On the Motif: Castres Rooftops
The first of a series of writings on experiences from motifs, and discussions into what a motif really is.
The situations that lead one to a painting motif are not always intentional…
Sometimes the painter sets out to a particular vista to focus on a certain relationship; a mountain to a tree, the sea to the sky. The painter may arrange a still life. Other times a model sits for a portrait. But often times you stumble on a motif completely by accident. There is a moment when something strikes and causes you to pause and look harder. It is the sensory catalyst that will lead to extensive visual study.
For one particular motif of mine the literal catalyst was the need for a breather after trying to speak and understand french for three days at a family member’s house. I decided to mount the step-latter from the second floor apartment to the rooftop balcony that overlooks a small town in southwest France. I had seen the view before, but on this late afternoon as I killed time I begin to notice it.
It was a sea of red roofs leading towards a church tower. Curving behind was a wall of emerald green trees lining the main avenue. This was a precipice to a vast plain of farmland sloping downward toward the curl of a distant violet mountain ridge. It was in a haze melding with the sky. Directly before me was a dark and narrow canyon with a street at the bottom. The opposite cliff wall was a corroding building slightly lower than my elevation with pigeons fluttering in and out. Rats skittered along the roof tiles on a mission to steal the birds’ heavily guarded eggs. A black cat on an adjacent roof stood guard. It was an urban ecosystem. Muffled voices of street-goers below occasionally echoed upward along with the purr of cars on the ring road.
Castres, Evening 2 - Oil on Canvas - 16x20"
There was much more activity in the old town surrounding me relative to the miles of agricultural wilderness beyond. Yet it was somehow balanced, a harmony. And all of this was illuminated by a particular evening light causing the shadows to deepen. Nature’s solidity began to dissolve into a low density atmosphere, and everything was moving just a little bit. I had seen all this before, but I had not yet noticed it.
A cityscape like this with all its angles and intricacies I may have dismissed before as too overwhelming to paint, but all of a sudden it presented itself as accessible. The many elements, all its separate parts, merged together into one world. The church tower would be my pole and everything would lead both toward and away from it. And that is where I started.
Castres, Twilight - Oil on Canvas - 16x20"
There was not more much direction than that. What I was painting I did not yet know (and really still do not), but something from that roof moved me and this is the indication of a new motif. There were harmonies out there and I knew through painting I would discover more.
I did two sunrises and two sunsets and each painting said something different. I returned a year later to this rooftop. I did not bring my paints because I assumed that this would no longer take me the way it did. As I stood up there for five minutes I realized I was wrong and regretted coming unprepared. There is still much to learn. Soon I will return to look deeper into that mysterious motif.
