would bring to school a huge pile of paintings and drawings, all of horses, and I would have to say, “Your daughter is probably interested in horses, not drawing and painting.” <br /><br />But those drawings of horses represent a fundamental principal of art, which is that we have a deep and permanent longing to make and elaborate images of things that we love.<br /><br />Dimensions: 6.5” x 3.75” <br />Materials: Wax pencil on off white watercolor paper <br />Signature: The initial R at the bottom right hand corner, full signature and date on the back: Richard Britell, July 21, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-18346097225421002542009-02-06T07:21:00.000-08:002009-02-06T05:24:35.077-08:00Their House was on a Pedestal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYsF-SmEYyI/AAAAAAAAAnw/Io6IKWIxIUo/s1600-h/house+gold.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 196px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYsF-SmEYyI/AAAAAAAAAnw/Io6IKWIxIUo/s400/house+gold.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299335954233058082" /></a><br />In order to do this little painting on gilded paper, first I had to attach some 23 karat gold to the paper. This has been done since ancient and medieval times by various methods. The method I used consists of coating the paper with a fairly quick drying varnish, When the varnish is set up, but not dry you lay the gold on it in little sheets. Care must be taken such that the varnish is not still to wet, in which case the gold keeps it from drying, or too dry, in which case the gold will not stick.<br /><br />I am fond of reading directions for this kind of work in old manuscripts and books, because there is a lot of useful information, but for the most part, because they give such a vivid portrait of the extremely, “real” conditions and practices of art before everything was available by mass production in stores. From the text that follows one gets an idea of how fully art and life could become one and the same thing.<br /><br />FROM CENNINI’S CRAFTSMAN’S HANDBOOK, WRITTEN ABOUT 1435.<br /><br />How to make a mordant from garlic, for gilding:<br /><br />“Take clean garlic bulbs and pound them in a mortar, and<br /> then squeeze them through a linen cloth two or three<br /> times. Take this juice,and work up a little white lead<br /> and red clay with it as fine as ever you can.Then scrape<br /> it up and keep it in a little covered dish; and keep it for<br /> the older and more seasoned it gets, the better it will be.<br /> Do not use small garlic bulbs, nor young ones; but get<br /> them about half grown. And when you want to use<br /> any of this mordant, put a little of it in a glazed <br /> dish, with a small amount of urine, and stir it up thoroughly <br />with a straw, according to your judgment. You may gild with this <br />mordant after half an an hour in the way described...........”<br /><br />I didn’t use this recipe, but a modern formula instead.Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-41252936116186576912009-02-05T16:15:00.000-08:002009-02-05T16:25:14.364-08:00Midnight West of Denverclick image to enlarge<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYuC6A0pxSI/AAAAAAAAAoI/-e28wgLXIvc/s1600-h/denver."><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 371px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYuC6A0pxSI/AAAAAAAAAoI/-e28wgLXIvc/s400/denver." border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299473319696385314" /></a><br />MIDNIGHT WEST OF DENVER<br /><br />I felt sorry for Raymond when I got that letter that I posted with yesterday’s drawing. Like so many highly educated people, he approaches old works of art with a guide book and a preconceived notion of some emotional response. A response which is elusive, and impossible to engineer of fabricate. Expecting to be moved by something usually guarantees that we will feel nothing at all For example, I have never been to Saint Peters, and I have never seen the Sistine Chapel. But every time I talk to someone who has, I always here the same story, something like this. <br />“There were hundreds of people all going through at once, we couldn’t stop. We looked at the ceiling with our heads thrown back, walking, and everybody was bumping into everyone else. The man on my right kept bumping into me with his camera. Thinking about that, a contrasting image occurred to me. It is 8;00 A.M. and tourists are making their way through the Sistine Chapel. But it is also midnight somewhere West of Denver. A trucker is out on the turnpike, there is almost no one else in sight. He has to drive all night. He can see the Rockies in the distance, and he thinks, “morning will come and I won’t have reached them.” He is terribly bored, he lights a cigarette, blows the smoke out the window, and turns on the radio.. It is Bonnie Rait, singing:<br />Rock steady all night long,<br />Rock steady till the light of dawn,<br />Slow and easy, tried and true,<br />Rock steady,--------just me and you.<br /><br />He feels a long rush of blood to his face, the hair on his neck stands on end, and he experiences a long moment of elation. He settles himself in his seat, and his boredom returns, another song comes on the radio. It’s R.E.M., embedded in the lyrics is the phrase, “Just a truck stop, instead of Saint Peters”, The trucker thinks, “I wonder what sand peters are.”<br /><br />Dimensions: 7” x 7.4”<br />Materials: Acrylic paint on watercolor paper<br />Signature: In the bottom right Richard Britell, Sept. 5, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-7868595650324996112009-02-05T04:38:00.000-08:002009-02-05T04:52:23.364-08:00While Putting on her Lipstickclick image to enlarge<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYrfyF5tf_I/AAAAAAAAAno/XY79t-VqG2Y/s1600-h/bb.lipstick.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SYrfyF5tf_I/AAAAAAAAAno/XY79t-VqG2Y/s400/bb.lipstick.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299293963225497586" border="0"></a><br />Usually when I begin a drawing I know exactly what it is I am going to draw, and how I am going to compose it. At other times I will have a lot of ideas floating around in my head and I will just start randomly drawing on the paper with no particular object. This style of drawing is very transparent and has a dreamy quality because you can see through the forms. All the figures have something in common, they all have that abstracted look that comes from concentrating on something. The woman on the far left is putting on her lipstick, as she does this she is thinking of all these other things which have appeared in the drawing. Drawings like this lead to other drawings later on. The bald man in the upper left is a jeweler who is looking at a watch, the watch is second hand, it is one of two. He is about to say, “This one is the better one, just look at the movement of the second hand, how tight and precise it is”. <br /><br />Dimensions: 11.75" x 8.25"<br />Materials: Pencil on laid drawing paper<br />Signature: bottom edge, Richard Britell, June 6, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-78413808945766214462008-11-14T16:03:00.000-08:002008-12-19T11:20:14.284-08:00Lost in the South Bronx<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SR4SvdoosKI/AAAAAAAAAb0/YiFpmzrW0AQ/s1600-h/bronx.+jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 245px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SR4SvdoosKI/AAAAAAAAAb0/YiFpmzrW0AQ/s400/bronx.+jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268669220688277666" /></a>click image to enlarge<br /><br />This detailed drawing is done from my memory of being lost in the South Bronx. Since this happened to me more than once there are a lot of accumulated images that I have managed to fit into the drawing, not the least of which is the tire, the muffler, and the hub cap in the bottom left hand corner.<br /><br />At the extreme bottom of the drawing is the Cross Bronx Expressway, and one of those exit ramps that lead up into an endless, sprawling neighborhood of tenements, crowds of people, and small businesses with foreign names. I have tried to give the drawing the feeling that the buildings go off at odd angles forever, and that there is no orderly plan to the streets so that getting lost is inevitable.<br /><br />There are millions of things happening in the drawing. I could tell you about a heroin addict who is on his way to sell his girl friend’s radio, while she lies asleep on the bathroom floor. It is an old Grundig Short Wave Radio that belonged to her Grandfather. The heroin addict has made up his mind to sell it for forty dollars, but he will take twenty-five. The thought of fifteen dollars makes him really angry and he starts arguing with himself. I could tell you about a scrap metal merchant who has been buying copper futures, and has just made a huge sum of money despite himself, just because his car is stuck in traffic and his phone doesn’t work.<br /><br />But I’d rather tell you about the three boys on the bridge on the left side of the drawing, under the No Left Turn Arrow. They are young hoodlums that like to hang out on the corner of the bridge. They make bets with each other about whether the cars that come up the exit ramp will click all there doors locked when they have to stop at the turn. There greatest joy is to approach the drivers window of a car that has turned left at the corner and motion for the driver to roll down the window. Then passes a long terrible moment while the driver imagines that he is about to be robbed, hijacked, or worse. Finally the driver thinks, “Well, I might as well give in to my fate, what’s the use.” He takes a heavy sigh and rolls down his window, and the boys say, “You’re going the wrong way, on a one way street, man!”<br /><br />They are doing him a favor but he expects the worst. He drives away from a moment never to be forgotten, and the boys say, “Did you see his face, did you see his face,” And laugh until there sides ache.Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-15798051568977614192008-11-12T07:18:00.000-08:002008-11-12T08:38:25.703-08:00West Side Highway<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQd1cCSOnfI/AAAAAAAAAbk/wLEGZV3FVzc/s1600-h/aa+west+side.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: undefinedpx; height: undefinedpx;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQd1cCSOnfI/AAAAAAAAAbk/wLEGZV3FVzc/s400/aa+west+side.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262303814115827186" /></a>click image to enlarge<br /><br /><br />The elements of this painting are:<br />1.The coast of New Jersey<br />2.The Hudson River<br />3.A barge<br />4. Some docks<br />5. The West Side Highway.<br /><br />The coast of New Jersey, the river and the barges have remained unchanged for many years, but those docks and the elevated highway are gone. When you drove down that elevated highway one always wanted to take a good long look at those docks as they flew past but it was impossible. You were going fifty miles an hour around very sharp curves with cars almost touching yours in front, in back, and on the side, all bordered with low steel walls. The pavement was a sort of dark yellow bricks, all wavy and uneven and full of holes, The bricks gave off a rapid corrugated buzzing sound telling you every instant exactly how fast you were going. It was a hair raising and intimidating experience. Crazy thoughts would flash through your mind and you would think, “ I’m either going to die now, or get stuck in traffic on 42nd Street two or three minutes from now.”<br /><br /><br />Dimensions: 8" x 13.75" <br />Materials: Acrylic on stretched canvas. <br />Signature: Along the bottom edge: Richard Britell May 28, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-53551076565292893122008-11-11T01:13:00.000-08:002008-12-24T14:53:49.706-08:00Engraved and Gilded Math Homework<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQdywkbsFtI/AAAAAAAAAbY/dQyytutOLWE/s1600-h/aa+math.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: undefinedpx; height: undefinedpx;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQdywkbsFtI/AAAAAAAAAbY/dQyytutOLWE/s400/aa+math.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262300868344813266" /></a>click image to enlarge<br /><br />I check the oil in my car all the time, like a ritual. And even though it is a ritual, I never remember to have a piece of cloth, or a paper towel to wipe the dip stick on. I look around the parking lot for a piece of paper on the ground. Today it was Clarance Washington’s spelling test. Clarance is in the sikth grade. His spelling is almost as bad as mine is. His whole personality was clearly reflected in his test paper. The sheet is covered with red corrections and yet he writes. “I love doing my homework.”<br /><br />He has to make up a sentence using the word popcorn. He starts to write “I love buttery", but he can’t figure out how to spell buttery, so he crosses it out. Then he can see that his teacher will see his misspelling, so he crosses it out again even harder.<br /><br />I’m not making this up at all. The paper is right here on my table. I didn’t use it for the oil. It plunged me for a moment back into my own childhood. I labored over my homework and tried to make it perfect to no avail. Why, if I could have engraved my homework I would have, if I could have gilded it I would have done that also. Anything, anything I could think of to please them. <br /><br />Dimensions: <br />Materials: 23 k gold on watercolor paper <br />Signature: Along the bottom edge: Richard Britell , May 27, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-65386530514254748782008-11-09T09:00:00.000-08:002008-11-09T10:17:29.152-08:00The Square Root of 2<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQojlr0DS-I/AAAAAAAAAbs/ZgywDszOEVg/s1600-h/aasquare+of+2200dpi.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: undefinedpx; height: undefinedpx;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQojlr0DS-I/AAAAAAAAAbs/ZgywDszOEVg/s400/aasquare+of+2200dpi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263058244859022306" /></a>click image to enlarge<br /><br /><br />This is what my father was like. One day when I was twelve I went with him on Saturday morning to my Aunt Mary’s house to have coffee. While we were having coffee my father said, “The’re are cracks in the ceiling.”<br /><br />My aunt said, “We keep patching them up, but they just keep coming back.”<br /><br />The next Saturday I went with my father to a construction yard where he bought plaster and some lath. Then we went to my Aunt Mary’s for coffee, after which he pulled down the whole ceiling, nailed up the lath, and spread a coat of plaster over it.<br /><br />When he was done the ceiling was dark brown. I asked him, “Why is the ceiling brown?”<br /><br />“It’s the base coat,” he said, “next Saturday we will put up the finish coat.”<br /><br />That was 1956. The next year my father died. He was forty five.<br /><br />When I was forty five I went to visit my Aunt Mary on a Saturday morning for coffee. We got to talking about my father. She said, “You know, your father put up this ceiling and plastered it.”<br /><br />“I remember.” I said.<br /><br />“You know what was odd about it though,” she went on, “When he cut the lath he mitered all the corners.”<br /><br />“Why not miter them”, I said, “After all, you have to cut them anyway.”<br /><br />A strange expression crossed my Aunt’s face and she said, “Those were your father’s exact words at the time.”<br /><br />So that explains the idea behind this drawing of the square root of two.<br /><br />The notion that things can actually go on forever.<br /><br />"The Square Root of Two" oil on canvas 2002, 10.5" x 8" signed on the back<br />Location: Britell Studio, Pittsfield, Ma. $1200.00Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-89371410354599369152008-11-09T08:00:00.000-08:002008-11-09T10:15:41.285-08:00Pythagoras's Theorem<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQdoEHMoRAI/AAAAAAAAAbA/m4OqfRqt5VU/s1600-h/aa,pyhhag.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: undefinedpx; height: undefinedpx;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQdoEHMoRAI/AAAAAAAAAbA/m4OqfRqt5VU/s400/aa,pyhhag.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262289109466498050" /></a>click image to enlarge<br /><br />Download this drawing. Then put it in a nice frame and hang it in your child’s room. Then wait and see what happens.<br /><br /><br />Dimensions: 7.25” x 6.75” <br />Materials: pencil and acrylic paint on prepared paper <br />Signature: Along the bottom edge: Richard Britell, May 17, 2002Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-10015472167944672372008-11-07T15:20:00.000-08:002008-11-09T10:21:30.652-08:00I Had The Key<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQdmcaRLBJI/AAAAAAAAAa4/ATHrRmvMukE/s1600-h/aake.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: undefinedpx; height: undefinedpx;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQdmcaRLBJI/AAAAAAAAAa4/ATHrRmvMukE/s400/aake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262287327879431314" /></a>click image to enlarge<br /><br />My daughter called me last night and told me to go outside and look at the stars, because there was an alignment of the moon and two planets. <br /><br />It was late. I stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the sky. I live in the bad side of my town.<br /><br />A police car came by and pulled up next to the curb where I was standing, but the policeman didn’t say anything to me. <br /><br />Across the street a black man was walking along with his head shrouded in a hood. As he passed, the police car pulled away and stopped on the other side of the street next to the man in the hood, but he just continued walking along. A moment later the car drove rapidly away, and at the corner put on its lights and siren. I wanted to shout over to the man in the hood, “Don’t you feel relieved?” But I didn’t. <br /> <br />I looked back at the moon, and at the aligned planets. I thought, “Yes, now I have the key!”: <br /><br />All this is all in my picture. There is the key, and at the bottom there is myself, the black man, the police car and a tree. The moon and planets are there also but they are behind the key, so you cannot see them.<br /><br /> <br />Dimensions: 5.25” x 3.75” <br />Materials: 23 K Gold, on prepared paper <br />Signature: An R in the bottom right and full signature on the back: Richard Britell , May 15, 2002<br />Collection: Don and Maggie Buchwald, NYCRichardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017516187111927953.post-78874425822707649922008-11-06T10:26:00.000-08:002008-11-08T17:31:36.002-08:00Old Jewish Tailor Woman<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQdMgYh_FtI/AAAAAAAAAaw/yvxnhzdLfaY/s1600-h/aapotash.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: undefinedpx; height: undefinedpx;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QgpdFvAi3mc/SQdMgYh_FtI/AAAAAAAAAaw/yvxnhzdLfaY/s400/aapotash.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262258808830236370" /></a><br />The first job I ever had was in high school working in the afternoon for an elderly Jewish woman who was a tailor. Her work consisted mainly of repairing the tattered garments of the residents of the slums where her shop was located, but she also took in washing which was sent out to be done and came back the next day. My job was to mark in all the clothes when they came in, and check them off when they went out again. This old tailor woman whose name was Mrs. Potash, I soon discovered was an extremely remarkable and eccentric woman. She was very devout, but her God was not some unfathomable power off in the cosmos somewhere, for her God was an entity involved in the most mundane aspects of every day life. She consulted God about what to have for lunch. For Mrs. Potash tailoring was a kind of religious mission, she felt that her store, her sewing machine, even her life were given to her by God for the sake of taking care of poor peoples clothes. <br /><br />I left the shop for home each day at five, but Mrs. Potash would not go home until midnight. She returned to the shop by six in the morning to start her day. She lived on the other end of town so every day involved walking through the slums of our city late at night. At one point I started to be concerned about her. I couldn’t decide if she was fearless or simpleminded. I said to my mother “You know Mom, Mrs. Potash walks home at one in the morning from down on Liberty Street. “ My mother said, sensing my concern, “Don’t worry about her, the police know she is there.”<br /><br />But gradually I came to realize that she was not only fearless, but that she knew instinctively that no one would ever even think of harming her. <br /><br />One time an old notorious gangster came into the shop. He was probably as old as Mrs. Potash, and known to be a dangerous and difficult character. He didn’t come into the shop for any criminal purposes however, he came in because a button had popped off of his fly.<br /><br />He asked her to repair his trousers but she was a woman of very few words and in response to his request she simply drew a circle in the air with her needle indicating that he should undo his jacket. Understanding that she meant to fix his fly button on sight, as it were, and without him going to the changing room he stammered in embarrassment, ”Don’t you want me to go to the changing booth?”<br /><br />“And why is there a need to take off your clothes?” she said, again telling him what to do with a gesture of her needle. <br />That remark “Why is there a need”? was characteristic of her. If I did something wrong in the shop she would say, “Why is there a need to make a mistake?” <br /><br />The Don undid his coat revealing that he had a revolver stuck in his belt band. Mrs. Potash, when she saw the gun, pulled it out of his pants and holding it in her hand gave him a good talking to. “Don’t you see that the gun is running your trousers, I can fix these buttons for you, but before you know, the waste band will be completely ruined. A holster you need.” Finished with her lecture she handed him the gun to hold and proceeded to sew a button onto his pants.<br /> <br />He was so terribly uncomfortable, he held the gun in his hand on the side of his body away from the window lest anyone should see, and was in an agony of suspense the whole time worrying that someone might come into the shop. <br /><br />This event was made the more strange by the fact that it was August, there was a hot steam trouser press in the shop, the room was scorching, and over the years the old woman had take to wearing very little clothing to work in the summer. Her usual outfit was a shift, or sort of sun dress very low cut in both the front and the back. <br /><br />I will not offer any sort of explanation or analysis of this event. In certain respects I have to admit that I still don’t understand some powerful symbolism in it. But I saw it with my own eyes, and I wanted you to see it also. Events like this should not be forgotten.Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211217172747626509noreply@blogger.com0