This is the better half of my collection of books on drawing and painting. If anyone is interested, I recommend all of them. Among those presented, the most useful is alla prima, then Solomon, the rest are hard to rank.

This is the better half of my collection of books on drawing and painting. If anyone is interested, I recommend all of them. Among those presented, the most useful is alla prima, then Solomon, the rest are hard to rank.

Artist Nancy Guzik is the wife of Richard Schmid, whose book Alla Prima II I am almost finished reading (50 pages left, I can’t read it any slower, it’s so great!). And she is also on the cover of this book. Her paintings adhere to the standards set by her husband. That’s actually how they met each other 🙂 However, when you seek out her works, Richard’s legacy tends to eclipse everything. Richard passed away three years ago, and she is mostly recognized for preserving his memory and promoting his books. Her artwork frequently graces the pages of the book, as she does in Richard’s paintings, and it’s quite evident, thus I must mention her among my favorite artists. She has created several paintings, all from life, all stunning. In the comments, I will post a brief video by Nancy herself discussing a painting featuring four children and a book.
I remind you that similar posts can be found under the tag #artrauflikes, and at beinginamerica.com in the “Art Rauf Likes” section, where all 98 posts (unlike Facebook, which forgets (ignores) almost half of them) are available.











I once shared how convenient it is to cook soup with a pressure cooker — ten minutes to chop potatoes, carrots, and onions, throw in the meat, add water, press the button and it’s ready in an hour.
I pulled out the slow cooker from the garage — cooking with it is even simpler (and the food turns out very, very delicious). Just throw meat and potatoes into an empty pot. Ideally, of course, wash them first. And that’s it. Press the button and after a few hours, you get very tasty, very tender meat with real baked potatoes. Just today, I slightly overdid it (seven hours, of which four were on high, which is admittedly too much). Still very tasty, but it could have been a tad better, something for next time. Ribs, in particular, turn out great only this way. They are fatty and need to be cooked long.





I take out my camera twice a year when I travel away from my home sweet home. For this trip, I also purchased a flash and a lens. Probably, the cafes in Prague are used to tourists hopping around artifacts with cameras. Well, at least, I’ll shoot dozens of references for future oil paintings.
(“Living Nature” will follow later, I’ll need to sort through tons of photos)

It turned out that Prague was bombed at the end of World War II by mistake. Just a glitch. There was a rounding error in the navigation or something of the sort. 62 B17 aircraft, each loaded with sixteen 500-pound bombs, got lost over Prague. More than 50 tons of explosives were dropped on the populated areas of Prague. The explosions covered Radlice, Vyšehrad, ZlĂchov, Charles Square, Nusle, Vinohrady, Vršovice, and Pankrác. 701 people died, 1,184 were injured, and 11,000 Praguers suddenly found themselves without a roof over their heads. The raid did not damage factories or military strategic targets. War is like that, chaotic.

I noticed in the museum that earlier artists for some reason had trouble with drawing cats. There were constant blunders with the anatomy. With dogs, things were more or less okay, swans and other game they painted very accurately (well, because you can spread it out on the table for a whole day), but a cat, obviously, won’t stay still on a table for long, and it seems they drew them “from imagination.” And their imagination, it seems, was based on medieval depictions of cats, where there was complete chaos — cats were portrayed almost with human faces, with eyebrows and expressions.
At the same time, there were some really good examples from the 19th century — for instance, google the cats by Henriëtte Ronner-Knip.
Boselli Felice, Nature Morte avec chat, chien, et deux garçonnets
George Catlin, Le Chat d’Ostende (1868)
Abraham Mignon, The Overturned Bouquet (1660–79)







I’m reading about the general plan of Manhattan. The history of it is quite fascinating. When Europeans first settled in Manhattan, they built houses haphazardly. Back then, it was the Dutch who called the place “New Amsterdam.” After gaining independence, the USA saw a massive influx of migrants, and there was a pressing need to expand the city rapidly. Ultimately, in 1806, the authorities formed a commission of three people (Morris, Rutherfurd, De Witt) and gave them four years to devise a city plan. It was decided beforehand that any plan they came up with would be final. This commission did literally nothing for three out of the four years. Then, they started to make a move, meeting a few months before the deadline for key decisions. And they came up with a grid (see picture). In English, this is called a gridiron. They nowhere explained why they specifically chose a grid design. Probably because the deadline was just a few months away.
It’s interesting how the plan was then implemented. To transpose the grid onto the ground, nearly 1600 markers were installed — primarily square marble “monuments” with street numbers, located at every intersection. Where rocks prevented the use of marble markers, the rocks were blasted away, iron bolts were inserted, and encased in molten lead. In total, they set up 1549 marble markers and 98 iron bolts to delineate the grid pattern. Landowners who disagreed with the city cutting through their fields would dig everything up.
The famous Central Park, as it turned out, came about 70 years later, in 1876. On the map, you see The Parade—located further to the south—but the idea was originally to not build on this site, using it as an open space designated for military drills and as a rally point in case the city was invaded. At that time, they thought this Grand Parade could become the city’s “central park,” but over time the area gradually reduced, until what now remains is the current Madison Square Park. Just like that, it shrank from 97 hectares to 2.8 hectares. Optimized. At least Central Park eventually came into existence (341 hectares).
Broadway merged several streets that historically went against the grid (Bloomingdale and others).

An intriguing contemporary artist from Italy is Ivan Pili (born in 1976), who excels in hyperrealism. Personally, I am not a big fan of hyperrealism, particularly when it fails to offer anything novel beyond traditional photography (For instance, William Harnett in the 19th century did something alike, but, as they say, feel the difference. I need to write about him tomorrow). Nevertheless, among the numerous hyperrealists, the works of Ivan Pili distinguish themselves with a unique ambiance. Thus, let’s warmly welcome him to our circle #artrauflikes. Under this hashtag, you might find the other 84 posts about fascinating artists, but since Facebook can be inefficient, you might also want to check beinginamerica.com where they are all collected in the Art Rauf Likes section.








A fine photograph (colorization mine). Marilyn Monroe gazes at her husband Arthur Miller, who has grown cold towards her and is harboring plans for divorce. Miller looks at Yves Montand, a star of European cinema at the time, whose friendship flattered him. Yves Montand looks at Marilyn Monroe, already smitten with her, on the brink of an affair. Yves Montand’s wife, Simone Signoret, watches her husband — she wouldn’t have been a great actress if she couldn’t show warmth convincingly and with dignity in this situation. All in all, it’s complicated.
Taken by Bruce Davidson (1960), during the filming of Let’s Make Love, Beverly Hills Hotel

An intriguing artist, Terry Miura (born in 1964), originated from Japan and relocated to New York, where he pursued his education and furthered his artistic journey.
As I gaze upon his paintings, I am reminded of Richard Schmid’s assertion in his current book that nature contains no definitive lines. Thus, when translating visuals onto canvas, line-oriented thinking may prove counterproductive, even obstructive. It’s more useful to consider swathes of color. Another compelling concept he mentioned is prioritizing the observed over the known; should a conflict arise, depict what you see, for painting the known risks portraying an absence instead of presence—a fascinating notion indeed.
This perspective harks back to the ethos of earlier painters (and some of their modern counterparts): viewing objects more as people and items within a context than as visual constructs shaped by light necessitates painting based on known attributes—what other references could they rely on? Understandably, the more these early artists knew about their subjects, the more adept their renderings. Thus, depicting what was expected involved extensive study and memorization due to the sheer expanse of subjects. Naturally, this led to specialization: one might focus on animals, another on architecture, and a third on portraiture.
Even today, such artists (including many contemporaries) are often easily recognized as much for their thematic focus as for their stylistic and period distinctions.
I find this methodology compelling. It’s not novel, and Richard Schmid articulates it effectively. This becomes particularly evident when attempting to paint a modern car seen from a few meters away. It appears straightforward: four wheels, some curves. Yet, each car’s curves are unique, lacking clear rationale, and knowing the ‘anatomy’ of a Toyota RAV4 offers little aid in depicting, for example, a Chevrolet Corvette. Furthermore, proximity amplifies these curves’ perceptual distortions, potentially overwhelming the mind. It proves simpler to bypass sketching and commence with color patches and shapes, refining them subsequently.
Clearly, Terry Miura shares this perceptual framework. For him, there are no figures clad in red or white dresses; there are only patches. Compositionally effective and balanced patches are all that need to be accurately placed—and misplaced where not needed.
Note that related posts are consolidated under the hashtag #artrauflikes, and the “Art Rauf Likes” section on beinginamerica.com lists all 79 (unlike Facebook, which omits nearly half).










