Here’s a few ideas to think about whenever you get a creative block and find you ‘just can’t paint right now.’ There’s no guarantees, but they just might work, so it could be worth a try…
1. Paint your favorite drink – whether it’s a cup of tea, a pina colada, a steaming latte with lots of foam, or an ice cold beer – paint it in such a way that would show the viewer why it’s your favorite and how much you love it.
2. Go through the newspaper and find a photo – the first one that catches your eye – and paint your version of it – it could be abstract, realistic, finger-painted, or painted any way that might get your creative juices flowing for the next project.
3. Look in the mirror at yourself in this painter’s block mood and paint just your eyes, so that it shows how you feel and why you can’t paint right now. In doing so, you’re already on your way to stifling the creative block.
4. Paint yourself as a person with the occupation you wanted as a child – did you want to be a fireman, a hairdresser, a bungee jumper, a police officer, a dancer? Give yourself a day as the person of your childhood dreams.
5. Do you love spaghetti? Eggs benedict? Chocolate Mousse? Strawberries? Your secret recipe? Paint it so everyone can taste it with you.
6. Repaint the first thing you ever painted. Just knowing that you now have a greater technical knowledge will help you paint that image with confidence.
7. Paint your worst habit – do you smoke, drink, eat too much chocolate? Paint in a way that will show how bad this habit is. Perhaps your painting, over time, will actually even help you quit your habit – if you even want to.
8. Paint about conformity – peas in a pod, ducks in a row, bananas in a bunch, etc. Make sure that part of your group doesn’t conform – for instance, leave one of the peas out of the pod.
9. Paint yours or your child’s favorite toy. Show some of the worn areas that clearly display how much it has been loved.
10. If you’re really hoping for some particular thing in life – paint it – maybe a cottage at the lake? A diamond ring? A new tool box? A particular make and model of vehicle? A child? Live your dreams through your painting.
Remember that at one time you only dreamed you could paint – now you truly can paint your dreams. Just make those first strokes that will put you back on your way – you can do it – you just need a little motivation. Hopefully you’ll find it here.
© Copyright · Susan Abma
Oil Painting
The Spirit Forges Ahead While the Brain Has To Figure It Out
A few years ago, I was fortunate to be involved in an unexpected conversation one day at my studio with an artist friend. I didn’t know when we started talking that the next few minutes would so significantly sharpen my understanding of one aspect of my painting. We casually looked through a group of my paintings while she offered her observations.
After much discussion, we both simultaneously realized we had stumbled upon a truth about much of my work. A common abstract thread that made sense of my varied subjects: it wasn’t so much the crisp white sail boats moving over dark blue water, big puffy clouds in turquoise skies, or white houses surrounded by greenery, but rather it was large white objects in a colorful settingthat I was painting over and over again. What an awakening! I thought I liked painting those different subjects and I do, but now I can see that they are all variations on a theme. It’s almost like looking through a kaleidoscope; different shapes and patterns emerge, but there are always large chunks of white and scattered backgrounds of saturated color.
That may not sound very revolutionary, but in the blink of an eye, I suddenly owned two new possessions:
1.) An answer for countless viewers who have remarked that I certainly painted a lot of different subjects. Now I had a way to tie many of them together.
2.) A better understanding of my artistic hard-wiring, which
a.) I can use on occasion to find what I want to paint faster and more easily
b.) In a purely narcissistic way—a fascinating (to me) fact about myself, of which, after all these decades I had been unaware.
Every piece I do does not feature white on a color field, but now when it happens, I smile to myself and recognize it as another chapter in my love affair with this combination.
Painters speak in the language of paint; it doesn’t seem fair that every artist should also be required to speak eloquently in the English language about painting. But language and thought are so intertwined that verbalizing and analyzing your artistic visions, as difficult as that may be, can actually illuminate them.
Maybe Henry David Thoreau had an experience similar to mine that caused him to say, “So we saunter toward the Holy Land, till one day the sun shall shine more brightly than ever he has done, shall perchance shine into our minds and hearts, and light up our whole lives with a great awakening light, as warm and serene and golden as on a bankside in autumn.” And who can resist the colorful image this conjures up—maybe a white horse in a grove of yellow cottonwoods?
If you feel there may be a hidden theme in your work, or some unrecognized essence, or you wonder how all your painting threads connect, I have a suggestion: block out some time for a lunch with a savvy artist friend and leisurely peruse each other’s portfolios. A fresh eye and a frank discussion may uncover a powerful current flowing just under the surface of your paintings.
What is FINE art?
As a landscape painter myself, I admire Keith’s work, as he is obviously sensitive to his surroundings, a keen observer, and a skilled artist. Raising the topic of whether any artist is a fine artist or illustrator, especially in light of the fact that stunning volumes of incredible art have been produced by those who consider and call themselves “illustrators” as well as those who don’t, just increases the difficulty of categorizing artists as either one or the other. It’s like hoisting a dime on a pole and trying to shoot it from fifty yards–no one is ever going to hit it. The personal goals of all kinds of artists are certain to be similar, in that they wish to create the best work of which they are capable.
The question that Keith raises, though, “What is Fine Art, Anyway?” is an important question for all artists to answer, I believe, because all artists who are working seriously—and seriously working—very much want to produce art that is truly “fine.” The dictionary defines “Fine Art” as that which is “produced for beauty rather than utility.” Wow, if we take that definition as gospel, that definitely undersells some of the most magnificent illustrations from the course of human history that have been created for books, churches, posters, hymnals, and advertisements. Just to mention a few, consider those “fine” illustrations from the body of work of such greats as Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Gustave Doré, and Rick Griffin (The Bible ) N.C. Wyeth ( Last of the Mohicans, Treasure Island), Howard Pyle (Robin Hood, King Arthur), Rockwell Kent (Moby Dick), Norman Rockwell (“The Four Freedoms,” “The Problem We All Live With”). Even my favorite artists, who probably created the first profession known to man, the cave artists (Lascaux, Altamira, the Magdalenians) might have been creating their art for utility—hunting and animal worship—or not. Perhaps it was the beauty of the forms themselves that captured their imagination, which in turn inspired them to capture that beauty in charcoal.
From the enduring quality of these artworks, it would appear that all those artists mentioned above—whose works were “illustrations” for definite purposes of dissemination—were intent on creating beauty within and emanating from those artworks, which then became “useful” (having a broad impact and appeal) as much as they were truly “beautiful.” How could those artists have captured the beauty of human form, its costume, the elegant turn of a whale’s fin, the power of a bison’s charge, unless they, too, had—as is very evident in Keith Bond’s work—“a reverence for the world in which we live”—and a spirit of both “exploration and veneration.” In my own work, I am also hoping that that same spirit of reverence for creation and its Creator is both alive and evident.
Keith suggests that perhaps illustrators and fine artists are not that much different. I quite agree. I would suggest that– more important than the categorization of artists into this camp or that—the most significant question for artists to answer is “Why” they do what they do, and whether they are creating successful works of art. Herein, for me, lies the definition of “Fine Art”—those artworks which creatively inspire, stimulate you to feel something, communicate a message in a unique and unified way, are created in a medium and are of a scale that best conveys that message, and are presented in such a way that nothing distracts the viewer from what the artist is saying. In my opinion, “Fine” art is that which successfully communicates the artist’s message, a truth about existence, whether that truth be personal, historical, social, or even product-oriented. Those artists that we admire the most, I daresay, are those that communicate the truth of what it is to be human, whether they be painters, sculptors, jewelers, photographers, musicians, actors, dancers, mimes or ad-men. Creativity and truth are at the heart of fine artworks, whether they are intended to have a broad appeal (as in advertising), or an intimate one (as between the artist and an audience of one).
Fine artists learn the foundational skills of effective design, composition, color choice and more because they know that those artistic choices, when effectively employed, will create symbolism, evoke emotion, and convey meaning. It is the constant honing of their craft that will produce “fine” works of art that will inspire and impact an audience, whether the channel for that art is a painting, a book, a sculpture, or an advertisement. “Fine” art is simply that which is finely expressed and executed.
Thanks, Keith, for your post. It helped me to answer some of my own questions about what I am doing , and further clarify in my own mind why the arts and dedicated artists—“fine,” illustrators, or otherwise—are all invaluable to our culture, and to our civilization.
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.
Paint From Life or Photos?
Especially since the advent of good, inexpensive digital cameras, the debate about whether to use photo references has become almost sectarian. Purists admonish us to paint “only from life.” Yet the instructional art magazines regularly feature artists whose methods start and end with a photo reference. Certain subjects (squirmy kids, transient light effects, horses in motion etc.) almost demand photographs. Even great masters like Fechin and Zorn clearly used photo references for some of their paintings.
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).
Even the shapes may not be accurate. If you photograph a person six feet away, you will probably get an image of a normal-size face but legs and feet that appear tiny. In other words, the foreshortening distorts the proportions. So, if we work exclusively from photos, we become extremely proficient at painting subjects that don’t look real. We don’t even notice the errors.
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.
It’s a little more challenging to find place to paint the live model but a little digging will yield results. Local colleges or art centers may sponsor open studios. I paint with a number of groups in my area. In fact, I started hosting a group in my studio. We all chip in to pay the model. If you can’t find a group, start one. Finding models is relatively easy. Most people are flattered if you ask them to sit for you. There are even model websites.
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!