Tag: Fred Lipp

Some painting students at the Creative Workshop are lifers. Like prisoners who exercise at different times during the day we don’t get to interact with people in the other classes. But when the the staff hangs a show in the Lucy Burne Gallery we acknowledge the common bond we all share, the struggle to more clearly express our visual take on the world. Rose Mary Hooper, in the day class, always knocks me out.

Last night in class I made just a few marks on a piece of paper. When the class officially started (the moment Fred Lipp enters the room) I became entangled in a confrontation with Cezanne’s “The Watchmaker.” Fred wanted me to study it because it demonstrates Cezannes power to animate a sitter. He does so by advancing the right side of the painting while the left side recedes. The eyes lead the way but the whole right side of the body follows. The slant in the wall, downward to the lower right accentuates the twist and convincingly opens the space around the sitter.

My task is to look for clues in the essentially straight on, dead pan mug shots, clues that convey a movement, an expression and use these clues in the structure as tools to bring more life to my subjects. It all seems so obvious but I couldn’t see it until I digested it and I spent the whole class trying to do so.

Fred Lipp altered my drawing last night by strategically placing a small piece of white paper on top of part of the drawing. His collection of black, white and mostly grey paper is his primary teaching tool and it is incredibley effective. You use your eyes to see what he is talking about. My father was standing nearby and questioned something Fred said. Fred snapped back, “Forget about logic. We’re talking graphic.”

This white wooden block was screwed to the wall near the light switches in our painting class and someone stuck some blue tape on it. It looks like a Richard Tuttle piece.

Our class, with many regulars and a handful of newcomers, is so full that the moments of engagement with our teacher are compacted and all the more intense. There is no time to fart around and Fred Lipp rises to the challenge. The class description emphasizes honesty and he cuts right to the chase. He pointed to the way I laid in a neck on a pencil drawing and said, “You’re boring me.”

I didn’t say anything at first but when he left I thought, “thank you.”

After the Margaret Explosion gig on Wednesday I sat down with Jeff, a therapist and friend from high school and beyond, and we began talking about the painting/therapy nexus. Jeff felt there was a strong parallel between the two practices and why shouldn’t there be? This conversation was just getting going when we were interrupted but the topic has been kicking around in my head.

When my father started taking the painting class with me at the Creative Workshop he’d come out of class many times saying he felt like he was in therapy and I would laugh but I know exactly what he meant. Breaking old habits requires someone to point the detrimental habits out. Staying open and using your eyes instead of your brain, learning to trust your own eyes is tougher than would seem so why not accept help from a coach?

Recovering alcoholics all subscribe to the “one day at a time thing” just as painters in Fred Lipp’s class learn to “address the worst first.” “Always, get to the point!” “Painting is not supposed to be easy or everyone would do it.” The journey is the thing, not the plan or final piece, and the toughest lesson is learning to enjoy the struggle because that is where the magic is.

The telephone company had their trucks out back all day yesterday but we were too busy to go down and see what was going on. They showed up again this morning and woke us up. So right after coffee we headed down the hill to investigate. The guy up in the ladder figured a truck pulled down the wires where they crossed the road. Just as I was wondering whether our neighbors were without phone service one of them drove by smiling and talking on his cell phone.

Only have two more painting classes this year before summer break. Our painting teacher, Fred, told me I was on a roll. I looked unsure and he asked if I was aware of that. I said, I feel like I have improved by a small margin and I held my thumb and forefinger close together. He said, “But you are enjoying the problem solving.” And damn if I don’t keep missing the big picture.

When I showed up for class at the Creative Workshop I found this message on the board. I have an interest in the two disciplines. I know Fred Lipp has a day class on Tuesdays and I wondered if he might have posted these notes. The only time I remember him addressing the class with chalk in hand was when he drew a diagram of his winter accident. He is not the demonstration kind of teacher.

When he showed up last for class (he is that kind of teacher) I asked him if he wrote the note. He said no and and asked if there was something I wanted to add. I said, “Improvisation”, and he wrote that on the board.

I realized a long time ago that Fred’s Lipp’s rules for painting can be applied to just about anything you do in life. There aren’t that many rules but just as you learn them, there are other rules to learn. Tonight I started with “draw the thing that you respond to” and that has opened up some doors.

Jeff Munson dropped off an Amaryllis plant for us this morning. Peggi added it to her centerpiece on our table.We helped him set up Skype for his trip to Mexico. He also gave me a beautiful shot of the “84 Lumber” sign out on Scottsville Road. I plan to add that to the sign section someday.

I spent most of the day in the basement painting. I was geared up to start a new painting and it hit me (again) how it is always a new beginning. Something never done before unless you are determined to repeat your same mistakes. Learning to see and identify your mistakes as such allows you have that redundant new beginning.

But how long does it take to learn Fred Lipp’s proceedural rules? Look at the painting as a whole at every stage and do the fucking worst first.