Discussions with Mark Norseth

Aloha, and thanks for visiting my blog. I’m a painter living and working on the island of Oahu, Hawai’i. Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, I moved to New York City for over a decade to pursue an in-depth study of painting, supporting myself as a freelancer. I’ve been what people like to call a full-time painter for a dozen years, but it seems like about four.

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs, ask what makes you come alive, and then go do that. Because what the world needs are people who have come alive.” — Howard Thurman

I’ve started this blog to keep people up to date on what’s going on with my work, share experiences and ideas, and dream aloud a bit.  More…

– Mark Norseth

Today, Monday,  kicked off with winter weather that changed dramatically about every twenty minutes.  Since my friend Roger and I had already determined to paint something this morning, we set up in the local beach park and I dashed  out the beginnings of this little piece, about 4 x 5″.

Long filbert brushes and three part medium, a combination I haven’t used in years. It felt very good to paint solely for personal satisfaction and let the hour go where it may. It’s as good a start to a very busy week as any I can imagine, and though this painting is not much in itself, it does reflect recent inner rumblings I’ve noticed about doing some pieces that are more in the line of  personal, painterly notes. Subjects of little grandeur or consequence that matter only to myself.  I might give it a little studio work on a rainy day from memory…

A very quick post…the winds have died down, and I was able to work for almost 2.5 hours developing the painting this morning.  The conditions were near perfection, everything was dazzling.  I worked on the foliage in the trees, which are gorgeous this time of day.  Cerulean and Cad Lemon with a touch of Cad  Orange or Indian Red seemed to hit the mark.  Everything else was moving like crazy, and it was intoxicating.  The lavender greys in the shadows are beginning to develop as I lock on to the colors, and the shapes they create with the light are gorgeous.

Thought I’d post something from last night’s class at the Honolulu Academy School, where I’m happily teaching figure work two nights a week.  Great group of people, and the activity is the perfect counter to all of the outdoor work I do, chiefly because I do need  to return to a stationary subject and focus on all that drawing and painting the figure requires me to focus on.

This is the first three hours of six I have to devote to the drawing. So far, this drawing reflects getting things into place, I’ll be slowly refining and simplifying from here on out.

While I’m not necessarily an big advocate of red chalk, I have somehow acquired a good supply, including some from Zecchi’s in Florence that my friend Mike Curry brought back from Italy for me years ago.  So, I’m experimenting with using it these days along with red Conte and some other things.  Like so many other things brought into our time from the past, it never seems to quite satisfy my ambitions. Of course, it’s not the materials that create this disparity I sense, it’s myself, and us. It’s the time and the place we are in. Our times and how we view life are different. We’re not  in that world, and  we’re infinitely better off in the one world we have today than the one Pontormo  and Annabale Carracci  ( two great red chalk men) worked in.  But there is a magic to their drawings, a sympathy and  intention that I simply admire and always will.

Quick posting here.

I was out  just after sunup with major winds and overcast conditions.  The canvas was bouncing around like crazy, which only added to the pleasure I took in spending about two more hours carving away at this.  Kept me from getting fussy on the second day.

I should be using my old Anderson easel, but the half-box is (unbelievably) holding it’s own just fine. Wore me out, fighting the wind for that long. The sunlight arrived, giving me a chance to study the greens more closely, along with everything else. I love paint without a medium…it’s harder work, but it’s a solid underpinning, no glare or stickiness.  Big bristle brushes, a Raphael size 22 was one I noticed I used a lot. I want an exciting, developed surface quality, and the canvas seems perfect for what I’m intending.

One newish thing ( it seems new but I’ve been doing it a couple years) is the mixing of all my greens from blues, reds, and yellows.   I think the one and only place outdoors where I still use Viridian is in the ocean.

Just back from tilting at my windmills this morning at Kailua beach, and it was unbelievably good.

The 22 x 28″ canvas managed to stay planted on the French easel, perhaps not the  optimum choice for such a windy morning.  But I’d scouted a protected position when I did the pencil sketches, and was pretty confident that I’d be okay.

There’s nothing like a lay-in that goes well. It’s like that great date with your spouse- to-be, where you foresee all the great things that are going to happen, and everything seems fresh and clear and possible.  Painterly optimism can soar in this first stage, as it did for me this morning.

The setup was perfect because I like to lay-in a significant painting on an overcast day. Everything is reduced to midtones and nicely flattened, and since lay-in time can be one of the longest of my recurring sessions, an overcast day is good. And I got what I wanted, a cool morning with a smart breeze. After getting in the major preliminary tones, the sun broke through.  Everything lit up, the proverbial scales fell from my eyes, and I could see the path before me, much as I’d  experienced when I selected this spot a week ago. Shadows intensified, colors emerged, people began milling about in the trees in brightly colored beachwear as if they’d risen out of the sand.

untitled,  oil on linen  22 x 28″

So, this is now a complete go, and I look forward to tackling it.  I have great hopes, but also enough experience to recognize that in the hours and days to come, that optimism will be tested by disappointments and shortcomings yet to be revealed.

I’ll probably reach a point of  disillusionment where I’ll ask ” What did I see in this place? What am I after?”  (That’s what the pencil sketch helps with).  I’m already skittish about the centrality of those canoes in the painting, but my hope is that, since they aren’t the central subject but merely an incidental shape-part of the whole, I can be forgiven.  In order to get the tree mass on the left where I needed it, something had to give.

I’m hopeful!