A few years ago I published a post on here about Elmer Schooley, a New Mexico artist who became closely affiliated with the Roswell Artist-in-Residence program. He's best known for his large-scale, abstracted landscapes collectively known as the Wilderness series, but before he got into painting in earnest he was a printmaker. We have quite a few of his prints in our collection, including this one, Beethoven Sonaten:
I don't talk about it here all that much, but I'm a member of the Roswell Flute Ensemble, and have been playing the flute since I was a kid. The portable stand with music as portrayed in Beethoven Sonaten is a very familiar sight in my home, and I've long appreciated Schooley's treatment of the subject. This is what music looks like in the home. It's a very special thing, but it's also another part of the house, of everyday life. Even the dog in front of the heater underscores the domestic nature of Schooley's rendering.
Last night then, as I was winding down for the evening, I couldn't help but notice the compositional parallels between Schooley's lithograph and the way my own music stand had been set up. Grabbing my sketchbook, I moved the stand in front of a wall hanging to add a sense of color and suggest the shape of the heater in the print, and drew this:
These two interpretations may have been made almost sixty years apart, but they are bound by a love of music; all I need is Gustave sleeping on the floor. This music this time around is a collection of six duets by Berbiguier.
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| Elmer Schooley. Beethoven Sonaten, 1960, black and white lithograph on paper. Image courtesy of RMAC. |
I don't talk about it here all that much, but I'm a member of the Roswell Flute Ensemble, and have been playing the flute since I was a kid. The portable stand with music as portrayed in Beethoven Sonaten is a very familiar sight in my home, and I've long appreciated Schooley's treatment of the subject. This is what music looks like in the home. It's a very special thing, but it's also another part of the house, of everyday life. Even the dog in front of the heater underscores the domestic nature of Schooley's rendering.
Last night then, as I was winding down for the evening, I couldn't help but notice the compositional parallels between Schooley's lithograph and the way my own music stand had been set up. Grabbing my sketchbook, I moved the stand in front of a wall hanging to add a sense of color and suggest the shape of the heater in the print, and drew this:
These two interpretations may have been made almost sixty years apart, but they are bound by a love of music; all I need is Gustave sleeping on the floor. This music this time around is a collection of six duets by Berbiguier.
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