Oil Painting

The first couple of weeks were okay, right? In fact, you probably said, “Hey, I’m an artist! My life hasn’t changed that much, in fact, it’s better now that I don’t have to put on pants or go anywhere!” You painted every day in an immaculately organized studio. Then about a month in, you started feeling a bit…off, but you wanted to stay active and engaged, so maybe you signed up for a Zoom workshop or began watching some of the instructional videos being offered by your favorite artists. A couple weeks later, the Zoom calls may have started to feel burdensome and a far cry from the “real thing.” Another month went by, and by then, you probably had your fair share of Netflix binging, wine and chocolate, and sleeping in till noon. Perhaps, the fear started creeping into your mind that you might not be okay if you can’t display your work in exhibitions, and if collectors don’t start buying art again. How will you pay the rent, or buy more art supplies? And now you’re finally admitting, “I just don’t feel like painting.” If this describes you, at least in part, you are not alone!  So… during this time of uncertainty, how are we artists supposed to get out of this funk?

This incredibly strange season of quarantine and social distancing isn’t the first time in my life that I’ve felt unmotivated to paint. I’ve been through two pregnancies, where my body (and mind) was giving 110% to growing another human being. I had to fight for every shred of inspiration that I could muster. And while I’m normally a very motivated person, it’s impossible for anyone to be “on” for 24/7. However, if you’re like me and you hate the thought of wasting time, you can use those uninspired moments to engage in something besides painting. Specifically, you can use that time to start crafting YOUR STORY.

Hold on, before you roll your eyes and say “I thought this was an art blog”, give me a chance to explain.

Recently I listened to an audiobook called “Stories That Stick,” by Kindra Hall. The book is all about crafting stories that engage your audience and motivate them to buy your product, subscribe to your channel, etc. etc. (you fill in the blank). While the book was targeting entrepreneurs, business professionals, marketing managers, and team leaders, I found that all of it was applicable to us—small business owners (artists) who paint for a living and have to market our own work and ourselves. 

In “Stories That Stick,” Hall describes why storytelling is the most powerful and effective marketing tool we have, and why we should all be using it. First, it puts us on the fast track to trust. A good story can quickly “bridge the gap” between us and our audience and help us relate in some way. Second, stories are far more memorable than a mission statement, description of your product, or outline about your process. Stories have the power to leave a lasting impression on your clients and collectors. Third, a great story wins out over gimmicks every time. That’s great news for us artists, because guess what? You don’t have photograph yourself suggestively standing half naked in the studio with your paintings! Just tell your story, and that will resonate more with your audience than any of those Instagram posers ever could.

Hall says there are four necessary elements to crafting a great story: identifiable characters, authentic emotion, a significant moment, and specific details. Most often, we artists can use ourselves as the identifiable character. For example, I recently posted this story on my Instagram page, along with a recently completed painting of a scene from a Florentine courtyard.

Here’s what I wrote: When I spent the summer as a 21-year-old in Florence to study figure painting, I knew I would deal with culture shock, but I couldn’t have prepared myself for just how rough of a transition it would be.
My luggage was lost for a week. Yes… a whole week. I couldn’t really afford to buy new clothes, but my twin sister, who was working three jobs that summer, wired me money to keep me afloat. I had to walk everywhere, including to class, because if I rode the bus I would constantly get accosted by men. I finally figured out that it was my blue eyes that made them crazy, so I bought some sunglasses. I was all alone and didn’t speak Italian. Yet every day, I found solace in drawing, especially when I could sit in a safe haven like the Boboli gardens, or a palace courtyard like this one in the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi, away from the busy streets. Not all of my memories of Florence are good, but the strongest and best memory is that feeling of purpose when I immersed myself in the art. I do love Italy and can’t wait to go back.  ❤️

Your stories certainly don’t have to be as dramatic as this one. And they don’t even have to be art-related, as long as they help make the point you are trying to make. In my story, I included the four important elements: identifiable character (me), authentic emotion (culture shock), significant moment (finding a safe haven), and specific details (lost luggage, sunglasses on the bus, etc.).

Hall also goes into great detail about the four different types of stories that each of us can tell: the value story, the founder story, the purpose story, and the customer story.  To find out more about what these are and how to start crafting your own, I highly recommend you check out this book for yourself. You’ll find yourself recalling all kinds of stories you may have forgotten, that could be valuable in marketing yourself and your work.

Something I did during my own quarantine funk was compile a slideshow video about my art journey for YouTube. You can check it out here. I thought this project was silly and that no one would really care to watch 34 minutes of embarrassing childhood and early career artwork, but I included a lot of entertaining stories in my narration. The response to this video has been incredible, and I’m so touched by how many people have found it inspiring. While you certainly don’t have to spend hours putting together a slideshow, you’ll be amazed at how much people will respond to your social media posts, newsletters, and marketing campaigns if you include a story!

I hope this has inspired you to start digging a little bit. Sift through old photos, remember your “firsts” (first date, first car, first painting you were truly happy with… etc.), and see how you can bridge the gap between yourself and your potential collectors, students, and patrons. And then—tell your story!

I recently completed an oil painting that was perhaps one of the longest wrestling matches I have ever had with a painting. Finding a sense of color harmony was the initial struggle, which of course led to corrections in color temperature, which then made obvious some necessary value changes, which led to compositional questions… and around and around I went. It requires a delicate balancing act to make a painting work, to finesse the technical challenges while retaining the mood and emotion of a piece. I was speaking with an aspiring painter in my gallery a few months ago, and we discussed how much a painting can evolve as you try to resolve a problem. We laughed that so often the answer seems to be “more paint”.  In other words, keep painting, keep tweaking, keep trying new approaches until you reach some level of satisfaction. When, if ever, are you satisfied with a painting?

For me, my greatest dissatisfaction occurs when I am actually on the brink of a little artistic growth. It is the point where I can see the direction my work needs to go, and I am stumbling around trying to find the right path forward. It is usually triggered by viewing a classic work of art that floors me.  A few years ago, an Edgar Payne exhibit at Tulsa’s Gilcrease Museum was beyond eye-opening for me. I remember looking at his mountain scenes and feeling like I could breath that air. It changed my whole perception of what a landscape painting could be, and I was enthralled with his brilliant, subtle use of repeating color. I am still grasping at how to incorporate that into my own work.

My first time seeing a printed reproduction of John Singer Sargent’s painting, “Simplon Pass” was another memorable and significant moment. Not only is it a brilliant composition, it challenged my notions of what a “paintable” subject is. It’s basically a pile of rocks, for crying out loud. A pile of rocks, with a mostly concealed distant mountain peak, and a little waterfall shoved down into one corner. And oh, the stunningly beautiful dance of light and shadow playing across the entire scene. Again, still wrapping my brain around this one, but I am gradually learning to think of light as my subject matter, rather than an object or pretty scenery.

I had a painting instructor in college that liked to say that he believed his job was to act as “sand on the brain” (he cited a German term for it, which I have long since forgotten). At the time, I thought he was simply rationalizing his grating personality.

In retrospect, I believe the irritation he caused created the same sort of dissatisfaction that viewing paintings far superior to my own can do, and I now get what he was after.  If we are willing to step up to the challenge, those feelings can spur growth and foster our higher ambitions. As frustrating as it is to come to the realization that one’s work has repeatedly fallen short, it can also be the thing that pushes us to grow and achieve greater things. When we find ourselves awestruck by a painting, we must then ask the questions, How did they achieve that? What is it about that painting that I want to emulate? Follow that up with a clear-eyed critique of your own paintings, with an openness to learning as much as you possibly can. I ran across a great quote from self-help guru James Clear.  He said, “Study as if you know nothing.  Work as if you can solve anything.”  I am a firm believer that the greatest assets we can have as artists is the willingness to learn and a nearly constant lack of satisfaction. To be clear, I mean by that a lack of satisfaction in the end product of our labors, not a lack of joy in the process.

It is a never-ending struggle for us all, both intellectually and emotionally, at every stage of our careers.  Nearly two years ago I moved from the Midwest to coastal New  England and faced a whole new painting adventure… THE SEA. Initially, I deflected to painting the salt marshes (which somewhat resemble prairie grasses), and dabbled at a few sunsets over the water. My morning routine gradually began to shift my focus. I am fortunate to live in a 150-year old house that sits on a spit of land that reaches out into Sandy Bay. The ocean is less than 50 feet from my back door. I get up each morning, let my dog out to do his business, and stand at the back door looking at what new thing the ocean has for me today. It can range from glassy calm on a warm summer day, to wildly crashing waves from a Nor’easter blowing in at high tide, and everything in between. Watching the changing dynamics of the water has become a daily joy for me. So now, looking at the astounding works of Frederick Judd Waugh to pour a little sand on my brain, I am finally stepping up to this new challenge. Am I satisfied? Not even close. But I am diving in with glee, excited by the prospect of new explorations. What paintings are inspiring you to push beyond your current level?

I have always been attracted to the work of the Renaissance Artist. Their work has a quality of life and a sense of breath that seems to have been lost about the time of the photograph.

Their work, very distinctly does not look like a photograph, rather it seems to be infused with movement and life. There is a strong sense of harmony of size, proportion,  shape and color. The result is one of a startling beauty and a sense of wholeness and connectedness. You get the feeling that they were not concerned with correctness but rather, in their work lives a real sense of curiosity, investigation and exploration.  The work is as fresh today as it was when it was created. Just think of the drawings of Michelangelo,  Pontormo, or Raphael.

These are more than gesture drawings, they are infused and layered with intelligence and inquiry. Five hundred years later they remain alive, and open, like that of a genuine question.

In their work we can observe a distinct Conceptualized Approach, as well as a naturalistic observed Visual Approach, the two combined infuse their work with a combination of balance, fullness, wholeness and structure.

Today both approaches are being taught. I have had the opportunity to study in schools that clearly offer these different approaches. Here, I would like to share some observations of the two approaches.

With the Visual Approach, the artist carefully observes the subject or nature. This approach is used in some Ateliers.

Somewhat of a visual meditation, the artist looks at the subject and observes the optical nature of light on form and is encouraged to paint just what they see.

Careful observation is paid to the specificity of the contour and shadow shapes are carefully structured before work on the interior of the form. In the early phases of the work the artist is encouraged to view the form as flat, or 2D. This approach can lend it self to a very specific strong contour, as the sense of overlap is diminished.

As the work progresses, interior information leads to the expression of form and perspective as an outcome of direct observation. When done well, and if the artist is very keen, the Visual approach can lead to work that is infused with a sense of presence, subtlety and nuance. With the less skilled, this approach can lead to paintings that have a strong similarity to that of a photograph, correctness sought in exchange of the qualities of movement and life.

The Conceptual Approach, asks the artist to use layers of ideas or concepts to explore their work. Each concept can be viewed as a new question through which the work is explored. There is an abstract quality to this approach yet the finished work may take on an amazing degree of naturalism, a quality of openness, depth and great beauty.

Conceptualism can be applied as layers of questions or as a theme from the beginning.

Conceptualism was used as a theme, with the painting Enchanted Garden. “How few colors can I use and still maintain a sense of colorfulness in my painting?” Harmony achieved through this means has visual unity.

As the work progressed additional colors were added to expand both the color range and for qualities of opacity and transparency desired in the painting.

Deconstructing our work and exploring solutions through layers of these concepts, infuses our work with what I call “Layers of Intelligence”.

With each concept we pose a new question. These questions become a means of exploration, offering a process of self critique and a vehicle of inquiry that is both useful and simple for the artist to implement.

A conceptual idea, is best understood, posed as a question.

For example, “How can I add a quality of Movement to my work?” The artist then begins the layering of questions that live in the concept of Movement such as: searching for paths that allow Light to travel and flow, through a composition. Pace is an aspect of movement. Here the artist might use the tool of Brushstroke, to slow the eye with short strokes across the form, longer swift strokes along the form imply speed, brush strokes purposefully diminished infusing a quality of stillness, space and air.

Shadows give structure to the movement of the light. Whether soft and smoky, having the effect of a comma in literature, or dark and commanding like the use of a period.

Movement through Edge variety, hard edges used to grab attention and create focus Look Here, lost and soft edges, relinquish attention and ask us to Move On.

Movement as Line, over laps with the concept of Design. We are able to observe movement as line designed clearly into the portraiture of the great masters. Abstract spiraling line designed into distinct patterns of radiance. In greek vase paintings we see line used to imply movement as rhythm, in the repetition of line and form. Beauty by design, concept over lapping concept.

Movement explored as Gesture is a very common abstract concept that the artist often refers to over and over again particularly when working with the live model. Gesture unchecked can result in exaggeration, subtly and nuance lost. The artist always seeking balance.

Movement is just one of the many concepts an artist can explore. Master artist juggle many of these concepts at the same time.

As each concept implies a question, we begin to observe the quality of our questions. As we begin to ask better questions our solutions develop elegance. The sum of all of our solutions, our finished painting. A window into the mind of the artist, everything that they were thinking, over the time of the production of a painting or drawing.

How we choose to balance these two approaches is part of our personal expression. In my own work, I have been exploring the integration of these two approaches into one that reflects my values, sensibilities and artistic aesthetic. The question I most often find myself asking is “How can I see this more beautifully, more whole, more unified? I begin by looking for beautiful relationships.

I hope you can see beauty and elegance in the solutions that I am finding.

What questions are you asking?

We thought it would be interesting to ask some of our Board Members what they have been up to since being quarantined. Here’s what they have to say:

Bill Suys OPA

I came home from teaching at the Scottsdale Artists School on Feb. 8 and fell unbelievably ill for about 3 weeks. An already scheduled chest scan showed either pneumonia or covid-like areas, which tells me I have fully made the transition from an ‘invincible’ young man to one of the ‘vulnerable’. 

The incredible shutdown that followed made it clear that this is an economic threat as much as a medical threat. As much as ‘Art’ means to us, there will be an impact on our sales. As I described in my OPA blog on March 30, it is time to focus on the ONE thing that makes us artists. The PROCESS of art and creation is why I’ve done this my entire life, and the past year has convinced me I need to rededicate myself to focusing on my artistic soul.

I believe the highest level of productivity is ‘creative productivity’ — whether in business or Art — and it is best nurtured when many factors come together to create a creative environment. The pandemic was not conducive to this environment, and the disorganization in my studio had gotten to a point where I knew this was a time to take charge and make some changes! 

My studio is not huge, but I wanted to create a more welcoming ‘nest’ that would encourage me to dwell and focus on why I do what I do. The first step was to order a reading chair that would allow me to take advantage of the many beautiful art books I’ve accumulated, and I want to take the time to absorb what they have to teach me. At the same time, I will be able to look around and view my recent work with an eye on how I can drill down to what each existing piece needs to grow, and what I need to consider and explore if I hope to grow as an Artist.

I have gone through a challenging period over the past year or two as I I have gone through a challenging period over the past year or two as I have felt the urge to go ‘deeper’, but I know this inner pull is a healthy thing. This mess has done a lot to derail all of us, but I, for one, am starting to feel I’m on the right path and I’m excited to dig in.

Susan Abma

I have been trying to view the ‘downtime’ because of Covid-19 as a bit of a blessing in the way of time. It has given me more time to stop and smell (okay see) the ‘roses’ that our members are producing. Great work by Dave Santillanes, Bill Farnsworth, John Lasater, Heather Burton and Jing Zhao to mention just a few.  Some, like J. Kenneth Grody, impressively took on a self-portrait challenge. Others, like me, took the time to regroup.

I am always tidy in my studio, except at the easel perhaps.  🙂  The Covid-19 is taken really seriously here as well (I’m in Alberta, Canada), so I haven’t left home in about a month.

As a result, my studio is even more organized than usual.

I have four large upright metal cabinets in my studio that hold art cards, paint, pencils, etc. in small plastic drawers.  It makes my life easy. I can grab anything I need quickly.

The initial investment was not teeny, but I have had them more than 20 years and they’re still like new. For me, it was money well spent

Jane Hunt OPA

“Because my family is high risk, we’ve been quarantined for almost 6 weeks. I admit, for the first three or four I wasn’t handling it very well…reading too much news, and panicking because I couldn’t get my daughter’s seizure medication for weeks amid the shortages!  Once I got the essentials figured out…acquiring meds, food delivery etc., I started to feel less overwhelmed.

It took almost a month, but I was finally able to pick a up paintbrush and get back to work.  Best decision I could’ve made!  Immersing myself in the thing that I love helped to challenge and distract my mind. Over the last week or so I’ve started to feel more like myself again.  No matter how bad things seem, I think it’s always therapeutic to get back to painting.

Attached: a piece from a couple of days ago ‘cloudscape’ 11×14 will be headed to the reimagined Olmsted Plein Air (the show will be all virtual this year).”

Stephanie Birdsall OPA

This Coronavirus downtime has made a subtle difference in my days. It has given me the time to clean my studio and make new brush holders. Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. But I feel like I’m a little in slow motion. I’m spending more time teaching my students through FaceTime, zooming, being sure that I check up on my friends that are alone.

It has given me the time to explore my neighborhood in Ct on foot because there are so few cars. I live on a very narrow, winding, hilly road, surrounded by homes dating back to the 1700’s. I’m finding so many places to plein air, as soon as the weather holds up. The slow spring coming to CT, seems to play to the slower days. I’m enjoying the peace, though . I find I’m meditating more, and watching podcasts of people I admire.

I feel like I’m recharging my batteries, getting ready to explode into spring!

We hope you have enjoyed hearing from some of our Board members.  Please let us know how you have been spending your time during COVID-19.

Our recent pandemic has forced us to hunker down. It’s par for the course, for many artists to stay inside for long hours, but this is beyond normal, as we know. Like many artists, I work at home. To earn a living, I teach, do storyboard work, and have a renter. But I’m also a painter; a sedentary painter. My paintings run the gamut from pure plein air work, to studio work from my own reference and plein air studies. I work hard on my art, but have been lax with my body. Hence, I’ve been stiff. Not now.

Walking uphill as if I’m late for an appointment, returning home to do yoga, drinking as much water as I can, is stretching the stiffness out of me. It feels good. It’s hard work and entails a bit of pain, but I’m feeling more energized. I’ve got a very long way to go in terms of entirely being fit, but I’m actively aligned with the intention to overcome myself. Literally, I’m stretching, and can already feel the rewards.

Similarly, I’ve been barreling down as of late in my painting. While having been under guidelines to stay in place, rather than go out to paint en plein air, I’ve bravely painted my overgrown backyard. I’ve also faced down some unfinished plein air paintings that needed to be brought to life. I’ve even painted trees into a painting where it pleaded for them, out of my head, while there were none in my photo reference. In small ways, I’ve been challenging myself to be better and to do better. If ever there was a time to concentrate on improving my painting, it’s now.

“The Lemon Tree”, for instance, was a recent plein air work that I’d started but not finished. I wanted very much to pull it out of just a lay-in to a finished painting that had a degree of concept, with a degree of…gravitas and grace. What transpired was a battle between me, and the entire army of the painting, itself: the lemon forms, saturation of color, controlling values, attempting to execute beautiful, curvilinear lines and shapes,…subverting some elements to enhance others. You know the story.

I stretched myself just as far as I could possibly go. I tried everything that came to mind, painting things in, painting things out…over and over. I wasn’t sure if I’d win this battle, but it was truly worth it if I did.

A focal point in the tree had to be established. There were lemons, which are forms whose color and value are bright and light. They are rounded, sinking into and popping out of semi flat, rippling leaves. How to describe a cluster of lemons without overworking them? As well, there are many lemons on a tree. How to put that across without making the tree look like a polkadot party dress?

After repeated trial and error, I settled on describing the forms of the lemons, but in parts, rather than by wholes. Leaves and shadows upon the lemon forms could become a device for taming the polka dot effect. Shadow brings down value which can push forms softly back into leaves. Some of the lemons on the underside of the tree could be described by entirely darker value, but still remaining in warm, low saturated orangy tones to hint at their existence.

Amongst several other challenges to overcome in this painting was to depart from my photo reference to enhance adjacent areas. For instance, I gave the patch of trees behind the lemon tree and house, a bit of distance by bringing the values closer together, and cooling the color; not using as much yellow. That helped frame the lemon tree rather than compete with it. I lengthened their height, to add a bit of “majesty” to the main subject, the lemon tree.

The apex of the little house helped bring the eye upward and away from the lemons, as did the cluster of trees behind. The filmy branches that lightly curved downward from the top of the painting, helped bring the eye back down into the painting.

A dance of light amongst the weeds at the base of the tree provided a secondary focal point. Too, it lent relief to the darkness of the lemon tree and was a decorative anchor. Even though I threw in some fun warm color, keeping values closer together than were in the lemon tree helped keep that information from competing with it. The warms weren’t in the photo, but helped bring a more rounded, colorful feel to the painting overall.

By making conscious decisions, wrought by trial and error and then, discovery, I stretched beyond my tendency to the literal, and began creating a work of art. I felt I had learned many things in this painting, and for the most part, won the battle. It could have been better; I could have done more to possibly improve it further. But there comes a time to move on; to take the money and run, as Woody Allen would say. (By the way, this painting is for sale, and is on my website at norakoerberfineart.com). Just sayin’.

I truly believe that what is learned and overcome in a work of art, somehow becomes intrinsic to how we then paint. It stays in there. It’s like a mental toolbox of experience that we reach into, that gets fuller with use, over time. The more tools you have to build your house, the greater facility you’ll have in creating it. Over time, that greater facility translates to lesser battles, more swift answers that fly off the brush which, I believe, is a quality that is recognizable in a great painting.

Mainly, I’m aiming for eloquence in what I have to say in a painting. I’ve got to push myself to get there. I am still, emerging. I have a long way to go. Sometimes it flows; other times, it’s stiff. But if I want to win those battles more than lose them, I have to keep stretching