Produced and directed by Penn and Teller, this film takes a fascinating look at how technology might have been applied by Vermeer. Tim Jenison, a Texas inventor curious about how Vermeer achieved such precision in his paintings, recreates Vermeer's studio, complete with furnishings and models. Using a camera obscura in conjunction with a small mirror, Tim who is not an artist, is able to recreate "The Music Lesson" with astonishing accuracy. This documentary about art making held my interest all the way through. Whichever side of the technology-in-art debate you support, Tim's Vermeer will provoke thought. Top marks from me.Comment on or Share this Article →
Click on the DEMO tab to learn how I paint in this step-by-step illustrated demo of Spring Storm. In this start-to-finish demo I will tell you what materials I am using and what I am thinking about at each stage of the painting. Brushwork, color theory, botany--it's all covered.Comment on or Share this Article →
My first foray into plein air painting involved a Jullian French easel. Once it is set up, a French easel makes painting a true pleasure. However, it is heavy, and it does not protect wet oil paintings. When pochade boxes first began making waves, I bought one. It made plein air painting much easier.
An 8x10” pochade box holds quite a bit of stuff. A homemade adapter for smaller panels increases its versatility. It is light-weight, compact, and best of all—it fully protects 2-4 wet oil paintings, depending on the thickness of the panels. My box is a prototype made by California artist John Budicin (the box is a work of art!) Guerrilla makes very well-rated pochade boxes, with the 8x10” running around $100 at www.aswexpress.com
ArtComber, a canvas cart, further contributed to making plein air painting easy. It is capacious enough to hold everything I need when painting out—including a hefty tripod for the pochade box. Water container, lunch, extra jacket, 12x16” palette keeper—it all goes in. If that is not enough to recommend it, it comes with a fold-down chair which can also serve as a low table. The ArtComber handles smooth to moderate terrain, such as uneven dirt paths and packed sand. It would probably bog down in loose beach sand, and you would not want to drag it up the face of a bluff, but in my normal painting environs it works perfectly. ArtCombers are about $60 at www.aswexpress.com
I don’t buy many art gadgets. But these two items have really made plein air painting more accessible for me.Comment on or Share this Article →
Birdwatchers, Tualitin NWR
"If you have made mistakes, there is always another chance for you. You may have a fresh start any moment you choose, for this thing we call 'failure' is not the falling down, but the staying down. "
~ Mary Pickford
When I write for my blog and newsletter, I begin with a rough draft, or sometimes an outline, and gradually polish it up. Often, what I publish bears little resemblance to the original draft. So it is with this would-be tome on encouragement. I wrote one good line in the original: There is nothing more encouraging than seeing growth in your work.
With that brilliant, if narcissistic, observation out of the way, I really want to write about the encouragement you give to others, and others give to you. I’ve never seen it more needed or so badly neglected. Whatever your work is or isn’t, an encouraging environment fosters faith, ideas and fortitude to deal with this unrelentingly awful economic condition that is not going to improve any time soon.
Encouragement must be, above all, honestly and thoughtfully given to yourself and to others. To send a loved one out the door encouraging them to land that great job today sets them up for a very hard fall. Better to embrace a larger goal of placing and renewing applications day after day as part of a long-term plan. It’s no different with selling paintings: Encourage your artist self (and other artists) to make contacts, develop a currently affordable line, perhaps even functional art, and most of all, to keep growing your skills and ability to interpret life. The other end of encouragement is praise: Praise those things done well.
Be open to alternatives. Paths to goals (or survival) are never straight or predictable. For me, small goals are important in and of themselves because big goals change, and I’m very glad of it. The journey is most important because I often land somewhere other than where I planned. My favorite question is, “If I can have it any way I want, how would it be?” This question allows me to think without restrictions. Apply the question to non-material concepts such as reducing financial stress or generating more excitement in art-making. Make it a game, getting everyone involved. Don’t hurry the answers. It takes time to get to your deeper values.
Talk about the value of encouragement with your family and your art associates. Think about people in your deep past who encouraged you, and what that meant to you. Ask for encouragement if it is not forthcoming when you need it. Give it voluntarily as honestly and frequently as you can.Comment on or Share this Article →
Cattle at Dawn
Artists have faced their share of obstacles since the latter half of 2007. At this point the details of those obstacles don’t matter. What does is how your work is developing as a result of the challenge.
In 2008 I ceased painting anything larger than 8x10”. It was a relief. That relief made me realize I should allow myself to be, formally and without guilt, a painter of small works. Exclusively. Permission to do what one does best and loves most is a gift.
Galleries and collectors like the flat, glarey plein air frames, so that was how I framed. I never liked them. They looked harsh. A couple months ago I revolted, buying French Baroque frames for the 5x7” paintings. The result is a luxurious pairing of my soft traditional style with an ornate frame.
Moving from an expansive home and studio on a sprawling half acre to a compact apartment with no garage meant I could no longer cut and prepare my own panels. I am now experimenting with different commercially made surfaces that require changing the way I paint. I needed that change more than I realized.
I am reintroducing an old favorite color, Naples Yellow, that I abandoned twenty years ago because I could mix variations of it from other colors. With early-stage cataracts disrupting my color perception, I’ve just returned Naples to my palette. Reducing the use of Cadmium Yellow by reintroducing Naples should help keep my colors in the desired muted range.
Three years ago I considered never painting again. I’m really glad I plodded on. From every compromise I rediscovered value and quality. From every self-help book and class I actually did gain some insight into why I should continue as an artist. It takes time, sometimes lots of it, for those benefits to be realized.
Obstacles have to be dealt with realistically: If you need income and art is not providing it, get a paying job. But find a way to keep your hand and mind in art, even if it only means teaching art to your children who are probably not getting it in school. The point is, whether your art world is contracting or expanding, your creative brain is learning from the experience.Comment on or Share this Article →
««««« Scott Christensen’s DVD, “Three Landscape Studies,” is for anyone interested in plein air painting, using plein air sketches to work up a studio painting, and painting with a limited palette of 3 primary colors. He explains his process in a way that is interesting and easy to understand. The filming is also excellent, frequently using a split screen so the viewer can observe Scott selecting and mixing paint as well as watch his painting technique.
Scott uses three primaries, red, lemon yellow, ultramarine blue, titanium white and black. The harmonious range he achieves from these few colors is extensive. He uses color tonally with subdued results, and explains how to maximize the punch of an accent color in a tonal painting.
Years ago I experimented with three primaries and detested the results. After watching “Three Landscape Studies” I selected three primaries from my paint collection (only the red differed from Scott’s palette), and made some puddle color charts, labeling each addition of color. The results surprised me with their delicacy and range of color.
Four years ago I began having difficulty mixing color from my old familiar palette. I changed the bulbs in my studio lights and got a new pair of glasses, but nothing helped. My world was beginning to look depressingly dingy. I was diagnosed with cataracts. Cataracts are famous for making vision fuzzy, but their worst characteristic for a colorist is that they are yellow to brown. The ophthalmologist warned that color perception would be affected. It was. This may sound familiar to baby-boomer painters.
Scott’s “primaries only” palette may compensate for damaged color perception by limiting the potential for unbalanced hues. I am setting myself a challenge to do more puddle charts and to paint only with this trio of colors for the next few months. I’ll post the resulting paintings and my thoughts about the learning curve.
Although not new, “Three Landscape Studies” is worth viewing. I rented it from www.SmartFlix.com for $10, a handy way to view a DVD before deciding to add it to your permanent library. Visit Scott Christensen’s paintings at www.christensenstudio.comComment on or Share this Article →
Symbolism can dramatically enrich your work if you know how to use it. It can also invade your work unconsciously, sometimes contributing to the painting, or sometimes undermining it. As you critique your paintings in progress, include a search for inappropriate use of symbols.
For example, I had only been painting a couple years, and was working on a large landscape in a workshop. As the painting developed, so did a prominent pubic shape right in the middle of the subject mountain. I was so embarrassed I didn’t want to be seen painting anywhere near that shape! But it had to be altered without damaging the believable contours of the mountain, the quicker the better. It was a self-taught lesson I never forgot.
Other shapes and relationships have caused me trouble from time to time: Utility poles that look like crosses, boulders that look like Volkswagens (maybe I wanted one in my youth.) And barriers: Barriers frequently impose themselves in my paintings, forcing me to break them for the viewer and for myself. Occasionally I leave barriers in place when they work for the painting.
Symbols came to humans before language. They developed in various forms: Religious, cultural and personal. A few are universal, such as the circle. Some become tainted by history, such as the swastika, an ancient widespread symbol of the whirlwind and the four cardinal directions.
Some artists develop a code of personal symbols and definitions. How you explain these to your collectors is a personal issue. I align myself with Native Americans who believe that revealing too much too often diminishes the power of the symbol. Other artists believe the story would be lost without explaining the symbolism. Know where you stand.
I’ve deviated a little from my original point. But I guess I wanted to stress that symbols and shapes in your paintings contain incredible power for the people who view your work. When you find inadvertent symbols and shapes that distract from the meaning of your work, adjust them out of existence.Comment on or Share this Article →
Every once in a while artists will ask what I look for when judging a show. I like that. It gives me a chance to teach artists to consider their work as a whole package. I feel disadvantaged, however, because oils are my specialty and other mediums and art forms are not. As a result, I’m a much harsher judge when it comes to oil painting.
When judging unfamiliar art forms such as weaving, I look for uniformity of weave, unless variation is a contributing factor in the design. In woodworking, I look for fine finish and smooth curves, unless ruggedness is critical to the sculpture. Also in woodworking, I look for how the grain of the wood is incorporated into the planning of the piece. Traditional quilting asks for fine small hand stitching, a plus over machine stitching. In contemporary quilting, I am tolerant of a wider range of stitch types. Watercolor is perhaps toughest for me to judge, and here I simply look for how well the painter supports the subject and mood with the paint.
In oil painting, brushwork and application of paint are important to me. Oil painting by its very nature is luminous, and I want to see that. Oil paint that is watered down with turp or clogged with sand had better have a reason to be so, and that reason must be more obvious than that the artist is cheap. Required reading for all oil painters should be Robert Henri’s The Art Spirit.
In all work I look at the total presentation—how well the artist’s use of materials supports the underlying concept of the work. Do the color and composition get the message across? Do I recognize copied (or nearly so) work in an original category? Does the work adhere to the rules of the competition? Generally, I try to give latitude in the choice of frame, but if several works are of equal quality, presentation becomes the determining factor. Sloppy presentation is always a negative, and includes dirty mats and glass, poorly cut mats, paintings that are loose in frames, dusty old Mediterranean frames from the 1970’s. Kitsch is a major turn-off.
I suspend my personal preferences as much as possible. They are not relevant when judging a show. Every time I judge a show I am humbled, and wish I knew more about art. I would like to leave comments on many of the entries as to why they won an award—or why they didn’t. Without that, what is learned?Comment on or Share this Article →
"Enchanted Oaks" 16x24"
Artists refer to all kinds of resources when naming their paintings. The Bible is a favorite with many. Literature, popular and classical music titles and terms are commonly used. Some titles are straightforward in identifying a place or model by name. However, if an artist paints the same model or theme multiple times—well, you can see the problem: Redhead #14 or Oak Trees #42.
Some paintings name themselves long before they are completed. “Windswept” was about half done when the word whispered through my brain like wind sweeping across bent grass. Wind gusted through the oak leaves as I painted them, and wind shredded the clouds. For me, the painting became as much about wind as it was about oak trees and dry summer grass.
When a painting doesn’t name itself I enter the bargaining phase. Questions include, what is this painting about? What mood does it convey? Will the chosen title offend collectors? Is it corny? Is it pompous? (I’ve used some Latin botanical names!) Is the title understandable? Ideally, the title should enhance the viewer’s experience of the painting. It should never get in the way of that experience.
The bargaining phase can enhance the painting’s meaning for the artist. One such landscape was begun when my father was dying, and completed during grieving and release. I had a terrible time discovering its name. It took months. Finally, one day as I just looked at the painting, I remembered Dad taking us to Harbison Canyon and shoveling up bags full of fallen oak leaves from a little ravine. He dug those leaves into his garden, which flourished the following Spring. Was the painting about loss? Or was it about transformation and life? Was it all of those things? The title that found the painting was “Enchanted Oaks”. The painting was taken to a higher level because I invested time in understanding its deeper mysteries.
Not all paintings are so lucky. Galleries and collectors love their paintings named, and sometimes minimal effort goes into it. Do you remember a word game you might have played—the game with three columns of really impressive words, and you chose one word from each column to make a phantasmagoric project title? I’ve threatened to resort to that.