I feel very privileged to have been invited to share some of my thoughts on the artist’s life with such an incredibly accomplished group. I attended the OPA National show in Evergreen, Colorado, in June and was treated to one exceptional image after another. You guys are good!
Twelve years ago, I had to choose whether to make my living as a writer focusing on art, or put in my 10,000 hours to become a professional artist. I went with the writing and founded my communications business because I had already put in decades to hone those skills. I missed making art, but the business took all my time and energy until last year when I promised myself another year would not go by without a brush in my hand. I have a long way to go to measure up to the craftsmanship I see exhibited by OPA members year after year, but I find I am living a life in art and it’s exactly where I want to be.
As an arts writer with an academic and experiential background in art history, I learn something from every interview, every research project, and I am constantly studying, observing, and refining my knowledge. I know you are too. Here is what I believe: Our imaginations are shaped by our lives’ events and our art squeezes through those vast or narrow halls to bloom in the sunlight. So it has always been and shall be forevermore. The more we experience and imagine, the more vision we bring to our art. The more we develop our skills, the closer we come to truly expressing our visions.
In this post, I want to talk specifically about the importance of light and shadow in our art and to hear from you about how they function in your own work. Light and shadow are dependent upon one another—they are two sides of the same coin and one cannot reach its full potential without the other. There is no depth, no perspective, no dimensionality, no translation of subject matter without both light and shadow.
Shadow, or darks, are the alter ego of light. Darks define and shape, highlight, and push lighter subject matter into being. These two comrades echo one another to reveal subtleties and nuances that would otherwise not be possible. Shadow and darkness form the essential support system for light and allow our viewers to more deeply understand and access our subject matter. As author Terry Tempest Williams once remarked, “A shadow is never created in darkness. It is born of light.” I find this statement a wonderful metaphor for how artists can look at light and shadow in their work.
Think about what it’s like to be out and about painting on a summer’s night. The stars are brightest against that dark, velvety sky. Our senses are on high alert—we smell the earth releasing moisture into the air as temperatures drop, we enjoy a sense of heightened possibility, and shapes that look ordinary in daylight morph into mysterious, unfamiliar forms. In the studio, a scene that might otherwise be mundane becomes striking and dramatic when accentuated by deep shadow.
But our shadows must be more than just dark, negative spaces on the canvas. They must have a strong character of their own. We are called upon to look closely, deeply into every dark region of the scene before us—to seek out their rich subtlety and translate that to our canvases. Have you ever asked yourself why the most exciting things in life can be those invisible forces that we sense but do not see clearly? It’s because those areas, without rigid boundaries, allow for possibility, for things that go “bump” in the night. They enhance a painting’s narrative quality.
Pablo Casals, the cellist, once remarked that in music the notes not played are as important as the ones that are played. These are the grace notes, the silent beats of space between audible tones of sound. In art, shadow is the grace note, the essential, less prominent element that allows the attention-grabbing central subject matter to take the spotlight. It frames, supports, and defines the star performer.
I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences with how light and shadow work for you. Have you experimented with lighting to create different moods or atmosphere in a work? Have you painted a scene where shadows dominate—or do you think that’s possible? Is there a point in a painting where you look closely at your shadows to see if they are playing their strongest support role? Do they add to your paintings’ narrative quality? Let’s shed some light on the subject!
Oil Painting
Keep It Simple! Using a Limited Palette
When I first started painting, I’d walk into art supply stores and spend hours looking at all the different pigments and brands of oil paints available, and drool over all those luscious colors: aureolin yellow, cinnabar green, quinocradone rose (just the names alone made me buy them). I’d load up my basket with dozens of tubes of paint and head home thinking that at last I had found the color that would make me a better painter. Age and experience are wonderful teachers, and I finally came to the conclusion that no special pigment would be the key to my success. In fact, the more choices I had on my palette, the gaudier and less-realistic my paintings looked.
In 2003, I had the good fortune to study with Scott Christensen, who at the time was using a very limited palette that he had his students use in his workshops. At first, I was baffled: how could I get a true yellow ochre using only 3 primaries and a couple of grays? How could I get a wide variety of greens when there were no green tube pigments on my palette? But after sticking with this limited palette for a while and experimenting with these colors, I came to see that I could mix just about every color in nature using only 6 tubes of paint. Using this palette also helped me to see and understand color temperature better by simplifying my choices: if the color needed to be warmer, I added yellow; for cooler, I added blue. And I found that the colors I was mixing were so much closer to the reality I was seeing than when I used a broader palette. When there are 20 choices on the palette, I find it’s much easier to just say “oh, that’s close enough” and dip into a color straight out of the tube , but when I have to mix my colors from the primaries, I get a more accurate representation of my subject matter. Of course, there are certain local colors that I can’t duplicate exactly with this palette, especially if I’m painting man-made objects. But I can always get the correct value and the correct temperature, and when those are right, the color reads correctly.
For example, the color of the water at Lake Tahoe is an incredibly intense blue-green. I may not be able to get that exact local color, but I can mix the right temperature and value, then surround that color with more muted grays and the color of the water will feel more intense and believable.
Over time, I experimented with adding and subtracting pigments from my palette and settled on the selection of paints that I’ve been using since about 2005. This is the palette that I use for all of my paintings, both plein air and in the studio:
Titanium White (any brand)
Cadmium Yellow Lemon (Utrecht)
Permanent Red Medium (Rembrandt)
Ultramarine Blue (any brand)
Naples Yellow Deep (Rembrandt)
Cold Gray (Rembrandt)
(Please note that the brands of the paints are very important as colors vary widely between manufacturers)
Although I use a limited palette for my paintings, I always start out by mixing puddles of several colors before I start the actual painting. Doing this accomplishes two things: it helps me to slow down and analyze the color before I dive headlong into painting, and it allows me to have an expanded choice of colors when I begin to paint. I always mix the secondary colors (orange, green, and violet) regardless of what I’m painting, and the rest of the puddles of color are close approximations to what I’m seeing in the subject matter. Pre-mixing takes some time at the beginning of the painting, but it really saves time once I start to paint: I already have so many colors figured out and can concentrate on the subtle shifts in temperature and value that I’m seeing. Also, I don’t break the rhythm of painting to drop my brush, get out my palette knife and mix new color.
Here’s a shot of my palette before I start a painting:
And here’s the finished painting from that palette:
There are certainly countless artists out there who use extensive palettes and get beautiful results, and my selection of pigments is just one way to approach painting. But if you have never used a limited palette, give this a try- you might be surprised with the results and be able to bypass all those rows of paint next time you’re in the art store.
Some Thoughts On Plein Air And Photos
Take Monet’s large water lily murals for example. There are photos showing these paintings being executed in his studio at Giverny. There are also photos in existence which he took of the water lily pond, and since the pond isn’t visible from the studio it’s likely that he used them as reference for the murals.
The American Impressionist, Theodore Robinson, left photos with grid marks on them which are used in transferring more accurately the photo to the canvas, and also left paintings which are almost exact replicas of the photos.
And in some of Corot’s later work figures appear which could only have been arrived at through the use of photographic reference. For instance, there is a horse and rider which appears in more than one of his later paintings. It is a small figure, but it is photographically accurate, even though the horse is in motion and could only have been in that pose for a fraction of a second. And we know both from his sketches and from his own admission that he could not capture such details in so limited a time working from the subject.
So, well-known artists have worked from different types of sources, but which is best?
Working directly from the subject out-of-doors is called “plein air”. It is good practice, especially for beginners, because it forces you to work rapidly under less than favorable conditions, and this brings your instincts into play and causes you to learn more rapidly and to paint more spontaneously. It has the disadvantage of lighting which is always changing, bugs in your paint and comments from curious passersby. Most artists who paint this way solve the first problem by taking a photo early on which they later use in the studio to make corrections and apply finishing touches.
If you do want to use photos, here are some pointers: Use only your own photos. Photography is an art form and the photos you take represent your personal knowledge concerning what makes a good picture. Never use published professional photos. These were not your ideas, and in some places there are laws against their use. Don’t slavishly copy the photo. All good artists develop their own ideas about color, composition, etc., which they impose on the subject.
Paint From Life or Photos?
There are a host of good reasons to use photos:
- They’re convenient
- The light doesn’t change
- You can blow up small details
- You can be comfortable
- There are no bugs, wind, interrupting strangers etc.
- The model doesn’t move or get tired
There’s only one really good reason to work from life – it will make us much better artists.
Over time, we representational artists become skilled at rendering what we see. The problem is that even high-quality digital photos lie to us. Think of the four elements of a realistic painting: shapes (drawing or proportion), values, color temperature relationships, and edges. Three of the four are always wrong in a photo… and sometimes it’s all four.
The two or three darkest values turn into black and the lightest values become white (photographers call it “blowing out” the lights). The color temperature relationships are limited by the dyes used to make the prints or the phosphors in our computer screens. Also, the camera sees edges as equally sharp (not at all like the human eye which focuses on a sharp area in the center of our visual field surrounded by fuzzy shapes on the periphery).
When I critique portfolios at various art events I often see paintings where the shadows are black, the lights are white, all the edges are hard, and the light and the darks are the same temperature. I ask the artist, “you work mostly from photos, don’t you?” I often get the astonished reply, “how did you know?”
The pros work primarily from life: For one, it’s much easier to develop good edge control. Also, our sensitivity to nuance of color and temperature improves exponentially. We just can’t see those nuances in photos… I know; I’ve tried! Working from life, we learn to see the elusive, sparkling color in half tones. Our shadows start to have a sense of light and air in them instead of being dense, opaque blobs.
So, if you’ve decided to go the extra mile, how do you break free of the photo? The still life is easy. Just set it up and start painting. Likewise, there’s little excuse for trying to paint a landscape from a photo. If you’re nervous about going out alone, find a painting buddy or group. There are Plein Air groups in most areas now. OPA sponsors paint outs all over the country. Seek, and ye shall find.
Once we start to see the benefits in our work, we want more. The little bit of extra effort to paint from life, pays off tenfold.
Happy painting!
Inspiration And Motivation: The Prelude To Success
We all want to achieve at a very high level and create the next great piece of art. Recent psychological studies have determined happier people are generally more successful.
“Happiness is the meaning and purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence” -Aristotle
It bears to reason that we all will paint more often and better if we are inspired, motivated and happy.
My favorite two questions for my workshop artists are:
- What do you love to paint? And
- How would you love for your paintings to look?
I am fortunate to get to teach pleasant artists in my workshops, thanks to all of you. Over the years it has become obvious the number one reason for people not achieving better paintings faster or even painting at their very best is they get discouraged, blame themselves or lose their bliss along the way.
When you are unmotivated, don’t ask yourself what the world needs or what would sell, “ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive” – Dr. Howard Thurman
So why not learn from a few notables who have achieved extraordinary success.
I love the comments of, I believe, Everett Raymond Kinstler in one of his videos:
“I start out in this way thinking, ‘this will be the greatest painting of this subject matter ever painted.’ Later in the process I think, ‘this will be the greatest painting of this subject matter I ever painted,’ and finally I think, ‘Hell! I hope I can save this painting!’ [paraphrased]”
Doesn’t this help you chuckle at yourself and free you?
When Richard Schmidt was asked he stated,
“I just paint. I don’t consider my place in history. And don’t blame yourself when something goes wrong. Just learn what you did wrong and don’t do it again. [paraphrased]”
I appreciate Scott Christensen for his help along the way and his piece of advice: “always paint for yourself.” We should always remember this when we are watching others sell a certain genre or style that does not ring true to who we really are.
Most representational artists know strong abstract design underlies every piece of representational art, and values are the bones. So interesting shapes and design, held in unity by values, are the backbones of all good paintings. The process for being accepted in OPA shows is very fair and when looking at 2000 or so paintings it becomes real obvious how much the above statement is true.
At higher levels most artists are painting spots of color and value and not objects. Painters say a great painting is greater than its sum of its’ parts. The only way that can be achieved is to paint from the heart, for all really great art is created from the heart.
Perhaps if we all stay more motivated we will all create better art and most importantly enjoy the process more. This is always something I confess to have to be aware of — because as a past lawyer that only focused on results, and now a reformed artist — nothing is clearer to me than that, if the process is enjoyable, I will paint more often and better.
I find that artists are generally humble, share freely and are kind to one another. I consider myself lucky to have found such a great group of people and friends. I think it important that we, as artists, always share what we know. It is often so hard to paint good paintings, so we all need the fresh eyes and keen advice of other artists — as our friends and colleagues. I encourage you to celebrate the awards and excellent paintings of your fellow artists — that’s what makes being an artist really enjoyable. Hope to see you soon, whether in nature or at a show.