… I am working on several art projects at once. That is, IF I am actually working.
The little beach paintings are still progressing. I have enough boards for twelve of these. Six are now completed, three more are in the messy first layer stages, and three more are waiting for my decision to either paint more beach scenes, or paint some oranges.
I like these little boards.
Pacific Ocean IV, 5×7”, oil on gessobord*, $75
There are also three unfinished oil paintings in the painting workshop, but none have deadlines. The beach paintings don’t have deadlines either, but their small size gives me the illusion of productivity and progress.
Meanwhile, I have two very complicated pencil commissions to complete. One is now in progress; the other is awaiting my thumbnail sketches for the customer to choose from.
“Bad things happen quickly; good things take a long time. This is why patience and determination are such primary virtues.”
I don’t know who said this, but I intend for these two difficult pencil commissions to be good, so they may take a long time.
*Gessobord is something akin to masonite, coated very smoothly with gesso, a thick white paint, probably acrylic.
There is an excellent museum in Three Rivers, and parked in front are some old fire trucks plus this tow truck. I had to wait for a couple of friends stuck at one of the many ongoing lengthy roadblocks, so I wandered around with my inferior phone camera.
On a recent walk, I took this photo because it reminded me of my painting titled Swinging Oak. You can see it below with a convenient link for purchasing from my website. It’s just business. (I’m tryna earn a living here!)
Swinging Oak, oil on wrapped canvas, 12×16″, $375 (plus tax in California) Available here
Where’s the other chair?
Why am I not showing you any paintings or drawings? Because I am spending most of my time in the studio, editing another book for another writer on another topic.
A good friend, mentor, and wise man asked me if I have a relationship with my paintings. I wasn’t sure what he was seeking, so I just told him what goes through my mind while painting. Then I looked at the email conversation and thought, “Hmmm, this might be an interesting blog post”.
Just a typical view on a morning walk in Three Rivers. Nope, not down those steps to the river—just passing by on the road.
When I start a painting, I have photos to look at, and I copy what is there while also trying to improve on it. Move a tree, brighten a color, ignore a tangle of branches, don’t get too weird about making those rocks or cracks in the cliff perfect, increase the contrast, make that insignificant part blurry or leave it out. . . on and on and on, a continual mental conversation about how to depict a scene realistically but cleaner than real life. Real life is pretty messy, and I try to clean it up.
Often I think a painting is finished when it isn’t. It takes awhile of studying it, sometimes a couple of years, before realizing that it can be improved. This isn’t improvement to make it look more like the photo, but improvement to make it more appealing to the viewer.
A very popular place to walk in Exeter—and the way we prefer to drive home when the hills are green. I used to walk this in the olden days when I was training for some very long walks, before my feet were numb.
My method of painting is to layer and layer, over and over, tightening the details, correcting the proportions, remixing the colors with each layer. Usually when I start, it is very sloppy, getting better with each pass over the canvas. This is similar to writing, where you tell yourself the story in the first draft. Then as you edit and rewrite, you refine your words, rearrange your paragraphs, realize that something can be misunderstood so you correct that piece, decide that something sounds foggy or stupid or unnecessary so you delete that sentence or phrase. Then you think it is done, until you look at it the next day or the next week or after you hit “Publish” and WHAM! THERE’S A TYPO! Or you wonder “why did I say that??” Or you think, “Nobody cares, why did I write this?”
A friend and I went boldly trespassing through some orange groves on a walk a week or two ago.
I’ve never thought about it as a relationship with a painting. It is a project, separate from me. I talk myself through it, talking to myself rather than to the painting. Sure, occasionally I’ve said to a painting, “Buddy, you are toast!” just before painting it out entirely.
But the conversation is entirely to myself—“WHAT are you doing?? Stop licking the canvas! Choose the right color, get it carefully on the best brush for the job, and decide what you are doing before you just dab and jab. Okay, that is looking good, so now do it again over here. Your brush is too small and this will take forever. Whoa, I thought that part was finished and it looks really weak. Oh great, now you’ve missed entire pieces of the conversation on the podcast you are listening to because you were trying to mix a better green.”
So now you know what goes through my brain while I am painting.
Contemplating matters of consequence
With drawing, things are much easier, more automatic, and it is easier to talk to other people, or listen to a podcast while drawing. But I don’t feel as if I have a relationship with my drawings either. Many years ago I had to learn to keep emotional distance, to stop viewing them as something fabulous and irreplaceable or it would have been too hard to sell them.
And here is your reward for reading to the end of this very long post.
Some friends went to Mineral King in January and shared this photo with me. Now I am sharing it with you. (Thank you, KC!)
I’m not much good in town, but if the town is on a beach, I’ll cope with it just fine. These paintings were done from photos taken around Monterey, but I am simply titling them Pacific Ocean I, II, and III, with hopes for IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, and IX in the near future.
Pacific Ocean I, 5×7″, oil on gessobord, $75 (plus tax—sorry, we are in California)
Pacific Ocean II, 5×7″, oil on gessobord, $75 (plus tax)
Pacific Ocean III, 5×7″, oil on gessobord, $75 (plus tax—is there an echo around here?)
Email, call, write me a note, or tell me in the comments if you would like to buy one of these paintings. (They look better in person, as you probably already know.)
We can pretend they are in Pismo, Cayucos, or any other spot along the Pacific Ocean that floats your boat.
Someone I met through giving my How To Draw talk back in November expressed a desire to take an oil painting workshop from me. She is a can-do, git-‘er-dun kind of person (takes-one-to-know-one), so we set a date, and she gathered 4 other interested people. I learned that she is an art teacher, as is another attendee from the talk. They were joined by a third art teacher, along with a couple of family members for a day of oil painting.
I set up samples and my supplies on one end of the room.Covered with old drop cloths, these tables were ready to receive five students.
We sat together for some chit-chat (a talk about the tools and techniques), and then they chose what to paint from photos that I passed around. (One overachiever chose two.)
I was ever so slightly intimidated by these well-educated art professionals, but there was no reason for that foolishness. They concentrated, asked relevant questions, and we enjoyed the time so much that I forgot to take photos until the 4-hour session was almost finished.
The Overachiever also had the largest canvas size.
This painter used to oil paint regularly, perhaps 40 years ago.
This painter thought her pomegranate looked like a tomato until we figured out a little visual texture through color variation was the answer.
This painter admitted to feeling a little uncomfortable about learning publicly; I confessed to the same feeling with all her education and experience. We had a good laugh, and then carried on like old comfortable friends.
This first-time painter showed me some photos of her own art, —custom designed, beautifully decorated sugar cookies! (She didn’t bring any, boohoo, but I am glad I didn’t have to tell her, “It is forbidden.”)
Excellent start! Because my style of painting is called “glazing” (layer after layer after layer), it is my hope they will finish these paintings on their own. (And if they need help, I hope they will email or call).
THANK YOU FOR AN EXCELLENT PAINTING WORKSHOP, Maddie, Amy, Janeva, Angie, and Jeanne!
P.S. They learned about layering, working “lean to fat”, getting the design on the canvas without first drawing it in pencil, mixing colors from a double primary palette (2 blues, 2 reds, 2 yellows, + white), how to get the paint onto the canvas to look like what you want, how to put leftover paint back in the tube, and how it takes FOR-EV-ER to complete a painting.
… is in bloom in my yard in January. They are called “paperwhites” and are very fragrant.
That…
… was completely blocking everything in the driveway one day. My neighbor is an outstanding tree service guy, and it was time to do some serious tree trimming on our property. (Not going to plug his business for him because he doesn’t have a website and doesn’t want jobs outside of the area.) I didn’t watch him and his crew do their interesting and skilled work because I was doing a year’s worth of bookkeeping in preparation for taxes. Ugh. That again. (year after year after year after . . .)
Something Else
What is this? Gessobord is a smooth surface on which to do very detailed oil paintings.
After my week in Monterey, I wasn’t convinced that plein air painting is for me. (Still not convinced.) However, I was convinced that I love the beach (this is not news), that I really love mixing these colors, and that I want to do some very detailed paintings of the waves. This means studio paintings from photos, because you may have noticed that those waves will NOT hold still.
First, a thin layer to cover the surface and establish where things will go. Just the opportunity to use non-mountain, non-citrus colors thrills my little heart.
The second layer gets even more thrilling. (I didn’t show you the beginning layer of these two.)
After these dry, I will add even more detail, then sign them. After they dry yet again, I’ll scan them so you can appreciate them more.
Finally, you can see them in person when I have my next solo show, coming in August*. The paintings always look better in person.
*Hold your camels; I’ll let you know more about it when the time is right.
This was commissioned by a lady who saw my painting called “Rocky Hill Reunion” at the show in the fall. It was sold, and she asked me to paint it again for her. Of course I said yes. (The last solo show I had at this location resulted in my saying yes FIVE times to the SAME PAINTING! – Lots of Sawtooth, Almost Finished, so I did a #7, which sold in December of this year.)
This one is a little bit bigger than the previous version, and I simply titled it “Moo”.
You are probably curious about the previous version, which I titled “Rocky Hill Reunion”.
And this one is called Tulare County’s Best II, 24×24″, $1800 (There, Krista, see? I raised my price!)
Studio paintings: slow, careful, no rush, no plein air pressure to finish in one sitting (standing) and leave much looking as if you need a new prescription in your eyeglasses.
After Krista and I spent an afternoon painting at the lake (Lake Kaweah), we spent a fair amount of time discussing plein air painting. She sent me a couple of short instructional videos, and I ended up as confused as always, still wondering if I would ever be able to produce decent paintings outside of the studio. I also wondered if any of the paintings I produce in the studio (painting workshop —just a big multi-purpose room) are any good, after I watched those videos. Sigh.
So, I set up the lake painting on an easel in the painting workshop, with the plan to follow the recommendation of one of those instructional videos. The painter said to divide a painting into foreground, middle ground, and background. Pick one (preferably the mid-ground) for your detail. The other sections need to stay less defined.
The way it ended after the plein air session.
This was a bit of a struggle for me because all the parts of this painting seem equally important to me. Finally I decided that the painting would be focused on the river.
I started painting my usual way—from furthest to closest—meaning sky first, then distant mountains, moving forward.
It was too hard to put those rocks in the river with the shadows and reflections, painting wet-into-wet. So, now Alta Peak, Moro Rock, and all the hills and distant trees, along with the lower right corner are blurry.
This needs to be revisited by some better brushes, colors, and attitude. (I’m tryna learn to paint this way, but just not feelin’ it!)
Meanwhile, Krista finished her piece in her studio. After she sent this to me, we talked on the phone and I made a few suggestions, which she implemented. Fall down laughing, as if I know how to improve on other people’s plein air paintings!
Krista was willing and able to meet me at the lake (Lake Kaweah in Three Rivers) to plein air paint, the very next day after Trail Guy and I walked on the lake bottom.
Gear management is one of the most difficult aspects of plein air painting. What do you actually need? Paint, brushes, oil, paper towels, a palette, a way to prop up your canvas (currently I use a pochade box made from a cigar box and a tripod), a stool to sit on or to rest your stuff, and a way to transport it all.
None of my stuff is ideal, because the best set-ups cost up to $1000. Not worth it for someone who doesn’t really enjoy this method of painting and doesn’t paint well enough this way to recoup the costs.
The little red wagon was helpful, but it was downhill to our location so it kept rolling into the back of my legs. Oh well, sometimes there are little annoyances in life that have to be overlooked. We parked the wagon off the road in the mud, did a sketch, then walked farther to do another sketch, knowing no one would bother our painting gear.
The first sketch was the best, so we returned to the wagon and set up.
The light was changing, as it does. But I’m learning to just flow with it, knowing that my painting won’t look good until I finish it in the painting workshop at home.
It was helpful to paint with Krista, to discuss colors and values and to encourage one another.
The time went quickly, and when the shade came over us, it got COLD.
Good enough. Needs work. Duh. Brrrr. One last photo, then I’m outta here.
Krista and I discussed finishing the paintings at home; she wondered how many people do it that way. It seemed that while I was in Monterey, most people finished the paintings on location. But in Plein Air magazine, 80-90% of the paintings shown say “plein air/studio”, indicating that the painters were not able to turn out work in one outdoor session.
Back in the parking lot (it was much easier to pull the little red wagon uphill than have it bashing into my legs going downhill), we ran into my very good friends (another great thing about Three Rivers). They came to walk the dog and fly a kite.
Now I have the song “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” from Mary Poppins looping endlessly in my head.
Conclusion: A good time of painting with Krista, another humbling admission that plein air painting doesn’t seem to work for me, but also that I will continue to try. Like taking vitamins, you can’t tell if it is really doing anything, but you continue, just in case.
