TOM WILLS PRODUCTIONS: No. 429, Hot 'n' Cool

Dig, if you will, kiddos. It's 1959 or '60. You are in a dark, smoke-choked and crowded room. The drinks are watered down. But you're watching titans blow each other, and those around you, away. John Coltrane and Miles Davis. 

Hot 'n' Cool by Tom Wills, watercolor, December 2018.

Originally No. 429 was going to be called “Birth of the Cool.” I liked the sound of it and, I thought, the history behind it.

Miles

But it turns out that this painting does not actually document the “Birth of the Cool.” That was Miles Davis’ thing, much earlier in 1949-50, and the title of a famous compilation album of those post-bebop “cool jazz” performances released in 1957.

'Trane

“I first met Miles Davis about 1947 and played a few jobs with him and Sonny Rollins at the Audubon Ballroom in Manhattan. During this period, he was coming into his own, and I could see him extending the boundaries of jazz even further.” — John Coltrane

Making the sax look brassy.

A better title is really “Hot 'n' Cool,” Because that’s what Miles Davis and John Coltrane were in their nearly five years together, off and on (1955-1960). Their final tour was documented in a set of albums just this year, Miles' melodies and Coltrane’s frenzied workouts. And from the studio over those years emerged the great albums “‘Round About Midnight,” “Milestones,” “Jazz at the Plaza,” “Someday My Prince Will Come,” “Kind of Blue” and more.

Still, theirs was not an easy relationship.

After a few basic washes of watercolor

“Sheets of sound. Well, that was when I got tired of certain modulations. Like when you want to get back to C, and you've got to go to D and then G and then C. I was fooling around with the piano, and I figured out some other way to do it.” — Coltrane

Some definition begins.

"Try taking the fucking horn out of your mouth." - Davis, questioning the increasing length of Coltrane’s solos.

Some shadowing.

The photo from which this painting is based was apparently taken on that final tour, or at least it was used by various publications in conjunction with reviewing or promoting those albums. You can see and sense Coltrane in shades drifting off into his own world, with an exasperated Davis trying to keep things grounded. Coltrane looms as a giant over Davis, just by their body positioning.

Cheekbones and hands begin.

The basics of this painting came fast over seven hours on a Sunday, Dec. 9. I woke up early and sketched it out, made some color notes and started splashing watercolors. I used only shades of browns, golds, yellows, orange and black, adding water and white as I went. The idea was to create a more free image, less intent on details and precision and more interested in the feel of it. It took me four days.

Adding some yellow to the sax.

First came the black of the shades, hair and horns. The faces and the sax got a wash of orange, then browns and tan, and yellow. I roughed in those brown suits but really the light made Coltrane’s look more purple-black. So I added purple to the slurry of shades I’d created.

"slurry"

I listened to their music together, and then apart, as the paints dried and more layers came: stage curtain, shadows, clothing creases, the suggestion of blurred hands moving rapidly over the valves and keys. I would paint, blot, dab, wipe, and paint again to create depth.

Highlighting their expressions.

Adding white and extra black to the faces brought out their expressions. More white brought out the shine of the horns, the crispness of the men’s collars and sleeves.

Though I wanted that sax to “pop” from the image, that white was just too bright. So I used a really vivid shade of yellow to wash over the horns, then dabbed most of it off to create the look of brass.

Horns before final detailing in black and brown.

Lastly I did clean up some extra-rough edges and better define the folds of the stage curtain. But I resisted the urge to really tighten the lines and make them clean. I really wanted to try something new here, an improvisation if you will.