Early Light
Oil on Linen, 18"x18"
@2009
Oil on Linen, 18"x18"
@2009
This painting is just off the easel and it's still wet, but I wanted to write about it anyway. I've talked about my inclination to paint alla prima, all in one shot. But work schedules being what they are, I started this painting a while back and could only work on it a few minutes at a time, which forced me to concentrate on each part of the painting far more intently than I might normally do.
I'm using one of the linen canvases I primed with rabbit skin glue and oil primer. I like working on the oil-primed surface and I'm learning how to layer on thin paint so that the initial toned ground shows through. With this painting, I had toned my ground using transparent oxide red, which I discovered that - even though very thin- is an extremely dominant hue. I tried toning the "glow" down with raw umber, which helped, but the red color made it more difficult to get the sense of "coolness" in the greens.(The red is most obvious in the sky, but that actually helped in creating the sense of light - go figure.)
These are things I'm learning , understanding, and trying to master. I've always felt like I had a reasonable sense when it comes to composition, although I generally paint scenes that contain a great deal of visual depth. I recently viewed some excellent plein air paintings and noticed that - like the daily painters - many plein air painters focus on a single element, usually placed in the middle ground. I don't know if this is the influence of photography for the past 100+ years or not - but it's an approach used to masterful ends by many artists today. And becoming aware of this difference in the way I approach my compositions and the way others I admire do has helped me to stretch out of my familiar "box."
Well, stretch a little bit, anyway. This painting started with the hillside and the top tree being the focal point, but then I realized I was using my typical approach, drawing people into the depths of the painting by placing my focal area along the back edge between the middle and the background. I made a conscious decision to pull my focal point forward into the front of the middle ground, and that - in turn - required me to make the back trees less of a dominant element. By challenging myself this way I had to work through middle ground issues that perhaps I've been avoiding in earlier paintings.
Another skill I've been working on is being aware and deliberate with my brush marks. In the early stages I start loose and slowly build up my forms, but I would like to improve the visual end result of my brushstrokes. My goals have been to come back to an area and repaint it with thicker, fluid color, striving for a "freshness" in the marks. Sometimes areas look too dry and "dauby" - which I know is the result of not having enough paint on the brush. Okay when first blocking in, but now I want to create a balance between lush, smooth "one stroke" areas with a more layered, detail areas. This is another element that I would not have thought about a year ago. It's exciting to get to a point where I realize I'm thinking more like an artist and seeing small results - which is the consequence of painting a lot of paintings - and why as artists we strive to paint every day, even if it's only for fifteen minutes before leaving for work.
This scene is inspired by one of the streams on the east side of Mt. Hood, on a foggy morning, very early. We had decided to drive the "back way" to Portland, because it was more scenic, but the heavy fog obscured nearly everything. I was trying to capture the dampness in the air and the indirect light bouncing around in the fog that was just starting to burn off. The bank was actually strewn with white rocks and boulders of all sizes from the heavy winter/spring washouts, but as I worked I realized the foreground rock pattern would compete with the tree pattern. There needed to be quiet areas to contrast and emphasize those areas in this painting that were important. My subject was the atmosphere, the light and coolness of the fog, so the trees became a more important communication element than the rocks. I took a very large hogs hair brush and just swept broad strokes of paint across my rocks, wiping out several days worth of work in this area, and I think the painting is stronger for it. Again, a few years ago this is something I would not have recognized as important - creating a balance between active and quiet forms. At least I would not have been able to articulate it in these terms, only wonder "what was wrong with this picture."
So why do I paint every day, even if I only get 15 minutes in the morning when the light is good? Because practice gives you understanding, which gives you control...which gives you confidence and ultimately personal artistic success.
As for the photograph, light reflections off the wet paint make the water look more choppy than it actually is, plus some of the rock edges look a little weird as the camera picked up the blue more intensely than the other colors. I really have to stop being so casual about the way I photograph my art...
I'm using one of the linen canvases I primed with rabbit skin glue and oil primer. I like working on the oil-primed surface and I'm learning how to layer on thin paint so that the initial toned ground shows through. With this painting, I had toned my ground using transparent oxide red, which I discovered that - even though very thin- is an extremely dominant hue. I tried toning the "glow" down with raw umber, which helped, but the red color made it more difficult to get the sense of "coolness" in the greens.(The red is most obvious in the sky, but that actually helped in creating the sense of light - go figure.)
These are things I'm learning , understanding, and trying to master. I've always felt like I had a reasonable sense when it comes to composition, although I generally paint scenes that contain a great deal of visual depth. I recently viewed some excellent plein air paintings and noticed that - like the daily painters - many plein air painters focus on a single element, usually placed in the middle ground. I don't know if this is the influence of photography for the past 100+ years or not - but it's an approach used to masterful ends by many artists today. And becoming aware of this difference in the way I approach my compositions and the way others I admire do has helped me to stretch out of my familiar "box."
Well, stretch a little bit, anyway. This painting started with the hillside and the top tree being the focal point, but then I realized I was using my typical approach, drawing people into the depths of the painting by placing my focal area along the back edge between the middle and the background. I made a conscious decision to pull my focal point forward into the front of the middle ground, and that - in turn - required me to make the back trees less of a dominant element. By challenging myself this way I had to work through middle ground issues that perhaps I've been avoiding in earlier paintings.
Another skill I've been working on is being aware and deliberate with my brush marks. In the early stages I start loose and slowly build up my forms, but I would like to improve the visual end result of my brushstrokes. My goals have been to come back to an area and repaint it with thicker, fluid color, striving for a "freshness" in the marks. Sometimes areas look too dry and "dauby" - which I know is the result of not having enough paint on the brush. Okay when first blocking in, but now I want to create a balance between lush, smooth "one stroke" areas with a more layered, detail areas. This is another element that I would not have thought about a year ago. It's exciting to get to a point where I realize I'm thinking more like an artist and seeing small results - which is the consequence of painting a lot of paintings - and why as artists we strive to paint every day, even if it's only for fifteen minutes before leaving for work.
This scene is inspired by one of the streams on the east side of Mt. Hood, on a foggy morning, very early. We had decided to drive the "back way" to Portland, because it was more scenic, but the heavy fog obscured nearly everything. I was trying to capture the dampness in the air and the indirect light bouncing around in the fog that was just starting to burn off. The bank was actually strewn with white rocks and boulders of all sizes from the heavy winter/spring washouts, but as I worked I realized the foreground rock pattern would compete with the tree pattern. There needed to be quiet areas to contrast and emphasize those areas in this painting that were important. My subject was the atmosphere, the light and coolness of the fog, so the trees became a more important communication element than the rocks. I took a very large hogs hair brush and just swept broad strokes of paint across my rocks, wiping out several days worth of work in this area, and I think the painting is stronger for it. Again, a few years ago this is something I would not have recognized as important - creating a balance between active and quiet forms. At least I would not have been able to articulate it in these terms, only wonder "what was wrong with this picture."
So why do I paint every day, even if I only get 15 minutes in the morning when the light is good? Because practice gives you understanding, which gives you control...which gives you confidence and ultimately personal artistic success.
As for the photograph, light reflections off the wet paint make the water look more choppy than it actually is, plus some of the rock edges look a little weird as the camera picked up the blue more intensely than the other colors. I really have to stop being so casual about the way I photograph my art...
Thank you for all your comments. I will post again about this painting - it now looks totally different. An interesting story.
Posted by: sue smith | October 14, 2009 at 09:23 PM
Interesting insights Sue!
I've been wrestling too, with similar things about composition, strategies of paint application, etc. Very well said!
... and the painting is lovely! I like the subtle tones of color (sometimes I think I'm a little too saturated). Beautiful.
Posted by: TracyWall | October 07, 2009 at 05:04 PM
Sue, thanks for posting this. I really liked what you had to say about painting every day, even if it was only for 15 minutes. I've heard a lot of writers say this, even I use to say it when I was writing, but it's rare for a painter to say, "Paint every day, even if it's for 15 minutes." We usually think this has to be done in a block of time.
Your post has reminded me of how important it is to paint every day even if it's only for a short time. Thanks again!
Posted by: Dawn Blair | October 07, 2009 at 12:52 PM
This is a really fine painting! Great light in it.
Reading about your process and learning is good, too, as those are universal issues that I think all visual artists have to work through.
Posted by: Donald Diddams | October 03, 2009 at 06:07 AM
You and I have about the same schedule. Afew minutes every morning! Don't you just LOVE having a day off from the REAL job and painting the entire day !! Love your work.
Posted by: Sue Furrow | October 03, 2009 at 05:21 AM
Sue, this is really gorgeous! I love how you describe your process, as well.
Posted by: suzemyst@nycap.rr.com | October 02, 2009 at 10:39 AM