Ancient Artist: Developing an art career after 50

Hello Frustration My Best Friend

So I finished a painting today.  And started it four hours before I finished.  Not particularly remarkable, one could say, but it is a nice painting at this point, sitting there waiting for me to study it over the next few days and see if I ought to tweak it or just let it be.

Still not remarkable, except for one thing.

Beneath this painting, scraped and sanded down to a nondescript blue-gray, is the evidence of the painting I had been doing, the painting that would not work no matter what, that turned into mud at every turn, and which was one of those paintings where you are interrupted so often you forget what you were looking at - yes, it was one of those paintings that almost convinced me to never paint again.

Except for another thing: if you are trying to be creative, no matter in what area, you have to learn to love frustration.  Because frustration tells you that you need to stop, just for a moment or a day, and take a deep breath.  It tells you that what you are doing is not working, and whether that is due to a technical problem or a weakness in your design or the consistency of your paint or a paint-clogged brush or the fact that you are not thinking about your brushwork - what is not working is something you can fix.  It is not your creativity that is at fault.  It is not your artistic vision that has run away. 

It is something you can fix. 

And that is what is remarkable.  Because no matter how frustrated, or discouraged, or tempted to never pick up a paint brush again, the nature of the artist is to rebound and to attack that problem again with a new strategy.  It may take a day for the rebound.  Or a week.  But trust that it will come.

In the meantime, do what you can to identify what was not working and then problem solve.  Because what frustration really boils down to is your inner voice telling you that inspiration alone will never will save your butt. 

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Juniper, oil, 8 x 10 - Accepted into the OPA Salon Show of Traditional Oils

to be hosted by Crooked Tree Arts Center, Inc, in Petoskey, Michigan,

June 21 through August 31, 2013

 

 

Develop a Personal Approach to Expression

Years ago I attended a workshop in Florence, Italy, to learn more about Renaissance Art.  We were fortunate to have private lectures and personal tours of the museums by a notable Art History Professor, as well as day trips to the countryside.  During this time we were focused on making traditional gesso panels, learning about egg tempera, and painting in some historically jaw-dropping locations.

This photo is of the upper terrace area of Villa Gherardini, where Leonardo reportedly started the Mona Lisa.  I, however, am busy working on a humble plein air watercolor sketch of an urn with flowers.  The Villa is still privately owned and in some disrepair, so our day long stay was restricted to the gardens. 

In the many photos and sketches I brought home,  there was one of the thinning evergreen branches in a centuries old garden maze that was located one terrace down from the garden in the image above.  The branches seemed completely inappropriate for a landscape painting, but when I found the photo recently I decided I would challenge my usual assumptions about composition and color. 

I approached this subject as if it were a portrait or a still life, and I wanted to convey the soft green light of the enclosed maze.  The color palette is  limited to Viridian, Amazonite,Yellow Ochre Light, Cobalt Blue,Transparent Oxide Red, Alizarin, and Titanium White.  The canvas is a textured linen on panel which was at times helpful and at other times problematic.  I may still work on this painting, studying the light falling on some evergreens in my yard to see where I may have missed with the values. If necessary I will sand down areas of thicker paint and repaint until I am satisfied.

The more I study artists in an attempt to understand their approach, I realize how important it is to develop my personal idea of expression.  I evaluate from a distance for the overall success of the design, but it's equally important that the the up-close surface texture be pleasing. Trying to understand how other artists approach and solve similar problems has become an important learning aspect for me now. 

When I first began painting I believed my work should look a certain way.  To some extent, I think there is still pressure on an artist to work loosely within current trends.  But it is equally important to move away from the expected and often repeated.  This is the challenge now, to find my own interpretation of the landscape and to execute it in a successful way.

 

 

Using an Old Standby to Increase Your Color Sensitivity

What you think you know about color - without discovering what you don't know - will only keep you working in the same place, repeating the same color mistakes, without understanding why.

My art professors, all coming from a contemporary background - saw and used color in a unique way, and color charts were used to understand value and "push/pull" contrast, not the full range of color.  But as my painting evolved I began to appreciate color differently, and began looking for ways to increase my sensitivity.

It started when I was listening to an artist share the story from his early years, and how that "boring exercise" grew into a true love of color.  His sophisticated color sense is one of the hallmarks of his work today. That reminded me of Richard Schmid's book Alla Prima, which was on my book shelf, which also talked about color charts, which I had promised myself I would get to "some day."  Followed by a magazine article about another artist whose work I admire for his color sense, also showing...color charts. 

Maybe I need to be hit on the head a few times to get the message. 

So I set the goal of doing color charts. And after struggling with what I had on hand to make my charts, I quickly realized I was defeating the purpose. My results were messy. I forgot to leave space to indicate the colors used.  I was totally disorganized. 

 

Then I found custom made chart board blanks from Randal Gordon McClure, on his website ColorFrontier.com.

 

These are a few of the color charts I've completed in preparation for a painting I have planned. 

 

Repetition in color mixing allowed me to discover that I did not utilize the full value range available. I often perceived colors to be in the "light range" when in fact they were closer to mid-value.  I began to understand which mixtures desaturated quickly, and which pigments could overwhelm every other color.  I discovered some beautiful grays, more options for creating chromatic darks, and learned a cleaner way to mix the color I needed.  If I started with the right two base colors, I could avoid the tendency to keep adding "something else" to get to the right color note.

As artists, we first learn color theory.  Then we use what is learned from books and workshops, even from professors who teach differing viewpoints about the best use of color. And it's just as necessary to find your own understanding, to make color your own, not just a replication of what has been done before.

This is the challenge to the growing artist - to first understand the way you use color, compare that to the way you want to use color, and then find a way to bridge the gap. 

***

Below: First stage of the painting on my easel.  After working on a thumbnail, I used dry brush and wash of viridian, alizarin, and ultramarine blue to set up the value pattern.  I wiped out to get some light areas and spent more time on this stage than I habitually do, wanting to be sure I had a strong foundation.  I usally plunge in recklessly at this point (because I love the act of painting) - so I decided to do some color charts first to settle on my final color choices.  I hope I can achieve my goals of creating beautiful color and brushwork - and my intent at this point is to settle first on the colors I will use, so that I do not repeat old habits of overworking and resorting to the palette knife to get cleaner colors. 

 

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"I just purchased and read your book. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate the info and will be following up on your blog. I turned 50 this year. I started my art career 3 years ago. I read as many art business and marketing books as I can but yours is the first I have found addressing starting out at 50." ~ RT, Oregon

Book - Ancient Wisdom Emerging Artist: the business plan (not just) for the mature artist

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Use Your Camera to Identify Muddy Color

Muddy color is one of those criticisms that is hard to define, falling into the "I know it when I see it" category.  I would like to share my recent experience into how I identify muddy color in my work by using a camera.

This insight developed as I was multi-tasking: working in Photoshop with images of a new painting while also listening to a podcast from AMO Art Chat, featuring David A Leffel and his concept of Abstract Realism.

(If you haven't listened to this podcast, or taken advantage of the resources available to you on Kevin MacPherson's Artist Mentors Online , including the Art Chat programs with Blanche McAlister Harris, Barbara Coleman, and Linda Fisler, then explore the links above.)

In the interview with David A Leffel, the question was raised about muddy color: what is it, how do you identify it, and more importantly, how do you fix it.  While artists often define muddy color as one that does not belong to a specific HUE (ambiguous color identity), David's answer really clicked for me, in part because I was looking at the photo of my painting and wondering why I was so dissatisfied with the sky. 

The definition was this: color should have a clear edge where it ends, and where it begins. 

So now we are also talking about edges - that other thing that is "I know it when I see it."

Below is a section of my painting titled "Rabbit Tracks," the painting I was studying while listening to the podcast. I realized there were at least three major areas that could be described as muddy color, or not having a clear beginning and ending.  These areas were far more noticeable to me as I studied the photograph than they were when I looked at the actual painting - not sure why except that the camera picks up every detail while my eyes (and the graduated lenses of my glasses) often soften and blur what I am looking at and it isn't until later, when I view the painting again, that I realize I've missed the mark. 

 

 

Once I had identified the muddy color I spent time repainting the areas.  As I did so I was reminded again of how the important idea of "unifying masses" is actually another way of talking about using edges and avoiding muddy colors. 

In my rework, I was paying attention to the entire mass of the cloud, background, foreground, and clearly defining the color through the use of the edges - where one color ends, and another begins - even if those colors are close in hue and or value. The other massively important change - at least to my eye - was that by removing the pinks and purples from the sky, and darkening and unifying the background (using raw umber and Hansa yellow medium) the color harmony was defined and now makes a clear statement of warm slanting light on the reds of the foreground vegetation. 

In the earlier version, as you can see just by looking at the small sections, there was a competition between the yellows and the reds - neither was dominant.  As the artist, I had to make the choice as to what was more important and subdue what was not, so that the entire painting communicated a single message.  This was another lesson from listening to the Abstract Realism podcast. 

The image below shows the same general area after the rework.  (You can click on both images for a larger view.)

I see the most important improvement in the cloud mass that now reads visually as I was seeing it, without distracting from the center of interest.  The color in the background vegetation is unified - don't need to get too expressive in this subordinate area.  The pinkish brush mark in the lower left against the yellow highlight defines that area without being distracting and helps to keep the viewer within the painting and not wandering off to the side.  

The compositional pathway is the circle, with the center of interest the foreground plants, but there is also a definate S or Z sub-composition at work here too. 

The finished painting:

Rabbit Tracks, 18 x 24, oil

 

That Pesky Sense of Urgency...

...might not be as urgent when viewed within the larger picture.

Artists who begin at a later age often feel disadvantaged: they've lost too much time and need to catch up.  I felt that way, worrying about the time I didn't have and the paintings I needed to produce before I started to get "good at it."

But an intense need to catch up creatively can often get in the way of what you want to achieve.  There is no race toward recognition, because many brilliant artists continue to work for decades without ever being recognized in the way we often imagine.  Letting go of the idea that validation from others is the only measure of your artistic success is the first step toward developing a sense of balance and personal accomplishment as you follow your artistic path.  While recognition does occur in the form of show acceptances, sales, awards, reputations and associations with fellow artists, these events will not dominate your experience. 

There are actions we can take to help keep things in perspective, become more efficient with our time, and achieve reasonable goals.  Here are a few that I use regularly:

Work in the studio when fully rested.  When I'm mentally or physically tired, I read art magazines, watch teaching DVDs, or go out looking for effective reference photos.

Negotiate Studio Time. Ask for three hours of uninterrupted time in return for mutual time that can include chores, entertainment, or going to the dog park (harder to negotiate).

Paint small studies with a 20 or 30 minute time limit. Learn your pigments, how to manipulate your tools, and composition skills. 

Complete larger work over the course of several days or weeks.  If you are always painting wet-in-wet, practice building up your painting over dry layers.  This can include sanding down the previous day's work and painting on top, using dry brush techniques, or finding new ways to achieve the painterly effects you want no matter what the conditions.

Spend time identifying your strengths and weaknesses, and focus specifically on where you are weak.  We automatically paint to our strengths, then wonder why the work never improves. 

 While there should always be a sense of urgency to get back into the studio, do so with the idea that your goal for that day, that hour, or even those fifteen minutes, is to work on your craft, to explore your creativity, and to allow the creative flow to manifest through your experience. 

 

Summer Morning, Oil

Salon International 13

Greenhouse Gallery of Fine Art

San Antonio, TX

 

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"I just purchased and read your book. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate the info and will be following up on your blog. I turned 50 this year. I started my art career 3 years ago. I read as many art business and marketing books as I can but yours is the first I have found addressing starting out at 50." ~ RT, Oregon

Book - Ancient Wisdom Emerging Artist: the business plan (not just) for the mature artist

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Why Finding Time is Better Than Having Time

Our collective artistic mythology holds that a true artist is one who devotes all of his time to the craft - it's part of the unspoken bias that if you work at it part-time you are only partly invested.

I get frequent questions from artists who wonder how they can have an art career when they need to work, and don't have the finances to work on their art full time.  We know it takes time to learn the various skills needed - it isn't something you can just drop in and do on an infrequent basis and expect great results. And if there weren't really good reasons to learn and practice and "just do it" there wouldn't be so many successful artists coming out of a strong foundational educational background. 

But it's safer for someone afraid of testing their wings to focus on what might be preventing them  - like the kid who finally makes it to the top of the high dive and then can't jump off because the water is too wet. It's a like holding out for perfect when perfect doesn't exist.

Having experienced this - from working full time, then part time, then completely unemployed/semi-retired, to needing to return to part time work, - perfect is what you have, not what you think it should be. 

Yes, there will be days when you're too tired to try.  Days when your frustration levels make you feel like you're pushing rocks uphill. 

But these frustrations occur whether or not you have the time - because it isn't the amount of time you have that makes the difference. 

It's whether or not you are willing to commit to the time you find. 

For some reason finding time changes the way you look at what you have in front of you.  It's a gift you are giving to yourself and your art.

Where as having time is more like an excuse not to take out the trash.

 

 

 

Impossible Standards and Why They Might Be Good For You

I recently went to a highly respected artist in our area for a mentoring session, and while nearly all of his advice, critiques and encouragement were valuable, he said one thing that I disagree with: stop comparing yourself to great masters and just let you be you.

In the context of our conversation this made perfect sense.  I had been talking about my sense of disappointment because I could not solve a visual problem - visual logic that I could see and articulate in the work of others, but could not translate into my own painting. At first I felt relieved - just stop comparing myself to impossible standards.  But soon I found myself in a philosophical argument about this idea - and I wondered if there wasn't another side to the "let you be you" suggestion. 

Artists come to their work with various motives, and their level of personal enjoyment and satisfaction stems from just as many unique sources.  For me, while I do enjoy the physical act of pushing paint and color around, my joy is fueled by a desire to understand aspects of painting and visual intelligence, and to translate that knowledge into my own ability to create paintings that meet seemingly impossible standards.

Sometimes this means my painting is going downhill, that my effort to discover a visual truth leads to surfaces that are over worked and paintings that are scraped down and re-painted.  It means that at the end of a long day I step back and look at the work and feel totally discouraged. 

And if I were willing to tell myself, just let you be you, I might settle, copy, play it safe, feel I was ruining perfectly good paintings because I felt dissatisfied.

 

Left: Walters Plums, first version.  Right: Walter's Plums, reworked

When I finished the first version of Walter's Plums I felt I had been able to move forward, visually.  But the more I studied this painting, the more I felt that it was visually - and intellectually - unfinished.  That I was only a few steps across the bridge instead of safely on the other side.

And the issue was agrivated because I had already posted this painting and received a lot of positive feedback.  So the argument became whether with version one of Walter's Plums, I should just accept "me be me," or whether I needed to put it back on the easel and push myself further into what I was trying to do.

The idea of me being me is as much the desire to seek a higher expectation as it is to accept the current limitations of my understanding of craft.  My commitment to painting has always carried with it several layers of meaning, trying to understand what carries the message. How does the artist translate an intellectual, emotional idea into something concrete and visual? What makes this work beautiful, and that work mundane?

So I put Walter's Plums back on the easel.  I decided not to stop halfway without trying to find a better solution.  Pushing myself is as much a part of me being me as accepting that I have a unique style of painting that isn't going to look like everyone else.  But it is a style that will continue evolving toward a higher level of visual intelligence, no matter how difficult.

It may feel difficult to evaluate advice you receive because you understand the underlying truth.  But it is just as necessary to listen to your own advice and follow your own path. 

Here is another painting from the "Plums Series" - which will last as long as the plums...

 

Three Plums, Oil, 14 x 18 © 2012

 

Let's Talk About Bones

Since October is filled with goblins, I thought I'd talk about bones.

Artists have many words to describe it: notan, value study, underlying abstract patterns, compositional plans - a painting needs to have "good bones."  I've talked about doing small value studies before, so have a lot of artists, but I thought I could show you how I take the value study further in the development of a painting. 

Here is the underlying bone structure for my painting Walton Lake Trail:

 Working quickly, I used a thinned wash of dark transparents with a round brush, scrubbing the color onto the surface with light gesture movements - thinking where are the dark masses, and what did I want this painting to say. This is like working in charcoal for me, additive and reductive, putting it on and wiping it off until I'm happy with the result. 

Tip: For this painting I used a loose mixture of green umber, transparent oxide brown, and ultramarine blue.  The oxide brown (Daniel Smith) dilutes to a rich dark orange/red that is less intense than oxide red, allowing me to push the color later with the reds. You may prefer other colors, but keep to the transparents as they allow the white of the canvas to shine through, much like watercolor. 

Here is an image of the finished painting (read about it here):

 Walton Lake Trail, oil on linen, 11 x 14

I've found that it's much easier to bring a painting to a good finish when I'm excited and confident about the composition.  All I have to concentrate on is defining the forms, the quality of the light, color and interesting brushwork.

Here is another example, using my newest painting Yellow Rabbitbrush:

For this painting I knew the challenge would be the center of interest area, where the twigs and grasses created intricate patterns of light against dark.  After using the gesture approach to get the larger mass, I wiped out/drew in the stems with a q-tip.  I knew that many of these lines would disappear in the final painting, but there would still be opportunities I could exploit.

Tip: After reading a post by Kevin Courter on Facebook, on how he uses frames to evaluate his work during the painting process, I now place my painting in a frame at this early stage. It is very helpful in evaluating the effectiveness of my design.

Yellow Rabbitbrush, oil on linen, 12 x 16

 

Painting is always full of risks. This process helps you manage them with more confidence. 

* * * * *

Happy Announcement: I was recently awarded Signature Status in Women Artists of the West.  Look for a mention of the upcoming national show, WAOWing the Texas Hill Country at the HS Hanna Gallery, in the November issue of Southwest Art. I'm thrilled that my artwork was included in the Spotlight section about the show.

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"I just purchased and read your book. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate the info and will be following up on your blog. I turned 50 this year. I started my art career 3 years ago. I read as many art business and marketing books as I can but yours is the first I have found addressing starting out at 50." ~ RT, Oregon

Book - Ancient Wisdom Emerging Artist: the business plan (not just) for the mature artist

Kindle US Store  - Ancient Wisdom Emerging Artist: the business plan (not just) for the mature artist

 

Need to Shape Up?

Maybe you do without realizing it.

In the book Carlson's Guide to Landscape Painting, John Carlson writes: "Every good picture is fundamentally an arrangement of three or four large masses - a design of differing masses or large blocks of color - light, dark, and half-dark or half-light." (p. 33)  So...being able to see the major shapes in your subject will make the painting process easier - especially with landscape, where there's so much information it can be overwhelming.

Here are a few quick value sketches I did using photo references on my computer.  I used white and Van Dyck Brown - a very dark brown, and I think there might be some raw umber in there too.  I was using up leftover paint blobs on my palette, and squinting a lot, as I worked at dividing the motif into no more than four value shapes.  We often hear artists say things like "every good painting has a strong abstract design beneath it" - and this is pretty much what theyre talking about.  Look at your study in a mirror and upside down - you will more fully appreciate the "abstract" qualities - how the dark shapes stand against the light shapes.  Ask yourself these questions

• are my shapes interesting?
• Dynamic?
• Descriptive?
• Unexpected?
• Active?

• or are my shapes even?
• Rigid?
• Repetitive?
• Boring?

The more you experiment with this, the easier it will be for you to see forms and simplify the masses in your composition while still "describing" the landscape. 

Here are a few resources to help you:

• Blick Canvas Panels - these start at 46 cents for a 4 inch square, 67 cents for a 5 inch by 7 inch.  They are sturdy, the surface has a rougher canvas texture but you aren't trying to do fine detail work here, just practice seeing the different large masses and their values. I buy in bulk, and they are stacked up in the studio, silently nagging me every day. I mean, really, you can't use "cost" as your excuse anymore.
• New Traditions Art Panels - these are very affordable for when you want to work on a better surface - a 6" x 8" 3/16 inch gatorfoam panel with Claessens single primed medium tooth with titanium zinc oil priming is $4.16. They also offer sample packs if you aren't sure which type of linen and priming you like best.
• SourceTek Canvas Panels also offers a variety of surfaces.  The 6" x 8" oil primed Claessens landscape linen sells for $5.03 but must be purchased in packs of 5 or more.  

The added value with any of these products is the ability to experiment with the various linens and priming and substrates available without spending a lot of money - so for all those Type-A personalities out there, you can multi-task by combining your Notan practice with discovering which surface you like best. 

 

Drawing is important because

 

it does a lot of fundamental skill-building stuff for artists. For instance, drawing

• improves your eye-hand coordination
• lets you practice sight-size drawing
• helps you understand the underlying structure of whatever it is you are looking at
• try out different design concepts
• become more comfortable translating 3-dimensional objects into a 2-dimensional space
• helps you understand the expressive power in gesture, line, brush mark, or mass
• and according to Juliette Aristides in her very excellent book Lessons in Classical Drawing, "every good drawing exhibits an understanding and control of tone, proportion, harmony, and composition."

Artists need to incorporate drawing into their daily practice, no matter what their medium of choice.  And whether you are working all day, or just caught up in the other demands of modern life, or just "not ready" yet, it can be hard to set that drawing time aside. 

So, if you're like me, you need a little nudge to do the things that are good for you. 

Warning: these sites feature both nude and clothed models.  They also offer some form of selection, timed drawing, and choices if you want to work on animals, hands, heads, etc. 

• ArtsyPoses - Drawing tool & Models
• Figure & Gesture Drawing Tool
• The Drawing Script

and my favorite site:

• Posemaniacs

The Posemaniacs site features "models" that are computer generated and show the underlying muscles. The figures can also be rotated 360 degrees to get differing perspectives, enlarged, and timed. Some may find the images kind of creepy, but I find them less distracting, allowing me to focus on the form, proportion, and gesture of the human figure.