A teacher once called me a “maverick”, because I kept testing the boundaries of the assignments. Gretchen Rubin would classify me as a “Questioner”, one who wants to know why and only does things that make sense.
Last week we were admiring the view out of the living room window. While standing outside, the view is a bit different, and there isn’t enough room on that particular terrace to set up an easel. So, Trail Guy suggested I set up in the living room and paint the scene out of the window. Since it was a 95° day, that sounded like a good idea to me.
The view.
The set up.
Whoa! That’s a bobcat! Are the grandkitties secure in the workshop?? Where is Scout? Where is Tucker?
The 3 week old babies were fine.
Beginnings (and an emergency photo on the screen of the computer, on which I am listening to a podcast called “What Should I Read Next”).
I can’t figure out where to stand to show you both the view and the painting in progress.
This one is looking sort of “meh” to me. I do believe it will require another session, preferably when the temperature is lower and there isn’t a plumber in the house (because distractions do make a difference in my ability to concentrate.) Will I add pink roses? Red roses (also visible from the window)? The birdhouse? This is why we are supposed to do sketches before beginning to paint.
There is a scene I love, something I have wanted to paint for several years. It embodies the best of Tulare County to me – agriculture and the mountains.
I’m not sure where the best place is to set up to paint this, I don’t remember where I was, and I don’t want to go driving around. This scene will lend itself to the plein air style of painting, so why not try it?
Step one.
Step two.
Step three.
Done?
When I finished painting, I snapped this photo and sent it to my mom, a former orange grower. She said, “Where were you?” I said, “In my painting studio, standing in front of a photograph”.
I felt like a poser or a cheater. But why? This is a legitimate way to produce paintings, just different from the layers and layers that I am used to.
Now that I look at the photo of the finished painting, I want to “fix” it, detail it, color correct, tighten up things.
HEY YOU– PUT DOWN YOUR BRUSHES AND STEP AWAY FROM THE EASEL! (or else run the risk of converting it to the style I prefer and thus defeat the purpose of learning to paint differently.)
A friend wanted to hear my thoughts on plein air painting, so I wrote to her about it. Several other friends said they hadn’t known what the words meant until I started my detour down that road. (Or maybe it will become my main road. More will be revealed in the fullness of time.)
Plein air means “open air”. (Thank you, Dan!)
There is a snobbery in the art world, an attitude that real artists paint plein air. Studio artists? Meh, anyone can do that. I had a college professor who belittled those of us who signed up for photorealism studio painting; I quit at 1/2 a semester because he didn’t teach what he dismissed as “smoke and mirrors”.
Plein air is difficult for several reasons, including bugs and weather. There are no boundaries to the scene that ultimately will be enclosed by specific borders. Artists have to be able to see and decide what they plan to paint, ignore what they will not paint, and arrange those things in a pleasing manner. In order to “erase” the unnecessary details, they squint so that nothing remains except dark and light masses. When mixing the colors, the artists come up with an average color for various areas. They simplify textures, and memorize light when it appears in order to put it in at the end. And, it is assumed that a plein air painter will finish the painting “alla prima”, which means in one session.
An aside about the art world: why the extra languages? Plein air is French; alla prima is Italian. Go figure.
In order to finish something alla prima, one has to work very quickly and finish an entire painting within 3-4 hours. Artists who are honest will tell you that many paintings are finished in the studio later. This is possible even without photos, because very little is done with tight detail. The proportions are usually in place, so it is probably just values (the darks and lights) and color correcting that happens later.
The art world loves to throw around the term “painterly”, which I have concluded simply means “messy”. Since I was 8 years old, I have worked hard to see details, to have distinct, clear edges to things, and I find it completely counterintuitive to purposely blur things. But, I am willing to learn, to try, to improve (but how will I know if I have improved or if I have added more details than are allowed?)
Painting plein air is a great skill for several reasons:
Sometimes I need to paint quickly.
There are many people who like the softer, blurrier paintings that lack detail but focus on shapes and colors.
I live part time in a National Park, where being able to paint quickly could be a great business opportunity.
Since taking the 3 day workshop in Georgia 2 weeks ago, I have been able to produce many paintings. (I haven’t shown them all to you.)
So, my conclusion is that the skills are very valuable and that I will practice them: painting quickly, focusing on good composition and correct colors (not entirely perfect, just colors that look right together in a scene). Some of this will be done while looking at a scene in person; some of it will be done looking at photos. I won’t be able to paint like Laurel Daniel, but I can paint more simply than I have in the recent past and still add enough details to retain my own “voice” (and some dignity).
MAY MEANS THE ANNUAL REDBUD FESTIVAL IS COMING THIS MONTH!
So many things to choose from for my final plein air painting.
More “tabby cabins”. I don’t know why that name bugs me. Maybe because it is whitewashing a segment of our history.
THIS is what I wanted to paint, but minus the palms.
Like this, but waiting for the light, which Laurel explained would come soon.
Step one, only 2 hours to complete this.
Step two, adding in the dark colors which make the light places appear.
Step three
Preparations for a wedding on the outside of the chapel. That’s unusual. I thought people got married INSIDE churches. But actually, very few do anymore. That’s a different topic for a different sort of blog.
Time for the critique. I didn’t get a good photo of this painting but have asked my hostess to photograph it for me when it is dry. I left it on top of her refrigerator.
And that’s all, folks. Suddenly, the carriage turned into a pumpkin. I told Laurel that the entire experience was so perfect that I’d think it was just a dream if I wasn’t sweating so much in the humidity.
So, back to the host and hostess’s home in Brunswick, rearrange all my supplies to pack for flying, say a quick good-bye (like ripping off a bandaid), hit the road for a silent drive back to Jacksonville (since I never did figure out the fancy radio), return the car, oops, go back to gas up the car (less than $3/gallon in Florida when it is over $4 now in Calif.), get a ride to the hotel, find some dinner (grits! because I was in the south), fall into bed for a 4 a.m. wake-up call. “Pumpkin”? More like a squash.
It was a fabulous adventure, a time of new sights, learning, friendships, challenges, new wildflowers, and, umm, sweating.
Some of this will look familiar to you, since I did a rudimentary blog post while still in Georgia. Boy oh boy am I glad to be back with my laptop!
This is the continuation of the post on Monday about painting at the private estate on St. Simons Island. There were many possibilities, but I knew the clock was ticking so I needed to make a quick decision. I love architecture, so the back of the house won.
The formal garden with a maze was tempting.
This giant oak with wisteria winding up its trunk was interesting.
The moss was very interestingly weird, but would have been impossible to paint.
Fabulous house.
Simpler angle, and I could ignore the trees in the way.
Step one
Step two
Step three
Step four
Finished? I don’t know, because it looks so messy.
Critique.
This is the front of the house. There was so much to see, and too little time.
Finally, I painted something plein air at home that I like! There are so many elements to making a successful painting, and when you throw in the idea that it is a subjective type of thing, where every viewer has a different opinion, how can a painting ever be judged successful or unsuccessful? De gustibus non est disbutandem which means “it is useless to argue over matters of taste.
Still green, and new blooms in the yard.
How can I not paint this?
There must be something here that I can organize into a decent composition.
Shiny object!
Yes, I’d rather be in that little building with my pencils, but sometimes we have to parent ourselves to do the harder things with the better results in the long term.
Let’s go.
Next step.
This might work.
Yea! I like it! Comb Rocks look a little bit wrong in their shape and I had a hard time determining the darkness of the shaded side and the lightness of the sunlit side. But I think this one is a painting to be proud of in my developing plein air style.
On day two of the plein air painting workshop, we were admitted to a private estate on 1000 acres on St. Simons Island. We drove about 1-1/2 miles behind a locked gate to reach the grounds of the home. Out of respect for the homeowners, I will eliminate many specifics but will show you photos.
We began the day with a tour by the caretaker, and then were set free to find a place to set up. This time we were on our own; Laurel didn’t tell us where or how to paint, although she circulated among us the entire time (and collapsed my beast of an easel on one visit!)
A couple of original Andy Warhol paintings, Jimmy Carter and Miss Lillian. (Remember, we were in Georgia.)
Oklahoma Judy, Georgia Bill, and Florida Marty discuss the various possibilities for painting.
This looks like a little canal, but sizable boats went past as we were painting.
The pool was about 1/5 full of greenish water.
After wandering around gawking, I chose this view. It was shady beneath the pergola of the pool house.
Step one.
Step two.
Step three.
Step four.
Step five.
Lunch!
Critique time.
After lunch, we put the final touches on our paintings and then chose a new location for the afternoon.
We interrupt this travelogue to bring you more examples of practicing and putting to use the skills I learned in Georgia.
Certainly not finished by my standards.
The Kaweah Post Office was awful. I spent more time on it in the painting studio.
Better. The colors didn’t photograph very true. And would you believe I lost 2 palette knives while I worked on this by the side of the road? How annoying.
The next time, I set up inside the painting workshop with the giant doors open up to the outside. This one turned out a bit better than the P.O.
This is my view out the big doors.
It started out in the usual scary manner.
Color helps.
Am I finished? Who can say except Laurel, and she isn’t here. Looks kind of messy to me.
Finally, in preparation for an upcoming exhibit called “Seascapes”, I went through my photos of beach scenes and chose one to try in the plein air method. This means painting quickly, front to back, dark to light, and finishing in one session. Have you ever heard of someone doing plein air painting from a photo? I haven’t.
The blocking in stage.
Beginning with color in the front. I love blues and blue-greens.
I liked working on this one.
I incorporated my own techniques for getting things more accurate. I wonder if Laurel would be banging her head against the wall at my rebellious ways.
This one was completed while listening to Willie Robertson of Duck Dynasty get interviewed by Donald Miller. He talked a lot about having fun, and I had fun while painting this. Will I have the courage to enter this in “Seascapes”? More will be revealed.
On day #2 in Georgia, we gathered at a former plantation to begin painting with Laurel. There were 7 students, from Texas, Georgia, Florida, Mississippi, Oklahoma, and Central California. (Yep, I think of Central California as a separate place from the rest of the state.)
The Hofwyl-Broadfield Plantation is a State Historic Site, where rice was grown, and then after Emancipation, the “enterprising siblings of the fifth generation. . . resolved to start a dairy rather than sell their family home”. (Taken from the official handout at the park).
We wandered around doing sketches to get the feel of how to start, and then Laurel demonstrated for us. We followed her lead one step at a time while she circulated among us, offering tips, helps and suggestions for improving our paintings. The most important thing seemed to be setting up in the shade! Yup, humid and buggy, although I was never aware of getting bitten until I was scratching like a mangy dog at bites I didn’t know had happened.
We drove back on a closed road to the main plantation house area.
What is this cool little building?! Oh. It is the bathrooms. The white stuff at the base is old oyster shells – go figure.
Look at those oaks! Look at that house!
Look at that moss!
Weird cluster of short palms was a common site, ‘though not as common as the sprawling oaks.
The marsh is out there. I wonder if the rice was planted in the marsh. My new friend Cathy is in the foreground, doing her sketches.
Oh wow, I want to see inside the house and inside the buildings and know what they were all used for. And what a dramatic sky!
The oaks were stunning.
This is Laurel’s set-up for plein air painting. She is very efficient and paints “all the time”, in her words. One of the many reasons I chose her for my instructor is that she also works from the double primary palette: 2 blues, 2 yellows, 2 reds and white.
She showed and explained.
We copied. This is my borrowed beast of a french easel with wobbly legs.
Hmmm, this is an ugly beginning, but all of my oil paintings begin ugly so I was not alarmed.
We paused for lunch under the oaks. (There’s my red backpack at the base of my beast of an easel. Trail Guy gave it to me for Christmas in 1986.)
Cathy from Georgia, with Bill from Georgia in the background.
Peggy from Texas
Judy from Oklahoma
You can see we are all painting the same scene, which is in front of us, but simplified and refined by Laurel. Real life is too full for a little 2-D canvas, particularly in this style of simplified shapes.
That’s all for this painting. Weird for me, but it measured up just fine to Laurel’s and the other participants.
Meanwhile, back at home, Scout and her kitties were just fine.
This was a long post. Tomorrow I’ll show you what I saw after the painting session was finished.
The travelogue is now getting interrupted to show you what happened when I tried plein air painting back home in Three Rivers.
The Kaweah Post Office is a subject which I have drawn and painted many times. I am currently without an oil painting of it, so it is on my list to paint next. “Excellent! I’ll just drive the 6 miles there and set up my easel so I can put what I learned in Georgia into immediate use.”
It was one thing to paint with a group of folks painting along with an instructor; it is another situation all together when most of the people driving or walking past are people you know. (And please, do NOT honk – it is very alarming!) I felt self-conscious and pretentious, but when I looked at my little old Accord, “Fernando”, it brought me back down to reality. And no one has ever died from feeling self-conscious.
My ’96 5 speed 2 door Honda Accord is a tremendous relief after that fancy 2018 Toyota Corolla rental. I couldn’t even work the radio in that unit, and pay no attention to the left foot flailing around, seeking a clutch.
The easel that I borrowed in Georgia was a “french easel”, and it was a beast. (Laurel collapsed it into a pile once when she was helping me!) I have the same type at home, only 1/2 as wide, and it is sturdier than the loaner was.
I began by looking at the PO from several angles and doing the sketches to decide which was best. The angle I liked best was a combination of liking it, and having a place to set up on the narrow shoulder of the road.
That is my little easel with some neighbor’s flag behind. Not much shoulder, but not much traffic either.
Block in the main shapes with Burnt Sienna and French Ultramarine Blue. Yep, did that.
Start putting in the “local color” (Why oh why do artists talk that way??), painting from front to back and dark to light
Keep adding paint. Yeppers, that is painting in a nutshell.
Laurel, where are you to tell me what to do? What to fix? If this is finished or not? I don’t understand when this messy style isn’t regarded by the viewer as messy or unfinished!
Is the painting finished? I don’t know, but I was finished with standing by the side of the road.
A couple of friends stopped by to see what I was doing and said there were some fabulous flowers up the road. Thoughts of those flowers kept me doing my work – seeing them would be my reward.
Satin Bells or Fairy Lanterns? You can decide.
Ithuriel’s Spear!
Common Madia (and no, I don’t know how to pronounce it).
Fiesta flower and fiddleneck.
This painting is going to get reworked in the studio, no doubt about it. I won’t turn it into my normal almost photo-realistic style, but something needs to be done.
I figured out why I don’t like this style. I’ve been wearing glasses and contacts since I was 8 years old, trying to be able to see details and edges and distinct shapes. Why would I like purposely blurring things? Of course I don’t like it! But, I will continue practicing in this style of painting so that I can paint in Mineral King. Never mind that I don’t want to be working while the entire world is on vacation. It is stupid to not tap into the hoards of visitors, stupid stupid stupid.
So there, Central California artist. Don’t be stupid. Keep trying this at home. You can look at wildflowers when you are finished.
Want to buy a wildflower book? 😎 The signing will be on Saturday, April 27, noon – 4 p.m. at the Three Rivers History Museum.
