Oil Painting

This quote by Leonardo da Vinci may seem contradictory to anyone who has endeavored to learn the skills necessary for representational painting. Whether a student or seasoned artist, the process of learning will test your patience to the point of insanity. Even Sargent had his difficulties, and issued forth a sort of battle cry of “demons, demons,” with which he would dash at his canvas.

Patience is a crucial element in learning to paint. One of the most encouraging things I learned was from Richard Schmid. His belief that painting is a craft which requires practice but above all patience, really set me free from negative thoughts. Much like learning to play the piano or becoming a champion athlete, it’s important not to blame ourselves when our skills don’t quite match our visions. Another mentor was John Terelak, the great Cape Ann painter and instructor. At that point in my journey, I felt my work was not good enough to share with the public and John instilled in me the need to believe in myself. He explained that learning is a life-long pursuit, our work is ever evolving and improving – your best effort is all that’s required.

“I do not judge, I only chronicle.”
I will never forget my first painting event, I was in way over my head but felt I should challenge myself. In spite of this, I must’ve looked like I belonged there as a fellow painter soon joined me at my chosen location. I was lucky that she quickly recognized that I had no idea what the hell I was doing. With some helpful tips I was able to make it through the day and although my painting was amateurish I was hooked on painting outdoors.

After nearly 30 years at the easel, I continue to have moments of frustration and self doubt. It sometimes feels as if the more I know, the less I realize I know… if you know what I mean. These moments of fear and doubt can lead to a creative block. Sometimes we spend more time gaining theoretical knowledge and not enough time actually painting. Nearly every artist I know has gone through this and the best way to overcome it is to push through and keep painting. When our skills become intuitive much like muscle memory, then our ideas and the execution of those ideas are synthesized.

Developing patience requires having faith that eventually, you will get there. Seek out the support and exchange of ideas of fellow painters, especially those who are on the same creative path, and learn from their mistakes and successes. Celebrate small victories and breakthroughs when you’re learning the process, and allow those achievements to get you to the next level.

Recently, I felt the need to return to a more academic approach to painting by attending the Academy of Realist Art in Boston. The Academy teaches traditional techniques, modeled on 19th century French academies. The focus was on creating the color study which is a preliminary oil sketch that determines specific colors and establishes, in the most simplified manner, the value range that will best achieve a light effect and create volume. It gave me a greater understanding of how to simplify planes, properly compose values and create color harmony. The Academy proved to be exactly where I needed to be in order to hone my draftsmanship and painting skills. So never feel as though you’ve moved beyond a specific level, it’s always good to revisit the fundamentals.

Paint from life as often as you can and carry a sketchbook with you at all times. Changing disciplines from portraiture to landscape, still life to painting the figure is also beneficial as each provides something different to consider in terms of design, form, value and color.
I visit museums often and carry a sketch book to “deconstruct” or make value studies of masterworks. So much can be learned from this practice. I also attend artist demonstrations and visit the studios of painters I admire whenever an invitation is extended.

“Cultivate an ever continuous power of observation…
be always ready to make slight notes of postures, groups and incidents”

In regards to workshops, choose someone who embodies your values and approach to painting. Nearly 20 years ago I studied with a wonderful teacher who felt that taking workshops with seasoned (or celebrity artists as he called them) was like trying to pick up a “bag of tricks”. Although this is true to some degree, watching a master painter at work is a tremendously useful way to learn. Just be careful not to be so influenced as to believe that technique or mannerism is the path to good painting. Honesty is the true path to yourself and your own expressive voice.

“Above all things get abroad, see the sunlight and everything that is to be seen.”

As many of you know I love to travel and just returned from teaching a workshop in Italy. For me, there is no better way to arouse the senses than through visiting new places. Travel offers a diversity of landscapes, architecture and people. It’s always an awe-inspiring and enriching experience and a sure way to break free from old habits.
For more information, please visit my website www.elicedrone.com
All quotes by John Singer Sargent

You’ve taken classes, attended workshops in farflung corners of the world, studied with teachers you admire and you’ve improved so much! Your work is hanging in galleries, your name is well known, you may have even a few museum shows or solo exhibitions under your belt. National art magazines have featured your work and the awards and invitations are piling up.

You have arrived and are, finally, a successful “working” artist. So who needs another workshop? The expense, the time away from your own studio and deadlines….just to learn something new why bother?

I recently organized a plein air workshop in Sun Valley, Idaho for Michael J. Lynch who is one of best landscape painters in the country. I heard that he is a fantastic instructor, so I and my partners, Tom and Sandy of Wood River Fine Arts, invited Michael to teach this past June. His reputation preceded him and the workshop sold out in no time. What surprised me was the caliber of the students who wanted to take it. They were willing to drive thousands of miles and shell out money for lodging, food and the workshop itself and we’re talking pros here, people.

Kathryn Stats: “I seek out artists who can teach me new ways of thinking and looking at a subject matter. I studied from Ray Roberts for three years in order to get the high contrast, minimal values involved in Shapes in order to get stronger shapes in my work.

With Michael Lynch, I was studying a different approach in block-in, such as transparent thin paint building up to the more opaque lights. Also, warm and cool temperatures in close value paintings in order to get a proper read on the subject. His brushwork is great. I attend one workshop a year and also look for quality of instructor, timing, location, workshop organizer and ability to join other friends. I also needed a Jill Carver fix.”

Jill Carver: “ Michael’s demos left a deep impression on me. Here was a very fine craftsman, and one well-honed in his practice, but there was a freedom and joy of the unknown present too in his approach to each painting. Michael has a patience, waiting for the painting to evolve on its own terms, and a keen eye happy to claim any accidents that serve his vision. It was like witnessing a dance between control and spontaneity (albeit a highly educated spontaneity). In my own work, I am a planner, and this has improved my work tremendously but, in the last few years, I have also angsted about whether I am overthinking, over planning and becoming too self conscious. I was not expecting this workshop to resolve that issue; indeed I had not even gone there with this angst identified as a specific problem, but on the evening on the third day as I was taking off my shoes in my room, I got choked up and, I confess, a little teary. It came out of nowhere. Trying to grapple with what I was feeling, I realized that what I had seen had just opened up a huge door for me; I felt released from the obstacle of ‘fear’ and ‘self consciousness’ that might have held me back for years. This was the unexpected epiphany. Who knows where it will lead and I am sure those demons will continue to visit, but I am just thrilled to feel freedom in my work again, and I am thrilled to say that I am a ‘student’ once more.
I think as professional artists, we get caught up in the demands of the professions….One is signing up for a lifetime of learning: that’s what makes this career so meaningful to me personally, and yes, though I think as we develop we are better attuned at teaching ourselves, there is nothing like being ‘present’ in a workshop and trying to get inside someone else’s head for awhile. That kind of immersion leads to less conscious breakthroughs, and some surprising epiphanies, than when one is trying to teach oneself. I could not wait to get away from being in Jill Carver’s brain and escape into someone else’s brain for a week how marvelous!”

Jeff Horn: “A painter’s goal should be to strive to make a better painting: to strive to communicate what is seen and what is felt for what is seen. I am quite clear that I have not, and perhaps never will, reached a pinnacle. I think I have my moments of “seeing beyond the usual” as Robert Henri put it, but if one is honest; there is always something more to reach for. Other painters have a grasp of parts of the vocabulary of painting that I do not yet have. If I can honestly incorporate something I learned from another painter into my own vocabulary, perhaps I will gain the ability to say more in my paintings.
Michael’s work has “spoken” to me for a long time. I suppose we all have certain paintings or painters with whom we feel a shared aesthetic. It is as though we know them and understand what they have to tell us through their work more readily than through others. I think I have a shared interest in, and affinity for, the rhythms in nature that Michael does. But, his paintings exhibit a color knowledge and texture that blow me away. I came to painting from being a draftsman. There is so much yet for me to learn about paint. I have also long felt that my palette was always too cold no matter if I thought I was painting warm or not. That is what I wanted to learn about and change in Michael’s workshop.”
Becky Joy: “To me creating art is about exploration and problem solving, as I’m sure it is with most artists. I’ve found that as an artist, I need constant change, exploration, and stimulation, which is possible with every painting that I paint. But, even more so, by taking a workshop. Each workshop gives me something new to expand on and to explore, making life even more interesting and invigorating. I come away from every workshop with inspiration and a sense of renewal. I try to take at least one workshop a year. Many times it will be two workshops. The last workshop that I took was last fall, a figurative workshop with Carolyn Anderson.

One specific thing I like about Michael’s paintings is his ability to take a scene with what looks like chaos in the wild vegetation and simplify it, but still have it look complex. His compositions are strong and simple and this is something in particular that I have been working on. One big lesson for me was helping me in keeping my darks dark. His approach is just a bit different than I have had in the past in the block in stage. This is helping me keep my paintings more cohesive.”

Suzie Baker:“I feel so fortunate to have taken this workshop with Michael Lynch; he is a terrific painter, communicator, and an all around good guy.
Painting, regardless or how long I’ve been doing it, has a way of keeping me humble. I feel like I am better than I was three years ago, but not nearly where I want to be and I also know that when I get to where I want to be, I will have moved my personal bar up a few rungs! I never want to be so stuck in the Suzie Baker way of doing things that I can’t learn something new, because, regardless of how accomplished I try to appear on Facebook, boy do I have a lot to learn! I’ve whacked my brushes against the same problems so many times with unsatisfying results that it was a relief to take a workshop from an artist like Michael and see how he goes about solving those same problems. It was especially gratifying when Jill, or Kathryn or Jeff or… asked the questions before I did. I’m not the only one struggling with that, whew! Thanks, Guys! This workshop had so many ah-haa moments for me. Seeing fresh ways of approaching the block in, paint quality and consistency of paint, brushwork, warming clouds as they approach the horizon it makes them recede, WHAAAT! Ah-haa, Ah-ha, AH-HAA!!

So, if I ever get to a point where I feel like I’m too advanced to take a workshop, please someone remind me, “Suzie, You’re not that special,” and I’ll say, “You’re right, thanks!” and I’ll sign up for another workshop.”

Like doctors, lawyers and teachers, it is important that we, as professional artists continue learning, evolving and seeking improvement our whole lives. And we can’t just read about it. Spending days with a teacher and other talented artists in a workshop give us a special opportunity to immerse ourselves, absorb new information and practice. We learn best by watching demonstrations and hearing their words of wisdom, viewpoint and wealth of knowledge. With the solitary nature of our profession, hanging out with artists is good for our souls…and we learn from each other as well as making new friendships.
Discover what you want to improve in your painting, choose the teacher and go! Maybe the next workshop you’ll have that epiphany, that AHA moment which moves you forward. What I’ve learned from Michael’s workshop experience, is you never ‘arrive’ at your artistic goal ….and that’s a freeing and wonderful thing. Oh, and how to handle those darn greens.

One of my favorite things is having an artist’s group which meets regularly. While most of us spend a lot of time alone creating art, nearly everyone is a social creature too. We naturally benefit from being around others. It’s also a great way to help newcomers, and even old timers will pick up new things, if it’s just how to use Pandora!
I am a member of the Oil Painters of America, the Portrait Society of America, and other professional groups, and these are terrific organizations. It’s so fantastic participating in their events and competitions. I am also in the Plein Air Painters of the South East (PAPSE), and these wonderful artists meet for painting events a few times a year. These are all such learning opportunities!

But my point here is that belonging to or starting a group that meets weekly or thereabouts can be of tremendous value. In college, and just after, I drew and painted at Detroit’s Scarab Club a few nights a week, and on some Saturdays. I cannot express all I learned about a wide range of subjects while developing my skills. I also continued to take classes after graduation, and then teach, which can be other ways to do what I’m suggesting, although usually for a more finite period. One of the most basic lessons is that MUCH OF LIFE IS JUST SHOWING UP! This cannot be overstated.

How we got “a head”

In January 2015 we started the Wednesday Night Head Study session at our local arts organization; Tryon Painters And Sculptors. We live in a small town, but it as been easy and fun asking folks to sit for three hours while we paint or draw them. We are thinking of starting a landscape group. If we had a larger population to draw on we would love to start a figure session. If something you would like doesn’t exist near you, start it up! Then you have the added benefit of deciding on what the focus is, when it happens, how long, how much etc. Hopefully you will soon have partners who can run the show when you can’t be there.
Do I always feel like procuring a model and going to paint on Wednesday night from 7-10? Not so much. But like other forms of exercise, I’m always glad I went, even if my painting or drawing turned out poorly. Besides the obvious improvement to our skills and increased confidence from the extra hours working from life, there are other benefits such as the comradarie of the regular members of the group, getting to know those who sit for you better, and it’s not surprising to sell or give some of the work you generate, or get commissions for other work as a direct or indirect result of these endeavors. In fact as I write this I’ve just learned that my head study of Remy has been accepted into the OPA 2016 Salon!
We always have to stress to our sitters that they don’t have to stay frozen for three hours! We explain that they find a comfortable pose, and that it’s important they are able to get back into it after taking whatever breaks they find reasonable. We reassure the models that they’re doing a great job and usually everyone has a fine time. We each contribute $10 and split it between the sitter and the facility.

If it’s not possible for you to have a group like this, you can commit to working from life regularly in many ways. Doing self-portraits in the mirror is a terrific exercise. Surely there are people in your life who would sit for you and perhaps even pose figuratively. Painting still life, landscape and interiors are also great ways to work from life.

Each week I renew my commitment to try to hone my process to generate work that rises to a new level. There are so many factors involved in painting; inspiration, composition, drawing, value, color, paint application and edges, calling it done…not to mention getting your ‘rig’ together, discipline, human relations, negotiating with ‘clients’, dealing with ups and downs, following through on commitments…
So we take it step by step. If we can adhere to solid principles of working from life and continue to grow our understanding of the figure and the process of picture making, we can see great results in time. If you’re ever in Tryon, NC on a Wednesday night do come and join us. Thanks to the Tryon Painters And Sculptors for providing such a great space!

PS- if you would like a solid, somewhat simplified approach to human anatomy for the artist, check out Andrew Loomis’ ‘Figure Drawing For All It’s Worth’. Luckily it’s been beautifully reissued and is not expensive.

I have recently been exploring boundaries and have found some beautiful lines that are helping me to be a more thoughtful, loving artist. I’m mostly unloving toward myself, as the creator of my art; but I’m going to change that. I think that “unlove” of every sort will find its way to the canvas and spread “unbeauty” in a world that looks to artists for something higher. To help myself to grow in a positive way, I’m staking out better boundary lines between poetry and prose in my work, and art and life in my mind.

To introduce the idea of poetry and prose, I’ll share the thoughts of a writer, Ranier Maria Rilke, who wrote “Letters to a Young Poet”:
“In writing poetry, one is always aided and even carried away by the rhythm of exterior things; for the lyric cadence is that of nature: of the waters, the wind, the night. But to write rhythmic prose one must go deep into oneself and find the anonymous and multiple rhythm of the blood. Prose needs to be built like a cathedral; there one is truly without a name, without ambition, without help: on scaffoldings, alone with one’s consciousness.”
I think Rilke has drawn a beautiful, descriptive line between plein air/life study work (poetry), and the personal and important work that happens alone in the studio (prose). For us, plein air work and life study are very certainly inward-moving rhythms of exterior things; but as told in pigment instead of verse. We see and experience what is there; we learn from it and respond to it, organizing and recording the experience on the canvas. The beauty of alla prima “poetry” is that it conveys our actual experience to another person, so that they can share in—or even be shown how to see—what we have seen. It is a picture from our outside-in, not our inside-out. The more we engage in this activity, the more enabled we become to show the wonder of creation. Our lyric cadence in the field is just the same as the poets’.

Eventually, the stimulation and inspiration that we experience as faithful reporters of what we see will cause in us a longing to express something that can’t yet be seen, that can’t be copied down from exterior things; something that is born from within our soul. This place of creation in an artist is not related to sales or art events or other artists. It’s deep. It is not conformed to the things of the outside world, but rather conforms those things to its own expression.

The whole painting may be carefully composed and drawn out before a single model is hired or reference photo found. Our “cathedral canvas” takes time, just as rhythmic prose takes time for the writer.
The reason I had to draw lines around these two is because they are two ways of working, and they result in two different products. I have been mean to myself in the past by expecting a quick cathedral. A more productive way to approach painting is to decide what your purpose is and then disallow everything that does not help fulfill that purpose. Do not be thinking of what award you’ll probably win or how much you might get for a piece while you are in your studio! That’s shallow and external and will keep you from going where you need to go, which is deep and internal. Do not expect some profound and epic masterpiece in a two hour on-the-spot painting either! You will draw your skills of observation away from the moment. In the field means in the moment. The only way to honestly and kindly explore these two types of painting is to draw and respect boundary lines and recognize when you are about to cross them.
Everything I ever learn in art turns out to be a good life-lesson for me. Lines and edges are very familiar territory to the visual artist, so one would think we’d be super good at lines and edges in life. I have found the reverse to be true with most of my artist friends, regardless of their age, gender, or level of accomplishment. What I see instead is a struggle to balance our life so that we are able to produce art. I think it’s akin to what Rilke said about prose: there is no one pre-structured way to live our life; everyone has to go deep into their own soul and spirit to learn where the boundary lines are for them.
As for myself, I normally have to use a sort of Phone-a-Friend Lifeline to find things out. Because I’m so close to it, I often can’t see the forest for the trees, which is exactly how I came to see the life-connection to this question of boundary lines in painting. I was up in the mountains, walking through the trees. I’d brought my painting gear and had some high expectations because this was new and beautiful territory. The first day I was there, I just explored. I had my camera but mostly I was just looking. I walked around this beautiful place for a long time; like maybe eight hours. I was pretty sure that where I was walking, no one had ever walked before, which gave me a funny thrill. There were new bird and critter sounds, an eagle and some hawks, wonderful marbled and weird-shaped rocks in the path and little flowers, bright leaves and puffy clouds.

I was alone as I walked, so I sang and skipped and even fell down a couple of times. I was smiling so hard all day that my cheeks hurt when I got back. But dang it! I hadn’t painted. When asked if I’d gotten anything that day, I reported that I had been scouting and had found some good prospects for the next day. But then the next day, a new and irresistible path lured me off course and there was another wonderful day of laughing out loud, climbing on and collecting rocks, getting my feet wet and figuring out which bird was singing this one song. But dang it! I hadn’t even gotten my gear unpacked. On day three, I got my gear out first thing, so I wouldn’t accidentally be wooed into fairyland again. I did not paint well. Two mediocre paintings and it was now the middle of the afternoon, so I snuck away to see if I could get to this one place that I’d seen from afar the day before.

That night, my husband asked how I’d done and I had to rat myself out. I had failed, three days in a row. (He’s my favorite lifeline—because he knows me so well, he can cut me to the quick with the right answer, delivered in just the right way.) He said, “No, seeing that as time wasted is looking at it all wrong. You are resting your mind, exercising your body, and allowing your soul to be filled up with beauty. Don’t punish yourself for that; it’ll negate the experience, and then it’s a failure.”
Artists have to allow themselves to be filled up so that they have something of substance to give. The days of joyous fellowshipping with this new place was the beginning of a conversation that would continue on canvas. I do see that it is much more respectful and real to step into a place and allow it reveal itself in stages, as you would in any new relationship. Robert Genn used to advocate sitting in a place for at least 30 minutes before even getting a pencil out, so you would know what to say about it. So clearly, for me, this place between art and life was in need of some better boundary lines. Life is to be lived well. Art is an expression of a well-lived life. If it gets muddled up and becomes my life, it will not be as rich or deep or lovely.
Heretofore, the boundary line between painting and living seemed obvious. You create art over here, and you do everything else over there. Seriously, “everything else” in my life has been pushed past that line into the “Waste of My Time” category. Not painting? Not doing your job! The line around my art life was small and heavily guarded, and the rest of my life was always a threat to its safety. But I’m now beginning to see that my painting life has to have a much bigger line around it. It has to have a reservoir to draw from and should include books and talks and silence. And no guilt. It’s a fine line, but we have to draw it. Otherwise, we will cut off the source of the quality in our work in order just to have the quantity; just the work.
Last year was my Year of Painting Fast. So far, this year is my year of finding the Power of Peace. I’m coming to see that there is a great energy in quietness, and that wonderful art can come from a restful, joyous place. Just like any good painting: there is activity and then there is a place for the eye to rest; a balance. But underneath the paint, there are fine lines of thoughtful structure, helping us to know when to turn and when stop.

At the end of Rilke’s book, there is an excerpt from a letter that I’ll close with:
“…the using of strength in a certain sense is always increase of strength also; for fundamentally we have to do only with a wide cycle: all strength that we give away comes over us again, experienced and altered. Thus it is in prayer. And what is there, truly done, that is not prayer?”
And another thing, with regard to the recreation idea. There are here, amid this realm of fields, spots of dark ploughed land. They are empty, and yet lie they here as though the bright culms round about them were there for their sakes, rows of fencing for their protection. I asked what was doing with these dark acres. They told me: c’est de la terre en repos. So lovely, you see, can rest be, and so it looks alongside work. Not disquieting, but so that one gathers a deep confidence and the feel of a big time…

Hemingway said, “Clarity is the indispensable characteristic of good prose,” and E.B. White gave the means to that end when he said, “I rewrite a good deal to make it clear.”
We understand editing in writing, but we sometimes treat every stroke we paint as precious. The fear of ruining a painting often leads artists to be timid and spend vast amounts of time polishing bad ideas. But growth can’t come without revisions, without taking risks, and without being willing to try even outrageously different ideas for a painting. There really is no other way to learn and improve.
I have found that in various stages of any painting, revision for clarity is essential. Sometimes I can easily see where a piece needs to go, and other times it’s not until I get trusted feedback that I see things in a new way. But if, for example, the tree I’m envisioning in the middle of the canvas doesn’t work, I don’t want to repaint half the piece to get it back to where it was. I have found several things very helpful to keep in mind as I work through revisions:
1- Paintings in-progress are NOT precious and often require a great deal of reworking. Repeat this in your mind often. The moment I get too attached to something before it’s finished is when I get careful and timid, which inevitably leads to stiff, cautious paintings.
2- Digital paintovers can solve a lot of problems very quickly. I would wager I’m not the only one who has stared at a painting for hours unsure of how to proceed, and the risk-less potential of digital paintovers saves a lot of time and stress. I can quickly try an idea digitally, and then get back to the easel and continue working much more confidently.
When I’m struggling to work out compositional ideas or clarifying adjustments, I take a quick photo of the painting with my phone, import it into photoshop, and then use a digital tablet and stylus to try out different ideas. Having painted a lot digitally, this works well for me, but Photoshop and a tablet/stylus can be expensive and some artists have found faster ways to work out revisions quickly. Artist Josh Clare uses an iphone app called ArtStudio delux ($5, but there’s a free basic version too). This allows him to take a picture with his phone and quickly paint right over it with his finger on the phone. This saves time and doesn’t require multiple machines. It also doesn’t feature the same fine movement and pressure-sensitive controls that Photoshop does, so it forces decisions to be worked through quickly and boldly.
Another thing I have learned about digital paintovers (or any painting study) is to keep them small: our minds compose well at a small scale. The pitfall of digital painting is that it’s a noodler’s paradise, and one can zoom in and in to paint every pixel/hair/leaf. The trouble with this is that A) One ends up painting details but not solving compositional and value problems, and B) when painting from the digital version later, too much fine detail will lead to an attempt to copy stroke for stroke what you did digitally, rather than taking a principled solution and applying it to a painting. So keep it small on the screen!

Let the days of being afraid to try new ideas be over. Be bold and willing to make revisions and explore a piece. Some paintings will go to the cutting room floor, but some will be the best you’ve ever done.