Oil Painting

–all images here have been painted or begun en plein air–

When Bob retired after 42 years in the aerospace industry, one of his buddies whose wife was an artist suggested that he take up plein air painting. “I know you don’t like sailing, tennis, or shuffleboard, Bob,” he advised, “but you could paint outdoors—I’ve heard it referred to as the new golf. You can learn it in your spare time—I’m sure if you had the right gear, you could do it.”

Across the nation, there is a revival of and renewed interest in plein air painting. Folks whose kids have moved out of the house, who downsized and moved across the country, and have finally decided to act on those creative impulses that inspired them in college are taking art classes, making reservations at the Plein Air Convention, and buying art supplies. Motivation is high, as are hopes and expectation of some degree of success. Painting could be a fun pastime!

I’ve heard this myself, both from artists and art aficionados, that plein air is like a sport, like the “new golf.” But like anything, how much one can learn about anything is conditioned by one’s motivation and mindset. If it is a sport, one would approach it as “an activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or a team competes against another or others for entertainment” (Oxford Dictionary). Football, basketball, baseball, tennis, wrestling, volleyball and golf are all widely recognized as sports. But does plein air painting fit into this list?

I love to paint, and I love sports. I have had the privilege to complete 65 marathons, several long-distance ocean swims, ran cross-country and track in high school and college, competed as a triathlete between ’78 and ’94, and twice crossed the finish line of the Hawaiian International Ironman Triathlon. In recalling all of that fortunate time I spent outdoors, and during my current daily workouts,  I have rarely called upon my artistic abilities when competing athletically (except for an elevated awareness of my response to the immediate environment), or my athletic training while painting (except for hiking with my plein air kit to remote locations, or running to scout new painting sites)– but I believe there are some crossovers between athletics and artistic creation.

Similarities

It’s helpful to have the right equipment, as that in itself will assist successful achievement. Extensive training in both is essential to performing well. And coaches and mentors can shortcut the learning curve and inspire progress. One may participate in both sport and painting as a student, amateur or professional, and that participation may result in significant income (or not). Instinct, self-trust and confidence play key roles in a successful performance. Sports and painting both require hand-eye coordination and superior depth perception. The true quality of an athletic performance is best understood by a fellow athlete, just as an artist best understands the work of a fellow artist. Finally, the goal of both the athlete and artist is to continually improve one’s skill set.

Differences

In plein air painting, there is no finish line, no “final minutes,” no game buzzer (except in an organized “Quick Draw” event). Risk of injury is less (but it is still real). Judges and jurors never wear striped costumes while performing their duties. There is no governing body of rules that constrain painting sessions– but there are fundamentals to be observed nonetheless (as in sport). Few plein air painters find themselves in a position to buy a mansion for their mother, and agents representing professional plein air artists are next to non-existent. Quiet time for reflection and self-evaluation during painting is essential, whereas in sport the action is moment-to-moment, demanding the athlete’s constant and physically-intense involvement. And at plein air events, there’s no betting on the outcome—it wouldn’t change the result anyway, one way or the other. And here is perhaps the greatest difference of all: think of how an athlete tries to control all the factors in a game as he/she does everything in their power to succeed, to win. Contrast that with Dean Taylor Drewyer’s observation about painting: “The best paintings, it seems to me, are the ones in which the painter suspends any drive to control or order the world, and commits to simply struggling to grab hold of a small part of the chaos.”

Painting is None of The Following. Leigh Steinberg (sports agent): “One of the keys to building the popularity of a sporting event is the extent to which fans perceive the activity has athletic qualities which are displayed on an even field with competitors trying as hard as they can to win. This is the key to fantasy leagues and all athletic betting.”

Painting can be competitive, but it never has to be engaged in that spirit, even in plein air “competitions.” It’s entirely possible to enter those contests without the slightest desire to fend off or overcome an opponent, as one concentrates on giving one’s very best to the creation of their own art, regardless of the circumstance. In fact, most of the professional painters I know participate in these events with a heart open to their fellow painters and are just as satisfied to see awards given to their comrades-in-art.

So if plein air painting is not a sport, what is a more effective way of considering it as we seek to learn more about it, to maximize both our performance and enjoyment?

No Rules, Quang Ho: “For me, there is no one way of painting…It’s about gathering as much information and ability as possible and then allowing myself to follow visual impulses and ideas, allowing each one to tell me how they might be coaxed out of the canvas.”

Goals Without Goalposts, Larry Preston: “I paint for myself and the process, not anyone else…I paint to remind myself of what I find important and beautiful and to experience the process of painting my chosen object. Success, for me, is found in the studio—in the drive to continue growing as an artist and create honest work.”

A Fight With No Opponent, Winston Churchill: “Painting a picture is like trying to fight a battle.”

Courage, But Without  Threat of Physical Engagement, Charles Philip Brooks: “Painting requires the bravery of solitude. Painting requires disciplined labor. To be a painter is to search the world with a benevolent eye for every subtle beauty the infinite world offers.”

A Lifestyle, Not A Pastime, Betty DeMaree: “To me, painting is life, a part of God, something sacred and uplifting. If I as a painter were denied my tools and my expression, I think I would become ill.”

Like Poetry, James Elkins: “Painting is a fine art: not merely because it gives us trees and faces and lovely things to see, but because paint is a finely-tuned antenna, reacting to every  un-noticed movement of the painter’s hand, fixing the faintest shadow of a thought in color and texture.”

Like Music, Brian Eno: “At the beginning of the 20^th century, the ambition of the great painters was to make paintings that were like music, which was then considered as the noblest art.”

Everybody Wins

 I would suggest that in plein air painting, there is no “winning”—in the sense of domination– only the satisfaction of having connected with nature in an honest and appreciative way. Primarily, plein air painting should be enjoyable. It can be, for the beginning painter as well as the advanced and professional. As master pastelist Kim Lordier advises, “Paint what you love.” Love is the answer, above winning, awards, and world records. Plein air painting is an expression of love; for one’s self, the process, one’s capacity to learn, for our surroundings, for all those with whom it may be shared. Plein air painting has no “rules of the game,” but it does have its own vocabulary: the language of the spirit.

FALLING IN LOVE lets you see the world through rose-colored glasses.  Your energy level rises. You’re a more positive person. It often brings new experiences and your world expands. You are renewed, revived, energized and enthusiastic. 

What more could an artist ask for? It’s exactly what we need: New destinations and experiences to push our work to new levels… to see the world a little more brightly, to be positive, and energized!

Last summer I fell in love with Montana. Head over heels. It’s not hard to do.  Every blink and turn of the head finds new reference material. 

We, (my mom, grown son, and I,) spent a few days in Glacier National Park.  I was dumbstruck by the color and clarity of the water, the breathtaking views, the wildlife. At one point we stopped the car knowing the car in front of us must be looking at something special.

I was so excited trying to get my mom and son to look at the bear walking straight toward our car that I stuttered, “b-b-b BEAR!” This beautiful cinnamon bear passed right under my open car window and I could have petted him as he went by.  Photographs pale in comparison to memory. You have to capture those memories on canvas.

There was a deer right behind me as I took the reference photo for this:

There are waterfalls; great, soaring, sparkling falls among gorgeous conifers and deciduous trees.  The cascades, tumbling over multi-colored rocks, beg to be painted, and you can’t wait to oblige.

Montana still has cowboys. REAL cowboys!

And how can an artist not be reinvigorated by the wildlife of the National Bison Range? This giant followed the car a bit until we allowed him to pass and cross right in front of us. 

We saw grizzlies with cubs, elk, pronghorn, … at one point I had been dangling my feet in McDonald creek and got up to take a photo. When I turned back a beaver was swimming right where my feet had been, in water so clear you could see every detail of the bottom.

Are you frustrated? Are you feeling artistically uninspired? Do you need to be recharged? FALL IN LOVE.

Find Dan’s Montana inspired work in the Going to the Sun Gallery, Whitefish, MT, and the Howard/Mandville Gallery, Woodinville, WA. To see more of Dan’s work and representation, visit DanKnepperArt.com

Art historians frequently talk about an artist’s “style” and it can seem as though the conventional western art history narrative is mostly about “style”. As a result, a lot of artists feel pressure to land upon a unique style as soon as possible. But style is not a superficial thing. It is not a question of whether you flick your brushstrokes or obliterate them.

My current favorite painter has said, “You don’t have to worry about developing a style. Style is nothing more than a collection of habits.” While he’s partly right, it goes deeper than that. Because how do you get these habits? Why do you get these habits?

Style is the realization of your idea of the purpose of art.

When we say “art” we think we’re all talking about the same thing. We aren’t.

To some people, “art” requires, as Robert Hughes writes, “the shock of the new.” Those people are looking for something they’ve never seen before, art that surprises them.

Some other people have zero interest in novelty and are looking for art that makes them feel and think about the human condition.

Some people want “art” to morally and spiritually uplift them. Still, other people want art to comfort and to celebrate beauty.

You’ll observe, as you study art history, that big shifts in “style” follow big changes in the consensus of what art is and what it’s supposed to do.

A piece of art can only succeed if it has artistic integrity; that is if all the decisions that went into its creation — conscious or unconscious — are consistent in their goal. That is not the only requirement for an artwork to succeed, but it is foundational. An artwork that tries to do X while in their heart the artist believes Y is conflicted and that conflict will show, usually not in a good way. So the first thing you need to do is get a handle on why you paint at all, what are you trying to accomplish, what do you get out of painting or what are you trying to get out of painting?

Because your reason for painting is a question of identity. Every stroke, every decision you make, about subject matter, lighting, treatment, comes from who you are and what you value. You may not know who you are and what you value but your paintings will tell you.

And this is where it gets interesting, because you may find that the paintings that you just can’t resolve, the ones where you just can’t get them to sing, may be lies. People talk about how you need to have “passion” and I hate the word “passion” because its ubiquity means people throw it around so it has no meaning. Forget “passion”. Let’s talk about the question, “What gets a rise out of me? What do I care about? What do I believe in? What do I love?” That’s what you should be painting.

You may not know the answer right off. Once again, your paintings will tell you the answer. If you find yourself painting beautiful women over and over, well gee, maybe what art means to you is the celebration of beauty, period, and not just any beauty, not, say, the beauty of urban architecture, but a very specific kind of beauty, the beauty of youth, the excitement of sexual charge, the elegance of anatomy. Maybe these are the things that you care about. And say, you try to do a still life, because you never do a still life and you figure, gee, I guess I should try a still life, and you put together a wine bottle and a piece of bread and some grapes and you cannot get this still life to work, then you have just demonstrated to yourself that you’re only painting this thing you don’t care about because you’re following “should’s” and not your heart.

The art that you can breathe into life, the art you can make sing, will be the art that is a natural expression of your values.

So one basic component of style is what you’re going to paint. And that leads us to how you’re going to paint it, because that, too, is existential.

When we first start making art, whether we’re aware of it or not, our first visual literacy comes from the photograph and illustrations we see in popular culture. The decision to learn to paint means we are aware of the concept of painting — we’re not inventing the wheel — and we may have gotten that concept from photographs of paintings through the mass media or we may have seen some physically, but we were probably inspired to paint because we saw a painting and said, “I want to do that.” That first artist who inspired that reaction, who “got a rise out of us,” may be the first one we try to emulate. At the time we probably have no idea why that artist made us want to do art, we just have to follow this impulse, and if we get good enough at emulating this artist, we will reach the point where people who know about art will say, “Oh yeah, nice piece, but it’s derivative.”

Not to worry. We have successfully reached our first step towards our own style. Time to move on.

It would be helpful if we could drill down and figure out, why did that artist get a gut response from us, what is it about their work that actually got us to get off our butts and attempt to emulate them? Because that would be useful information. But we were probably young when that happened and incapable of doing that drilling. Doesn’t matter.

The next step is to find the next artist who moves us. And then the next one, and the next one. Sooner or later, we will have emulated enough artists — and acquired habits — that no one can look at our work and tease out “oh yeah, copying this guy, that guy, and the other one.” So willy-nilly, by following impulse, we will have stumbled on a style.

We think we’re done. We’re not done.

This is only the second step. We have a collection of habits, yes, but some of those will be bad habits.

Say, for instance, one of the people we emulated was Sargeant, because we loved his bravura brush strokes. While the bravura brushstroke, for Sargeant, was an expression of economy and an attempt to achieve freshness, we might have read it as an expression of an exciting, flamboyant and godlike master. Basically, we emulated him partly because we wished we were “that guy.” We’re not that guy. Sargeant wasn’t even that guy. Those rockstar bravura brushstrokes are not us, but we wish they were. They are an example of what might be for us, a bad habit, not because we’re searching for economy and freshness, but because what we really want is to be a rockstar, with fans, and we haven’t achieved that level of economy because we’re busy saying “Look at meeeeee!”. In every one of our bravura brushstrokes, there will be a lie, a sense of superficiality and a sense of being forced. It is impossible to lie in a painting; it is like handwriting, and even the visually illiterate can feel the lie, whether or not they can articulate it. Those strokes are in our way.

Another very accomplished artist recently said to me, “Art is a matter of putting the time in. What you do every day, you get good at. You put in the years and eventually you’ll get good.” This is only partly true. Because as you repeat your bad habits, you entrench them. It is very possible to work your head off and stay at the same level of mediocrity for the rest of your life. So it is not enough to have accumulated a “style” and to have found a “voice”. Now you want to find your best voice.

And here is where you need to find an objective reading of your strengths and weaknesses. Once you know your weaknesses, search for artists who are good at what you can’t do. I don’t mean, they’re good at landscapes and you’re not. I mean, the way they handle form or composition or some kind of technical issue is a solution to a problem you’ve had in your work. Study them. If possible, take a workshop with them or watch videos of them giving demos. And then if you can, find another artist with a different solution to the same problem and learn their solution, so you have options.

Now let’s say you’re painting figures, and you’ve decided to emulate Bouguereau because boy that guy could paint flesh. Well, a lot of people could paint flesh, and there are a lot of valid ways to paint flesh. Bouguereau’s style is a direct manifestation of specific 19th-century values: a painting should have within it nothing coarse or ugly, nothing harsh. It should be beautiful and edifying. So Bouguereau has no harsh shadows. His models are graceful and beautiful, even the poor — especially the poor — and in his work there is a yearning for the idea (if not the reality) of the noble, simple peasant. Above all, Bouguereau wanted to create a comforting world where everything is OK. So the light is diffused, with no harsh contrasts, and value scales are compressed within masses. Bouguereau developed his style as he did explicitly to adhere to that 19th-century value system that insisted everything should be soft and pleasant. It is consistency within his value system that makes his paintings work.

It is consistency within your value system that will make your paintings work.

I have heard more than one famous artist say that we should paint what we know how to paint. That works for branding but it will stop us dead in our artistic growth. A young superstar artist recently said, “I peaked too soon,” because he had found himself stuck with a brand, churning out essentially the same work that had made his reputation five years ago, and not only was his art stagnating: his soul was dying. Artists are like sharks; we have to move forward or we die. Moving forward, for an artist, involves experimenting, taking risks, and getting out of our comfort zone. Yes, we should follow what we observe makes our heart sing, but we should not churn out the same painting ad infinitum. It is one thing to achieve a recognizable style. But a style is not an end. It is a trajectory, a path that should last the rest of our lives. I wrote to this superstar and pointed out the careers of Bob Dylan and David Bowie, how they both continued to experiment after having achieved fame, and although they went through some tough decades of failed experiments, as a result, much of their later work was as good or better than their early work. I wrote to him, “You just have to get to another peak.” To my surprise, he was grateful.

Style is not something that should stand still. It must evolve, as you must evolve, because style is simply a snapshot of who we are at the moment, and the decisions that follow from that identity.

Because paintings do not lie, it is imperative to be absolutely honest in our paintings and honest with ourselves about who we are, what we value, and where we fall short as people. We become better painters and we find our style when we figure out how to get out of our own way and embrace life, with everything that’s beautiful and joyous and everything that’s tragic and scary, both within and without. Art is about courage. The way of the artist is the way of the sage, the shaman, the itinerant preacher, the warrior-monk. Style is a by-product of that path.

Ultimately finding your style is a matter of finding your best self. Ultimately, painting is a practice that will tell you who you are and help you achieve your potential as a human being.

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From tidepools to snow-capped mountains the Pacific Northwest is known for its diverse beauty and accessibility to nature. Roughly an hour outside of the city of Portland, the Maryhill Museum hosts the annual Pacific Northwest Plein Air painting event. This event challenges regional artists to tackle the serious terrain of the Columbia River Gorge en plein air. 

Suggested subjects for artists to paint while participating include mountains, water, and sky. Mt. Hood is nearby and accessible from many different angles and access points. The Timberline Ski Lodge provides a great space to paint up close to Mt. Hood. Just around the corner among lily pads is the clear water of Lake Trillium which offers a spectacular view of the mountain and its reflection. There are many farms, harbors, city parks and riverfronts to paint and enjoy the scenery closer to the city of Hood River. The Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area has many spectacular waterfalls and there are also numerous hikes with vistas for those who can hike with painting gear. 

Into the Washington side of the Columbia Gorge is the history-rich Maryhill Museum. The Museum was dedicated in 1926 by Queen Marie of Romania who was notably the second royal to ever visit America. Maryhill boasts a unique collection of 70 Rodin sculptures, 300 chess sets from around the world and a life-size replica of Stonehenge. Today the museum offers an education center, a collections suite, and a cafe and hosts an annual, invitational plein air paint out. 

Overall, the Columbia River Gorge is a remarkable area to explore and to paint. The artwork produced by the Pacific Northwest Plein air artists is hands-down stunning. Many artists return annually and after experiencing the beauty of the place I understand why.

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 We all would love to have fewer paintings that just don’t seem to work for us.  I know I do. I’ve been drawing and painting for over 75 years and I certainly am trying to save some time away from the clunkers! 

I have found one fairly good way for me is to do value and/or color studies and understand it is not for everyone. I was trained as an Illustrator in art school and we were given assignments that involved doing value and/or color studies, often having to do multiple ideas or designs for the same assignment. It really made sense as we often had to work with art directors who would give us an assignment and make sure we were both on the same page.

We would have to submit small studies that the art director would look at and advise us what we would have to do or not do (usually to do) to communicate or illustrate the story, part of the story or if an advertisement, create the right visual message. There was often quite a bit of money at stake so that commercial process was more of a necessity!

I have carried some of that habit into my fine artwork, particularly with my studio and figure painting where I will work out a composition or design with multiple figures, accessories, animals, etc. They are often telling a story and so I will use a variety of photos that I will try and orchestrate into a painting like the examples here. 

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I will also do the same with some of my landscapes where I will usually have one main photo reference and use other photo references or my own memory bank – things that I think will help make the painting better, such as fruits, flowers, baskets, horses, trees, streams, ground cover, etc.

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The main thing in the smaller value studies is to get something down so that I can see and think about what I need to do to hopefully make it work better. Usually, with the value studies, it involves making shapes larger or smaller, darker or lighter, edges sharper or duller and adding or subtracting objects, be it figures, dogs, bushes, streams or whatever might make it a better painting. In the case of a color study, the same issues apply. But think more of brighter or duller color and color harmony. I like to tell my students that the old Master’s worked in values for FOUR YEARS. When I was in art school it was for two years, and our first color assignment was three white eggs on a pale blue plate! It is hard to get students to do value studies for two days, let alone two years, but if they are in any way serious about their work, they understand how important it is to master that part of the process!  In regard to doing color studies, I like to tell students that a fairly accurate definition of a good painting is “an interesting or compelling arrangement of shapes, colors, edges, and texture”.  This definition applies for classical to abstract work. And doing smaller value or color studies is a more efficient process to learn all of that, not the only way, but a pretty good way to get a handle of things!   

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Usually, the concept of doing studies is associated with more thoughtful studio work. But they certainly can be applied to other forms of painting, such as plein air where immediacy can really be a moving force as often one is in a situation of the unfamiliarity of where and when to go someplace. Just taking a few minutes to get something down visually can clarify some thoughts, feelings, and concepts that may lead to a more successful effort. I have a small sketchpad that I often just scribble down some tones and shapes that helps to clarify some ideas of a scene that has piqued my interest. At least I am not diving in cold turkey and hoping the heck it will all work out as I go along. Yes, sometimes that works. There is much to be said for spontaneity and a quick study guide does not have to inhibit that. Rough sketches at least gave me something of a starting guide with value and shape relationships to contemplate for better or for worse. Usually, we are in a hurry to get going outside and with the first quick sketch the temptation is to say “that’s good enough”, but I have too often gone ahead and had to live with my regrets for not being more patient!

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When working in the studio and having more time to think about what and how I am going to paint a picture, I will sit down and do around 10 to 15 value studies. Working from photos and my own memory bank, I develop some concepts and then pick out around 6 or 7 that I like best and do color studies of them. The idea here is to find some ideas that I really like out of many and spend my valuable time on something I am excited about. The one problem with that is that I have played the ballgame twice already, and as the process of creating a picture is what I enjoy the most I lose a bit of an edge in doing a larger piece. Now, I often will just do a value or color study and still have the challenge of seeing if I can make it better on a larger scale. I usually make the color studies around 6″x8″ or 8″x10″, but sometimes larger and may just carry them to a more “completed” finish and leave them as is. 

Everyone is so different in their interests, styles, and motivations and whatever system works best for you is great. Sometimes it takes a while to figure it all out, you may want to detail your studies out more and that is fine. I mainly use the studies to work out my composition or design, trying to get the shapes, values, colors, and edges to work for me. Often, they just don’t work out or they almost work, but just not quite and I can’t figure out what it needs. I have hundreds of value studies and a lot of color studies laying around the studio and in stacks. Every so often I will go through them and  sometimes with a fresh eye see what one needs ..sometimes in a few days..often longer.

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One of my best paintings, a complicated street scene with figures and animals, took me almost a year before I figured out how to get it to work. This street scene is what I finally came up with. The creative process really works in strange, but often wondrous ways for us!

You may have already found what works best for you. But if you haven’t, you might consider doing some smaller value studies to work out designs and compositions. Also, read some good books that talk about that and try and look at great paintings in all styles to figure out why they are so good. Some of it may be very relevant to what you are doing and often you can bet that the artist went through a process of doing value and/or color studies to make it better. 

I have a Facebook group where I have demonstrations and videos of my processes including portraits, figures, studio, and plein air landscapes along with explanations of demos and references I use and why and how I put them together. I have been teaching for over 50 years and painting for 75 years and so have a lot of experience, knowledge and some wisdom to share. I am also a “Designated Master” with both the Oil Painters of America and the American Impressionist Society and I love to share my process with others. You can go to this link:  Ned’s Artist Buddies or go to my website at www.nedmueller.com and click on works and then Artist Buddies. It is a very good deal! Thanks for getting this far and best of luck to you in this great adventure of creating art!