[After a short break, I’m resuming my art memoir here on Substack. I am about 3/4s through. The chapters continue where I left off, with some slight revisions.]
239 Calm Day Palm, 2008, oil on panel, 12×9”.
240 101 Ocean Avenue, 2009, pastel, 18×24”.
Ocean Avenue
I was pedaling my bike up a small hill on a narrow, beat-up asphalt road—this was LA, and I didn’t own a car. The sky was clear, cerulean blue, and the bright California sun shimmered through eucalyptus leaves, casting dappled light on me, the green hedges that lined the way, and the red-tiled roofs above them. The breeze carried scented swirls of salty, refreshing Pacific Ocean mist and the arid, musky smell of eucalyptus.
At the top of the hill, the road opened up to a proper boulevard, Santa Monica’s Ocean Avenue. And on the right, with a 101 address, was a magnificent white, modern cement-and-glass lobby, divided by the blues of the sky and the ocean. The building had a one-story profile, but it was, in fact, an apartment high-rise. Instead of rising from street level, it descended about ten stories, hugging the cliff face and stopping just above the Pacific Coast Highway that ran along the beach.
241 Palm in Red, 2009, oil on panel, 12×16”.
I was riding my bike from Nancy Frey’s compound at the bottom of the hill, where I was living, and heading to my art studio-gallery a mile away on Colorado Boulevard, the same street that runs into the Santa Monica Pier. Along the way, I passed a golden apartment building, and I always enjoyed seeing the palm tree’s shadow cast on the front of the building (Palm in Red). As I continued on, my thoughts turned to the lesson I was about to give to Chan Luu, the famous international designer who was studying with me privately.
Beach Life
When I first arrived back in Southern California, I had a place to stay but no studio. My first priority was to set up a studio and gallery, a search and remodeling process that took about six months. The lease was expensive, but I could make it work. In the meantime, I took my art practice outside to the beach. Sand, sea, sky, and palms, along with rickety wood structures and umbrellas, were not only familiar to me but were in my blood growing up as a beach boy. It felt like I had arrived home.
242 Lifeguard Station (Malibu), 2008, pastel, 18×12”.
243 Lifeguard Station (Venice Beach), 2008, oil on panel, 9×12”.
244 Windbreaker, 2008, oil on panel, 9×12”.
245 Red Umbrella, 2008, oil on panel, 9×12”.
246 Palm Path, 2009, oil on panel, 12×9”.
247 Palm in Wind, 2009, pastel, 24×18”.
248 Santa Monica Street Lamp, 2009, pastel, 24×18”.
Staying at Nancy’s
249 Denouement on location at Nancy Frey’s home, interior design by Andrew Obermeyer.
Nancy Frey’s house was a casual two-story wood beach house, likely from the 1970s, one block from the ocean, close enough that you could hear the crashing of the waves. A huge rubber tree grew around the second-story balcony that served as an outdoor dining room and gave the childlike feeling of being in a tree fort.
About two decades earlier, in 1990, Denouement returned to my possession. I then freely and temporarily loaned the painting to a chic Italian restaurant in Laguna Beach that my close friend, architectural designer Rob Mechielsen, had designed and remodeled. He created a spectacular placement for the painting, prominently visible to everyone passing the restaurant, and it was the only artwork in the restaurant. Rob had also designed the house and setting for the painting’s first owners. One memorable evening at the restaurant’s bar, while I was sitting with the owner, a customer complained about the painting. “A painting like that should not be in a family restaurant!” she whined. The owner looked at her, paused for a moment, and then calmly said, “You are welcome to eat somewhere else if you don’t like it.” God bless Italians!
Nancy was familiar with the painting and its story. After having eaten a wonderful dinner there with a centered view of the painting, Nancy expressed interest in acquiring Denouement. We agreed on the terms, and then a few weeks later we rented a truck, drove to Laguna Beach from Santa Monica, and relocated the painting to her place. After she acquired the work, my former art student and architect Andrew Obermeyer designed her living room around the painting, making it the third time a space was custom-designed around Denouement.
A Few Plein Airs At and Around Nancy’s
250 Rubber Tree, 2008, oil on panel, 9×12”.
251 Andrew’s Wall at Nancy’s, 2010, oil on panel, 9×12”.
252 Beach Towel, 2008, oil on panel, 12×9”.
253 Andrew’s Gate at Nancy’s, 2010, oil on panel, 9×12”.
254 Round Back at Nancy’s, 2008, oil on panel, 9×12”.
Within minutes of her house were a few iconic Santa Monica architectural landmarks, idyllic beach houses, and a house by Richard Neutra directly across the street, all of which I drew.
255 Neutra House Across the Street, 2009, pastel, 12×18”.
256 Beach House on Pilings, 2010, pastel, 18×24”.
257 Beach House Around the Corner, 2010, pastel, 18×24”.
258 101 Ocean Avenue, 2009, pastel, 18×24”.
259 201 Ocean Avenue, 2009, pastel, 18×24”.
I especially enjoyed drawing the last two nocturnal pastels that were done just a couple of blocks away. I set up my French easel and used my portfolio folder as a drawing board, with the pastel paper clipped to it and my box of pastels precariously balanced on the easel’s tray. I drew standing under the light of a street lamp, with the advantage that the lamplight and the lobby lights were consistent, unlike the rotating sun. I lost track of time on each pastel, easily spending more than three hours on each one, calmly working until they were resolved.
Then I packed up my pastel kit, draped it over my shoulders, and got back on my bike. I pedaled till I got to the hill above Nancy’s and remembered the fresh salt smell of the cold breeze as I coasted down the hill with a tremendous feeling of nailing the pastels, a sense of freedom, and thinking that this was what the art life is about.
From this period, I had created several alla prima works that would make for a very good exhibition.
Michael Newberry 