The Flyers playoff run of 2010 was two wins short of one of the greatest in all professional hockey. Danny Briere continued to find the net and create incredible chemistry on the ice. This painting is inspired by one of his goal celebrations during a 30-point surge in 23 playoff games.
Process and thoughts…
A quick sketch of his iconic uppercut to gauge the space.
Had the pose, but had no idea how the rest of the canvas would develop. Discovery is a large part of my process.
The only way to find out where you are going is to get there. Reacting to the painting as it develops.
After filling most of the canvas with orange, white, and blue a little black to set the figure.
Some times you have to go backwards to go forwards. Hey Danny, sorry for engulfing your head in fire.
The sound and reaction of something hot hitting water and it instantly turning to steam is similar to that of 20,000 fans on their feet.
A quick rectangle to help me ground the figure in the atomosphere. I was thinking about the reproduced image. We use them to remember things. Collective and individual memory is cultivated from videos and photographs. Rectangular media.
Time to get rid the blue except for the ice and a little bit in the glass.
Get Flyered up! Danny Briere lights the lamp. The red trim and the yellow dasher make an appearance.
Can you see any subliminal messages in the flames? There’s a Flyers symbol, and a “D”…
A Flyers symbol, his initials (D and B), and the number 48. His uppercut fracturing the lens of reality all around him.
Danny I don’t mind if you take it easy during the 2012 season, but unleash the beast come playoffs.
1 of 30 Danny Briere | 18 x 24 inches | graphite, acrylic, and oil on canvas | 2011 | Available
click for larger image
When the game is on the line, especially in the playoffs, Briere is a lethal weapon. He probably has the best tight game in the league, and very sneaky. Boom!
Next up…. Claude Giroux #28.
This painting is available for purchase. I am currently accepting a limited number of new commissions. If you are interested in a sports player/moment commission, or different type of commission contact me directly.
Recent Hockey Paintings
Chris Pronger | oil, acrylic, graphite on canvas | 12 x 12 inches | 2011
Jaromir Jagr | acrylic, oil, pen, collage, and cloth on canvas | 11 x 14 inches | 2011 | Ari Lankin
Immortal Captain | oil on canvas | 30 x 30 inches | 2011 | Ari Lankin
Lord Stanley's Castle | 30 x 30 inches | oil on canvas |2011 | Ari Lankin
Warm Autumn | 30 x 30 inches | oil on canvas | 2011
Click painting for larger image. If video is not working follow this YouTube link.
Questions? info@arilankin.com
Look up at that Bald Eagle. A symbolic bird with a majestic presence.
The client and I agreed that the soaring Bald Eagle is a feast for the eyes. The bird is still, with wings proudly outstretched, gliding through the air at speeds up to 45mph. Power and grace.
It reminded me of the eagles from my youth in Pennsylvania, to the predator birds on my cross-country trip of Argentina, and of course the Bald Eagles of my annual summer trips to Maine.
Let’s take a look at how this commission developed…
A loose graphite sketch exploring scale and placement. Similar to Gaughin’s methods of drawing outlines in blue pencil.
Building from the process in my CMYK paintings I start with magenta. Positive and negative space.
Coming in with Cyan (blue) to divide the space even more, and start to tease out details of the eagle.
CMYK: Y is for yellow.
And K, is for “key“, better known as black.
Filling the foreground to establish a horizon in the background.
A blend of black on the water to accentuate a feeling of flatness relative to the flying eagle.
Now that the coastline is cohesive the space is really starting to be defined. I’m exaggerating the highlights on the eagle to pop it forward.
Using one of my favorite blues to fill in the atmosphere of the sky.
Building the ocean up with more realistic colors, in the final version you can feel the warmth of the red underneath.
Right before its finished the sea darkens with texture, the mountains crystalize out-of-focus in the background, and the final details are added to the Bald Eagle.
Soaring Bald Eagle (for CZ) | oil, acrylic, and graphite on canvas | 14 x 18 inches | 2011
Click image for larger image.
The final painting is a realistic portrayal with a signature painterly handling of the paint.
If you are interested in a commission contact me directly info@arilankin.com
CMYK NYC is the culmination of an energy that was building inside of me for a few weeks. When I started this painting I was incredibly inspired to paint at this scale and ready to bridge together several ideas i’ve been working on.
CMYK NYC is in my painting exhibition at RL Fine Arts that is open until November 12th, 2011, in New York City.
For the process video I was lucky enough to work with multi-faceted grammy award winning artist Tony Black of Tony Black Productions & Orange Key. He wrote, performed, and produced “if i told you” – (The Ari Mix), while referencing the process video for inspiration. I feel this song intensifies the richness of the viewing experience by literally expressing a musical quality of the abstract painting. Because he did such an amazing job I am going to let the music and the video do most of the talking.
Lets take a look…
It starts with a white acrylic ground on cotton
I was working a lot with pink and black leading up to this painting, so I started with them.
Turning the organic more geometric.
Back to organic, perhaps utilitarian.
The entire space has been commented on and all of the colors are now present, CMYK.
Opening the space on the left, and closing it on the right.
It’s getting lighter in color and atmosphere.
Archetecture changes the way we live by altering our spatial awareness.
I was considering this state the final piece. It has the feeling of NYC, but it was too literal.
By altering landscape references, I change the feeling of gravity. The relationship of one form to another becomes more informative.
CMYK NYC | 48 x 60 inches | acrylic on canvas | 2011.
Click image for larger version.
You can see this painting right now at RL Fine Arts in Chelsea, see below for directions and images of the other works in the show.
Click here to preview the other paintings from my solo exhibition, “Windows of Self,” at RL Fine Arts Gallery until November 12th
Located in the heart of Flatiron/Chelsea:
RL Fine Arts
39 West 19 Street, Suite 612 (between 5 and 6 avenues)
New York NY 10011
tel: 212 645 6401
email:info@rlfinearts.com
gallery hours:
Tuesday to Saturday 11.00 to 6.30pm, Sunday 12.00 to 4.00pm
As most of you know by now I love the outdoors, and I love painting. This summer I was introduced to the amazing natural landscape of Montauk, the best beaches I’ve ever been to in New York. I didn’t get a chance to paint there during the summer, so I made sure to capture some early fall light on a beautiful warm sunny day in late October. I chose this composition because I liked the way the empty chair was lit just inside this entry way to a garden. The dominant tree in the landscape stands tall like a figure and peers over the fence at the chair. A narrative beckons.
Let me take you through the process…
Starting out with cyan, magenta, and yellow. This was inspired by my last major studio work called CMYK NYC, that is featured at my solo exhibition that is open in NYC at RL Fine Arts until November 12th.
Keeping the brush strokes very loose feeling out the composition and space.
Yellow and green give form to the ground as the blue fills the sky with volume.
The tree actually bends over the fence and stretches over the garden. I like to think it is peering into the garden.
Now I can really feel the depth in the foreground. In the open doorway a chair begins to appear. The two birdhouses on the fence posts are carved in negative space.
After adding the potted plants I have all of the elements in the landscape represented.
Now im adding dark colors to turn up the contrast in the painting. The air was crisp and the sun was warm.
The moss on the tree is an electric green. As the painting develops so does the growth of the tree.
Enjoying the man made elements playing off of the plant life. The juxtaposition of geometric forms to organic permutations.
I decided it was necessary to eliminate some trees in the background.
The Illuminated Chair, Montauk, NY | acrylic on canvas | 24 x 18 inches | 2011
Click the image for larger version.
The lit up chair is inviting the viewer to a wonderful place, the rest of the landscape frames the moment. Nature, man, and mystery.
See more landscape paintings here. If you would like to commission a location painting contact me info@arilankin.com.
While walking home from a summer BBQ at a friends house in the middle of the night I stopped with a friend in Madison Square Park to see this years public sculpture. I was taken aback when Jaume Plensa’s Echo appeared perfectly lit in the thick night sky. We walked around Echo while enjoying the quiet NYC summer night. The sculpture appeared to follow us as we walked around the park. It feels alive in this location. I am particularly drawn to the scale of the sculpture. It is equal to the height of the trees and stretches towards the sky. It is definitely worth seeing in person. It’s up until August 14th.
A few days later I returned to the park to paint a literal landscape with a realistic surreal twist. People who have seen the painting without knowing about the sculpture think it is one of my surreal paintings.
Here we go…
I got there early and was the first to enter the newly opened gated area. After some pacing back and forth I decided on this vantage point.
A rough acrylic sketch in some primary shades to feel out the composition.
Jumping into the painting with oils now. Some dark greens to fracture the space. It’s only oil from this point on.
Now that I am certain I’m sticking with this composition I start adding the trees.
Testing how putting blue in the sky activates the green. Although I’m painting from observation, it’s all about what is on the canvas.
Removing the pink from the sky by adding blue. Every mark of creation is a mark of destruction.
The light is starting to set in the west, so I remove some shadow from the left side of the face. At this point I took a quick bathroom break. On my way to the bathroom I had a strange feeling I recognized every other person on the street. On my way back I thought I recognized a high school classmate while crossing the street. I turned around and said her name. Sure enough it was her. I’ll say it a million times, New York is the smallest-biggest city you’ve ever seen.
Starting to lock in on how I want to place the shadows. While painting outdoors the light is continually changing.
After spending a lot of time on the trees I turn my focus to the buildings in the background. I love studying buildings when I paint. There are so many things to notice, especially as you stand in the same place and watch the light change.
An action shot by the talented Larry Closs. It was nice chatting with you Larry, and thanks for the great photo. Notice I have one headphone in. I listened to Outkast’s Aquemini most of the day on repeat.
Time to change the pace as I add lots of details. Literally carving out the building on the right side by scraping the paint off the canvas with my knife. I also gave the sculpture a facelift.
Adding the lines denoting the sectional construction of Echo. It was very sunny, so notice the reflection of the grass on the chin of the matte stone surface. Keep in mind that color is traveling all around us.
Madison Square Park and Plensa's Echo | 14 x 11 inches | oil and acrylic on canvas | 2011.
Fine details and some whispy clouds finish the painting off. Go see this sculpture for yourself and grab a bite to eat at Shake Shack. It was tough smelling those burgers all day.
This is the perfect time of the year for painting on location. I am currently available for commissions, so if you would like to commission a location painting or anything else contact me directly.
What an amazing public work of art, great work Jaume! Plensa exhibits internationally, and is represented by Galerie Lelong in New York and Richard Gray Gallery in Chicago.
A strong portrait possesses personality. The painter’s ability to create personality visually, and the painter’s own personality in the way the painting is built add crucial strength to a portrait.
This is a commissioned portrait of Chris Pronger, a professional ice hockey player. On the ice he is a gladiator with nerves of steel.
Enter the gateway into one of Pronger’s icy focused glares…
A sketch on the canvas with a 3B pencil. The 3B graphite is a little soft and oily. A loose line maps out the space of the canvas.
Some red washes get the painting juices flowing. Colors you can’t see in a painting are equally important to colors on the surface.
A wash of black carves out volume. A large presence on the ice, equals a full frame composition.
Now with a fully mixed palette I introduce color.
A blue background because he is a defenseman, referencing his dominating presence inside the blueline. That’s hockey talk. I was also thinking about the blue in the ice and how it visually activates the orange in his jersey.
Eliminating the details of the arena intensifies his focused look.
Chris Pronger | oil, acrylic, graphite on canvas | 12 x 12 inches | 2011
Five fans or 20,000 fans, all that matters to him is kicking ass. That’s how I feel when I am in the studio.
Perhaps the next Flyers captain? Regardless, he is a formidable presence on the Philadelphia Flyers and I hope he recuperates smoothly and has a successful season.
I am currently accepting a limited number of new commissions. If you are interested in a sports player/moment commission or anything else contact me directly.
Recent Hockey Paintings
Jaromir Jagr | acrylic, oil, pen, collage, and cloth on canvas | 11 x 14 inches | 2011 | Ari Lankin
Immortal Captain | oil on canvas | 30 x 30 inches | 2011 | Ari Lankin
Lord Stanley's Castle | 30 x 30 inches | oil on canvas |2011 | Ari Lankin
Remember the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico last year? It’s a distant thought, like most news gone by. Yet, it’s something we will never forget. With no decisive image how will we remember it?
First an account of the events according to Wikipedia: At 9:45 P.M. CDT on 20 April 2010, during the final phases of drilling the exploratory well at Macondo, a geyser of seawater erupted from the marine riser onto the rig, shooting 240 ft (73 m) into the air. This was soon followed by the eruption of a slushy combination of mud, methane gas, and water. The gas component of the slushy material quickly transitioned into a fully gaseous state and then ignited into a series of explosions and then a firestorm. An attempt was made to activate the blowout preventer, but it failed. The resultant oil spill continued until July 15 when it was temporarily closed by a cap. Relief wells were used to permanently seal the well, which was declared “effectively dead” on September 19, 2010.
I was watching the live feed of the oil cap while I was listening to music and painting. I became mesmerized how the cap hovered around the screen much like footage of the first moon landing. In the corner of my eye it looked like a combination of a fish tank and a fireplace. Eventually I started a new painting of what I was watching on the screen, the capping of Deepwater Horizon.
This is by far the coolest still life I have ever done. I would compare it to a reverse cubist experience. I studied the subject from thousands of angles created from a hovering point of view on a flat computer screen instead of representing observed reality from multiple points of view while flattening the image on the picture plane. That’s a lot of ideas for one sentence.
I’ll keep it short the rest of the way.
I was watching this live feed off of my computer screen taken by the Skandi Neptune support vessel. If you didn’t know what it was it may be very strange at first glance. After extended viewing it continues to look strange to me… space alien machine cartoon monster.
I was ready to rock right out of the gate because I had been painting all day. I liked how the subject was literally built by joining smaller pieces. I took a similar approach to building the imagery.
Most of the subject was constructed, but I hadn’t decided how to resolve the edges.
At times it felt like I was painting a still life on a table. In a way I was, a computer screen sitting on my desk. I eventuallty painted the edges black like the physical computer screen.
The red in the upper right was sea debris drifting around the frame. In the painter as director position I decided to paint it on the edge of the frame. Since it’s a static image we don’t know if it is entering or exiting the view.
The Capping of Deepwater Horizon | oil on canvas | 22 x 28 inches | 2010
History is a funny thing. Who decides what to remember, and how we remind? How does technology change the way we are delivered information and remember the past?
Click image for a larger photo.
Notice the texture of the paint and how the image was made by laying impasto strokes and scraping down to the gessoed canvas.
I’ve always had a strong interest in mathematics. Early in my career I made paintings that were derived from mathematical equations and were framed within the grid. Most notably Deja Vu I, and Deja Vu II.
When I started this painting I had those paintings in mind, but there was no mathematical theory behind the layout. This time I decided to go on gut intuition. I had no idea where this would lead me.
This is how it went….
I laid down a grid of five inch squares. I added the colors one at a time at first.
As the painting progressed I added more than one color at a time. This is how the painting looked after finishing filling the squares with color. Keeping it loose, it’s ok to paint outside the lines.
I wasn’t feeling how the colors were interacting so I decided to cover some of the squares with white. The layers of white are intentionally translucent so the color shows through.
Something was missing… black.
Back to my roots of black and white. At the same time notice how the colors radiate under the white squares. Look again, the pattern is not symmetrical.
Now that the color is muted, nine circles activate the linear grid.
Exploring the new spaces created by the circle outlines.
Now the circles are completely integrated with the grid. At this point I’m starting to read the painting as a meditative symbol.
Time to add color, it stirs the soul in ways black and white can not.
The importance of the integrity of the grid fades as I explore the meditative feeling.
At this point I’m literally painting myself into a state of unconsciousness.
Almost all recognition of the outer circles are gone.
The image felt like it was missing something. I started to get stuck in parts, so I brought back the circles.
The structure was complete. I felt there was a deep unity and at the same time paths of expansion. To finish the painting I refined the circles, clarified the points that kiss the edges, and further developed the lines.
Mandala | acrylic and oil on canvas | 30 x 30 inches | 2011
Click image for larger size.
The final image will hopefully enable the viewer a visual path to a meditative experience.
This is the second painting I did after the biblical flu that had me sidelined with a fever for 9 days. Between tripping out on a fever, lucid fever induced dreams, over twenty movies including the whole Twin Peaks series, and not being able to paint I was so ready for this painting to pour out of me.
As usual with my abstract work, I dive in without any preconceived image…
A big yellow amorphous shape, why not?
I kept it very loose and tried to surprise myself. Some strong lines to counteract the organic yellow shape.
New colors and shapes seem to have individualized spirits.
Two strips along the top and the bottom, allude to analog film. This was influenced by watching so many movies and my experience with photography/film. Aesthetically it holds the diverse forms from spilling out of the top and bottom of the canvas.
A canvas is a window to another world. Add light and the image dances. The individual forms start to gather together and a large central form develops.
At this point I’m exploring the organic forms and fleshy feeling. This is balanced by the architectural feeling of the crisp horizontal strips on the top and bottom of the canvas. The self, the brain, and our instantaneous digital connection to the rest of the world….oops, I was just thinking out loud.
There was a lot of destroying and rebuilding while making this painting. I had to take things away to see if they were needed. When I rebuilt them I already had a knowledge of the purpose they served. Also what was was missing in their absence. 
The lower forms are now shining through the strip on the bottom of the canvas. Some people wish their life is a movie. If you ask me, everyone’s life is a movie. Some people turn their projector light up brighter than others.
View With A Room | oil on canvas | 30 x 40 inches | 2011
