The Plein Air Zone Archieves

May-August 2007

August, 2007

Developing a Style

A short while ago I was being interviewed for a magazine article, and the interviewer unwittingly asked me a question that I particularly detest; “How do I label my style?” So I told him I was a “Plein air-Color-Tonal-Impressionist, with a bit of Russian and Chinese influence”, figuring that I covered a majority of the current fads. I don’t think he got it.

I seriously doubt whether my collectors continuously fret over the characterization of my painting style. I do know, however, that style seems to be a concern of the students that I teach. It is, nonetheless, a bit like worrying if your handwriting will look like yours.

In younger painters (and some older ones too), the problem seems to stem from a desire to hitch their wagons to the stars of established artists with recognizable painting styles. Painters like Andrew Wyeth, Charles Reid and David Leffel (to name a few) have painting styles that have been developed over a lifetime and are readily recognizable, and beautiful to look at. So the neophyte painter, lacking confidence in his own internal direction, says, “I’m going to learn to paint just like Charles Reid.” And who can blame him? Charles is a nationally known artist with a beautiful and seductive painting style. So the young artist buys the books, executes the studies, maybe takes a Reid workshop or two, and with a little luck, they eventually become a second rate Charles Reid, and tailcoats in with a cheap imitation of a very personal style.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am in no way eschewing the valuable knowledge that one can gain from studying the technique and approach that Charles Reid uses. I too own his books and have done the exercises and am forever grateful for what I have been able to glean from his vast experience. I’m the first one to admit that, if I’ve accomplished anything at all, it’s because I’m standing on the shoulders of some great artists. I’m well aware that I didn’t invent the wheel. I’ve garnered what I could from past and present masters, and have endeavored to amalgamate those lessons into a personal approach to painting that works for me.

At the outset of each workshop, I tell my students that if they go home wanting to paint like me, I would be highly flattered, but a bit disappointed. Each artist has a unique voice, and a personal vision, that is peculiar only to him or her. No two artists see, or experience, the world in the same way.

So don’t rob the world of an opportunity to experience your personal vision.

 

I do have a number of artist friends that make good livings cloning the styles of one artist or another. I used to make them wrong. I now realize that, for them, it beats working on a road crew. Many of them are quite talented, and it saddens me to think of what their artistic contributions might have been.

If just selling paintings is what you are after, then cloning a seductive style, or a splashy application of paint may prove to be the most expedient means to that end. You may, however, discover that, in the final analysis, you began as an artist and ended up an artisan.

My subject matter is very eclectic. It keeps my approach fresh, and new problems require me to develop new techniques. So I’ve included a few examples of works with varying subject matter. Each subject put me through some different technical hoops, and although the overall body of work looks like mine, I see some subtle differences in each approach. 

 

Rounding Tortola

18 X 24 oil

Headin' Home

30 X 40 oil

On the Aegean

36 X 48 oil

Swans in St. Amand

30 X 40 oil

Moored - Mevagissey, England

24x18 oil

Summer's End

9X18 oil


 

                           July 2007           Knowing Your Palette

I don’t believe there is anything more sensuous or beautiful than the right mixture of pigments in a well-executed painting. Nonetheless, mixing the right colors seems to be an endless source of frustration for many artists. The tempo of watercolor painting demands quick decisions, and it’s imperative that the painter has a thorough knowledge of what will happen in his choice of color mixtures.

We all begin with a basic knowledge of color. Red and yellow make orange, blue and yellow make green and so forth. However, it’s imperative that we know the characteristics of our paints. Will the mixture I choose accomplish my goals? Will the outcome be the final color I was aiming for? Will the colors granulate (cerulean blue and cadmium red), will one of the pigments overpower and dominate (pthalo blue, alizarin crimson) and will I be able to achieve the value I want, using a particular mixture?

By familiarizing ourselves with our palette, we can address all of these questions long before we begin laying down washes on that big masterpiece. After all, no concert musician gives a recital without having spent a great deal of time practicing his scales. So let me offer some suggestions on how you can become better acquainted with the colors on your palette.

One sure fire way of accomplishing this task is to paint a series of color charts. These charts will give you a comprehensive knowledge of how each of your pigments interacts with the other pigments on your palette. It will also provide you with a lifetime reference for future works.

The concept is simple, but requires steady concentration.

You select a particular color – say ultramarine blue. You then pick another color on your palette – say cadmium red. Mix them together in eight color swatches with values ranging from one to eight. Make sure that each mixture is one value darker than the previous. It will take some practice. Don’t be discouraged. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

When you’ve got that one down, take ultramarine and another pigment, like alizarin crimson, and repeat the procedure. Continue until you’ve mixed ultramarine against all the pigments on your palette. Then pick another pigment, like cobalt blue, and mix that pigment against all the colors on the palette. Do this with the other colors until you have complete charts on all the colors on your palette.

These charts will not only expand your knowledge of color, but they will also aid you in your understanding of value as well.

I know that these charts are tedious and time consuming, but the knowledge you will gain will be indelible, and I guarantee your control over color will take a quantum leap.

Here’s another approach that is a lot of fun and can accomplish similar results. Do a series of painting studies using only three primaries (red, yellow and blue). You would be amazed on how far you can go with just a warm and a cool of each of the primaries on your palette. Sometimes keeping it simple is the best route to go. By minimizing your color mixtures, you build in an automatic color harmony and gain an understanding of how certain pigments work with each other.

Take your cool blue (ultramarine blue) and paint a study using your warm red (cadmium red) and a yellow (new gamboges). Then use ultramarine, and alizarin crimson and new gamboge, and paint the same study. Then replace new gamboge with yellow ochre and paint the same study (once with cadmium red and once with alizarin crimson). Then move to cobalt blue and repeat the process.  Continue on until you’ve used all the combinations of primaries on your palette.

Not only will you be learning about the qualities of your pigments, but also you will be discovering new color harmonies that you never knew existed. I generally use this technique when I introduce a new color on my palette.

I’ve included a few examples that you might find interesting. Note how each combination lends a slightly different mood to each study, which pigments granulate and the effect of a semi-transparent, like naples yellow, has on the mixtures.

First study: Cerulean Blue, Yellow Ochre, Cadmium Red.

Second study: Cobalt Blue, Naples Yellow, Alizarin Crimson.

 

Third study: Ivory Black, Yellow Ochre, Venetian Red.
Fourth study: Ultramarine Blue, New Gamboge, Burnt Sienna.

                                    June 2007 - Giving Yourself an Edge

“Someone once said that watercolorists and pilots have much in common:

They’re flying on their own and nothing can help them but their thorough knowledge of the mechanics of their craft”.

 

                                                                                       John Pike (1911-1979)

 Considering all the things that can go wrong when painting a watercolor, it’s a wonder that they ever work out. I find this especially true when I’m painting on location. Because of the sun, the heat, the wind and the bugs, I generally use a direct approach that is, in some ways, more akin to painting an oil painting.

I know that the drying time will be minimal. So rather than trying to work large areas, I tend to compartmentalize the areas of the painting. I work a smaller area, charging in pigment and orchestrating the paint flow until I have an area that is the right value and has interesting gradations (light to dark, warm to cool etc.). One drawback of this approach is that I have to make certain that the area I’m working in will relate appropriately with all the other areas of the painting. This takes a lot of practice, and even then it’s a risky proposition.

Sometimes the subject can also be visually confusing, and I’m forced to do some advanced planning. That’s when I pull out the pad and make a value study.

These small black and white studies help me preview my light, dark and middle values. They also give me an advanced look at my overall design. In short, they provide me with a roadmap that I can follow when I’m working on the color painting.

These black and white value studies can also be of great assistance when planning a large, finished studio work. I don’t always find the need to do a value study, but over the years I’ve learned enough to know when I need some help.

So, if you occasionally struggle with painting the right value in the right spot, this may be a technique that gives you the edge you need to execute that masterpiece.

I’ve included four value studies and the accompanying sketches to give you an example:

 These first two black and white studies were executed with Tombow Dual Brush/Pens. I use N25 and N35. Each pen has a flexible brush tip on one end, and a fine point nib on the other. You can draw with them and then dissolve them and manipulate them with a wet brush. Or you can draw with them right into a wet wash, or a combination of both.

Ingleville Shack

Tin Roofs

For the two following black and white studies I chose Derwent water-soluble pencils No. HB, No. 4 and No. 8.

Moroccan Street Scene

Pecos Ruins

Both the Tombow Pen/Brushes and the Derwent water-soluble pencils also work well for sketching in cafes, restaurants and other venues that might not be suitable for full-color painting. They are a lot of fun and I hope that this will open up new avenues for exploration in your sketchbooks. 

May 2007 - The Intangibles

On the first day of my workshops, I always inform my students that we are all here for the same reason. Somehow we all feel this innate need to grab an idea out of the ether and create a tangible expression of that inspiration. Man has heard this calling as far back as the Paleolithic cave paintings. Considering the number of people who have walked the face of the earth, what we endeavor to do in creating a work of art has really been attempted by a very few. It’s a priesthood of sorts, and when the muse nominates you to embark on the creative path, resistance seems somewhat futile.

The road to creativity is long and winding, and the artist must necessarily travel the road alone. It is fraught with frustrations and obstacles that only we artists can know. In the fields, or in the studios, we fight our battles in solitude. Only we can know the pain of pouring our hearts and soul into a work of art, only to have it fall desperately short of our expectations. It’s like it hurts and there’s no place to rub.

Conversely, we artists are some of the luckiest folks in the world.

We get to see the world around us in a way that few people ever do. Who else walks around measuring skies, looking at the reflected light under the eave of a house or marveling over complimentary yellow and violet flowers in a summer garden? And what a joy it is to begin with literally nothing and bring a beautiful creation into existence. Yes, the dividends truly outweigh the heartaches.

So how do I take this calling and parlay it into a way of life and a sustainable income?

I’m certain if you ask twenty successful professional artists how they got from point A to point B you would get twenty different answers. However, I am certain that you would find commonalities in their persistence and commitment. Despite setbacks and impediments, there was never a doubt in their minds that ultimately they would succeed. You have to envision yourself as a successful artist and affirm it over and over until it becomes a reality. This requires fortitude and dedication, even in the face of rejection and indifference. The universe had a way of testing our commitment. It’s the “many are called, few are chosen” syndrome.

I’ll share one example from dozens in my personal experience:

John Pike, the incredible watercolorist, was one of my early inspirations. I noticed that the large percentage of his watercolors were in the General Tire International collection. I used to muse on how nice it would be to have corporate sponsorship for my artwork. So I set out sending photos and resumes to various corporations with ideas for prints or co-sponsorship in various causes and whole array of other ideas. I got back a basketful of pleasant refusals.

A year or so later, I was having an exhibition at the Americana Museum in El Paso, Texas. It was a successful show, and when it was over I drove down from Santa Fe to pick up the unsold pieces.

It was a hot, sweltering day and I had just loaded the van in preparation for my five hour drive home, when one of the board members suggested that I unload the van and bring the work back into the museum, because there was a fellow coming that might be interested in purchasing one or two. At this point, I was hot, sweaty and not really in the mood. Nonetheless, I reluctantly acquiesced, and took remaining work back into the museum. Well, I sat there for another hour and a half thinking a lot about my impending five-hour drive. Finally, the fellow showed up and did indeed buy a couple of paintings. We chatted a bit and I handed him a brochure with some data and a few pictures of some of my original work. He flashed on a watercolor in the brochure and asked me if I could do a large oil on a similar theme for his house. So we drove to his house, he showed me the space for the painting and we agreed on the terms.

To make a long story short, he was the CEO of an international corporation, and that one commission turned into about thirty over the next eight years. The commissions ran the gamut of subject matter from landscapes to large historical scenes (many as large as four feet by eight feet). And despite the fact that I almost threw the whole thing away, the universe had finally rewarded my persistence. Here, at last, was my corporate sponsorship.

My point here is that if you really want to be a professional artist, you have to see yourself winning. You have to reaffirm daily that you are a successful artist, even in the face of repeated rejection. Recognize your calling, and know in your heart that the path you are on and the rewards that you seek are ultimately waiting at the end of the journey.

“El Burro en Cuenca”   18x24 oil

 

Here’s a recently finished painting I thought I would share with you. This little mountain village near Sevilla, in Spain, is charming and quite paintable. There is a slow, airy feeling as you walk the cobbled streets. I’m excited about returning to Spain in September for the watercolor sketch workshop.

To read newsletters, from January through April 2007 click here.

.

home easel & accessories product reviews en plein air zone newsletter
sketchbook workshops ordering