The temptation is there, of course, when attempting to describe Jacek Yerka’s fantastical and dreamlike paintings, to use the term “surreal”. I will persist, though, in my cranky insistence on reserving that term to refer to a specific group of artists, and the devotion to images derived from the unconscious that was their manifesto.

So I’ll use “magic realism” to refer to Yerka’s visions of doorways to other worlds, disorienting juxtapositions of scale, brain-tickling suggestions of relationships between the seemingly unrelated, and clever manipulation of perspective, proportion and other visual cues.

I wrote about Jacek Yerka back in 2006. Since then, he has acquired a domain name, yerkaland.com, and handed maintenance of his site over to others, and the site has been revised and updated. My other post still has relevant links to books and other galleries.

Unfortunately, I think the new site is a bit more scattered in the presentation of images than the old one. You will find several pages (links at the bottom) of images in the Giclee gallery as well as in the How do I create my paintings page, as well as in the My worlds and Art for sale sections. The Art for sale section has the largest reproductions.

There is also now a Jacek Yerka gallery on beinArt Surreal Art Collective, and I came across a nice article with images on Dark Roasted Blend.

First, a little bit of Wikipedia-style disambiguation. Since I’m likely to write here about either topic, I’ll point out that this article is about the gallery artist named Doug Braithwaite, as opposed to the comic book artist that some readers might associate the name.

Doug Braithwaite is a painter who works primarily en plein air, or on studio works that are based on plein air studies. His subject matter comes from his surrounding Utah countryside, mountains or town scenes.

He says in his artist’s statement: “I often worry that it will be hard to continue to be a landscape painter in a place where you have lived and worked all your life. But I have found that what used to seem a limited resource is, in fact, quite limitless. The more I paint, the more options for paintings are opened up.”

Braithwaite approaches his subjects with a fresh, painterly style that comes from the brevity of notation necessary for successful plein air painting.

“Painterly” is a term frequently used to describe paintings in which brush strokes or the surface of the paint itself are a visible characteristic of the image. Though it’s not always easy to tell because the images of his paintings are not reproduced as large on the web as they might be, Braithwaite seems to have the ability to capture many of the major shapes or “color notes” in his paintings with single brushstrokes.

It might be a fence post, a tree trunk, the side of a distant house or the plane of a face of rock, Braithwaite captures it with a quick confidence that leaves the impression that the painting was executed without hesitation or doubt.

His color notes are so accurate that the images can at times appear “photographic”, but I think that is again a limitation of the size at which they’re reproduced, and closer examination gives a suggestion of their geometric lattice of visible brush strokes.

In keeping with the geometry of his strokes, Braithwaite’s compositions have a strong underlying geometry as well. In this regard, viewing the even smaller versions of the thumbnail images lets you see the large, bold shapes of color areas that form the foundation of his paintings.

[Suggestion courtesy of Karin Jurick, (see my post on Karin Jurick)]

Active in the mid-15th Century, Cosmé Tura (AKA Cosimo Tura, AKA Cosimo di Domenico di Bonaventura) was an Italian painter of the early Renaissance.

Tura was born in Ferrara, in north-central Italy, on the road between Venice and Florence. Though not as commonly mentioned as the other major centers of the Renaissance, Ferrara was home at one time or another to such notable artists as Andrea Mantegna, Giovanni Bellini, Pisanello and Titian.

Of them, Tura was certainly possessed of one of the most unique visions and styles of painting. His figures are cut with precise edges into high relief, glowing with with bold, high-chroma colors, intensified by the use of adjacent compliments (e.g. greens and reds), and are frequently set within wildly stylized architectural elements and deep, sometimes forced, perspective.

Plus the guy was just downright weird at times. I mean check out those copper “dolphins” adorning he throne of our muse above; where did those come from?

The painting above (large version here), was painted around 1460 and has been alternately called “Spring”, “The Muse”, “Erato”, and “Calliope”. (Often the original titles of old master paintings, if indeed they had titles, are lost to us; and scholars and collectors provide their own names over the years.)

The original is currently in the National Gallery in London, which has an image (unfortunately watermarked) with a zoom feature.

This piece was probably part of a richly decorated room, no longer in existence, created for the d’Este family; which is assumed to have had several paintings of these “muses”. Tura also did murals and other works with mythological and secular themes, as well as religious works including a painting of the Annunciation, complete with nesting doves and an attendant squirrel, on the organ doors for the Duomo.

There are some books available about Tura and his milieu, like Cosme Tura: The Life and Art of a Painter in Estense Ferrara by Joseph Manca and Cosme Tura of Ferrara: Style, Politics, and the Renaissance City, 1450-1495 by Stephen Campbell, though they are on the expensive side and I haven’t personally seen them.

Like many artists of his time, Tura painted in both egg tempera and the exciting new medium of oil paint, which had been introduced to Italy by northern painters like Rogier van der Weyden. In this case Tura has painted this work in oil over top of a previous, somewhat different image in tempera on the same wooden panel.

Some of his religious works are just as striking as this one. Look at his painting of the Madonna Enthroned, with it’s trompe l’oeil arch, wild architectural constructions, punched up colors and oddly languorous figures (larger but color shifted version here). Take a look at the intricately carved figures and weird details on the alcove/pedestal/throne or whatever it is behind the Madonna, including hanging grapes, winged lions, urns with faces and that bird-thing at the top with a human-looking head. Say what?