Edward Matthew Hale is one of those 19th Century artists about whom it’s not easy to find information, but whose few available images hint at a terrific body of work.

Hale studied in Paris with Alexander Cabanel, whose students included Pierre Auguste Cot and Jules Bastien Lepage; and then with Emile Auguste Carolus-Duran, noted as the teacher of John Singer Sargent.

Considered primarily a genre painter, his subjects leaned to mythology and the sea, as well as military subjects from his time as a war correspondent for the Illustrated London News.

The resources I can find are limited, and some (but not all) tend to repeat the same paintings, but if anyone knows of sources for additional images by Hale, let me know and I’ll post them.

With snow still on the ground throughout most of the Mid-Atlantic United States, and more on the way, I thought it appropriate to look at an American artist renowned for his scenes of snow and winter.

Edward Willis Redfield was one of the major figures among the artists who gathered in an artists colony in and around New Hope, Pennsylvania in the late 19th Century. Generally called the Pennsylvania Impressionists, this group included a number of artists who had absorbed some influence from the French Impressionists, but, like most painters called “American Impressionists”, took that influence and went their own individualistic way. (See my posts on Daniel Garber, Fern Coppedge and Art and the River.)

Redfield is often credited with co-founding the colony along with William Lathrop. Actually Lathrop was the driving force in establishing the colony, but Redfield, who was first to move to the area, was the star and seed around which the colony formed.

Born in Bridgeville, Delaware, Redfield studied with at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts with Thomas Anshutz, James Kelly and Thomas Hovendon. Anshutz and Kelly were carrying on the traditions of their teacher, Thomas Eakins, who had left the school shortly before Redfield arrived.

While at the Academy, Redfield struck up a friendship with Robert Henri that was to continue through the artist’s lifetimes.

After his time at the Academy, Redfield went to Paris with the intention of studying portraiture at the Académe Julian and the École des Beaux-Arts. At the latter, he studied with William Bouguereau and other classically trained painters. On his time off, however, he joined Henri and other young artists who were engaged in the newly popular practice of painting “en plein air“, and was exposed to the work of the young Impressionist painters.

Redfield frequented the Musée du Luxembourg in Paris, fascinated with the work of Monet, Pissarro, and Norwegian painter Frits Thaulow. Redfield became increasingly interested in the effects of light on snow, and had his first snow scene accepted in the Paris Salon of 1891.

On his return to the U.S., Redfield and his French bride settled in Center Bridge, Pennsylvania, on the Delaware River near New Hope.

Redfield took to painting the Pennsylvania landscape with bravura and abandon. His paintings are three dimensional marvels of spattered, heaped and piled on paint; with ridges and gullies in place of more genteel brushstrokes. It’s hard to see how remarkably tactile his canvasses are in reproduction. There is a zoomable image of Overlooking the Valley (image above, middle, with detail, bottom) on the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s site that gives you a hint, but only a hint.

By all accounts, Redfield was just as physical in the act of painting, often forgetting to eat his lunch as he blazed through large canvases in one sitting. Redfield painted in all kinds of weather; not only in the cold in search of his famous snow scenes, but in wind, strapping his canvas to a tree where easels would be blown away.

He was a harsh critic of his own work, on more than one occasion burning canvasses he thought were not up to his standards.

Redfield was the most recognized and awarded of the new Hope painters, garnering more awards than any American painter except John Singer Sargent, and his work is in a number of major museums including the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

There is an in-print collection of his work, Just Values and Fine Seeing (Google Books extract here), and you can find many fine examples in Brian Peterson’s excellent book Pennsylvania Impressionism.

Old master drawings are a challenge for conservators. Fragile and damaged over time simply by exposure to light, drawings cannot be placed on permanent display, or even frequent display. Every period of exposure to light must be considered, in effect, a time subtracted from the life of the drawing.

Also, drawings, even those by great masters, receive less notice and attention than paintings, and for both reasons are less frequently the subject of mounted exhibitions.

So when collections or parts of collections of master drawings are exhibited, it’s worthy of notice.

The Morgan Library and Museum in New York, which I have written about previously, and mentioned in my recent post on their cuerrent exhibit, The Hours of Catherine of Cleves, is home to a great collection of master drawings.

They have drawn form it, if you’ll excuse the expression, an exhibition focused on a particular place and time. Rome After Raphael displays over 80 drawings, most of them from the Morgan’s own collection, that take Raphael’s work as a watershed moment (not an uncommon thought, see my posts on the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood of 19th Century), and follow developments in drawing in the 100 years following.

Tough nothing quite compares with seeing master drawings in person (I think drawings suffer even more in reproduction than paintings), the Morgan has provided an extensive selection of drawings from the show. These are zoomable, and the zooming feature is supplemented with a terrific “Full Screen” option that allows you to view them without the constraining frame of many zooming features (look for it at the bottom right of the zooming controls).

There is also an online feature that walks through a discussion of several of the drawings and goes into more detail on some of the artists, their relationship to each other and their place in time.

Raphael was one of history’s greatest draftsmen, and is, of course, represented, along with another, Michelangelo (see my post on Michelangelo’s drawings).

Many well known and lesser known artists working in Rome during that period are also represented by drawings of a variety of subjects — allegorical, architectural and religious, like Parmigianino’s drawing after Michelangelo’s Pieta (above top); and even landscape studies, like Annibale Carracci’s wonderful pen and brown ink sketch of a riverside tree (above, bottom).

Rome After Raphael is on display through May 9, 2010.

Christine Lafuente studied at Byn Mawr College, The Barnes Foundation and the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts; and is continuing her study at Brooklyn College in New York.

Lafuente blurs the line between representational and non representational painting, and moves further over it than I am usually inclined to follow; but her use of color and value, and the way she treats her brush strokes as textural elements and objects in themselves, captured my attention.

She works with splashes of color, their borders often indistinct, dissolving but never quite losing the underlying form. There is sometimes a feeling that the paintings are in motion. Wonderful smudges and swipes of paint coalesce to suggest objects, dissolve again into the background and recombine as another object.

Lafuente currently has a solo show the Gross McCleaf Gallery here in Philadelphia that runs until February 24th, 2010. I can’t find a dedicated web presence for her, but I’ve added some other links below.

California artist Johathan Bernard Koch studied painting at the Rhode Island School of Design. Since then, he has apparently has had a successful career as an illustrator, with clients like The Atlantic Monthly, GQ, The Washington Post, The Chicago Tribune and Rodale Books, and has been honored by the Society of Illustrators New York; but I can’t find an online portfolio of his illustration work.

What is available online, however, is Koch’s painting blog, A Small Painting. Crediting Duane Keiser, Julian Merrow-Smith and Justin Clayton with inspiring him to start, Koch posts his small paintings (and sometimes larger ones) of still life subjects and landscapes, and offers them for sale.

Unlike most painter/bloggers, Koch does not sell his paintings through auction, or even list their price on the blog, asking instead that interested parties contact him for information.

There is a page of Available Work, but it is a small fraction of the posted images. There is also an Archive page in which you can browse thumbnails, but I recommend browsing leisurely through the posted works by clicking on the left arrow, or simply clicking on the images of the paintings, to view them full size as you go.

Much of the appeal of Koch’s work is in his deft handling of texture, contrasts of rough and smooth and delicate shimmers of restrained color.

He has a more rendered style than most painters who frequently post small paintings, and he obviously posts when a painting is ready and not on a pre-determined schedule (note the absence of a frequency in the name of his blog).

His still life paintings are composed against textural or dark backgrounds, and have a feeling of Dutch master still life. Koch has a wonderful command of soft and “lost and found” edges.

Despite the fact that he often renders more smoothly than many contemporary still life painters, much of Koch’s work consists of suggestion; he hints at where the curve of an onion or the edge of a glass jar might end against a dark background, and lets your eye fill in the rest.

His landscapes likewise have a feeling of soft edges, soft light, controlled color and gentle atmospherics, frequently evoking stillness and contemplation.

In the hands of 16th Century masters like Bronzino, drawings were rarely considered artworks in themselves, but studies in preparation of more finished works like paintings or frescoes. They were a means to an end, a step in the process. Yet, drawings from those times are valued now as highly beautiful works of art in themselves, and rightly so.

Agnolo Bronzino was born Agnolo di Cosimo di Mariano Tori, and known as Il Bronzino for reasons that are unclear but may have had to do with his complexion, or that of his subjects. He had the good fortune to become a pupil of another great Florentine artist, Jacopo Pontormo, who was only nine years older then his pupil. Their styles are similar in may ways; they maintained a collaborative relationship for most of their careers, and attributions of works sometimes flop back and forth.

Bronzino’s drawings show that similarity at times, and a similar level of command of draftsmanship, line and tone; which is to say, very high indeed. (I also see similarities to the chalk drawings of Raphael in his isolated figures.)

The Metropolitan Museum of Art has mounted an exhibit, the first ever devoted to Bronzino, The Drawings of Bronzino, that contains 60 drawings drawn from sources in the U.S. and Europe. There is a selection of drawings from the exhibit here.

There is a book accompanying the exhibit, also titled The Drawings of Bronzino. The exhibit runs until April 18. 2010.

llustrator and painter Rob Rey is originally from Chicago, studied at the Rhode Island School of Design, and now lives and works in Providence, Rhode Island.

His illustrations have been recognized The Society of Illustrators Los Angeles, CMYK Magazine, Applied Arts and Arista.

His web site has a gallery of his illustration, which has a nice painterly feel with dramatically theatrical staging and use of lighting (images above, top).

What I found most appealing, though, were the “in-your-face” portraits in his “Painting” section, with their bold compositions, big textural brushstrokes and dramatic color. I also found many of those elements in his richly textured still life paintings engagingly lit cityscapes.

Rey also has a blog on which he posts additional paintings and nicely rendered cafe sketches.

Dutch artist Anton Pieck was, among other things, a painter in oil and watercolor, a printmaker in etching, engraving, lithography and woodcarving; a comics artist and an illustrator of calendars, travel books, textbooks and classics like 1001 Arabian Nights (image above, bottom).

He was also a drawing teacher at Kennemer Lyceum in Bloemendaal until he retired in 1960. Pieck was born in 1895, when the “Golden Age” of illustration was in full force. One can only assume that he was exposed to the work of the great illustrators of the time, like Arthur Rackham, Edmund Dulac, Kay Neilsen, John Bauer, and in particular, Gustave Tenngren (also here and here).

Pieck’s more popular work has a wonderful visual charm, crafted from fine detail, deft control of color and atmospheric perspective, and fascinating compositions. His illustrations for 1001 Arabian Nights are marvels of book illustration in the classic Golden Age style, vibrant with adventure, moody and evocative in their rendering, and ripe with the sublime enticement of distant lands and exotic cultures.

[Via One1more2time3's Weblog]

California plein air painter Ray Roberts paints bright, open and airy California landscapes.

His influences seem to run to pioneering California Impressionists like Hanson Puthuff and to a lesser extent, Granville Redmond. This is particularly evident in the atmospheric qualities of his work; colors, though vibrant, are often softened in contrast, and their intensity muted in service of atmosphere.

Instead of painting brilliant sunlight reflecting from brightly lit subjects, Robert seems more concerned with light as a presence, filling the space between you and the subject.

His galleries are divided into Landscape, in which the atmospheric qualities are most apparent; Seascape, in which contrasts are more evident; and Figurative work, which is larger in size and presumably done in the studio rather than en plein air.

Don’t miss the Archives of additional work from each category.

Roberts is married to California painter Peggi Kroll-Roberts, who shares a fascination with light and shadow, often in the brilliant sunlight of beach scenes. Both artists conduct workshops, and the shared sections of their site include influences and recommended books.

[Via William Wray (see my post on William Wray)]

I’ve profiled Boston based painter Jeffrey Hayes before (also here and here).

After being an early adopter of the painting a day regimen, Hayes realized that his inclinations required more time, even when painting on an intimate scale. Today he follows that direction, painting small, carefully composed and rendered still life paintings, with an eye to the influence of the Dutch still life painters of the 17th Century.

Hayes frequently utilizes a shadow box, for which he gives basic building instructions here, to compose his directly lit still life subjects in strong contrast.

If you look through his blog, or use the topics links for subjects like “In Progress” or “In the Studio” you will find additional posts about his process and techniques and insightful comments on the the work of a painter, as well as images of works in progress.

Hayes also maintains an archive of another blog that he is no longer updating, Watching Paint Dry. In addition, he has a YouTube channel with video demonstrations of his painting process.

Hayes posts paintings that are for sale, with links to purchase information. I still find it disconcerting that clicking on the images themselves takes you directly to the eBay page for the piece rather than a larger image directly on the blog, but it seems to serve well enough. In addition to a larger single image of the work, the eBay pages sometimes have one or more detail images from the painting.

There is also a link on his blog to Available Work, that also leads directly to an eBay page.

I’ve had the pleasure of watching Hayes develop and evolve as a painter over the time since I first encountered his work; his subjects becoming richer with multiple colors, surfaces taking on greater subtlety and character of texture, and the effects of light emerging as a driving force in his approach.

I’m particularly fond of the way he handles reflective metallic surfaces and transparent glassware, with hints of iridescent color delineating edges and bouncing from one surface to another.

(Image above: “Silver, Pottery, Glass”, original post here)