Lucy MacGillis

Still Lifes

I haven’t had much time to write but I’m seeing V. Note inspirations everywhere, so even though I can’t type a long and thoughtful post, I wanted to send you these still lifes by Lucy MacGillis, because I like them and they get me thinking about my own work, and upcoming classes for winter and spring.

I found an interview, and couldn’t stop myself from reading more about MacGillis. I like her even more after learning about her. Below are some quotes from Painting Perceptions. Click here to read the full interview.

“I think painters need to be alone, so much of what happens at the easel is related to what you’re dealing with around that. I’m learning to be quite stubborn about my solitude. Even in the moments when I can’t be painting, I see compositions everywhere…the golden hour makes even the industrial zone look glorious. Jody Joseph, a great painter and friend who comes often to this area to paint, marvels at how she nearly drives off the road looking at the compositions that she sees in the rear view mirror driving around this part of umbria. That’s how it is, everywhere you turn, there is a painting.”

“I painted the interior walls of my home and studio in the traditional style using lime and earth pigments to make paint. Even in the bathroom I look at dark grey walls and their relationship to a white towel, to the stone. By the time I stand before my easel, having taken Vito to school in my ’66 Fiat Cinquecento, gone to the bar for an espresso, bought the newspaper, I’m “carica”, charged, so ready to paint.”

“In Florence I find beautiful pigments at Zecchi and grind these with cold pressed linseed oil to make my own thick paint. I also use some marble dust from Carrara. I stretch my own surfaces and prepare the linen with rabbit skin glue. The process is all part of it, touching these materials, using my physical strength to stretch the linen tight, reflecting on what I will paint on this dimension, watching the surface tighten, sanding it down, I become familiar with it, I prepare the composition in my mind.”

“Well I suppose I ought to be a fast painter, when I’m slow I lose it.
I like to simplify what I see, push it into abstraction. I make marks with the palette knife or a large flat brush. I scrape down a lot, mix strange greys, mixing compliments. I look for the darkest and lightest points in the painting and try to keep the color in key with them. Catherine Kehoe lays down these bold planes, her portraits rock. I’m always trying to paint looser, to let the paint be, to let go sooner. I work on some paintings for months, others just happen in a couple of sittings. I enjoy the faster paintings most..see I’m painting this very sort of picturesque landscape here, I don’t want to make pretty paintings, so I’m looking at planes and color and trying not too get too hung up with insignificant details.”

How do you know when the painting is finished? How important is keeping the painting “fresh”?

“There is a point when I physically cannot do anything more to the painting. It is done. At that point its probably overdone, I should walk away from them sooner, at a medium-rare moment, when the marks are sufficient. I’m trying to preserve the transparency, let the ground show, or if I’m painting over old paintings which I absolutely love doing, have parts of the previous one peek through.”

– Lucy MacGillis on Painting Perceptions

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