by
Pamela L.
Member since:
September 25, 2006
Honoring My Art Teacher
September 18, 2007 11:35 AM EDT
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comments: 16
I am a person who enjoys learning things. Well, that is not always true. We all know that the learning process can be challenging. And I can be a real jerk when concepts and supporting data do not line up nicely and neatly in my brain. But I do respect the learning process. And I have profound respect for people who devote their lives to teaching. I have had the great fortune to have quite a few excellent teachers in my corner. I could write volumes of praise about all of them and I would not be stretching the truth. In the academic arena it would be difficult to highlight one great teacher over the others because my path of learning has been paved with the talented support of many special teachers. But I would like to contribute an article to this writing challenge of a special teacher and there is one person who takes the art of teaching into phenomenal realms. There has been one teacher who did not just change my life, she actually gave me life. I was born with a talent for art. I discovered this talent quite by accident when I started school. I went through childhood and teen years drawing up a storm. But in expressing myself artistically, I existed in an isolated environment. It wasn’t a case of ‘I was the best or worst artist I knew’, I was the only artist I knew. That all changed when I got to college. Suddenly there was a whole department devoted to art and hundreds of students who did exactly what I did, only much better. I could perform in this arena but I didn’t really belong. Either I was too different or not different enough. My work was too conservative. My vision not bold enough. Modern, impressionistic, loss-of-image painting was the style of the day; my style and concepts were old fuddy-duddy realism. I limped through my university art program, got my degree, and was no better off for it. I accepted this as my lot in life. But my mother did not. Now the story gets interesting. My mother is a force to be reckoned with. Polly will move heaven and earth to help her daughters. And God help the daughter who dares to defy her or rejects some idea Polly has cooked up. I remember the day Polly told me that she had found an art teacher for me. I didn’t know she was looking. I didn’t know that I needed one. Polly said she had made a special novena to St. Teresa (okay, its a Catholic thing, just roll your eyes and go along with it) to find me a teacher. And then she saw an article in the local paper about a woman who teaches art. She TOLD me I was going next Wednesday. (I just rolled my eyes and went along with it.) I will never forget that first meeting. Ruby Rizzo was the best thing that every happened to me, art-wise. She was a saint with a paintbrush in her hand. She looked like Debbie Reynolds but with strawberry blonde hair. She was charming, energetic, talented, and magic. Her students were of all ages and all talent levels. I came to her empty-handed and un-taught. I was a lump of clay ready for Ruby’s genius. She immediately went to work on me. Ruby taught out of her home. Her studio was crammed full of easels, all kinds of other junk piled up to the ceiling, and other students. She sat me down at the only empty easel, provided me with an empty sheet of paper, a pencil, a photo of a rose, and instructed me to draw it. “Take your time, you have the whole lesson.” Then she went on to the next student. Funny, what I remember most was that the pencil had no eraser left to it and the point was very dull, not sharp. I don’t know why but suddenly that mattered to me. So I got down to the business of reproducing that image. I was busy working and didn’t say much. Ruby was busy teaching and didn’t say much. But she somehow knew when I was finished. She gave my drawing a quick once-over, reached deep into the pile of stuff that was in every corner of the studio, and pulled out a clean canvas board. Not a stretched canvas but a canvas board. “Now draw it on this canvas board. Plan it in your mind. Fill up the whole space.” And she left me alone. Other students got minute, detailed instructions. I thought differently at the time but Ruby was not testing me. I realized later that she saw something of my skills in that first quick drawing. I learned that she would always be there for me if I called her but she would also let me be on my own as much as possible. In that session I drew the basis for my first painting. It was the start of a lifelong passion. It was the start of this part of my life.  Gate to the Past One of Ruby Rizzo's many successrul prints, If I convey nothing else to you, I hope I successfully impart the concept that Ruby taught nothing less than the full awakening of the senses. I have no problem with teachers giving an understanding of English grammar and spelling. I remember teachers (trying, at least) giving me the skills and understanding of math and science. But how do you teach the skills and ability to see something, to absorb every nuance of something, and then transfer that information to a flat surface? How do you translate the connections between eye, mind, and hand, to be able to place little daubs of color on a surface and reproduce an image, not just with accuracy but with beauty. With no disrespect to the highly trained and skilled experts who teach the blind to see beyond their handicap or who teach the hearing impaired to speak, that freedom and accomplishment is exactly how I felt when I finally learned how to use my gift of art. Ruby did this, for me and for all of her students. Ruby taught the Old Masters technique of painting. This involves creating highly detailed images through layers and layers of paint and medium. It is an almost impossibly rigorous method. There is no wiggle-room for sloppy techniques. The complexities for this method and style are endless. Believe it or not, the subject matter is not important. The same principles apply to every image you create. Assuming your style is always realism, and it always is, there are certain concepts that must be considered throughout the life of any painting. - Light. Very important. Identify your light source and be true to it.
- Atmosphere. Things cannot be as crisp and clear in the background as they are in the foreground.
- Paint placement. Start painting at the top of your canvas and work down. There are many reasons for this, not least of which is the fact that your hand will not smear wet paint at the base of the canvas.
- Every object is three-dimensional, even something as flat as paper or as fluid as water. Every object has depth, shadow, and highlight. If you get this one concept, you can paint anything.
- And the most difficult technique to master: mixing your own colors. I have spent years learning how to see color and then learning how to mix it. I am still learning.
There are a lot more concepts and techniques to learn in the Old Masters style but those are the big ones. We were allowed only 6-7 colors or tubes of paint. A special tube of white. No black. Every color that went on our canvas had to be pre-mixed. This accomplished a few things. You conducted an intimate study of your planned image before you started. You got a second study of your image as you drew it; all compositions must be carefully planned and meticulously drawn before you lay brush to canvas. As I said, it is quite a process. I could devote endless pages to the incredible teaching skills of Ruby Rizzo. Basically, she was a godsend. She created an environment that was welcoming and conducive to the chore at hand. She always had classical music playing softly in the background. From her postage stamp sized kitchen, she kept a coffee pot perking at all times (not today’s modern drip, an old-fashioned percolator pot). Since I do not drink coffee, it was common for Ruby to pour me a small glass of port or whatever other wine she had open. And her apricot colored teacup poodle freely visited all students for a cuddle, especially from the children. You knew you were there to paint but this was a home away from home; you wanted to be there. Ruby taught her students how to see, how to observe. She taught the skill of color mixing, significantly different from any artistic talent we might have. This skill has taken years to develop; I am still learning. Sometimes “mixing my palette” took 2-3 lesson periods, depending on the painting. Under special color-corrective lighting, Ruby’s students trained their eyes to see and mix colors, and never rely on the countless pre-mixed tubes of paint that she promised would look flat and fake on the canvas. An important lesson all students had to accomplish was to believe that you can paint anything. So many students professed the fear that “I can’t paint hands,” “I can’t paint water,” “I can’t paint animal fur,” etc. Ruby’s hypothesis was simple. “You are painting on a flat, two-dimensional canvas. All images are executed in exactly the same way. With your paint brush, you are laying color next to color. It is how you place your colors that creates the illusion of an image or object. If you mix the right colors, carefully observe the object, and correctly apply color to canvas, what you paint will not matter. You can paint anything.” As I said, simple theory, often incredibly difficult to accomplish. So for the rest of my life, I have been learning to observe. This is distinctly different from paying attention or noticing something or just seeing. The whole world could go by and I would never notice, if I was engrossed in the study of a ladybug. That is probably why artists have the reputation of being empty-headed. It is true that we are in our own little world. But we go there so that we can bring the world to you. True to Ruby’s word, all of these Old Masters principles and techniques applied to every painting challenge. An extremely difficult “seeing” lesson for me was glass. Ruby’s infinite patience was sorely tested as I had repeated melt-downs in trying to see what was so obvious to her. Never raising her voice or being anything but patient and pleasant, Ruby would put her head right next to mine. We would both stare at the set-up of wine bottles and drinking glasses. Over and over she would point out what I should be seeing as I looked at, through, and into glass. I could see the distortion that the empty drinking glass made to the objects behind it. But Ruby kept telling me that glass, even clear glass, had color in it. Refraction of light, etc. It is amazing that for the longest time you see nothing and then, all of a sudden, you see it. It’s as brilliant as it is subtle. After so many years, I can’t see an ordinary drinking glass that I don’t look for, and see, the almost non-existent glints of pale color. Thank you Ruby. There have been many other paintings over the years. Some sold at shows, most commissioned. My favorite subject to paint is portraits. I was amazed at the blues, greens, and purples that are essential parts of skin tones. Oddly, this is also the most troublesome of genres. I love painting people, especially faces. But when I paint the faces of live people, it is like looking in a mirror for the first time for so many people. When I am commissioned for a portrait, I do not require my subjects to ‘sit’ for the painting. Instead, I demand that they produce their favorite photo of themselves. I work from this and faithfully reproduce it. Even so, people almost never see themselves with realistic eyes. I can’t tell you how many times I have had people, women and men, so upset because they were unaware of double chins, they just knew their eyes were not that close together, there was no way they were that fat. It’s funny, sad, and frustrating for all involved. But I still like painting faces. 
River Rock One of my early paintings under Ruby's tutelage. I will never be a rich and famous artist. My results are impressive, but I paint too slowly. I am no longer surprised that people don’t want to wait several months for their commissioned paintings. Also, I am the victim of a modern distraction. Although I still paint occasional canvases of things that interest me, I have been romanced by the ease and speed of digital photography. So even I do not want to wait for my paintings. But I know this is my gift. I know it needs loving maintenance. So I will continue to paint the occasional canvas. I will always be deeply grateful for this special gift. And I am profoundly grateful that God sent me to Ruby Rizzo to complete my gift.
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Comments: 16
I see the text came out in a great big font again. I can't seem to control that. And even though I triple spaced between paragraphs, I see that the Gather publishing format has AGAIN deleted all of my returns. Drat!!!!!
But I am most concerned about the photos. Gather's new format now adds photos to articles in a very tiny size. I tried to enlarge them and I sort of ruined them, especially the first image, which is a very good print from Ruby Rizzo.
I will go back and publish this print under my images. Please take a look if you want to see it un-blurred.
I just don't think the publishing format should be this difficult. This is very discouraging.
I have had the unfortunate experience of having my work rejected by one group or another. These are always moderated groups. I try to join groups that blatently request people to post anything and everything. But this criteria changes if the group gets too many postings or the moderator changes his/her mind. It is not a pleasant experience to have your work rejected.
I belong to a lot of groups but I have found that it is "safer" to post to just a few.
But thanks for your suggestion. Maybe if I weren't such a coward ...........
An amazing thing about Ruby that I couldn't fit into the article is that she has a most wonderful marketing and business sense. She has done what very few artists can do. She is a widow and has raised her familly entirely on the profits from her art.
Many of us get the chance to meet "magic" people. A few of us even get the chance to realize it.
Teresa, thank you for that wonderful compliment. I don't see myself as a good writer, not yet. Reading your kind words will make me try even harder.
I don't know why people have problems with paragraph breaks, but you can put tags in the HTML to show the beginning and end of paragraphs. I am putting spaces between characters here so that gather doesn't think these are real tags, but you should eliminate the spaces when you type these into the HTML.
At the beginning of a paragraph, put < p > (no spaces).
At the end of a paragraph, put < / p > (no spaces).
And by the way, this was an awesome article about a remarkable teacher! Keep writing!