Oil Painting

Over the past few months, I worked hard at putting together 10-12 strong paintings for a two-person show at my gallery in Santa Fe. I did my best and felt proud of the work I presented all the while knowing that walking into a show right before a presidential election was unpredictable in sales outcome. While the show was well attended and many people handed out well-meaning compliments on the work, sales have been slow to come.
I suspect many artists feel embarrassed by the outcome of a poor sales show and struggle with the temptation to doubt their own artistic capability. Over the years, I discovered lack of sales does not name you as an artist. Quality does not always convert to sales. However, despite doing our best work, it is disconcerting when sales are low. Yes, it can be disappointing at first but then perspective comes to the rescue. I thought I would share some perspective I’ve gained from my process over the years for sluggish sales.

1. Don’t doubt yourself. It’s tempting to doubt your artistic capabilities when sales are slow. Many artists find themselves grappling with this. One of the buffers I have found against this is putting quality at the forefront for producing your work. Showing only quality work is a rock you can stand on and gain confidence as an artist.
2. It has happened to the best and worst of us. A well-known master painter, who is a close friend of mine, use to sell-out his one-man shows before the opening night. Years ago, when he had another solo show, a fraction of his paintings sold despite his beautiful work. While disappointed, he had great perspective and said “it happens and I did my best but the paintings will eventually sell.”  And they did, it just took a while longer than the time frame of the show.

3. Change what is in your control. While there are things that are out of our control when selling our work, look at the things that are within your control. Having spent many years in advertising and marketing before my art career, I am well aware of the aspects of marketing that drive sales, and the hard work and effort to keep your name out in front of collectors. Staying connected to the art public means using the tools available to you: social media, print advertising, PR, email, blogs, and participation in credible regional, national and museum shows to build your brand. Lucky are those artists who do not have to do this work, but my experience is for most artists, even the most talented nowadays, it requires effort on both the part of the gallery and the artist to maintain exposure and visibility among collectors.
4. Let go of what you cannot control. Election years, stock market fluctuations, oil prices, downturn in the economy, violence in the world will always be with us in one degree or another. I’ve learned I cannot use the barometer of swaying winds in the art market to determine the outcome of who I am as an artist. I have to let that go and show up at the easel. The power of the easel can be the calm during a storm and my faith in God helps me to let go allowing the creative process to continue. Deep breathing, massages, exercise and a lot of prayer along with pep talks among artist friends helps too!

5. Use a negative as a fulcrum for a positive outcome. I am that kind of person if you say I can’t do something, I set my course for figuring out how to do it, i.e. prove myself over again as an artist, taking action to sharpen my mechanics. I explore, stretch my skills and experiment in my work, scrapping lots of paintings and tackling an area in my work that needs strengthening. I find inspiration where it can be found and I dive into that, but mostly, I just keep painting!
“Be like an oak tree that weathers a storm. It may loose some limbs and leaves, but it is mostly intact to live on and grow stronger,” from an unknown wise source.
Keep painting!

Recently, I participated in a plein air painting competition and one of my fellow artists asked me “do you ever feel weird being the only black person in these shows?” I was taken back but also encouraged that someone would be willing to start that conversation. I could tell that she was genuinely curious. I explained to her that I’m very well aware that I’m the “brown unicorn” at most of these events, but it doesn’t bother me until someone makes assumptions or makes an uninformed effort to relate to me.

On many occasions, I’m asked if I know Dean Mitchell. For those of you that don’t know, Dean Mitchell is one of the most well-accomplished artists in the country and also happens to be African American. I’ve never met him personally but there’s only one similarity between the two of us. Wanna guess? Yup, we’re both African American. I guess many people assume that minorities travel in packs and get together for dinner every Sunday. Some would say that’s a compliment but I, and others, would see it as a desperate attempt to relate. To that I would say, would you ask someone that is Canadian if they know Michael J. Fox? … or an Italian if they know Super Mario?

Maybe I’m used to being the odd man out because I had a diverse group of friends growing up, between school, sports and boy scouts. Was I aware of racism and bigotry back then? Yes, but it really didn’t affect me until college and having to select a career path. Looking back at it, I was very fortunate in college, majoring in illustration. Three out of four of my instructors were African American. I didn’t realize just how rare that was as many of my schoolteachers were from all walks of earth. Looking back on it, I think they saw how rare I was and pushed me a little harder than others. They never gave me the “you have to work twice as hard as everyone else” conversation. I had already received that from my parents.  

After college, when I began my illustration career, I realized just how different things were going to be for me. It may help to know by this time in my life, I could paint anything… landscape, portraits, likenesses, still lifes, etc. The problem was that many of the art directors only saw an African American illustrator and not my very diverse portfolio. This meant that I would only get assignments dealing with race or for Black History month. While many black and brown artists love focusing on their own culture, I didn’t want to be defined by that. I wanted to earn my way based on the quality and merit of my work alone. 

Some time had passed, the commercial art world wore me down and I was ready for a career in fine art. I relied heavily on galleries and made a strong effort to maintain my anonymity. It’s hard to discern someone’s race, gender or nationality when you’re painting landscapes. Those issues didn’t come up until the galleries would ask me for a headshot for publicity. I would often decline or tell them that I forgot. A close friend and gallery owner told me that if the customer didn’t want your painting because of your race then you probably don’t want their business anyway. So true.

Although I’ve been doing this art gig for over 20 years, I still hate going to gallery openings or plein air events because I know that someone will make my race a topic. I’m more annoyed because there are so many other things that I would be willing to talk about…you know, like the artwork. At the end of the day, I’m an artist just like you who has to deal with those folks saying “I can’t even draw a stick figure”.

Have I benefitted from this new wave of acceptance and inclusion? … Probably.  Honestly, I’ll never know. At the same time, in the back of my mind I’m always wondering if I’m invited to an event to “check off a box” or “to help an organization seem more diverse”.  No one wants to admit such a thing. Fortunately, I’m getting calls all year around now as opposed to only during Black History Month.  

Even as recent as the early 2010’s some of my white friends, when explaining a racist incident, insist that it was “all in my head” or that “they didn’t mean it like that”.  Let’s face it, some people do “mean it like that” and some people don’t.

Most people have good intentions, but that sincerity is hard to hear when they’ve put their foot so far into their mouths. I think bringing up these issues in a thoughtful, intentional and sincere way is a much better idea than avoidance caked with assumptions.  If you want to start the conversation let go of your pride or need to be right and just dive in. It’s better than doing nothing.

Copper became my love, my addiction of sorts, but it was not love at first sight. When I started to experiment with this surface several years ago, if I knew then what I know now, if I had access to the right copper panels which I have today, I would’ve fallen for it much faster!

The history of painting on copper is rich and long, and it is the only metal that I know of that forms a strong bond with oils, making it a proven and trusted surface for oil painting. While the Tate Museum has some videos online describing copper paintings from their collection, I also recommend the Natural Pigments/Rublev website, where George O’Hanlon and other conservators have written a lot about the subject. This article, however, is about my personal journey, and I hope that it gives some insight to artists and students who are thinking of trying this surface themselves.  

I only knew of etching plates when I started. I ordered several of them, did quite extensive research on preparing them for painting, and started to experiment. The most helpful article on the process was written by Julio Reyes and Candice Bohannon in Realism Today (it’s still available online and was my go-to when I started). The proper way to prepare the etching plates back then was to lightly sand and rub garlic all over them to literally etch the surface of the copper to provide the tooth needed to take on the oils. I ignored the heady smell of garlic in the name of Fine Art! The surface of copper was very smooth, much smoother than the linen I was so used to, and it often took a couple of passes until I had enough oil on the surface to really get into the actual painting. I loved the shine of the copper against the opaque strokes, especially the skin tones, and I wanted to leave the copper surface as the background, but I could see the sanding scratches in certain light, and it bothered me.  My early paintings were tiny, and I made sure to frame them as soon as possible as I was afraid that the soft metal would warp over time.

My initial concerns were alleviated when I discovered the copper panels being made by Artefex and Raymar. Both companies came up with beautiful panels that are essentially copper on top of aluminum backing (with some core in-between these metals to make these panels a bit lighter, but you can get the full description on their websites). These are very strong panels that don’t warp, are fully archival, and what’s brilliant – they are ready to immediately take on the oils; there is no preparation time needed. As there is no sanding, there is no scratching of the surface, which was very important to me as it allowed me to create works with an exposed copper surface. While I personally work exclusively on Raymar copper now, and love it, I tried both panels side by side for years and they are both quite beautiful. (There is just a slight difference in the sheen between them, so I suggest you try both and decide which is right for you).  Of all the copper surfaces I’ve tried, I truly believe both Artefex and Raymar have created the best panels that I’ve worked with, and I wholeheartedly recommend them both!  

If you are just starting to experiment with oils on copper, however, you might want to start out with etching plates, as they are an affordable way to get a feel for copper’s smooth surface, to get to test your brushstrokes on it, and be able to decide for yourself if you want to invest in archival grade panels. Remember, tossing away a messed-up etching plate while you are just getting a feel for copper will probably be less painful than tossing away one of those beautiful panels. Then again, maybe to really fall in love we need to go to the best materials we can get hold of, and just dive in – it’s a personal choice! 

I sketch on copper to get away from linen (my other love), to get away from larger paintings, to play against a shining surface that changes the way the skin tones appear on it.  In certain light the background may be rich and warm, and the skin may appear very light and opaque against the copper. The same painting in a different light may show the background stripped of all the color, and the figure might appear much darker against it. Paintings on copper can change dramatically from different viewpoints! Copper can also change when someone approaches it, as the viewer is reflected in it if he or she gets too close. It’s a beautiful thing, this “participation” in the painting, feeling, and literally seeing our own presence in it. It’s also something that I need to work around, as I can see my own reflection even as I paint (and even taking photos of a painting on exposed copper without seeing my reflection is no easy task).  

Because I want to leave the copper sheen intact, I cannot erase on it. Wiping something off of copper is almost impossible because it will change the uniform beauty of the copper quite a bit – It dulls it, and you can see a trace of the correction on the surface (which is only an issue if you leave the copper background fully exposed). There are a few past pieces of mine where I needed to change something, to reshape the forms, or had to move something compositionally that made me rethink the concept of the piece… and sometimes even demanded that I paint in the background because the wipe would’ve been far too visible. I love the risk taking of working on copper! I feel that I move slower (quite a bit slower actually) when sketching on copper and it’s the same rush that I get when drawing directly with ink, there’s almost no turning back. I have, however, discovered one trick when erasing on copper (although it’s not bullet proof). I wipe an area carefully with a paper towel soaked in Gamsol, followed by a clean paper towel. Then, because the trace of that wipe would still be visible, I literally breathe on it the way one would breathe on eyeglasses to wipe off a smudge and then follow it with a clean paper towel again.  Sometimes this does the trick, sometimes I need to repeat it. And when it doesn’t work I rethink my idea and add elements to cover that area. Quite a few interesting discoveries and compositions have happened this way!

I paint a bit differently on copper than I do on linen, I slow down, and I move to round brushes which I seldom use when I paint on linen.  This wasn’t a conscious decision for me, but one that I discovered I did naturally.  My favorite Master’s Choice long flats from Rosemary & Co don’t quite work on copper for me.  Strangely, when I paint the skin, I start with the lightest areas of the skin first. On linen I would usually start by building out the dark areas, but on copper sketches I almost always go directly with the light areas first. I need to feel the opacity of the skin against the warmth of the copper from the very beginning. It’s akin to sculpting for me, I need to feel it. Also, quite often I leave the shadows as exposed copper, allowing the copper itself to serve as the darks. I don’t use any medium or thinner, as they don’t work on this surface at all for me. Instead, I very lightly touch the brushes against the surface, creating an almost ghost-like image that slowly develops. I do not work like this on linen, as linen is forgiving (it takes my washes, my thick strokes, the knife, all of it), but when I’ve painted on the whole copper panel, as in some of the examples here, I would’ve treated it the same way. But I am talking specifically about the way I sketch on copper while leaving the background exposed.  And that’s where I am trying to be very careful. I am also trying not to touch the copper with my hands before the painting is varnished – any touch may leave a mark. 

A beautiful thing about working on this surface is the ability to hatch through the oil layer to expose the copper itself, so that those glimpses of metal shine through as the light changes – I find that fascinating! It’s something that almost unites both painting and drawing, which I feel I do at the same time when I’m working on copper; you can scrape through the oil, draw beautiful lines, and make interesting marks. While I usually use the tip of a painting knife or the back of a small brush when scraping through the oil, there are many other tools to experiment with. But be careful, never scratch the actual metal, do not affect the copper! I have also heard of some treating the copper plate with a mild acid to achieve a patina to paint on, but you should never do this as the copper will continue to corrode and no longer be of archival quality.  The acid will slowly eat through the layer of oils and destroy your painting.  While the patina may be beautiful now, it will become a disaster in the years to come (maybe not in our lifetime, but at some point) and eventually destroy your creation. Always be very careful with the surface of copper, and never alter the plate in any way! 

Finally, never forget to always varnish your painting (especially if the copper is exposed) as you want to seal the surface so that the copper won’t change over time. I use Conservator’s Products Company’s varnish (I mix their regular varnish with their matte varnish, roughly 50/50) but to the best of my knowledge, any good varnish that you use for your oil paintings on other surfaces should work, just DON’T FORGET TO VARNISH! Once varnished, and provided your copper plate remains intact, your painting is ready for the collector and is now fully archival.

Does the thought of being without your phone for a week fill you with joy or dread? I know that for myself and many other artists, it is a constant daily struggle to disentangle from technology- to just slow down, simplify, and focus on artmaking. In recent years, I have welcomed multiple invitations to participate in extreme experiments that force you to “unplug”. I have camped in rustic off-grid properties without cell service in the Rocky Mountains, went plein air painting in a rural Mexican fishing village only accessible by boat, and attended an intensive workshop on a Mediterranean island where they confiscated your phone for the full week.       

Maybe it will come as no surprise to you when I say that I was a much happier and wildly prolific artist throughout these experiences. Getting into the state of “flow” came naturally. Each time I was reminded that it is essential as artists to eliminate digital distractions and reclaim our attention in order to allow for the mental space and sacred time needed to create deep, meaningful work.  

Taking much needed intentional breaks from the easel are one thing- getting distracted involuntarily is another. A recent study from the University of California Irvine shows it takes an average of 23 minutes to regain your focus after a distraction because different parts of your brain are activated each time you switch between tasks. Multiply those 23 minutes with answering a couple texts, replying to some emails, and scrolling social media- and suddenly you are wasting hours of mental energy every day that could be better used at the easel.  

Since running off to the hills or isolating ourselves on an island isn’t always practical, we must be vigilant and purposeful about creating a studio space that eliminates distractions. We also need to protect ourselves from the psychological effects of the constant barrage of sound, stimulus, and information in a technological world.  

In one of his renowned TED Talks about listening, Julian Treasure states that our increasingly noisy world is gnawing away at our mental health and offers some solutions for softening this sonic assault. He recommends 3 minutes of silence per day and listening to sounds of birds, wind, and water. Birds only come out to sing when all is right in the world, so the theory is that there is some deep-rooted evolutionary instinct that allows us to relax and regain focus when we hear these sounds.

Some other helpful tools to minimize distraction include turning your visually attractive phone to greyscale, putting it in “do not disturb” mode, or leaving it in a different room, out of sight. If you still find yourself compulsively checking your phone, try using the Forest app. On your phone’s home screen, you will see an animation of a growing tree. If you don’t touch your phone during your studio work session, the tree continues to grow.  But if you check your phone, the tree withers and dies. It may sound ridiculous, but it’s a surprisingly powerful motivator. Then over time, each tree eventually creates a forest that represents your progress in conquering your digital distractions.

In my studio practice, I have been listening to sound recordings of nature, seeking more silence, and growing my silly little forest.  I am picking up the paintbrush more and leaving the phone alone. The effects have been profound. My hope is that all of you can carve out a little peace and quiet in the upcoming weeks.  

What other tools and tips do you utilize in order to eliminate digital distractions during your studio time?  Share in the comments below.