Ken DeWaard Fine Art

 

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              Lighthouse - Plein Air Competition 2015 Jupiter FL

"Morning at Cortez" 12" x 16" Oil on Linen Panel - Not Exhibited - SOLD

"Happy Hour" 12" x 16" Oil on Linen Panel - Not Exhibited - SOLD

"Morning at the Beach" 12" x 16" Oil on Linen Panel - Not Exhibited - SOLD

"Chillin'" 9" x 12" Oil on Linen Panel - Not Exhibited

 

This poem below was written by my host after Robert Simone and I stayed with him.

Plein Air Affair

He stands before his easel where the linen board is fixed.
Upon his palette, brilliant colors waiting to be mixed.
A metal pot of turpenoid is dangling from a hook,
And a roll of paper towels is clutched within his elbowÕs crook.
His paint brush fidgets anxiously and twitches in his hand
To the beat heard through his earbuds by some island reggae band.
The sun breaks the horizon and illuminates his world,
With stripes of light and shadow like Old GloryÕs been unfurled.
His brush darts to his oils like a heron spearing fish,
Then he waives it in a circle with a jaunty kind of swish.
He first begins the outline of the scene he will portray,
As he stands there sweating bullets the remainder of the day.
While he lays out his darkest darks and then his lightest lights,
The mosquito horde descends and starts inflicting itchy bites.
So he fires up his Thermacell and slathers on some Deet,
Which he applies with gusto from his forehead to his feet.
He continues underpainting using energetic strokes
And is unaware he has attracted quite a crowd of folks,
Until they start in asking him a multitude of questions,
Critique his work, and offer him their uninformed suggestions.
He then applies the shapes and values of his composition;
The temperature of colors, adding depth to his rendition;
The illusion of perspective and of forms in third dimension,
Prompting his decisions and demanding his attention.
The sun beats down high overhead. He dons a broad brimmed hat
And adjusts his small umbrella but he never paused or sat.
He continues pushing paint around, a vast array of hues:
The cadmiums and pthalos, the yellows, reds, and blues.
Then finally, he finishes and thinks he got it right,
Portraying shapes and surfaces affected by the light.

The gallery is crowded as he peers across the hall
And spies his painting hanging in the light upon the wall.
Behold! Upon the label is a bright red dot applied.
He has sold it. Someone loves it. And his heart swells up with
pride.

Wally McCall
Jupiter, FL.

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