New Beginning, Fresh Start, Turning a New Leaf. Just a few of the ways we talk about being re-energized and re-focused on our projects and goals. Sitting with a group of artists recently, the conversation went like this: “I haven’t done anything new.” “My brain is mushy.” “I have a show coming up and no work for it.” “I’m just repeating myself”. “It all looks the same.” “I don’t know what to do.” Sound at all familiar? How do we keep it fresh for ourselves and spark creativity when we have deadlines to meet and feel like we need to ‘produce’ creative work? While we can’t just wait for inspiration to strike, there are ways to foster the joy of creating. For me it doesn’t usually require any Big changes (new medium, new genre) but rather small changes I can easily fit into the work I already do. Here are some suggestions that work for me:
Change Scale
Townsend Atelier recently hosted a show that had one simple requirement – all artists had to create a work on 4” round coasters. At first this seemed crazy. Four inches? and Round? But what at first seemed really limiting resulted in a huge amount of fun both in creating my own pieces and in seeing everyone else’s. The landscapes, portraits, abstracts and even sculpture and mixed media were eye-opening!
This show helped me see I could easily mix up the size of my work, so instead of just working in a mid-size, I’m bouncing back and forth, one day working and forth, and forth, one day working tiny, the next very large.
A friend and I talked about our resistance to dealing with social media and promised each other we would post more often. That didn’t happen till we were invited to a Facebook Challenge: post 7 paintings in 7 days. Rather than posting old work I chose to try working alla prima – something I never do. Again, this turned out to be really fun, and successful. It gave me so much more confidence in painting, and I wouldn’t have done it without the Challenge.
Change a Material
Choose just one new material – a new brand or color of paint, a different medium or varnish. I recently switched to aluminum composite panels for larger works. So far I’m really liking it, but there is a definite learning curve in prepping the panel and in how the first layer of paint soaks in when compared to oil primed linen. Making just one change keeps the frustration level down during the learning curve; when something goes ‘wrong’ I don’t have to wonder which new material caused the issue. Its easy to isolate and solve.
Choose a Workshop with a Specific Goal
I quit taking workshops for awhile – I found I was just taking random classes that were fun but unrelated to my actual work. After considering what I would find truly useful I chose a drawing class. In last month’s OPA blog, David Dibble quoted Jeremy Lipking’s advice to painters:
“Draw more, that’s basically it. A lot of people feel like they know how to draw good enough already, but don’t trust yourself. Learn to draw better.” I can draw – but not nearly as well as I would like, and not in ways that actually inform my paintings. Choose a class that builds an area you want to strengthen. Growing and stretching skills is so satisfying!
We work alone so much of the time and often with no feedback other than the voices in our heads – which, admit it, are frequently negative. Even if you’re an introvert (I am), get over it and go find a few other artists to hang out with on a regular basis. I joined two groups this year – one is specifically a critique group and the other is in a shared studio space. Both support me in my work and let me learn about the very different kinds of work that the others are doing. We talk about our successes and dreams and failures. It makes the load lighter.
Count the Ways
There are so many possible ways to change things up and get recharged. See what’s new in your colleagues’ approaches. One friend of mine is learning about gold/silver leafing. One has decided to stop taking commissions to have more time to follow her heart. While I’m trying out alla prima paintings, another friend has just discovered the pleasure of working slowly in layers. A Facebook friend has committed to doing 100 drawings before returning to the easel. Yet another is documenting her shoe collection through paintings and drawings. Every. Single. Pair.
Finally –
This is something I hadn’t considered until reading Jerry Hardesty’s blog post ‘Art Does Not Speak For Itself’ on FASO’s Fine Art Views. It’s about the need to be able to talk about our art. He writes about having a collector ask about a piece only to find himself completely tongue tied and have the collector wander off. I’ve been there, bet you have too. He suggests a number of ways to get comfortable speaking about your art. My personal favorite is his suggestion to join Toastmasters, but no matter how you achieve it, learning to communicate with others about the work we do can only enhance our own experience of it. So, on my list for next year, is to learn to speak about art publicly. Who knows – even that could turn out to be fun (I’ll keep telling that to my inner-introvert).
Why?
Why do all of this? Because the benefits are huge. It keeps me excited about painting, and it keeps me asking questions – What happens when I do this? What if I do it here instead of there? Why did that fail and what can I do about it? By nature I prefer the safe, the familiar. So its unlikely I will suddenly take up performance art, or abstract work. But by trying out changes that aren’t too far outside my comfort zone, I stay connected to my work but continue to grow and to love being an artist.
What gets you excited about being at the easel? What do you want to try, and why? What challenge could make you actually get going? What we do as artists is very hard work. But it should also be very very fun. Ready, set, Go!
Blog post by Terry Rafferty
www.terryrafferty.com
Oil Painting
Musings on a winter day…
~ Sara Raasch
And so it is with painting; the first stroke on a blank canvas is like that single snowflake. The tabula rasa… the promise it holds, is built on the premise that all knowledge comes from experience or perception.
Art is the external expression of the intuition. As artists we are constructing an imagined thing. Each stroke building upon the last until form and content are in correct relation to each other and the idea is clearly expressed.
Raw emotion, without rules of academic correctness to govern its output,
just produces nonsense. Great art, can only come when creativity
is tempered by taste, when the design is conscious, and when the form
is uniquely suited to the ideas presented.”
Shakespeare said that art is a mirror held up to nature. Yet if the making of art was limited to just copying, then nature would surely eclipse any effort of the artist. The artist’s interpretive vision would be lost in the cold reflection and recording of external facts. Reality is obtained not by copying but by interpreting. Even in painting the portrait, the artist must fix in his mind the quality, the character, the very soul of the person before him.
12×16
The transcending of art above nature is an age old discussion. Aristotle with his idealistic view, was likely the first to claim that true art is an improvement upon nature and that man must be depicted not as he is but as he ought to be. Realists believed that only common depictions of life offered an enlightened view of reality. But even this belief doesn’t destroy the presence of artistic quality in their work. An internal vision along with the external, skill of execution is required for all true Art.
and paint this truth in the simplest and most direct way.”
The mechanics of picture-making, require a mastery of the basic principles. There are no great secrets, simply a commitment to careful observation and mindful, sincere rendering. Painting is a fusion of the external; skill of execution and the internal; vision or intuition. It requires an understanding of who we are and who we are becoming. An unfolding of the mind with each new experience.
Mysticism teaches that everything in the physical world has a parallel in the spiritual. Baltus said; “A spiritual stroke, correctly placed is beyond calculation.” This belief resonates with me; it suggests that something outside of our unique experience and knowledge is at work. That the hand of the artist is guided by the mind as well as the spirit.
As with snowflakes; we all have our unique experiences. But maybe the accumulation of human experience is like a blizzard, resulting in what Jung called the collective unconscious. When a painting transcends or inspires, perhaps it has struck that universal chord.
Elizabeth Pollie interview
Her paintings are easily recognizable, varied in subject matter, and unique in composition, color, paint application, and texture. Surely they are a true reflection of her personality which she describes as slightly unpredictable, playful, yet belying a serious side…"A bit hard to put your finger on", she says.
Showing her sense of humor, she perceives her strength to be, “thinking outside the box”, but then the problem is, she has no idea where she put the box. I wondered how she determined her painting prices and if the popularity of a particular subject influenced her painting choices. She doesn’t select subjects based on popularity, instead she just allows herself to paint whatever intrigues her. That reality shows in her work, and I believe that’s why collectors and artists are drawn to what she does. When pricing her work, she looks at the price structure of other artists at her level professionally
and prices her work similarly.
Pollie approaches life enthusiastically…”feeding her wanderlust.” She likes this quote by poet, Wendell Berry, “Nobody can discover the world for somebody else. Only when we discover it for ourselves does it become common ground and a common bond, and we cease to be alone.” I don’t think Elizabeth Pollie needs to ever be concerned about being alone.
I was primarily involved in the editorial arm of illustration. This was the arena where one would be commissioned to create a book cover, a series of illustrations for a magazine article, etc. It was, to some degree, “The thinking man’s” category. It was a glorious time in illustration given the amount of creativity artists were allowed. Metaphorical thinking was often a part of the equation. This gave rise to some brilliant images. Brad Holland was a hero, as well as many others.
I think there have been times in history when illustration, in some ways, exceeded what was concurrently happening within the fine art world. Often the requirement of strong technical skills along with the ability to go beyond literal translation can make for some very evocative imagery. However, I do not miss illustration given that it was so highly competitive and was vanishing rapidly as more and more art directors turned toward quick and easy digital solutions. I would like to think that when you turn a new page you might unwittingly bring along with you the most meaningful, delightful and essential passages.
How difficult was it for you to transition from illustration to fine art?
It was no effort at all. I had moved to Northern Michigan leaving behind many things. I was no longer teaching illustration at the College for Creative Studies and there was nothing I could blame as an outside distraction.
How would you define art?
There are many impersonal ways of defining art. Francis Bacon said, “The job of the artist is to deepen the mystery”. I love that. I think that it involves creating something that when offered to the world somehow enlivens the senses in a sublime manner.
John, I don’t think there is a “Why ?” Those were the seeds I was born with. I have no question about it. This may be my one truth. As far as what motivates me, I think it’s a slightly obsessive love of possibilities within the realm of representational imagery and trying to come up with an interesting and evocative solution.
“The world is full of wonder, mystery and any number of subtle connections. As a visual artist, I love exploring the nuances found within the confines of ‘the everyday’. The artist, Paul Klee is quoted as saying, ‘One eye sees. The other eye feels’. This dual lens is what comes into play when painting any subject matter. I believe the best paintings arise from the ability to balance what is easily observed with what stirs quietly just out of reach. It is the unspoken yet deeply felt nature of things that leaves me continually inspired.”
How would you describe your painting style?
John, I would have to leave that to the critics. I don’t really think In terms of style because there are so many ways to represent something in two dimensions, yet by comparison there are relatively few ways of describing one’s style.
This evolution feels very natural. Really I think that all artistic evolution is a form of response to a combination of personal history and experience, current conditions, and ongoing stimuli. In truth, I sometimes feel more at the mercy of this process than assuming that I am behind the wheel.
You paint a variety of subjects; why is this important to you?
Admittedly, I have a restless spirit. On certain levels, how one thing relates to another often attracts me more than the subject matter itself. And, I think any subject can be imbued with a sense of mood, mystery and some kind of beauty. I recently saw a painting of a couch and it was simply gorgeous – the painting that is, not the couch. Put 10 great writers in a room and ask them to describe a glass of water sitting on a table. If you are mesmerized, it was the description not the actual object.
Animals represent an important part of your repertoire, what is the connection?
I was the girl who brought home every stray, filled her bedroom with stuffed animals and named each one, dreamed of having a house full of cats and dogs ( and subsequently did). It’s impossible to describe how deeply I love and respect the animal world. Nor can I describe how I feel when I stand and watch them – it goes deep. Still, when I paint animals, I always begin by looking at them as a shape among shapes. As the painting develops the mood of the piece begins to come forward. With hope, nuances and layers that might describe my connection to them are woven into the initial structure. I hate the idea of simply painting a cute cow. I love the idea of painting the essence of something lovely.
I focus on 3 things; design, light and mood. Design is the plot, mood is the overall feel of the story (the emotional core). Color, value, brushwork, surface, these are how one gets there.
Do you have compositional principles that you always adhere to?
No, but my tendency it to crop in and think of everything as a still life. I have no issues with moving, creating and getting rid of elements to strengthen the composition. I tend to prefer my compositions to be a bit more spare than busy…more quiet than noisy.
“Although my work has a very analytical side to it, I am probably more prone to be swayed by intuitive impulses. If you can see in your mind’s eye, then at least you can head in that general direction. I have never been someone who relies on technical information. For me, painting is an initial idea followed by a series of questions and the answers that come up along the way. Every answer gives birth to a new question.”
You seem to give considerable attention to paint application and the surface quality of your paintings, why is that important to you?
I recently heard an interview with David Hockney. He mentioned that the first thing he looks at when viewing a painting is it’s surface! I think surface has a power all it’s own. It feels as though it has a magical kind of DNA. It contains traces of its creation; its own private history. How could one enter the Colosseum in Rome and not want to touch everything? How can you walk through the woods and not lay your hands at least one tree? I think in many ways our eye’s touch paintings, and even though they are always thought of as 2 dimensional, the surface lends a new subtle dimension.
Composition and drawing are primary and equal in my book. Next I would say, value, technique, color, edges, framing. Concept is integrated into and guides all of these elements.
What colors are typically on your palette; how/why were these colors selected?
I use eight to nine colors… a warm and a cool of red, blue, yellow, plus white, asphaltum, and a few oddball colors. I also try to have at least four transparent colors on the palette. This allows me a great deal of color harmonizing, push and pull, as well as the ability to enliven the piece with pure chroma.
Do you have a color philosophy or is your choice of color, while painting, intuitive?
Primarily modulating within a chosen scheme…warm and cool, transparent and opaque, darks and lights. So, even if it’s a warm painting, I still will play with relative” cools”. When it comes to pushing color and mark making, it’s quite intuitive and far from predictable.
I have never been someone who adheres well to any kind of routine. Because of this I don’t begin all pieces the same way. I don’t really have a method. I sometimes start by laying down color, letting it dry and then choosing what to paint over it; that gives a diving board. Sometimes I draw something in and then throw down a color that will set up something to play off of. Again, the main concern is the design; it is not alla prima. I work all over the canvas in pretty thin layers, usually building up to a few areas of thicker paint.
“I think surface has a power all its own. It feels as though it has a magical kind of DNA. It contains traces of its creation, its own private history”
Do you consider the process of painting more important than the result?
Results, being the sum of the effort, matter greatly to me. The process, being the journey has it’s own personal value but I am not at all attached to it. I often find that I am vexed by my own circuitous path. At one time, I thought that my time in front of the easel might become easier as my knowledge and skills grew. In fact, it’s just the opposite. As my understanding has grown so has my desire to improve my paintings. As ones language grows so does the variety of choices regarding how they might articulate their thoughts. And so it goes.
What’s the most difficult part of painting for you?
Trusting that the audience is smarter than I think. The human brain needs very few visual clues to piece something together. I sometimes think there is more power in what we leave out versus what we choose to include. Poetry is a great example of how very few words, used in brilliant combinations can create something utterly sublime. Finding this balance in painting is greatly challenging. I think tiny nuances have great impact. Knowing when and where to weave these in can be utterly confounding.
My father loved art and architecture. It was a language that was spoken in our home. And, I was lucky to grow up spending nearly every Saturday messing around in art rooms that were connected to our local museum. I could wander into the museum and spend time perusing the various collections and special exhibitions. There was a Cassatt, a Sargent, a William Wendt, an Andrew Wyeth and several Hudson River school painters. By the time I went to art school I had my own inner-catalog of favorites. At eighteen, I loved Francis Bacon and then Edward Hopper. In my twenties I was smitten with American Regionalism (Grant Wood, Thomas Hart Benton , etc.) and the Canadian Group of Seven.
When illustration became my primary focus I delighted in the illustrations of N C Wyeth, Howard Pyle, Dean Cornwell and Frank Brangwyn, and the line work of Arthur Rackham; this was all before I was thirty. As the years passed, more and more artists piled in and continue to do so on a regular basis. I suppose it’s one big happy family that continues to grow and help inform my own visual vocabulary. Perhaps that’s why I am never lonely in my studio, at any one moment in time there’s a pretty big crowd milling about in my head.
I think the best use of influence is to receive it in the form of inspiration. If something trickles down, I’d prefer it is almost unconscious. The one thing I avoid is looking at anyone else’s work while I paint because I find it can undermine my sense of trust in my own instincts.
I don’t really have a clear answer for that. I would suggest that an individual who is in the earlier stages of their development not attach too firmly to one artist. Instead, I’m inclined to encourage people to fall in love with art history. Of course, learn about the craft but I think there is something profoundly important about knowing how one art movement gave way to another. There is always something to be learned by reading about the struggles of noted artists. Drink it all in. It’s so rich and relevant on many levels. Go to museums. Be dazzled, amazed and curious. Take this same awe and curiosity with you wherever you go; carry it with you into the woods, up and down the aisles of the grocery store, down along the railroad tracks, this can only enhance and expand your own point of view which is always there waiting to be expressed in it’s own unique way.
“I don’t feel all that successful as an artist. I think the way I measure personal success is pretty complex and I feel I have such a long way to go.”
Anybody’s guess. I have some health issues that from time to time cause pretty big fatigue. This only means my days start later and I might struggle a bit with focus. Turns out, energy is a rather wonderful thing. But all in all, I feel so lucky to get up in the morning and look out over Lake Michigan. It centers me. On my drive in, I often stop to say hello to a group of cows that I pass everyday. That just makes me happy. I have lunch with my husband. And, finally when I find myself in front of my easel I usually stay there, for better or for worse, and have a good long go at it.
What is West Wind Atelier?
West Wind Atelier was the name of my first studio in Harbor Springs when I moved to Northern Michigan. It was where I worked, taught and exhibited my work. I’ve since moved to a different studio and I own a gallery named Elizabeth Pollie Fine Art where I sell my work and represent Marc Hanson, Mark Horton, Derek Penix, Kathleen Newman, and Shannon Runquist.
Many thanks to Elizabeth Pollie for this beautiful interview. Why don’t you let her know how much you appreciate her sharing part of her life with us?
Back to Basics: Drawing
To be sound, a painting must be built on a compositional foundation in this order:
- Drawing
- Value
- Color
- Edges
If these get addressed in any other order, problems generally ensue.
Recently, the artist Jeremy Lipking was asked what advice he would give to painters, and he said:
“Draw more, that’s basically it. A lot of people feel like they know how to draw good enough already, but don’t trust yourself. Learn to draw better.”
With the fewest words and most pictures possible, I would like to briefly address the issue of drawing. In the following visual example, I have shown how fundamentally a piece can change when just the drawing is ignored. The values and color are the same in both pieces. The point is obvious:
Too often we divorce drawing from painting, and we do it to our own detriment. Drawing isn’t something we do in school once and then move on to the weightier matters of art; it is always the foundation. It’s also hard to do because it takes sustained and focused practice, which is why students usually, at least initially, copy the stroke quality and edges of other artists, because those things are more easily observed and imitated.
Another mistake we often make is to exclusively think of drawing as line-based. Line can certainly be a useful tool when drawing, because the instruments employed tend to create thinner marks, but really, drawing is about principles, not marks. Thus, I would like to address two principles of drawing: Proportion and Simplification of Form.
1. PROPORTION
There is a lot one could talk about here, but basically, it comes down to creating an unequal distribution of space in a piece. This is also the same for unequal proportions of value, color, and edges.
In these two examples, I have laid out how proportion of shapes, space, and value can affect a piece. No one of these proportion examples is correct or incorrect all the time, but it’s important to be aware of how and why you’re distributing/dividing space. When plein air painting, this is most often manifest in how we choose a horizon line and a focal point. We usually respond emotionally to everything we’re seeing in nature, and thus want to paint the sky, meadow, trees, and mountains all at once. But of course we can’t have a conversation with two people at once, so everything ends up feeling confused and passive. Next time you’re looking at a scene, try choosing one thing and letting that dominate. This is true within a shape as well (i.e. branches within a tree), which leads us to the next principle.
2. BASIC SHAPES
When I was young I saw how-to-draw books that broke things down into basic shapes and I thought they were lame. The drawings in those books didn’t seem to match the highly rendered pieces that I responded to and used as an aspirational goal. So, as most of us, I focused on rendering and shading and learned how to do it well. That was drawing to me.
But the more I learned post-high school, I started to see the pattern of truth re-emerge: Basic shapes REALLY ARE the way to draw. And it starts with training our eyes and minds to simplify down what we see to the most basic elements:
But it’s not enough to merely simplify something. In fact, getting to the essence of something is extremely difficult. It’s the same reason why writers often comment that a strong short story is harder to write than a novel. One can use fewer words in a conversation and be either concise or confusing. So, don’t just simplify down shapes, be descriptive with them.
To close, here is an example of how I made choices of proportion and simplification in a painting:
The reference image gives the basic information, but in a static way. I chose the elements I felt were most interesting and descriptive and tried to build a painting around the idea using unequal proportions and descriptive simplification of shapes, values, colors, and edges.
May this be a year of stronger drawing in all of our work.
Three's A Charm
Over the years I’ve been on the receiving end of some wise advice, and several of those conversations will always stand out to me as having changed my life in some way. While I won’t burden you with every single life lesson I’ve learned, I will tell you about one recent conversation that helped tear down a huge mental block I was facing in my art.
It was nearly two months ago. I was one of the hundreds of guests (mostly artists) crowding into Gallery 1261 for the opening reception of Richard Schmid’s retrospective show. The place was packed and I had to speak at the top of my lungs to be heard by anyone standing more than twelve inches from me. In this space, I crossed paths with the indomitable Rose Frantzen, one of my all-time favorite artists and someone I greatly admire. We were practically yelling in each other’s faces to be heard above the chaos, and yet out of this noise came such wisdom from Rose, I find myself thinking about it still.
I don’t remember how it came up, but I was telling her about a portrait commission I had been working on for the past five months and how much of a struggle it was. I had repainted the face four or five times, and each time it only seemed to get worse, not better. Rose, in her unsympathetic but not unkind way, said, “Start over. Let the dead paintings die.” She then proceeded to tell me about a commission that she had done from an old black and white photograph. She spent over a hundred hours on this painting, laboring to get every detail exactly perfect. Then, she started a second one and completed it in just six hours. It was different from the first, but no less perfect. She presented the clients with both paintings, not telling them which one she had spent more time on. The clients chose the six-hour painting. Later, they called her and said they also wanted to buy the other one.
I was blown away by Rose’s story and realized that this woman does not let fear get to her. I think I’m confident but then after one conversation with someone like Rose, I realize I still have much to learn!
After that, I went home to my studio, and, with some dread, sent the clients an email explaining that I needed to start over and would need some more time. To my surprise and relief, they were very understanding and said they appreciated that I was working so hard to get it right!
I was nearing the finish line when I decided I ought to start a third portrait. The clients were apprehensive about their daughter’s stoic expression, which didn’t really fit her personality. So I went back to the smile that they were drawn to originally, and started another painting in order to give the clients more options. The lighting was very different in this one, as was the expression, so the two paintings almost had nothing in common except for the subject.
Finally, I presented both paintings to the clients. They sat and deliberated, weighing the pros and cons of each one. We all agreed that I could have painted a hundred paintings of this sweet little girl and they still wouldn’t capture every facet of who she is! But a painting tells so much more of a story than a photo does. It captures something deeper, something that grows on you every time you look at it.
Finally, the clients decided they wanted to buy both.
Grit and hard work do pay off, but not unless you have the confidence to carry through. I am grateful for Rose’s words of wisdom and for challenging me to let go of the long hours and miles of canvas in order to make my best work. Now I can deliver my finished portraits in full confidence that I did the absolute best I could do – without regrets. My clients and I are both the better for it!
I hope this post encourages you in some way to keep going. If you’ve been struggling with a project and it just isn’t working, start over! Know that those hours were not in vain, because each time you start fresh, you’ll have that wealth of experience from your previous painting to help you make more informed decisions along the way. Happy painting!