bemusing musings of a bewildered brush-wielder

david leffel

I am up late tonight, tired, but I couldn’t go to sleep without writing down my thoughts.

Margaret and I, along with our friend Fred, went into the Master’s Show at the Salmagundi Club in New York City.  Masters Show is an exhibition by a hand selected group of artists from all over the country, many of whom are the top in their area of painting.  There are some really nice paintings in this show.

I’m amazed, every day, at the fact that I get to paint for a living.  And yet, there is that struggle that comes with being young, and making your way in the world.  By using the word “struggle” I don’t mean “hard times” necessarily, and I’m not alluding to finances or politics.  I’m talking about the uncertainty, the way in which life sometimes requires moving forward, even when there doesn’t really seem to be a path.  Standing in booths on sidewalks in the rain, brushing rainwater off of canvases that have been labored over for weeks.  Commissions that fall through.  Paintings that I store behind the couch, perchance they might sell one day.  I don’t allow myself to dwell too long on these things, I just have to dwell on the many good things that are occurring- the commissions that have happened, the paintings that have sold.  I think about the man who came out to my tent in the middle of a rainstorm, and purchased a painting with a smile and a warm conversation.  But as I wandered the Salmagundi Master’s Show, I was self conscious of the fact that my dress shirt was also my painting shirt, and that I had yellow ochre oil paint running the length of the bottom of my shirt.  This stained shirt somehow was a symbol to me of the struggle, and it made me feel like an outsider at this event.  I felt a bit like the mutt that wandered into the Westminster Kennel Club.

A good friend of mine, Fred, joined me as we walked around the room and looked at the paintings.  And then, a small painting grabbed me from the other side of the room- a beautiful, modest painting of a pink azalea in a blue chinaware vase.  It was so beautiful because it was so unpretentious.  It was vibrant, but quiet.  And it’s size was captivating- just the size of a postcard.  The background was a deep, vibrant brownish black, with a brilliant light emanating from the petals.  But, it was not sappy- it was understated and calm.  Just beautiful.  Eventually, my eyes wandered over to the name tag as I wondered who had painted it- it was David Leffel.  For those who don’t know his work, he is one of the big names in the art world.  For years, I’ve had the deepest admiration for his work.  I turned around to see that my friend Fred was speaking to David, and I was called over to say hello.

David was kindspoken, warm, and interested in what I had to say.  Margaret joined us, with Evan, and we all talked for a long time.  He described his years in New York City, his current life in New Mexico, his paintings.  But he never bragged.  He was even self deprecating.  He asked me where I exhibited my work- wryly, I replied “The prestigious venue of a tent on a sidewalk in the middle of this city.”  He smiled and said “Me too.  For two and a half years.  Same show, in a booth.  It was fun, it was hard, but I got my name out.  You have to keep going, that’s the thing.”  He went on to say that he had gotten his beginnings slowly, agonizingly slowly.  He smiled warmly, and encouraged me to continue.  “It’s what I had to do.  It’s what we all have to do.”  He signed a copy of his book with a thoughtful encouragement to me.  I was so greatful for his transparency, he could have acted proud and detached, but instead he was sincere and honest about his life.  That’s probably why I’ve enjoyed his paintings so much.

Afterwards, I read the first couple pages of David’s book.  His story begins with such a struggle- the struggle of trying to figure out what to do in life, the struggle to learn to paint.  He tells stories of innumerable rejections from galleries, grants, fellowships, etc.  He tells stories of traveling to Montreal, Canada for a hoped-for interview for a fellowship, being stuck in the streets, paintings in hand- all in subzero weather.  Every studio he had, in those days, was broken into and robbed, once while he was in the studio.  And he writes “Through these early years of learning, questioning, and paying attention to everything, I discovered that this is the essence of life.  External circumstances one makes of them what one will, but learning and paying attention, beauty is what living is.”

Returning to my friend Fred’s home around the corner, he played a Chopin Mazurka for us.  It was hauntingly beautiful, Chopin seemed to be contemplating the same thoughts that I contemplated tonight.  Watching Fred identify with this music, and pull the tune out of his Steinway, I suddenly understood, almost in an epiphany, the common human struggle.  Who was I to think that, tonight, I was the only one struggling in that room of people?  Each of us are unsure, each of us are so limited, and we plod along and pull pieces together slowly, steadily.  But in time we gain clarity, we gain understanding, and as we pull all of this together, out of this searching we find the art in living, a beauty in struggling.

David Leffel, Self Portrait

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11 responses

  1. Jason

    The things you write in this blog illustrates why you are one of my all time favorite people. Come back to Florence.

    May 26, 2010 at 9:42 pm

    • Man oh man, I wanna come back next spring. I gotta ramble. I’ve been missing Florence a lot lately. Any chance of you coming back to New York for a spell?

      June 7, 2010 at 3:57 pm

  2. Want to find a way to study with David Leffel.

    December 30, 2010 at 7:04 am

  3. laura.hagihara@gmail.com

    I was looking for info on David Leffel (“Oil Painting Secrets from a Master” has become a reference book for me), and happened upon your blog entry. This is exactly what I needed today. I took it as an honest, well-articulated reminder to summon the energy to keep up the struggle and feed your own lust. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

    March 29, 2011 at 6:12 am

  4. Becky

    David Leffel’s work seems to reveal my own soul. I hope to reveal it so eloquently myself one day. I just happened upon your blog. Once again the universe proclaims, ” Don’t despise small beginnings.”

    March 29, 2011 at 7:31 pm

  5. I have been wanting to take classes with you for a while now..the last one at LAAFA was filled so quickly. Can you let me know when yo will be teaching again in Los Angeles?
    Thanks, Nancy

    May 28, 2011 at 2:46 pm

    • Ummm, thank you, i’m flattered. But, I’ve never been to L.A….

      May 30, 2011 at 6:19 am

  6. IT IS NOW MAY 28 2011 wHEN SHALL YOU BE TEACHING AGAIN IN LOS ANGELES? EAGER TO TAKE CLASS WITH YOU VERY!

    May 28, 2011 at 2:47 pm

  7. I have been a big admirer of David Leffel all my life. Even as a teenager I was mesperized and captivated by his work. I happened to stumble upon your blog and read your entry. I can deffinitely relate. I am an art student and the struggles are many despite my love for my work. It makes me happy despite the rain.

    October 13, 2011 at 3:57 pm

  8. When I first saw one of his paintings I wasn’t so impressed because all I had in mind about art was the concept of making artworks as realistics as possible, and make them look like a picture, but after my curiosity took me further into his style of painting and the beautiful world of abstract realism I started to notice the beauty in its complexity and regard the concept of seeing each brushstroke as a natural meaingfull descriptive characterisitc of a whole, which in consolidation is what complements a monumental painting.

    January 2, 2012 at 12:48 pm

  9. I believe our whole life should be a struggle of searching for direction, knowlege, faith, …art, music, prose and poetry are the means many of us use on that search. All of this, and the way we serve define who we are.

    January 10, 2013 at 2:04 am

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