Walton Ford… and 2 other watercolorists

I asked Claire Putney to name some of the inspirational watercolor painters for her upcoming workshop Watercolor Landscapes. She listed:

• Sunga Park
• Maria Ginzburg
• Walton Ford
• Z L Feng

A few days ago I shared artwork by Z L Feng. I had the intention of making a V. Note about the other three on each sequential day….

First, I looked at Maria Ginzburg: [image_with_animation image_url=”8484″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”][image_with_animation image_url=”8500″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”] I looked at the watercolors by Maria Ginzburg, and I picked the one at top as my favorite. I saved it, and went looking for another, something different. But there was nothing different. All her paintings look pretty much the same. Watercolor blobby trees, strips of land, water reflection. Colors blop blop. Some of the paintings, disappointingly, had cabins. They weren’t bad, I did like them, but I kept looking for a few more to give me material for a note, and I came up with…. a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

So I put Ginzburg on the back burner and turned to Sunga Park. [image_with_animation image_url=”8486″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”] I thought “Interesting work! I like what this painter is doing!” I’ll look at a few more and make a V. Note.

” load_in_animation=”none By the time I’ve looked at three I’m already bored. Darn it, and I liked the first one so much. The first one was so exciting! But then each painting after that was just the same thing, so I lost interest. I decided to drift to work by Walton Ford. Claire sent this in her letter to me: [image_with_animation image_url=”8490″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”] I was surprised by the detail, and I was surprised it was watercolor. There was a noticeable oddness to it, like a natural history illustration, made surreal. I looked to see what else I could find. [image_with_animation image_url=”8492″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”] Wow. What’s going on there? [image_with_animation image_url=”8493″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”] This wildlife documentary scene is familiar to me, where at times I’m empathizing for the prey, and at times I’m rooting for the predator. Leopard takes down bull. I look more into the image, and notice how the attack is almost a lover’s embrace. The bull’s cheek tilting into the mouth of the leopard, the paw reaching around to hold the other cheek in a kiss. Sex and violence. I admire this dynamic composition, look deeper and deeper into the details. I see the bull has a ring in its nose. A ring means it belongs to a human somewhere. There’s a town in the distance, the bull has been branded. This is an allegory. A narrative perhaps. The animals are symbols. Then I see the leopard’s paw is caught, getting crushed under the hoof of the bull. How long will this fight go on, and how will it end? It stays suspended in time, while I look. I look for more clues, and then I look for more paintings. An hour has gone by. I’m completely engrossed. [image_with_animation image_url=”8494″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”] Here is another. I see a massive beast, beautiful red horns. It’s interesting. I’m curious. I’m interested. Something seems off. The bull isn’t standing, but laying down. The legs, they look weak. I’m still not understanding. Then I see the rope around the muzzle, the tie to the wall. The rope is short. The best is large. Can it stand? How long has it been tied there? How long will it be continued to be tied there? Will it weaken and die on that square meter of block? Who tied it there? The details pulled me in. The details kept me looking. But the details didn’t tell me what to think. My mind is active in the narrative of this predicament. In my mind, this painting lasts to the death. [image_with_animation image_url=”8504″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”] There are animals used to talk about human behavior, animals in predicaments. There are monkeys and sloths and bears and birds, each rendered with exquisite anatomical perfection. Some of them shock me. They’re raunchy. But it’s not the shock that holds my attention. They induce incredibly private narratives, almost like I’m looking at my own dream. I’d prefer not to say what I was thinking for some of them. I don’t know what to write. They’re under my skin. I walk around with them for a while. They don’t leave my thoughts completely. [image_with_animation image_url=”8506″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”] I think, were it not for the detail, I would not look so closely. I would not be so involved. But each strand of fur has been painted, each muscle and tendon rendered precisely, nothing is left to my own mind but the story. So I go in, and in, and in. [image_with_animation image_url=”8510″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”] If you’re interested in learning watercolor, consider jumping into Claire Putney’s Watercolor Landscapes Workshop on March 10th, or Sandy Bricel Miller’s Plein Air Primer on April 28th. You might discover something… unexpected. [image_with_animation image_url=”8509″ alignment=”” animation=”None” box_shadow=”none” max_width=”100%”]