Checker Cab

Manufactured by the Checker Motors Co. of Kalamazoo from 1956 to 1982, the Checker "Marathon" was THE New York City taxi for roughly 40 years. The last Checker taxi, with nearly 1,000,000 miles, was retired from New York City streets in 1999. Today our yellow cab fleet may be more diverse - with Toyotas, Hondas, Fords, Chevys and even some hybrid varieties - but they just don't have the "character" of the Checker models. Fabriano paper, 140 lb., 9" x 12", watercolor, pen & ink, casein.

"It's Our Pleasure to Serve You"

Like the Chinese takeout box, these little Greek-themed coffee cups are all over the city, sold from carts at countless corner trailers that also offer bagels and donuts each weekday morning. Of course, with the Starbucks invasion, and a host of copycats, these little blue and white fixtures have some competition in the curbside garbage competition. Fabriano paper, 140lb., 9" x 12", watercolor, pen & ink.

Takout

This is one of the ubiquitous accessories of New York life - the Chinese takeout box. In just about every neighborhood in every borough, one can find Chinese restaurants. Some are great - and are counted among our favorite restaurants, especially those that are kid-friendly. Sammy's on 6th Avenue at 11th Street has been a favorite for us for years. (And when we don't eat in, we can always count on delivery in about 15 minutes from the time of placing our order by phone!) Some of the staff have been seeing the boys since they were only several months old, and now greet them like old friends. Although our meals at Sammy's are perhaps a little more civilized now, there was a time when we felt compelled to follow one of the cardinal rules of tipping: The size of the tip is directly proportional to the size of the mess under the table. 9" x 12", watercolor & ink, Fabriano paper.

Brian's Watercolors on Etsy!

I've finally realized one of my goals for 2009: I now have four paintings listed at Etsy.com under BriansWatercolors. I'm still tweaking the look of the "shop" so pardon the appearance! I'll gradually put up the remaining 10 paintings that are currently on display in my West Village lobby show. If you're inclined to purchase art, don't hesitate!

Pay Phone and the No. 2 Express

Remember when pay phones were such a ubiquitous landmark? They're still common in the subway system because most cell phones just won't pick up a signal down in the stations. However, it's not uncommon to see them disable with smashed receivers, broken wires, and jammed coin slots. 9" x 12", watercolor, pen & ink, on Arches 300 lb. paper. I'm really starting to favor this heavy paper . . . the heft, absorbency with heavy washes.

Glass Door Knob

Can't remember where I found this, but it's been in my archive of photos for some time. I've always liked glass door knob because of the way they capture and reflect the colors in a room. Plus there's something about the way the glass "feels" when one goes to open a door. This is a 5" x 7", watercolor, pen & ink, on Fabriano paper.

Lambretta Portrait

As my initial sketch for this painting started to take shape, I realized it was becoming very portrait-like, as if I had taken on the image of a flesh-and-blood person rather than a machine, showing the head (turned and tilted to its left), shoulders and torso. Nearly all of my reference photos had shown the scooter from a distance of several feet. But in deciding on composition, I was immediately drawn to the idea of focusing down more closely on the "face" of the object. Of course, that kind of narrow framing is typical in a lot of my work: I prefer odd angles and significant cropping in many images. In addition, I was especially concerned about the contrast between the blue and white of the scooter's body. 9" x 12", watercolor, pen & ink, Arches 300 lb. paper.

From my May 1, 2008 post: There are scooters all over the city, a favorite mode of transportation among restaurant delivery persons who favor the cheap Yamaha and Honda varieties. Italian scooters, however, are considered chic among the 20- and 30-something crowd. And since Piaggio reintroduced Vespas to the U.S. market several years ago, there seems to have been an explosion of these sharp little machines throughout Manhattan.

Who can blame their owners? They're fairly inexpensive (around $3,000 new), don't burn a lot of gas, and are easy to park. My favorites are the vintage scooters - those models marketed in the 50s, 60s, and 70s. There are plenty of old Vespas in the city and even Matthew Broderick tools around on a white antique model in our neighborhood during the summer. I like the Vespas, but for sheer style points I prefer the Lambrettas. Like the ubiquitous Vespa, they stood as an iconic symbol of the 50s and 60s and were the scooter of choice for many of England's "mod" crowd during that period. Just watch the movie Quadraphenia to get a sense of how important the scooter was to that movement! Only made by Italy's Innocenti corporation from 1946 until 1972, the Lambrettas are much more rare. And for my money, they were sleeker and more elegantly designed than the Vespas. (Although the Lambretta name is used on scooters and other vehicles in India and Asia today, it's not the same company.)

"Stop"

9" x 12", watercolor, pen and ink, Arches paper. I worked on this for at least a month, off and on, sometimes painting for a few days and then setting it aside for a week or more. Seemed as if it defied completion - until last night. Part of the problem was getting the yellow "just right." In some areas I used at least a dozen washes, including plain water to better blend the mix of three different yellows.

"Aermotor"

I had enjoyed the earlier image of the windmill, so tried another. Instead of the usual 140lb. Fabriano paper, I used a very heavy 300lb. Arches. I definitely like its rigidity and absorbancy on heavy washes. Will definitely use more (whether I like it or not, since I purchased an entire block). 9" x 12", watercolor, pen & ink, 300lb. Arches paper (rough).

St. John's Lutheran Church, Greenwich Village

The latest, finished a couple of weeks ago. It was too large for a regular scanner, so had it scanned at a photo shop. I've painted the St. John's cupola before, but not from this angle. The sky proved especially difficult because I wanted a lot of realistic variation in color and texture (and I generally refuse to paint a plain "blue" sky). 12" x 18", watercolor, pen & ink, Fabriano paper.

"Pontiac Service"

Just finished this yesterday. I've had this photo in my archive for several years, thinking it might eventually serve as a subject for painting. However, with the recently announced demise of the Pontiac line, slated for 2010, I felt compelled to tackle it. Although recent Pontiacs have been less-than-inspiring autos, older models often proved among the best-designed Detroit products. The stylish variations on their hood ornaments, some rendered in sleek, Deco-inspired chrome and Lucite, are especially appealing (and collectible). It's a shame GM's ineptitude has killed one of most significant U.S. auto marques. Watercolor, pen & ink, 9" x 12", Fabriano paper.

Barn Cupola (Vermont)

After a rather long, month-and-a-half hiatus from the blog (and painting), here's the latest. 9"x12", watercolor, pen & ink, on Fabriano paper. (What a crappy scan!)

Amish Buggy

From our travels in Lancaster County, PA. I always feel sorry for the Amish residents because they have to put up with the armies of tourists who gawk. How many of those tourists understand the derivation of the term "Pennsylvania Dutch" and realize that it has nothing to do with Holland or the Dutch. But the identification, however incorrect, persists. I at least try to respect the Amish privacy and antipathy for having individual pictures taken by never photographing members of these communities. For me, the striking part of this image was the whip. 9" x 12", watercolor, drybrush, pen & ink, on Fabriano paper.

Amish Windmill

The most difficult part of this painting was the sky, which required at least 20 washes in four colors - plus several more clear washes - to get it "just right." And then my lousy scanner reduced it all to a shambles, erasing the subtleties of the color blends and the transition from blues to yellows. Oh well . . .

I spotted this windmill on an Amish farm in Lancaster County, PA. (When I see the word "windmill" I immediately think of the more elaborate European variety, like the beautiful windmills of Holland, used to pump water out of the Dutch lowlands.) Watercolor, drybrush, pen & ink, on Fabriano paper, 9" x 12".

Ball Perfect Mason

Another experiment with a Ball Mason Jar. 9" x 12", watercolor, Fabriano paper.

Alarm Clock

Continuing the "time" theme, here's a closely cropped image of a vintage electric alarm clock. Although only 5" x 7", this proved time consuming because of the numbers, which I painted using a Japanese brush pen.

UFO - Unfinished Object

Alas, in painting sometimes a good idea doesn't always translate smoothly to paper or canvas. When I start a drawing and then begin painting, I nearly always have a pretty clear understanding of how I'm going to reach the finished concept that resides in my imagination. I can "see" the finished painting. Occasionally, however, the execution doesn't proceed as planned: I dislike my color selections, fail to paint as realistically as I'd like, or misjudge the contrast between light and shadow. Under those circumstances I'll let a painting sit for a week or so and if I can't resolve the problem, I rip it off the work board and tear it up. Naturally that's always a bittersweet experience because I understand that I'm throwing away many hours of work. But with that break, I can allow myself to move on to the next project.

In conception, this image was supposed to be a cropped view of the main clock in the main hall of Grand Central Terminal. The very large flag, rendered in slight shadow, hangs on the wall behind the clock. Although happy with the backlit clock faces - numerals and hands painted with a Japanese ink and brush - I just wasn't satisfied with the brass sphere and its myriad shadows.

The painting has been on my board for weeks and I just haven't been able to move forward. Rather than tear it up, however, I carefully removed it and have set it aside for the future. Perhaps I'll come back to it and solve the dilemma. For now it will remain an unfinished object, a "UFO" in the terminology used by my wife and her knitting circle.

V8

There's been a lot of talk lately about disappearing car marques, including Pontiac, Saturn, and now Saab. If they are erased from the market it wouldn't be the first time a shakedown in the auto world has killed off venerable brands. Studebaker was one of the old manufacturing companies in the U.S., starting as a wagon maker in 1852. As World War II ended Studebaker seemed poised to be a leader in the auto sales race, preparing well in advance with new models and innovative designs. Indeed, one of their advertising slogans was "First by far with a post-war car." But the 1950s brought cut-throat competition in the industry as Ford and General Motors dominated sales. Numerous car companies failed during this period, including Nash, Hudson, Packard (which merged with Studebaker in 1954), and Crosley. Ironically, Studebaker was a victim of some of the same ills afflicting Detroit's "Big Three" today: high labor costs, high pension costs for retirees, quality control problems, and strong competition from other producers.

Studebaker Transtar pickup truck, V8 logo, rusting away in Vermont. Sennelier 9.5" x 4.5" landscape paper, 140 lb., watercolor, pen & ink.

"American Standard"

After considerable effort with the scanner and photoshop, I got this to a somewhat acceptable point vis-a-vis how closely it matches the painting itself. Although it's not usually a problem when working with darker, more vivid images, the scanner doesn't like the rough texture of the paper when there's little pigment. I kept getting tiny shadows on the paper - like the shadows of minuscule moon craters.

I realize this may not be the most picturesque subject. Nevertheless, it falls nicely into my "ordinary objects" theme and reflects a fascination with industrial design, whether we're observing toasters or urinals. And admit it: It is a rather iconic fixture in the design landscape. Scan search results from google or flickr and you'll be amazed at the number of urinal photos - and the myriad designs pictured - from all over the world.

Here I really wanted to present the urinal in an appealing fashion - clean, polished, standing like a trophy or an idol on an altar. No doubt one could derive numerous conclusions from a painting of a urinal, from the Freudian to the political. The title alone - "American Standard" - says a great deal, I think, beyond standing as a specific brand moniker. In the end, enjoying art is about drawing one's own conclusions, fitting an image into a personal paradigm of experiences and opinions.

(The boys were intrigued by this one as I worked on it last week and over the weekend. They raised their eyebrows and even giggled. That's no surprise since "bathroom humor" is a focal point for schoolboy humor. My wife actually liked it from the start. I teased the boys that I was going to scan it and have it printed on t-shirts for each of them. At first they reacted with, "You're kidding," but eventually concluded that a t-shirt with a urinal on the front might be sufficiently weird to be cool. Hmmmmm, it may happen.) 5" x 7", watercolor, pen & ink, Fabriano 140 lb. paper.

Victrola

In my previous (child-free) life I collected antiques and knick-knacks with a passion: art pottery, 19th-century pressed glass, world's fair memorabilia (1876, 1893, 1903, 1939), Cunard and White Star ocean liner items, late 19th and early 20th-century political memorabilia, sheet music, stereoscopes and cards, and hand-crank record players with 78 rpm disks. And that's really just the tip of the iceberg. My philosophy for purchasing items was always "Buy now, find a place for it later." Now much of that stuff sits in storage.

Among those boxes are several early mechanical record players, including a couple of really nice RCA Victor tabletop models that still produce beautiful sound. Indeed, I was always amazed at how good the sound could be in a machine using a needle that looked more like a nail than a "stylus" used on the few turntables still available. I may have had CD versions of Glenn Miller and the other "Big Band" classics that I favored, but preferred to play these gems in their original 78 rpm format. No batteries needed. No speakers, wires, or remote controls. With just a little elbow grease to crank them up (not too tightly or those old springs would pop!), one could add music to a picnic or other occasion in any setting.

I remember my first 78 was "TD's Boogie Woogie" by the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra. But I also had more serious fare, including Gershwin's "An American in Paris," in album format (when an album really was an album of several records). Although I may have initially worried about securing needles and other parts for misbehaving machines, I quickly discovered that there's a nice little cottage industry that specializes in cleaning and repairing Victrolas, including broken springs, the most common problem. (When my sons asked about this painting, I had a hard time explaining clearly what kind of contraption this might be. To them, record players are something of a puzzle. I'll have to pull a Victrola from storage and crank up the music!) 5" x 7", watercolor, brush & ink, pen & ink, on Fabriano 140 lb. paper.