Oil Painting

BIRTH OF A PAINTING

In the hope of being helpful to those who wonder how a painting develops from start to finish, I would like to share the backstory on this little painting and some helpful resources that played a significant role in its development. 

As a former illustrator, each job for a magazine started with a story. When reading an editor’s manuscript, I answered the questions who, what, when, where, why and how to determine what visual elements were needed to illustrate the written story. There are notable and objective pieces in this planning puzzle that define the process. When I carry this process into my gallery painting, I create better paintings. I am a painter of people and their stories. The story is key.

FINDING THE STORY

Pursuing Grace was inspired in the spring of 2018 by a visit my wife, Ellen, and I made to several historic Spanish churches along the High Road to Taos, New Mexico. During our stop at the Las Trampas Church, we met a young man from Argentina who was on a spiritual pilgrimage to these historic Spanish churches. It was during our encounter with this young man that this painting’s story was conceived in my mind. The story that was developing in my mind was of a Latina woman on a spiritual pilgrimage in a historical Spanish church setting. In this case the story and the setting image came together almost simultaneously. The right model for this setting was my next priority.

THE PHOTO REFERENCE

We came home from the trip on the High Road to Taos with a wonderful collection of photos of old Spanish churches to choose from. In early 2019 we were on a day-visit to a community in Mexico. Mid morning we met an expressive Mexican woman selling table cloths and jewelry. As we walked near her she engaged my wife in her desire to sell her products. I wasn’t on a mission that day to find a model for my painting story, but, as an artist, I am constantly noticing people who would be great painting subjects. You might call this my artist’s obsession. This moment was no exception. I saw in her features a common beauty, not glamour, but a universal attractiveness. My mind went directly to the painting I was planning. This was a moment not to waste. Several yards away from the encounter with this woman, I stopped to persuade my wife to go back and support me in my attempt to ask permission to take photos of her. We agreed to go with my instincts.

My wife and I went back and introduced ourselves to the shopkeepers, Maria (not her real name) and her husband. It took humble effort, but after showing photos of some of my work and explaining my intentions, Maria and her husband switched from skeptical resistance to gracious permission. 

With only my iPhone to work with, Maria modeled for me on the side of the street next to her shop. Without any special props, I focused on designing the natural light and shadow shapes created by her gesture and facial expressions. Not wanting to overstay our welcome, photos were taken from every perspective in about 15 minutes.  When we finished, Maria kindly and proudly introduced us to her grandparents who were working with her that day. We purchase one of her tablecloths and paid her generously for her time. Maria is the model for Pursuing Grace and two other paintings in the series: Embraced By The Light and Found By Grace. All three paintings have sold.

THE COMPOSITION AND DESIGN 

Once the story is in place and the photo references are secured, I develop the composition and design of the painting. Composition consists of proportioning the different elements within the painting’s desired format. In this case, the painting format is 12×9. Design is a visual plan to tell the story effectively through the dominant element and subordinate elements, placement, angles, edges and values. In addition to the negative shapes of sky and areas around the figure in my painting, there are two distinct images in Pursuing Grace: the woman in the foreground and the church silhouette in the background. 

One of my favorite paintings is the one shown above by Eugène Burnand 1850-1921, a Swiss painter and illustrator from Moudon, Switzerland. It has been my long-standing goal to create a painting that would emulate the motion, light, spirit, and simple beauty of this painting. So I embraced this opportunity! This painting was my inspiration for the design of Pursuing Grace. I wanted to recreate its special qualities, including the spiritual determination of Peter and John. 

INFLUENCIAL ARTISTS IN MY PAINTING STYLE

The personal encouragement of three artists is represented in this and other paintings of mine. Richard Whitney, an American painter from Vermont, awakened me to the poetic beauty of edges and silhouettes. In his book, Painting the Visual Impression, he elaborates on edges: soft, sharp, lost and found. Artists Bonita Roberts and Carolyn Anderson pushed me over the edge in the subject of beautiful edges with their impressionistic approach to painting. In Pursuing Grace, the figure’s edges and the silhouette of Las Trampas church are a direct response to the teaching and encouragement of these three wonderful artists. 

IN CONCLUSION

Pursuing Grace sold at the Mountain Oyster Club Contemporary Western Art Show on November 24, 2019. Knowing that several collectors put their name in the hat to buy the painting was encouraging. Hearing artists and collectors convey its beauty to me was confirming. It is always my goal to paint a better picture with a meaningful story. For me, this painting suggests there is joyful progress in that direction. 

NOTE: In 2019 my wife and I had the opportunity to visit Maria and her family again and give her a print of Pursuing Grace.

ARTIST RESOURSES

Fine Artists To Study: Richard Whitney, Bonita Roberts, and Carolyn Anderson.

Illustrators To Study: Howard Pyle, Harvey Dunn, and N. C. Wyeth.

Painting The Visual Impression by Richard Whitney

Vincent Van Gogh in the city of Arles, David Hockney in California, and Claude Monet’s extensive working excursions to the French and Italian Riviera are just a few examples of many artists who, let’s face it, were in desperate need for more sun.  Van Gogh’s moody self-portraits, dark landscapes with barren or lamenting trees and paintings of furrowed faces of poverty stricken, sickly coalminers in Belgium, transmuted into a sunny and a color-saturated spectacle of exaltation during his time in the Provence.

If anything is obvious, it is that light is fundamental to painters.  It can be utilized to elicit mood and atmosphere, communicate symbolism, or it can draw attention to certain elements and tease out form.  A painter in the Southwest has spectacularly sublime scenery and fantastic qualities of light at his or her disposal.  California hills and vineyards with many warm-toned sunsets are always deliciously mouthwatering, both for the painter and the viewer.  Artists located in Arizona can draw endlessly upon the phenomenal crimson and rusty red rocks, thanks to an abundance of sun-drenched days.  The ideal of painting magically illuminated mountains, trees or foliage on a Mediterranean roof top terrace appeals greatly to me but less exotically, I am simply a muddy painter from a cloud-cast and rainy country called The Netherlands, or Holland as it is better known.

Growing up in the most southeastern tip of Holland in the province of Limburg, neatly sandwiched between Germany and Belgium, I had never seen clogs, let alone worn them, nor had I come across rows of tulips or Delft pottery for which my country is known.  Tucked away from the famed museums of Amsterdam with works by masters such as Jacob van Ruisdael, Johannes Vermeer and Rembrandt, Limburg was and still is understated in the celebration of its local painters and art.  At the foot of the Ardennes, with its rugged terrain, Limburg is a tapestry of picturesque rolling valleys, villages with half-timbered houses and meandering brooks; quite the contrast from the coin-flat polders (low-lying tracts of water embanked by dikes) of the North.  As a child, my parents would regularly take me to play in the sandy dunes and run through heather-laced fields, mostly under ominous skies and never without a raincoat.  At that time, and for a long time after, I was hardly aware of the many local painters in our area who had painted these landscapes and surrounding towns, in all weather, in times past.

Some 25 years ago, I asked my mother about a painting of a local, dimly lit woodland with old trailers, which had been somewhat neglectfully hanging in our basement, for years.  It was made with deep blues, dark browns, and ochre, vigorously applied with a wide-bristled brush in a seeming chaos of motion, with a loose yet elegantly determined finish.  ‘It is by my uncle Josef, she replied casually.  ‘Why did he paint?’, I asked, puzzled by this vague notion of an artist, unfamiliar to the pragmatic Dutch mindset with which the past three generations were brought up.  ‘That’s what he liked to do, just like your uncle Wiel’, she said.  I then recalled standing in my uncle’s dark living room, which doubled as an artist studio.  His attire consisting of brown pants with old black shoes, a brown shirt underneath a brown apron against his olive skin, black curly hair and near black eyes.  He could hardly be seen holding his brush in that studio.  It turned out that many of my mother’s immediate and extensive family were professional artists, yet art was mostly considered an amateur or hobbyist pastime; a modest and impractical one.  One could not earn one’s bread with selling art, is what was always said.  As for myself, coming out as an artist was a gradual and lengthy process, mostly due to my attempts to mitigate the doubtful reservation of my practical-minded fellow countrymen, who still cannot come to terms with the fact that one can be a professional artist without completing an art academy. 

Like Van Gogh and Monet, I too left behind the cold, dark and damp conditions of my native soil to find this elusive source of light called the sun.  At 23, I moved to East Africa and a few years later lived in The Middle East and Southeast Asia, soaking up as many UV’s as my alabaster skin and pale canvas could handle.  Finally, I was painting those blue skies, illuminated rock formations, white towns in Portugal and the bright colors of sun-kissed exotic flora on the tropical Ryukyu Islands of Japan, only to fall back in love, once more, with the gloomy towering clouds found abundantly in the landscape paintings of the Dutch Golden Age.  Works by Louis Apol or Jan Van Goyen, to name just two, are totally irresistible to me, again.  The unsaturated color scheme resulting from a severe lack of light tickles my fancy.

There is nothing quite like a melancholic and lonely cold Winter-scene, with people and cattle huddled together and rows of solemn trees lined up like demure dominos.  Perhaps, a homecoming of early artistic influences is finding its way back into my sentiment and my work, after 20 years of transoceanic peregrinations.  I am continuously drawn to those satisfyingly messy brown greens and roasted umbers.  Admittedly, my palette has since been nonchalantly awash with muddy mixes, especially when painting those broody melancholic Dutch landscapes.

Perhaps it is no coincidence that my inability to paint thematically or with one identity should have coincided with my expatriate lifestyle.  Of course, as a born Dutch person, I will always long for those sunny, warm locations but I am also recognizing that one’s first influences are important in understanding and reconnecting with the fundament of one’s artistic soul or source.  So, I am now sitting here in my studio in Holland waiting for those drawn-out overcast days, which have not come in months.  It has been too darn sunny for too long!

I chose to paint this piece because of the dramatic nature of the composition, the lighting, and the color. The composition would be like none other I had ever painted before- full of everything “a little girl is made of”- keeping your eye wandering around like an “I spy” game. (Even she seems to be trying to hide the fact that she let the cat on the bed.) Most of my other paintings were centered on one idea with very little “supporting characters” to that central theme. This one was more complex- a story in a snapshot that displayed the overwhelming love that was lavished on this little girl- from the flowers, to the pet, to the doll, to the flowered laden dress, to the homemade throw. So, yes, simplifying the painting would have “brought out” the subject more, but the narrative (and the added interest, in my opinion) would have been lost.

The lighting was a challenge- back lit by cool light casting warm dark shadows on the face. It was important to not go too dark because of the child’s age, and to be sure to alternate warms and cools to get a lifelike appearance.

But the color- wow. The color! I knew it would be the star of the show. Her little dress was a gorgeous, vibrant pink with yellow and blue flowers, with matching multi color sandals and pink socks. The array of flowers behind her echoed her dress but added new colors. And if that weren’t enough, the crocheted throw she was kneeling on had it’s share of color. Then there was the doll with a sweet sunshine yellow dress. (I also had to make sure that the doll’s face looked like a doll and the child’s face looked alive.) Then there was the “hidden” cat- with it’s reflected colors. 

The first decision I made on color was to decide I wanted a very limited color palette. One red, one blue, and one yellow would be used along with two transparent colors and white to make the various colors in this painting. But I knew that the choice of which red to use would be the most important, because of the rose colored dress was a main part of the beauty of the picture. I brought out a small 9″ x 11″ canvas and drew a square on it. From there, I did a compositional study, along with a color study. You can see from the image below that I mixed some colors on the side of this canvas with 3 different reds in order to see which I needed to go with. In the end, “Napthol Red” was the winner. 

So, I took Napthol red, along with a blue and a yellow and created my “color circle” from just these three colors, along with a dark transparent in the center of the circle. In all of my workshops I teach how to create this circle. It allows you to have a wide array of colors at your fingertips without having to think about every single color you see and how to mix it while you are painting.

It is amazing how many colors show up when you premix from just three primary colors. And it’s a good thing. This painting would use most of them, as the wide arrange of colors each told a story of how this child is very much “Cherished.”

To see me mixing this color circle in one of my workshops, click this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQTEsOLp5YU&t=2s

In early March, many of us were probably asking ourselves a similar question: “How do I keep producing art and growing while in the midst of a pandemic?”  I’ll be sharing a bit about how I answered this question and I hope it will be helpful. 

In January I set a personal goal to paint at least 80% from life, and if I could achieve 100% that would be even better!  Due to a recent surgery and other issues, standing for any length of time at an easel or walking uneven terrain is difficult, and we now had a ‘lock down’ in Ohio.  I decided that painting still life works would be a great way to meet my goals, keep my skills sharp, and also create something meaningful…not to mention keep my mind occupied and anxiety in check!  

Having been a landscape painter almost exclusively for most of my life and with no formal art school training, I felt like a fish out of water when it came to still life.  I kept seeing inspiring posts about learning to paint still life from my friend, Kelli Folsom OPA, so I decided to sign up for her ongoing course, Vital Art Sessions.  My intent isn’t to endorse any particular course or artist, although I highly recommend Kelli, but I’m sharing what worked for me.  Taking a course with an accomplished, inspiring, award-winning artist has been so beneficial, because it’s given me the structure and motivation I needed to keep on track.  Having a private Facebook group where participants can share their “oops” was also beneficial.  Because of my goal, painting mostly from life, I used the practice lessons to get better at painting objects correctly and then tried interpreting the lesson using my own props and, finally, creating my own setups. 

As a point of information: I’m not selling the works copied from Kelli’s video lessons because they are not my original concept, but they are great learning tools.  Many were clunkers, to be honest.  I completed more than 50 paintings from the beginning of March through mid-June when I took the photo (below).  As a former teacher, I know the importance of concrete learning experiences and celebrating our ‘wins’ when learning new skills, so actually seeing that body of work in one photo was really encouraging.

Painting is a very complex activity, and still life painting is no exception:  our brain must interpret a 3-dimensional object/scene onto a 2-dimensional surface.  It takes a lot of time to set up a successful still life, sometimes even longer than doing the actual painting!  The artist is actually creating the setting, including the lighting, colors, shapes, and composition/concept, rather than responding to what is already there, as is the case with plein air painting.  It requires a different set of problem-solving skills than when working outdoors, although there are similarities.  Some questions you might ask: What colors will you use?  Do you have a color plan?  How will the eye move through the composition?  What is your value plan?  Do you have enough/too much variety in sizes?  What size canvas?  There are many considerations; these are but a few. 

My studio is in the basement and the lighting was too harsh; I couldn’t see the shadows on the objects because of too many light sources, so that required changing my lighting.  You need a light blocker and, ideally, a table that can move up or down so you can adjust the perspective on the setup.  Some old, black mat board taped together made a great light blocker; stacked wooden boxes on top of an old side table made a stand. Later on, I found an inexpensive standing desk that has an adjustable lever so it can go up to 42” and bought the black trifold presentation cardboard for the light blocker.  There are lots of free videos and tips on various ways to set up lights and create a light blocker if you do a google search.

The pandemic and inability to go out prompted some more problem solving…how do you get flowers, fruit, etc., when a quick trip to the grocery store isn’t possible?  It’s the old adage: make do with what you have.  It was very refreshing; few options = greater creativity.  An old skirt with a Bohemian flavor became a great drape for the background.  The redbud tree was resplendent this year, providing the inspiration for a painting using a complementary color scheme.  Small branches from shrubs make great additions for scale/color, and when the wild cherry tree and lilac bush bloomed, they became the centerpiece of a few paintings.  Learning something new causes one to look at things with new eyes….   

And then there are the props…!  You need a wide variety of shapes, sizes, finishes, and textures to create an interesting still life, in addition to flowers, vegetables, and fruit.  I’ve been given/collected some beautiful ceramic works over my lifetime (I’ll be 70 next month), and they are really special…gorgeous raku’, lovely glazes, interesting shapes/colors…and also inherited a few really old pieces full of history and memories.  One of the most surprising and engaging aspects of still life painting has been recalling the memories of loved ones as I paint a favorite vase or even the history I can feel when thinking about those times.  How can I get that emotion/connection into my paintings?  Sometimes it just flows out of the brush if you are in the right frame of mind, but most of the time it requires more thought and planning. 

There is a lot of research about how people learn new skills, and one recommendation is that you need more easel time (practice).  As a former teacher, I know that practice is important but it isn’t the only consideration when learning a new skill; you need focused practice as well as more contextual learning.  Painting is a complex activity, and developing mastery with still life painting is more than being able to paint a great ellipse (something that can still challenge me!).  Reading books on the topic, watching videos, and viewing works in person (art museums) or online by famous still life artists is also valuable.  I took an online intensive 5-day still life workshop with Kelli, signed up for another online class with a nationally known artist, and have been doing a lot of reading/research, which is ongoing.  A couple of books on still life were welcome additions to my collection of art books, and watching videos about still life painting over again with fresh eyes was enlightening. There are some great Zoom presentations and videos out there, and many are free, dealing with all kinds of art, so if you have an internet connection and a cell phone you are good to go!  I have an Apple TV connection, so I will often mirror the YouTube video/Zoom presentation on my big screen TV.  

By doing something productive I’ve felt better.  It’s required me to suspend judgment, open my mind, and accept help/guidance, sometimes a very difficult thing for a professional artist at any age.  Many of those old ‘rules’ and ideas need to take a back seat in order to learn something new.  I find that using a slogan such as “Take what you like and leave the rest” is very helpful…as is “slow and steady wins the race”.  It helps me to get out of my lock-step methods and opens me up to question/examine.  My goal has always been to be a ‘lifelong learner’, and to improve as an artist, not to adopt another artist’s style but to dig deep and become more expressive, creating something that is heartfelt.  It’s really caused me to think more about form, edges, about how light falls on an object, and to ask questions, such as, “What is my concept?  Why do I love this?  How can I get more emotion into my work?  What if….”   

On a happy ending note, I entered three still life paintings for the first time in the OPA Salon Show and just found out one was accepted, “Mother’s Day Bouquet”!  I’m sharing my story not to brag, but to encourage others – at any age – to try that thing you’ve never tried.  For me, it’s opened me up to new possibilities and new ways of thinking, not only about art, but about life.  These are such difficult times right now. Because I worked full time in as an educator for more than 30 years, I kept telling myself I would paint once I retired.  I’m so grateful I have the time to do this now.  I keep praying my health will hang in there so I can continue to learn, paint, and grow.  I’m wishing the same for all of you!  

After a difficult divorce in 2007,  I re-dedicated my focus on a book I began back in 2005.  “Beyond Paint:  A Guide to Conceptual Painting” had rambled around in my brain since 2004. I still have the boxes of words that eventually became the book published in 2013.

I had begun to paint at age 41 with no prior art instruction. My husband at the time thought I was possessed because once I picked up my brush, I never looked back.  At the same time, I was a mom to two little guys, ages 3 & 5 and I was working outside our home. (No wonder my hair is turning white.)

As we begin our journey as painters, we are naturally absorbed in details that have little or nothing to do with making art.  We might get bogged down in technique rather than rising above mere mechanics. Or, we might be distracted by sales or envious of those who have an easier ride to recognition. (Hint: There are many, many terrific painters.  There’s room for everyone.)

When I began to put my ideas about painting down on paper, I was forced to examine my own intentions and beliefs about what it means to paint beyond literal subject matter.  Like teaching, writing expands and forces one to make known what one really knows or not.  Teaching provides this same type of portal.

As I explored writing about a non-verbal discipline, painting, I examined those parts of myself that could serve as guides throughout the process.

I’d like to summarize those for you now and would love the opportunity to talk about them through this blog.

As a painter, I am interested in capturing transcendence in art.  Meaning, painting beyond subject material whether it be a model, still life or landscape.

For me, I have come to understand that:

Intention and Concept are interdependent. 

Intention and concept help to reveal the underlying forms that give integrity to the painting.  Intention and concept serve as a road map to realize the painting that I see in my mind’s eye but also includes an organic process that is beyond me and my own will. 

Without the artist’s intentionality and the inherent form, the work becomes simply self-expression, which prevents the painter and the final work from developing at its deepest level. Of course, for some painters, self-expression IS painting.  

Painting is far more than memorizing static information and rote practice.  Art is found, and subsequently thrives, on active questioning and a holistic (Yin and Yang) path of inquiry.  (Relationships, balance, whole, integral.) These are my own touchstones when working with mere blobs of paint at the end of a brush.

This means:

I, the painter, merely serve as an Agent, bringing together ordinary objects (my subject) with the principles of art to reveal the hidden radiance of everyday things.  This is realized through the balance of relationships within the painting. For me, it is a holistic approach which comes through active listening and attending to the painting throughout the process.

The sense of transcendence is discovered through the deepest intentions of the painter (also affirmed as the integrity of the painter).  My intention, personally, is to create work that is found in the relationships within the painting.  As we all know, relationships are often recognized as balanced & whole, or not. One brushstroke either helps or hurts the painting. It’s rarely benign.

The artist’s innermost intentions lead the painter, and subsequently the viewer, to a sense of transcendence that can’t be willed by the painter or the viewer.  

At the same time, my aim as a painter, as Agent, is to offer the viewer a sense of Repose for the Mind so that real knowing can take place.  

This place of Repose allows for the viewer to see into the painting, and for the painting to “look back.”  The art of the masters contains the past, present, and future simultaneously—a lofty challenge for painters today.  

To have something I call the Fourth Dimension in one’s work is perhaps the most difficult in painting. It means a sense of Active Time.  The Time is present and we are present to it.  It means the work is contained on the Continuum of Time.  Past, Present, Future.

My responsibility as a painter is to serve as Agent to connect the viewer with something beyond my own perceptions, beyond objects, and beyond literalism.”