Oil Painting

What makes an artist? I ask this because I was pondering the question after I had read several bios of fine artists that basically said that “I was drawing at the age of 7 and never looked back”. Then I thought about myself and didn’t see it that way at all. Sure, I had pencils and crayons and the Jon Gnagy drawing set when I was seven but at my present age, I realize that a lot has gone into my development as a “Fine Artist”.

In my life, so far, I have done this: work in a machine shop (summer job), attained BFA from The Cooper Union, graphic designer at CBS and Atlantic records, freelance illustrator, attained San Dan (third degree black belt) in Kyokushin karate, cooking courses at Culinary Institute of America, Chinese cooking courses over several years, rock and jazz drummer from 12 years old (still gigging), became expert in Adobe digital software.

My point is not to list my accomplishments but to make all of you realize yours and how they influenced you as you became the artist you are.

From my youth, of course, I learned how to use a pencil by rote practice, drawing hot rods and Frankenstein monsters over and over until my mother wanted to scream. But sometimes I drew animals and flowers and gradually got better at it.

I, of course, continued to draw and paint through my formative years, but not taking any art classes until high school. 

I entered The Cooper Union after passing several entrance tests and was exposed to a great art education in Manhattan. I had the opportunity to try everything from life drawing to printmaking and sculpting clay and marble. Spoiler alert, marble is effing hard! Oddly, I did not take painting. I am self-taught and still learning from masters whom I admire.

Cooking classes taught me the value of planning my approach to the task at hand and setting out my materials methodically. My Chinese cooking showed me that contrast is an important aspect in creation. Chinese cuisine often contrasts textures, flavors and colors for the dishes. Likewise contrasts in one’s art can help enliven compositions that might be just so-so otherwise.

Graphic design and illustration were instrumental in helping develop a sense for composition and to simplify a scene if it was distractingly busy. I also learned to stay with the design project I was working on and not dawdle or daydream when a deadline loomed. Perseverance is a trait that will hold one in good stead when creating one’s art.

I confess that as I have gotten older, I do have a tendency to lighten up on some days.

In my martial arts training, which lasted a decade or so, I developed strong powers of focus and concentration so as not to be distracted by anything around me. I apply this focus in my painting.

My most important take away was a concept known in Japanese as Misu No Kokoro. This, usually translated as “mind like still water,” means to keep your mind like the surface of a calm lake or pond. If a small stone is thrown into said water, ripples form but quickly dissipate and become still again. In training we were taught that to meet an adversity in this state helps to overcome that adversity with clear thinking. Indeed, coming at a problem with a mind riled with chaos or rage is almost a guarantee for loss. 

I try to use that focus and calm, clear mind in all of my daily life especially when painting and it really helps in creation of my pieces. 

I mentioned that I have been a rock drummer in various bands for 50+ years. I also play some guitar and use that instrument for writing music. Being a musician has helped me to think “outside of the box” in my artwork, not getting stuck doing one subject (Frankenstein monsters!)  over and over again. In music, one can get too comfortable and that can lead to your tune becoming mundane. I believe the same thing can happen in my painting. One needs to stretch for something different to grow artistically.

This brings me back to my original idea that every experience in your life influences your thinking and how you approach the process of artistic creation.

I like to tell my friends that “no education is ever wasted”. All of your experiences in your life are educative in some way.

My point is that in your life and training as a fine artist, all that came before is in your make-up and is reflected in your artistic thinking and creation. You probably never give it a second thought… but it’s there.

In this OPA blog, the issues related to using and copying the work or ideas of other artists are explored with a focus on learning. Perhaps more questions are raised than answered as they pertain to artist’s intellectual property and copyright of it.

In classroom and workshop settings, art students often learn by using the instructor’s or other artists’ work as reference for study. Copying this work may be considered “fair use”.  According to the American Copyright Act (S. 107), fair use means the images may be used for learning purposes in an education, non-commercial, or non-profit setting. It may be confusing for learners to find free stock images on-line, giving them the idea that they can use or adapt the work as their own. Art instructors need to remind students that they may not sign, exhibit, or sell their studies or adaptations of other artist’s images as their own original work. It is also difficult for a student to comprehend that their work created under the direction and tutelage of an instructor is similarly, not considered original as it relates to exhibits or competitions.

This bell cannot be un-rung. Student visions of exhibiting and selling their classroom masterpieces are dashed. Hoping to gain clarity, some learners naively ask, “but isn’t the painting mine since I painted it on my canvas, with my paint?”.  When it comes to copyright and fair use, the substrate or medium or who paid for it has no importance. The key for instructors is to foster student creativity and originality and to encourage that exciting moment when they can sign their name confidently to their creation as their own.

Well-meaning art groups have organized student art shows and sales to encourage and promote student learning and success with marketing. While seemingly harmless, the leaders of these initiatives need to role model that once money is involved, “fair use” ends and Copyright laws apply. Student exhibits would be more appropriate when the original work is recognized alongside the student’s unsigned projects. A name card could suffice for each student’s interpretation of the source artist’s work. Instead of sales, donations for recognition awards, prizes or art supplies could be encouraged.

Are there any exceptions to the rules?  According to the USA Copyright office, copyright protection lasts for the life of the author plus an additional 70 years. Canadian copyright laws have the same timeline. After the artist has passed away, and the timeline has passed, it is possible to use the artist’s work with care. Because the artist’s original work is over a hundred years old, it can be concluded that the copyright has expired, but there may be limitations one should always consider.

Works located in a museum are considered to be in the public domain once the artist’s copyright expires. However, museums have claimed copyright of the images they produce of their holdings, claiming talent, equipment and cost to do so.  A number of court cases on this issue were reported by researcher Grishka Petri (2014). Therefore, a gallery image needs to be checked for copyright even if it appears to be centuries old if not used under the fair use clause.

It is not uncommon to see a famous image used in advertising, perhaps changed in a joking manner. Examples of famous paintings that have been adapted this way include Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, Wood’s American Gothic, and Munch’s The Scream. Think of the Mona Lisa with glasses and a moustache. Such imitation of a style of an artist with deliberate exaggeration for comic effect or in ridicule is called a “parody” (Oxford Languages). Again, depending on the years passed or who now owns the image, it may be subject to copyright, hence the images are not shown here.

A lesser-known artistic style that imitates that of another work is called “Pastiche” (Oxford Languages). This is when various parts of another artist’s work are copied and included into a new and convincing composition. An example of pastiche in art can be seen where Michael Jackson’s face is superimposed on the famous Andy Warhol painting of Marilyn Monroe with yellow-blonde hair. On a serious note, Brittanica.com advises that when various parts of another artist’s work are copied and included into a new convincing composition it may constitute a composite fraud. In other words, the works of the original artist that are used are subject to copyright depending on age.

The most serious problem in the art world is forgery or art fraud, a criminal act. It involves passing a copy or work of the artist’s work off as created by the original artist, most typically for financial gain (Encylopedia.com). There have been numerous infamous art forgers and fraudsters over the past few decades. Some have passed off works of art they created as having been undocumented masterpieces, missing, or uncatalogued pieces from an artist’s series. One of the largest art fraud schemes in world history was recently unravelled in Canada. It involved the forgery of hundreds of works attributed to indigenous artist Norval Morriseau. Unfortunately, the effects of the fraud may have damaged the legacy of the artist.

There does not yet appear to be easily accessible or affordable technological programs using artificial intelligence to perform originality checks on artworks. Academic settings have programs to help faculty analyze student written compositions and identify plagiarism (e.g. Turnitin). Plagiarism is “Presenting work or ideas from another source as your own, with or without consent of the original author, by incorporating it into your work without full acknowledgement” (Oxford University). If we apply this definition into the work created in art classrooms, changing the word author to artist, it makes sense that students must not sign copied images as their own.

For those of us who have submitted, or plan to submit work to OPA exhibits and competitions, we must acknowledge that our work is originally conceived and that it does not infringe on copyright of any kind.  OPA offers a good reminder that “It is unethical and against OPA policy for artists to submit work created from another person’s drawing/painting/photo or other artwork”. OPA firmly reserves the right to ask for proof of total copyright, indicating to members how important originality is.

To learn more about copyright and artist’s rights to intellectual property, information can be found on the Artist’s Rights Society web-site, https://arsny.com/artists-rights-101/, and the US Copyright Office website, https://www.copyright.gov/help/faq/faq-protect.html. Hopefully this blog reminds us of all these considerations, and for those of us who teach and all of us who learn, to share these important messages. As I say to my art students “If in doubt; check it out!” 

I started painting at the age of 52, having no artistic training beyond high school, and absolutely loving this incredible new activity, I took every class I could find.  Painting pretty much became my life.  I began to win local awards and my paintings were selling well.  In my first 7 or so years of painting, many of the classes I took included painting from life: models and plein air.  But those paintings were just practice and rarely left my studio.  Paintings that were accepted into galleries and exhibits, and paintings that won awards were all studio paintings.  It became easier, and I thought more productive, to paint photos from my monitor rather than to paint from life.   

And then, gradually there were more and more unfinished paintings lining the walls of my studio. Sometimes I’d work my way through the problems, but many canvases were painted over or thrown away.  There were too many visual questions I couldn’t answer.  Painting had become more about copying and less about interpreting or creating.  A bit of the joy went out of it.  I finally realized that I wasn’t challenging myself, and I wasn’t learning or making progress.  Meanwhile plein air painting was gaining in popularity.  Many prominent artists claimed that true color and value are seen by observing the subjects from life.  We all know that photos are not accurate.  After sending a photo of one of my paintings to an artist I admire for critiquing she suggested that my paintings would improve if I painted from life.  That was it.  I had nothing to lose.  I knew I couldn’t completely step away from studio painting, so I planned to spend at least 3 days per week painting from life and 3 days in my studio.  

Living in a suburb of Phoenix during the winter, I didn’t have to brave the elements and the wonderful Scottsdale Art School was handy for open studios.  I assumed it would be frustrating.  In fact, painting en plein air has been both exhilarating and enormously frustrating.  I found that even when the paintings were pretty darned bad, painting from life was the best part of my day.  In the 7 or 8 months I’ve been working at it there have been some magical and unusual moments.  I’ve painted on a hilltop while bagpipes played in the distance, painted a successful painting in a rare AZ snow storm, and had my lunch stolen from my backpack right behind me by a very brave squirrel.  Painting next to a stream, on a mountain top, sitting under our deck to paint the garden on a rainy day, attempting to capture the magnificence of God’s creation….those are good days no matter how the paintings turn out.  I’ve never felt that in front of a monitor.

I’ve been told by seasoned plein air painters that my persistence will be rewarded gradually with more accuracy in color, value, and stronger compositions.  And gradually I am feeling more comfortable and occasionally seeing some improvement.  I am at the beginning of this process.  Some plein air artists are painting with the intent to produce a finished painting; some use the paintings as reference for studio pieces.  I’ll most likely be the latter.  My slow methodical painting style does not lend itself to finishing paintings in a couple of hours, but painting from life has already taught me so much, and as I said before…..I really enjoy it.  It’s a wonderful challenge, and one that I think my paintings will benefit from.   

 As part of this journey I’ve said “yes” to participating in two non-juried plein air events, completed paintings in both, and a couple sold!  I attended the Plein Air Convention and Expo this year in Denver and found it very helpful.  I entered an AZ Plein Air Painters event and that painting done in the snow was accepted.  That was pretty gratifying.

If you’re getting a little stale in front of the monitor, you might think about challenging yourself to step away.  

Set a date during the week when it looks like the weather will cooperate.  Don’t let excuses derail you. Paint on your own or with a group; whatever you are more comfortable with.  I saw painting opportunities on the path behind our house long before I got up the courage to set up there.  When I finally got out it was a really easy and fun experience.  People were very encouraging.  

Do you have a garden?  It might be easier and less intimidating to set up in front of something in your yard.  I find it easiest to start with a small simple subject rather than taking on a vista.  And that aligns with what I usually paint in the studio.  Often I will go back to the same subject the next day (or two) and make adjustments.  Looking at my painting in studio light makes it easier to see value errors.  I can go out the next day and approach my subject with a more educated eye.  For me, there are no rules when learning.  I take as many days as I’d like to work on a painting as long as my subject is in the same light and hasn’t changed appreciably.   

Challenge is good, continued learning is vital, in whatever way you find it.  For me it meant getting away from something that had become a crutch.  Moving away from my monitor has brought a fresh eye not just to my plein air paintings but to my studio work as well.  I will trust that those plein air paintings will eventually get better, but enjoy the process meanwhile. 

There are so many aspects to being an artist.

In the Beginning we start Exploring Mediums.…

At first, it’s how to hold the pencil or how to use an eraser (really! I remember my 2nd grade teacher showing us how to get the most out of using an eraser!)

Then comes color….

and the artist’s world explodes with joy and questions. When I was still in junior high, Magic Markers burst into the market and my world of pencils, pen & ink and crayons got even more exciting.

By College, My first love for color quickly became the challenge of taming the wild and unpredictable, translucent watercolors. It was not the passive medium of crayons and markers or tempera paint. With those mediums, I could put down a stroke with great confidence and it would stay put, but watercolors?!?!?!

Watercolors talked to me. Instead of sitting still on the paper, it wiggled and blurred and crashed into the other colors, creating all kinds of interesting chaos. It became a language I really wanted to learn. Sometimes we (watercolors and me) “laughed” together and sometimes we got into “arguments” frustrated with my impatience and lack of control. However, watercolors captured my heart and became my passion for more than 3 decades.

Watercolors became my career, I won my first honors, awards and recognition with this feisty medium. Along the way, I explored the art language of sculpture, too.

Then, in my timeline, when I married Howard Friedland OPAM in 1998, the thick and gooey world of oils entered my life. For the first 5 years, I watched his magic brushes push and slide this curious oil medium and before I knew it…, I had to dip my brushes

Into this language of three dimensional strokes. So in 2003, I discovered my art language had expanded to included oils.

Why am I telling you all this? Because each step of the way, I needed to be curious, be experimental, and be willing to struggle and not give up. But I was not alone. I had good Teachers and most important, good Mentors.

Teachers and Mentors: First for me were my mom, dad and even my grandpa… they were my teachers and my mentors. They were artists. Mom was a wonderful experimental hobbyist and explored lots of art mediums. Dad was a professional graphic designer by day. In the evening and on weekends he painted in watercolors and sculpted. Grandpa used pastels and created “Chalk Talks” for churches groups, (an evening of him painting with pastels to wonderful music and then mixing into the painting, invisible chalk that became alive when the lights went down and the black light was turned on.) At 6 years old I witnessed firsthand the power of art when the audience would gasp!

They were my first teachers and most importantly my first mentors.

My Teachers showed me “how”. My Mentors were and still are the “coaches” of my art world. Those words of my mentors have stayed with me and guided me for decades.

Sure Mentors, like Teachers, show you how to do and use and get better at whatever art medium you are using. That is what a good coach does. But most importantly, Mentors see your strengths and help you build on your own unique art abilities. Mentors also are aware of your individual personal art weaknesses and help you turn those weaknesses from hurting your paintings to strength in your paintings, from negatives to positives.

I give a lot of credit to my teachers that took the time to also be my mentors. It started in kindergarten and has never stopped. They are all around us.

AND I will always be grateful to all of my mentors especially:

My greatest mentors:

• Betty Swartwout – my mom
• David Swartwout – my dad
• Rudy Swartwout – my grandpa
• Don Strel – “Believe you can do anything” (College Professor)
• Irving Shapiro – “Plan your paintings” – “Paint with big brushes” (incredible watercolorist and instructor -American Academy of Art in Chicago)
• Phil Austin – “Embrace Plein Air Painting” (awesome watercolorist and my grandpa’s friend)
• Richard Schmid – “Tell only what is necessary” (spectacular watercolorist and oil painter, fellow staff member at Loveland Art Academy)
• Howard Friedland OPAM – “Paint as if you’ve never seen the subject before. See it as a child would see it for the first time.” (Amazing oil painter and wonderful husband)

Warning #1: Don’t think that mentors are there just to pat you on your back and love everything you create. You and I both know that feels good but doesn’t help us grow. A mentor needs to point out your weaknesses, in such a way that you are, at the same time, encouraged. A good mentor has the magic ability to critique your work and leave you excited to get right back to painting. A good mentor will point out what is glorious and also what needs to be fixed and in the process your art growth happens quickly.

Warning #2: Don’t expect your immediate family to be mentors. They will love everything no matter what you do.

Warning #3: Don’t expect your teacher to be a good mentor. Sometimes a good teacher and a good mentor just don’t come packaged in one person.

How to Find a Mentor: You want to discover a person that gives you both sides of the coin…. Will they tell you what they love and what needs to be changed? Or, find two persons, one person that tells you the areas they love in your painting and another person that you know will honestly tell you what doesn’t work. That was my world of mentors when I was growing up. As a young child, I quickly learned how to use my “mom + dad” mentor for my best success.

How I learned to be a Mentor: My mom loved everything I created and I cherished her for that. She graciously skipped over the stuff in my drawing or painting that needed to be fixed. But my dad didn’t do that, he went right to the elephant in the room to be fixed…

So as a little girl, I quickly learned to go to mom first and show her my artwork. She would oooh and ahhh and pump me up with joy….. Then I would go to my dad. My dad owned a graphic design studio and had a staff of artists he critiqued daily. So when critiquing his adult artists, he needed to go right to the spot that needed to be fixed and he would tell them how to fix it . . . without worrying about hurting their feelings.

That is how I formed my method of mentoring. After getting pumped up with confidence from my mom, I would show my dad and sure enough, he would go right to the heart of the matter and tell me what was wrong. As a child, that could be harsh to hear, but insulated with praise from my mom, I glided right past the hurt feelings and loved to hear what he had to say. What did I learn? Always wrap my critiques with support and encouragement in the beginning and again at the end.

(This critique method really worked because my sisters, Karen Vance – Oil Painter and Lindy Schneider – illustrator grew up and have become outstanding artists.)

I have a passion for teaching and being a mentor throughout my 50-year painting career. My joy is to pass on the knowledge given to me by encouraging the artist’s strengths and finding ways to reinforce his/her weaknesses. Each artist has a unique approach to their paintings. My job is to find those unique strengths and help the artist bring them out stronger and stronger. Through the years I have mentored many, many artists. Currently I mentor about a dozen artists from all over the world, one-on-one and also in group sessions.

I am also honored to be a critiquer for Oil Painters of America.

Some years ago, while raiding the family library, I came across a slim volume of essays by Robert Louis Stevenson.  My grandmother had written her name inside the cover, along with the place where she was attending college:  “Estella Rawleigh, Madison, Wisconsin”.  Stevenson, of course, was the author of rip-roaring tales of adventure—Treasure Island, Kidnapped—but I was unfamiliar with his essays, and I made off with the book.  

Well. Shiver me timbers—the essays are pure gold. One in particular I’d like you to notice. It has an awkward title, “Virginibus Puerisque,” meaning in Latin “for girls and boys,” but it’s a pure delight. It’s Stevenson’s take on men, women, and marriage, including his advice on what profession to look for in a spouse. Painters rate highly among the marriageable vocations, according to Stevenson (my emphasis in italics):   

The practice of letters is miserably harassing to the mind; and after an hour or two’s work, all the more human portion of the author is extinct; he will bully, backbite, and speak daggers.  Music, I hear, is not much better.  But painting, on the contrary, is often highly sedative; because so much of the labour, after your picture is once begun, is almost entirely manual, and of that skilled sort of manual labour which offers a continual series of successes, and so tickles a man, through his vanity, into good humour.  Alas! in letters there is nothing of this sort. You may write as beautiful a hand as you will, you have always something else to think of, and cannot pause to notice your loops and flourishes. . . .  [But] a stupid artist, right or wrong, is almost equally certain he has found a right tone or a right colour, or made a dexterous stroke with his brush.  And, again, painters may work out of doors; and the fresh air, the deliberate seasons, and the “tranquillising influence” of the green earth, counterbalance the fever of thought, and keep them cool, placable, and prosaic.

What do you think—is painting “highly sedative,” the sort of labor “which offers a continual series of successes, and so tickles a man, through his vanity, into good humour”?  Does painting out of doors provide a “tranquillising influence”?  For my part, the “continual series of successes” that Stevenson speaks of has eluded me for more than twenty years.  There’s little that’s “sedative” or “tranquillising” about painting outside—it’s exciting—yes, certainly—and rewarding and addicting, but hardly sedative.  

Stevenson wrote his essay a few years before John Sargent, a classmate of Stevenson’s cousin at the Atelier Carolus-Duran in Paris, painted the author and his wife Fannie in 1885:

Stevenson later described Sargent’s painting:  

It is, I think, excellent, but is too eccentric to be exhibited.  I am at one extreme corner: my wife in this wild dress, and looking like a ghost is at the extreme other end: between us an open door exhibits my palatial entrance hall and part of my respected staircase.  All this is touched in lovely, with that witty touch of Sargent’s: but of course it looks damn queer as a whole.

In fact, there’s little about this painting that strikes me as sedative or tranquilizing.  It’s dynamic and awkward and restless—and that’s what makes it great.  I’d like to believe Stevenson would revise his opinion of painters after this experience.