Oil Painting

In a recent blog post a fellow artist labeled still life as a “lesser” genre of painting.   While I know that historically this may be true, this judgement really rubbed me the wrong way!  You see, I have spent the last 15 years painting mostly still life and loving it.  To me, it is not “lesser”.  On the contrary, I find it meaningful, expressive and instructional. Painting still life has contributed immensely to my growth as a painter.  

About the time I finished my undergraduate studio work as a Fine Art major, family life intervened and my educational and career goals changed.  I taught elementary school for sixteen years.  I absolutely loved teaching young children. But my career, along with family life and raising three children, left me no time and even less energy to paint.  I would not trade those years for anything, but when I retired early to paint again, I knew I would have to work hard to get the creative juices flowing and to advance my skills.  I had some catching up to do! 

I painted realistic watercolors from photo references for several years, which left me feeling enslaved by the photo.  Like a robot, I repeated the same tight technique over and over with each subsequent photo.  I love a beautiful watercolor, but for me it was like a chess game: think five steps ahead with every move.  The reference photos and careful strategic approach left me wondering, “where is the joy and creativity in this?”  I took a watercolor class that helped me loosen up a bit, but the real break came when I bought oil paints and started painting from life.  My first oil painting (since college 30 years prior!) was as horrid as you might expect. But I did not care.  Something new and exciting was happening, and I felt the possibilities were endless.  I loved the smell and smoosh of oil paint.  I felt free! If something was not working out, I could (enter angels singing) WIPE IT OFF!!!  Hallelujah!

I painted small and often.  Almost every day for a few years I wrote myself a daily schedule that included a 3-5 hour window for painting.  I could complete a small 6×6 inch or 6×8 inch painting in that timeframe.  I finished household tasks earlier so I could focus on painting. The only interruptions I allowed were calls from family. In 2010 I had the good fortune to take a workshop with Carol Marine.  Let me just say:  life changing!  On the last day of the workshop, I drove home and by 2:00am had launched my blog.   I had called myself a “Daily Painter”.  Now I had better live up to it!  I would paint and post a new painting nearly every day.  But more important than posting a finished product, the daily practice quickly developed my skills.  

Sometimes I felt like a chicken pecking around looking for something to paint. It could take a while, as did the arranging of objects.  Versatility was my goal.  I wanted to be able to paint anything.  Maybe not at the time, but eventually.  I painted toys, tools, sticks, rocks, candy, jars, food, dishes, desserts, books, hammers, houses, bottles, vegetables and more than anything else, flowers and fruit.  It was all practice.  Still life was teaching me how to paint.  

What was I learning amidst all the 6×6 panels, fruit and flowers?  I was learning how to see and portray shape, value, color and edges.  How to create pleasing design and harmonious color.  How to reveal the overlooked beauty of everyday objects and last but not least, the lovely drama of light and shadow. These fundamentals have helped me, since then, to paint landscapes, urban scenes, animals and the figure as well. 

The more I painted, the more I realized that still life does not have to be stiff and lifeless.  It is possible to paint a dynamic painting full of energy and vitality.  My goal is a “not-so-still life”.  I want my paintings to be like fresh sushi, not well-done beef.  

Here are some of the many benefits of painting still life:

 STILL LIFE IS PRACTICAL

• Your subject is readily available.  Just look around you.  You can paint anything that you love or excites you.  
• Be comfortable.  Stay home and paint.  
• No time constraints.  Take your time and enjoy.  (Unless flowers.  Paint them first!)
• Controlled lighting and weather.  
• Paint alongside your life.  You can still paint if you have obligations at home.  If you have only a small amount of time, paint a simple subject really small like 4×4.
• Paint from what you already have.  No need to pack up, print a photo, look at a screen, leave home or hire a model.  
• Keep your brushes moving.  A small still life painted often is better than not painting at all.  You may be able to avoid feeling rusty or suffering the dreaded “artist’s block” by painting small canvasses between bigger projects.
• Arrange an outside still life in your yard.  Paint en plein air without going far from home.  
• Interiors are just big Still Lifes. Paint a part of your home that you love.  

 STILL LIFE IS PURPOSEFUL

With every small still life, you will practice these fundamental skills:

• Design.  You arrange the objects.  A view finder is handy.
• Drawing accurately.  Drawing from life is an essential skill.  
• Values.  Accurate values are required for creating form (the illusion of 3 dimensions on a 2-dimensional picture plane.)  
• Color.  Still life will help you to see and portray color in light and in shadow.  Correct color shifts to create form. 
• Form.  How to portray the 3-dimensional form of small objects (an apple, a bottle, etc.)  will translate to larger objects like figures, animals, trees, etc.  
• Effects of light and shadow on color.  You will readily see how the color of an object is different in light than it is in shadow.  That difference is how to achieve a feeling of light in your paintings.  
• Brushwork and style develop after miles of canvas.  Painting small and often is a way to get there.  Still life is always accessible.    
• Painting from life.  Your paintings will be lively and authentic.  Painting from photos has many pitfalls.  The most common and obvious of which is black, colorless “dark hole” shadows.  But this is a subject for another post! Painting from life can give you knowledge that will be useful for times when you have to paint from photos.  
• Warm Up.  Use a small study from life as a warm up for your painting session.
• Experimentation. Use a simple still life for experimenting with new colors, palette, brushes or processes.   

STILL LIFE IS PERSONAL

• Choose objects that you love, find beautiful, or excite you. It does not matter what they are.  Your emotional response will show in your painting. 

• Do you have some treasured objects?  I have painted my father’s mahl stick, my mother’s button collection, a grandchild’s tiny shoes, and my old teddy bear just to name a few.  Memories flood in as you paint objects tied to loved ones and family history.  Your connection shows in your work.   
• Whatever you include in your still life, whether mundane or meaningful, are the objects of your life.  Like a self-portrait, they infuse your work with your unique self.    

In conclusion, whether you are a beginning painter or a seasoned professional, if you paint landscapes, figures or en plein air, painting still life can be valuable to your painting practice.  It is a worthwhile endeavor to be sure.  

TIPS FOR BEGINNERS:

1. Choose simple objects.  Avoid white things, glass, metal and flowers.
2. Use a spotlight-type lamp for a clear distinction between light and shadow.
3. Use a viewfinder to see your composition.  
4. Do some thumbnail sketches.
5. Paint some small value studies using four values: black, white and two grays. 
6. Paint small, simple paintings: 4×6, 6×6, 6×8.  Paint a LOT of them!
7. Use a brush that feels a little too big.  
8. Challenge yourself.  Paint one a day for 30 days.  See your progress!
9. Practice this:  Make a mark and leave it alone.  Just like golf, make every stroke count.  

Usually, I travel around the country giving painting demos and lecturing at art organizations. Not so during this odd time in our history. I have not been at home this much for more than twenty-five years! The pandemic has given me time to slow down, do projects around my house, walk my neighborhood and to simply appreciate all that I have. 

It is true that when I travel from my home state of New Jersey, I experience and paint wonderful subject matter. I am inspired by the fresh, exciting sights. I essentially fall in love with new beginnings. 

Why, when around our everyday surroundings, do we quickly write off the possibility of any type of inspiration and prolonged creative tracks? Perhaps the familiar gives us a blind eye to the possibilities. Shame on us! How do we overcome this neglect of the ordinary?

For me, appreciation of the familiar happened in a round-about way. My gym activities were suspended, so I began to walk. I walked and walked and began to see more and more. I felt a change happening inside me in late November when holiday lights were turned on: I was inspired! I was excited to start recording the dusk scenes of houses that took on a completely new character once the night came and the lights went on.  I gathered my paints and started working on a series of these wonderful stage-like scenes! 

I had not painted many nocturnes before, but had a lot of experience painting interiors. I quickly adapted the palette and approach for my plein air nocturnes. After a few tries, I was in the saddle and comfortable painting under lamp light. I stayed in my neighborhood and backpacked around for quick “hit and run” paintings. I was trying to stay incognito, trying not to attract attention. I wanted to capture the scenes just as they were. I began to realize the ordinary was not so ordinary. 

My adventure continues, and now I am painting a series of my neighborhood covered in snow. I use the same strategy. I backpack out with a very light setup and find locations that literally have transported me and my creative imagination to other worlds. 

I started posting my paintings on Instagram and the world has responded! I have sold paintings all over the place and get wonderful feedback from artists and collectors regarding the feeling that my work gives them. 

This leads me to the most important part of this story…when an artist is moved so completely to get out and paint something that their passion is overflowing and their excitement cannot be contained, this is what I call the “X Factor”. When an artist paints something that so engulfs their emotions, this translates to paintings that go well beyond the technical aspects of mere renderings. When an artist paints in a zone of complete absorption in their subject, an undeniable feeling of universal connection is transmitted from that work. 

So the next time you are bored and feel uninspired, stay close to home and give yourself time to absorb the beauty that is right around you. Look at things in a different light and it will change the way you see and paint subjects forever. 

As a relative newcomer to fine art, one of the biggest challenges I faced was what subject to paint. I had never painted in oil and was drawn to it by watching a local French artist who was painting wonderful French country landscapes and Italian villas with bold colors and thick palette knife strokes. I also took notice that art buyers were drawn to his French accent and his beret.  His paintings were flying off his easel. Why else would I paint, but to make the same stacks of money? 

After taking classes from him, I too became very adept at those same foreign vistas. It did not take long for this Texas native to realize I had no idea what I was trying to paint, and I was committing another sin by trying to rely on found photography. I did not want to be a big fake. I had barely left the state of Texas, let alone traveled overseas! There are tons of that kind of art being produced in factories already, and besides that, I would have looked pretty out of place wearing his French beanie.

Then I was saved by going to watch my first paint out hosted by the Outdoor Painters Society of Texas. My eyes were opened to the joys of plein air painting. Who would have thought I could find a muse just outside my own house? Joining this group is the only reason I am even writing this blog today. 

Most artists I have met are very humble and willing to share their knowledge. I love the comradery. But plein air painting is not for the weak-hearted. To put in the required work day after day, you must genuinely love your subject. Enthusiasm cannot be faked.

Being out in the landscape, you are surrounded by sky and trees, and that is what the majority of painters paint. However, I found myself looking for more intimate subjects, something that I knew. I was looking for what Texas means to me. A love for rusty old trucks, collapsing barns, ancient tractors and other rural images reminded me of my childhood. I see the strength in those subjects. 

Now, several hundred of those paintings later, I became known to many people as “the truck and tractor guy”.

It was a title that I felt was limiting. I found myself apologizing when I shared another truck painting with comments like, “I know it’s another truck but here you go”. 

I am not alone in feeling uncomfortable with my label. I hear tons of other painters say the same thing as they share their own clichéd subjects.  You know what I’m saying, all of those waterfalls, cabins nestled in the woods, and yes, the dreaded red barns. Don’t get me wrong, it is nice to be known at all among your peers, but I started to feel like that was all anyone thought about me and it was not really the vehicles that I even cared about…it was the emotions and the deep-rooted connections I had to these subjects I was painting.  

When I get in a painter’s drought, I paint my trucks and tractors. When I have only a short time to paint, I choose my default subjects. Without these subjects, I may not be painting at all. It takes motivation to get that brush mileage you need and for the majority of painters that motivation is not money. I needed my muse, I found it and it works for me. Behind most famous artists is a muse that inspires new passion and better work. When you are inspired, the dictionary states, “mentally you are stimulated to do or feel something”.  Above all, an inspired person often feels compelled to be different and do better.  Paint what your inner voice tells you. 

I have been honored to be accepted in OPA National and Regional shows. Interestingly, my selected paintings have not been of trucks and tractors, but instead were portraits, figure studies and even animals. So far, only one vehicle painting has made it in, and that was a train. But none of those paintings would have been possible without my muse work. So, learn to embrace your muse. Paint those red apples again and again. If you are good at it, others will see and feel your passion displayed in paint.  Do not paint someone else’s French countryside!

I found my muse and my reason for painting, but I’m still waiting on those stacks of money. ;?)

No clowns, no bells, no whistles.  Nothing fancy here, this is just for you and me.  January 2020 was the beginning of a life we could have never imagined.  And, now with broken hearts from actually living our worst fears, we make ready for life in a different world. 

My first sense of the oncoming tidal wave of sadness and grief came through a phone conversation with an artist who I had only known casually.  In the midst of a light conversation about galleries and traveling during a pandemic, he spontaneously mentioned losing his dad to Covid-19.  Nearly as a casual afterthought, he added he had been unable to even visit his dad in the hospital before his death.  Then, silence dropped as if from a gallows, dreadful and heavy.  

Tears, an apology for breaking down, then more gasping tears.  We then shared a long conversation. 

I am pretty sure he only knew me as a fellow artist, not a psychologist.   This first one hit me hard.   The sadness, the vulnerability, the regret, the pain… someone who needed to be held and the only lifeline between us was a satellite signal.  It hit me so hard, I found myself calling several friends that day to process it. 

A few weeks later came the next, a recent widow.  She called to let me know she would not be entering an annual show for our group because she just had lost her husband and could not muster the wherewithal to finish the piece. This time, I was the one who started with the choking up.  And again, a long conversation.  

There have been many others and there will be others, yet. Of course, I would expect such intimate moments with my friends and family but it was a bit unnerving to experience these events with casual acquaintances.  

Looking back, I should not have been surprised. Having been a practicing psychologist for my first career, I know that when people are overwhelmed,  grief chooses its own way out without regard to person, place or time.  Breaking down, feeling lost, grieving for those known and unknown, reaching out in the most unlikely circumstances — this is our new normal for a while longer.  

When I was a young mental health professional, I went to a seminar to learn about family dynamics.  The speaker asked for volunteers and my hand shot up before I thought it all the way through.  Four others and I were instructed to form a circle.  The speaker’s assistant tied my hands and feet to the hands and feet of the persons on my right and left with about 24 inches of slack rope between us.   Our circle included the speaker, who I was soon to learn,  was a strong and strapping women.  When finished, we all stood tied to one another quietly; waiting in anticipation for what was coming next. 

In what I can only describe as a “formidable fashion”, our speaker went down nearly flat to the floor dragging all of us tumbling down with her.  As each of us scrambled to gain a bit of equilibrium,  we wobbled the person next to us and finally just ended in a collective heap. I will never forget the lesson learned.

People in our lives are connected with differing lengths of relational rope.  Our most intimate relationships are tied with the shortest binds. What affects one person, ripples to affect other relationships in that person’s life.  What one does in response to the ripples, sets off its own series of relational events, for the better or for the worse.  Oddly, when something happens for the worse, I believe it ripples both ways.  I also believe that when something happens for the better, it also ripples both ways.  I have health and wellness research to support my claims, but that is not what this is about.  Today’s thoughts are only for you and me. 

So , now in this season of loss but with hope on the horizon,  my simple message is to share, disclose, and let someone in; share you heart, your losses, your fears, your regrets and sadness.  Reach out and express your losses. 

Give others the opportunity to understand, support, hope for and love you.  Open a door for them to reach back through with their own grief.  No one has lived this year unscathed.  Rather than hiding and holding heartbreak, process it and transform it into the love you felt for those injured or gone.  Like so many things in life, grieving is a process, not an event, and grief will have its way for the better or for the worse. 

When I hung up after that first conversation, I felt honored as well as sad.   Once acquaintances, when we said goodbye that day, we had become closer friends.   I felt honored to let him know I “heard” his pain.  I felt honored to acknowledge his sadness and regrets without needing to “fix” it for him.  I felt honored to let silence sit without having to fill it with words.  I felt honored to be part of the process of grieving with a response for the better – one that validated hard times and one that held hope to one day remember a well-loved father with thankfulness rather than regret.  Even the saddest of times can eventually give way to living again, if one chooses that path when it is time.  

As I have aged and lived through many things both personally and with my beloved family and friends, I have learned that to all matters there is a season;  “A  time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance”.  Funny that I first remember learning about this initially startling, but now comforting, concept from Pete Seeger’s  1962 The Bitter and the Sweet album (adapted by the Byrds’, Turn, Turn, Turn a few years later).  Seeger gave me permission to be sad, to be quiet, to take time to regain strength and to understand life was complicated and at times, very hard.  It is an understanding that I carry in my heart today. I have no idea when I realized he lifted it from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.  

All said, emotional intelligence in life may just come down to understanding that in life, there is a season for all things;  a season to acknowledge and grieve our losses and a season to celebrate and rejoice in life.  Take heart my friends and reach out to one another.  

My color choices are based on observation, feeling, and the desire to express my experience.  My brain does not respond to rules and scientific theory. I choose to see what I see and that choice comes from my attitude about what I am painting. Color affects how we see the world, and it leaves us with a definite response. Think of the people who are given a pair of glasses allowing them to see color for the first time. They are brought to tears from the power of color. It is that power we harness in our own color choices.

An artist must experience the subject they choose to paint. In my workshops, I ask that artists bring only reference material that they have gathered firsthand through their sketches or photos, so they can draw on their experience of the scene while painting. Memory of the subject is as important, if not more important, than trying to copy a photo.

When I paint a demo for artists, I tell them, “I see blue here,” or “a warm orange there”. Some students mistakenly think they have failed if they don’t see the same colors as I do. However, that could not be further from the truth.  For example, Andrew Wyeth and Vincent Van Gogh saw color in very different ways that were both equally effective. Each artists’ color choices conveyed their attitude about their subjects. While the work showed technical skill, it also expressed vision unique to the individual. Take a look at Van Gogh’s passionate, warm-toned paintings. His shift in color began around 1888 and may have been a result of a medical condition. Imagine if he had not tried to capture what he was truthfully seeing at the time, and instead relied on color theory to compensate for his change in vision from his earlier, darker Dutch period. His work post-1888 is electrifying and instantly recognizable as Van Gogh precisely because of his personal color choices.

There are basic ideas of color that can be helpful, for example cooling a color as it recedes to convey depth, and using warm or cool mixtures to convey light and shadow or to suggest the turning of an object. Objects in shadow are generally cooler than those in light. That is not to say that a shadow may not have warmth in it. Sometimes a shadow will appear to lean to red-purple, which technically is a warm color, but the red-purple can be cooler relative to the portion of the subject in light. For me, trying to remember rules keeps me from just looking and choosing to see what I want to see.

I am often asked, “How can I see color and get the exact mixture I want?” The answer is that to see and to mix are two different things. A very helpful way to learn to mix color is to do color charts using the colors on your palette. I use a limited palette of Titanium White, Cadmium Yellow Pale, Alizarin Crimson Permanent, Ultramarine Blue and Viridian. With these colors, I can make any color I need. The limited palette is a great way to learn to mix color quickly. The limited palette is called the “mother palette,” because most color mixed using it carry a bit of the others in it. It is harder to produce a muddled painting and easier to maintain harmony. 

A great example of making color charts is in Richard Schmid’s book Alla Prima.  Creating the charts shows you how to mix a variety of colors with confidence. The completed color charts can be carried outside when working in plein air, or held up against a subject when working in the studio. You can ask yourself, “Does the color I see lean towards the warmer, or cooler version of it?” You will begin to define what it is you are actually seeing.  Because the charts also show the different values in colors, they will train your eye to see both hue (color) and value. For instance, if you see a tree with green leaves in warm light, holding up the chart of green mixes, will help you identify the subject as a warm green that is in the darker value range.

While you may see color differently than I do, or your friends do, trust what you see and put it down. Color is your personal choice. It would be boring and inauthentic if we all followed rules about which colors to paint trees, water, figures, or shadows. To learn to discern color, especially in nature, look and blink your eyes so you do not stare at the subject too long. If you stare at an area of color, it will lead your brain to give you a generalized local color.  The time to squint and stare is when you are evaluating value (light to dark.)  Squinting removes details from our subject and we are left with the darkest dark and lightest light shapes. For color, a quick impression (looking away and back again) is needed. Also, try not to see the spot of color in isolation only — look at it in relation to what’s around it. For instance, you might think you see “white” on the roof of a snow scene, but in a quick look, you might actually see a light blue, which reads white relative to its neighbors.

Try taking walks in nature and ask yourself to mentally record what you are seeing. Ask yourself if the object you are looking at is cooler, warmer, grayer, lighter or darker in relation to something else. You will build more ability to identify what you see. Also, be aware of where the light hits an object. Seeing color and value is like stretching a muscle: hard at first, but easier with use.  

When I see blinding skies and incredible waves that take my breath away, I worry that there is no way my camera will capture what I am seeing and feeling. It rarely does. However, my personal sense-memory is soaking up everything. My attitude affects what I see of the color’s energy and power. When I paint, I am communicating an experience that has moved me. I push the color on my canvas until it elicits that same feeling.