Donald Martiny

Donald Martiny

Donald Martiny’s earliest memory of being mesmerized by paint comes from kindergarten, when he lived in Schenectady, NY, and had “a teacher who was really stingy about art supplies,” he recalls. “She would give us only two jars of poster paint, and I remember being...
My Mother, My Self

My Mother, My Self

Lessons and inspiration from an artist mom By Patricia Moss-Vreeland In all my years of training as an artist, both at the University of the Arts and Tyler School of Art, I can recall many gifted and inspiring teachers, but none gave me quite so solid a sense of...
The Woman Who Lives Inside Bonnard’s World

The Woman Who Lives Inside Bonnard’s World

When painter Leslie Parke was a small child, she would head downstairs early in the morning and open one of her parents’ art books, squatting on the floor and pressing her face into the color reproductions of Fifty Centuries of Art. Her goal was not so much to study...
First Love and Irresistible Impulses

First Love and Irresistible Impulses

First Love and Irresistible Impulses Or the man who licked the Vermeer My first boyfriend, in college, always smelled of Ivory soap. It was a clean, innocent scent, like baby powder or shampoo, and therefore perhaps appropriate for young love. For years after we broke...
On the Shoulders of Giants

On the Shoulders of Giants

On the Shoulders of Giants By Annie Shaver-Crandell   “If I have seen further (than you and Descartes) it is by standing upon the shoulders of Giants.” Sir Isaac Newton, in a letter to Robert HookeI feel somewhat this way about being a painter after...