Rona Shahar: Art and the Girl: cranes

Friday, December 28, 2018

Some Light on the Matter

Oil on canvas, 55x70 cm, 2017

A few weeks ago I changed all the lights in my (rented) apartment. It used to be an office (lawyers), and then I moved in and the office moved out, but not entirely: there was an office ceiling with neon lights and not-so-pretty panels. On top of it, those neon lights strated to flicker and I had to remove most of them. There was simply not enough light.
Until recently, that is.
This is then and now:

As you can see, this is enough to work with. Enough of waking up in the morning and finding out that I did something terrible with the colors last night. ---

Crane, oil and scratching on panel, 38 cm, 2018

The light playing its special effects in the world around me usually stops me in my tracks. A dark corridor permeated by soft afternoon light can bring me to tears, as was the case with the abandoned villa in Italy in the image on top of the post. I found out that the way I treat light in my painting is typical, full of feeling and awe.

In the work right above, I used the effect of light of the full moon with cloudy skies to enhance a dramatic feeling.

Forest, oil on canvas, 81x170 cm, 2013

Nature creates a rich light performance with foliage. Below some other examples.

Khayat Orchard, oil on canvas, 25x25 cm, 2016

Yard in Pennsylvania, markers on paper, 17x25 cm, 2017

Here, I used negative forms and turned the darkness into light by painfully scratching away paint.

Horsemen of the Apocalypse, oil and scratching on plywood, 53x73 cm, 2018

Khayat Orchard and Cat of the Imagination, oil and scratching on panel, 37 cm, 2018

Artificial light makes weird colors at night.

The Gate, oil on canvas, 50x70 cm, 2017

Interiors have a softened quality, indirect light usually coming from the side. It's very sunny outside.

Eyal, watercolor, 28x20 cm, 2018

I started painting this crane in bright daylight and somehow these negative forms emerged.

Crane, watercolor, 27x16 cm, 2018

Drenched in blinding mediterranean summer sun:

On the Balcony, markers on paper, 28x22 cm, 2018

Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Dances with Cranes

"Work in Progress"
oil on canvas, about 72x133 cm

Summertime, and the living is unbearable. Thinking about the guys out there on the scaffolding, building homes for the more fortunate, helmets covering heads sweating away melting under the naked sun.
I have been a member of various groups monitoring safety at construction sites, and as much as the fight is taken seriously, nothing yet has changed in the statistics. People die building homes for us. People die unnecessarily, out of negligence, carelessness or sheer cold decisions to cut expenses right there.
For my part, I hate building taking place nearby; the pleasure of the outside is gone; it's dirty, hard to breathe, noisy all day and when the work is done (Twenty-two floors on top of three commercial ones), will probably block my winter light in the morning-noon, which is all the light I have in winter.
But hey, progress, cities, urban renewal and the like. I'm not against all that.
I found out the building site was actually a treasure den for interesting subjects to paint. The colors, blue-turquosie sky and yellow-orange cranes, bright red railings and yellow vests, sometimes a green arm of yet another crane, blue vertical lines of ladders. Celebration. And the human element - people doing physical work, they seem so elegant, young and full of energy, united in their coordinated movement to create a rich, complex modern dance.
Then, I read a book that had a description of cranes in it. Not this kind of cranes, the real thing. And guess what, cranes are noisy, and they dance as well. And after their job is done they all migrate - a huge group of them, darkening the skies, hundreds of thousands of free birds keep going and going until they find a place to settle, winter or summer, same routine for thousands of years. Are we lucky to be people? Why do we threaten nature so much? How come the summers now are so much hotter than in my childhood?
Cranes do not need to be saved, but most of nature does. And people.