Ancient Artist: Developing an art career after 50

Have You Ever Attended a Virtual Critique?

Invitation to Critique

When I was attending art classes, I dreaded the critique.  The experience of trying to master a new concept and then realizing I'd missed the mark completely was definitely depression material.  But now I realize an informed critique is vital to artistic growth, and I am inviting you to join in this virtual crit session.

Taking into account that the color will vary according to your monitor, what I am seeing is a fairly accurate representation of the actual painting.   My palette consists of violet blue, ultramarine blue, cadmium yellow deep, yellow ocher, Winsor yellow, terra rosa, transparent red oxide, burnt sienna, Quinacridone  violet,  Naples yellow (French), Naples yellow (Italian), Naples yellow, Naples yellow pale, and zinc white.  The greens are mixed.  I think the colors in the painting are slightly more saturated than the image I am seeing, but not as saturated as in the earlier versions.

Here are a few questions to start the critique...
Overall structure: 

• does your eye move smoothly throughout the composition or does it get stuck somewhere?
• what do you think is the center of interest?
• does the composition feel balanced or awkward?
• are the major shapes working? (assuming that the major shapes are there?)
• do you like any of the earlier versions ( previous post) better?  If so, why?

I hope you will participate, if only for the practice of evaluating a painting so that you can develop the skill.  I am hoping for some feedback that will help me see things I might have overlooked.

Looking forward to lots of responses in my comments section!

Sunday Salon: Sitting Down with the Atelier Approach

In my conversations with Slump, he suggested I was "stuck"  because I'd reached the edge of the cliff.  Metaphorically speaking, that is.

"And that cliff would be?" I asked, eyebrows raised for emphasis.

"The one where you're standing on the edge of solid ground -- the painting skills you have -- and you're afraid to step off the cliff -- gaining new painting skills -- because you think you'll crash and burn."

"Ah, the Wiley Coyote Observation," I responded snidely, since Slump had loved Roadrunner cartoons as a kid.

But Slump has thicker skin than I have.  He ignored my immaturity and reminded me I ought to read one of those books I buy instead of just looking at the pretty pictures. 

So I did. 

One of my painting aspirations is to become a fabulous landscape painter.  Well, at least a good one.  But  I've been producing work that's rather ... ho hum.  So, under Slump's continued nagging I pulled out Classical Painting Atelier: A Contemporary Guide to Traditional Studio Practice, by Juliette Aristides.

The Atelier Approach was once the gold standard for artist training.  It fell out of favor, but is regaining popularity.  The basic philosophy mentors an artist through lessons from a Master Artist, introducing foundational skills through a curriculum that "naturally builds upon itself during the course of a developing artist's period of study (p. 1)."

I began with the first exercise, studying tonal arrangements.

I know this is a big risk, telling you how I took short cuts, labored over a painting when I knew better, ended up overworking it, making it ugly and just waiting for my husband to pass by and point out these details the way someone points out the obvious to a four year old.  But in the spirit of sharing, I hope my experience will be helpful.

I've had more time recently to devote to painting, and I started working on some new, smaller landscapes.

Painting One @ Sue Favinger Smith

So here is the first version.  I thought it looked interesting from 20 feet back, lost it's power at 3 feet.  I wasn't sure exactly what was wrong.

I liked the light and place.  I liked the personality of the trees.  My original inspiration had dramatic light to dark contrast, but was a photo and photos aren't very good at revealing what's in the shadows.  I didn't want to just copy.  I also liked the color scheme.  The sky was a mixture of violets and blues, making the yellows glow.

But something just wasn't quite right.

I needed to study the composition through tonal values, and compare it to the tonal values of a "Master Artist."

I use Photoshop Elements, and have recently incorporated it into my painting routine.  I have a folder marked "Works in Progress" where I save digitals of my painting process.  This is useful as I now have a record of how seemingly small changes effect the overall design. 

I also Photoshop for tonal value analysis.   I convert my painting image to grayscale ( Image > mode > grayscale), where I can actually see the value pattern I've created, without the distraction of color. 

And what I'd created was a very active abstract composition with diagonals converging into the center and vague major masses.  I liked the way the strong verticals added stability and contrast, but I realized my values were closer together than I'd imagined. I also saw several large X's in the composition which I did not like. And it did not have the elegance of design I was after. 

Wash at Hudson's @ Don Stone
Here is the grayscale version of a painting I have long admired, by Master Artist Don Stone.  I noticed that he uses his values differently than I do.  I decided to use him as my Master Artist and analyze exactly what his thought processes might be.

I converted Stone's image to grayscale, and then printed both his painting and my own so that I could tape them side by side on my studio wall.  Next, I began to analyze and compare.

Well, it didn't take very long before I just "knew" what to do...

I admit, I like to think I can paint on the fly.  I mean, inspiration has a direct conduit to my fingers, moving my hand way before the old brain catches up. 

So I fiddled... just a little darker here... I dabbed paint rather than putting it on with thought and deliberation...maybe some yellow here...I experimented. (Saying I felt my way would be more accurate). And I became more frustrated as my painting became more of a mess.  Finally, after trying "just one more bit," I had to go to work and leave it for an entire day.

When I came home that night I took one look and realized what I had done. 

You're thinking, "She's going back to Slump, isn't she?"  But you'd be wrong.

What I had done was push past "safety in what I know" into "willing to sacrifice a perfectly mediocre painting to learn something."

This is a very good place to be.

Painting One (left) and Painting Two (right)

In painting one, you can see how I had attempted to unify my darkest value and ended up with a black hole pretty much in the center of the painting.
Oops!
I lost much of my color by over painting and blending too much.
I studied my Master Artist and then wrote down in my notebook what I liked about his work and what I needed to do in my own work.

Like: 

• Strong value design
• 3 values

Work on:

• design first
• greater value separation
• more paint on the brush
• cleaner color
• mix larger puddles on palette

Then I wrote out my analysis and solutions:

What am I doing wrong?  I'm not completely sure ahead of time about major decisions, so I feel my way, try out things, change and overwork.

My solutions:  I need to spend more time planning the idea, then painting thinly to be sure it works.  I need to plan and mix colors and values, using a limited palette.  I need to apply the paint with as little "fussiness" as possible...put it down in one stroke.  I also did a value sketch from memory, unifying the major masses, and clarifying the 3 value areas.

I painted the second version last night in one go, about 3 hours.  I knew ahead of time how I intended to apply the paint and I had mixed up my colors in large puddles so I would not get caught short and have to mix something up in the middle of things.  The scary part was wondering if I could recreate the freshness in the original composition or if it was gone forever.

Here are the value comparisons.  I am very happy with the unity in the second version, and the defined value pattern. I lost some of the personality in the first set of trees, and I will go back in and strengthen the lighter values in the foreground to capture the sense of light hitting the rolling pathway. But overall I think that the second version has a more cohesive design and the color is clean.

But more importantly, this exercise reminded me that an artist recognizes when her work isn't up to par and then does something about it.  And I discovered that I can "do it again" and actually "do it better."

Yes, I will study the two new side by side value images, and determine what works in the first and try to apply it in the second.  And yes, I really do wish I hadn't overworked the first painting and destroyed the elegance in the paint application.  But the realization that gives me the most joy is that I've now reached the artistic level where I realize where my work is weak, and I'm developing the skills to make it stronger.

And that's a better place to be than satisfied but unable to see.

There's so much to learn

In my previous post I asked for help with the photo aspect.   "White Balance" suggested that the problem was WB, that little icon that appears in the instruction book of my camera.  Yes, WB stands for White Balance.  Now I'm not techie and I hate reading instruction books...but I tortured myself.  In certain modes I can set my WB according to the lighting conditions...like fluorescent, cloudy day, daylight...lighting conditions that, as an artist, I think about all the time when choosing colors and adjusting shadows.   Yes, well, in my defense, I think of myself as a painter, and camera instruction books are...well, lets just say  I consider myself lucky I even found the darn thing. 

It's night where I live.  Late.  I have fluorescent lights in my studio as well as a daylight collected bulb that works great when it's a few inches from what you're looking at but get back a bit and ...hum... 

So what's a girl to do except go for it.  Can't wait until morning because I'll be rushing around getting ready for work, spilling coffee, tripping over the dogs who just LOVE to camp in the studio doorway...

Set my dial to P, worked my way through the menu with that little up and down button, found the WB and highlighted fluorescent.  I have to say I notice a difference in the warmer colors being truer to the painting, and the blue doesn't seem so harsh.  But that's just on my monitor, and I know that monitors  see things differently, so it's  kind of  risky anyway as to what I see and what you see.  But I do appreciate White Balance's advice and hopefully I can get a better handle on things. 

Of course, when I actually post this and see NO difference between the two images...well, that'll have to be another story.

Humm...I checked this post after publishing to compare.  In the first image I see more contrast, but the colors are truer in the second.  I usually use ISO and a fine setting.  ISO doesn't let me adjust the WB, but maybe I can adjust something else...this could get messy...

Inspired by...

Over the past few days I have been reading about the "A Painting a Day" movement that seems to be sweeping through the internet.  I've visited sites where artists from around the world are painting small little gems each day: one such site belongs to  New Zealand artist Paul Hutchinson, and you can see what I mean here.  While I never thought I would be interested in such a concept - it centers mainly around realism and still life, although there are several artists working in landscape and abstract -- I was soon fascinated. And hooked.   

My interest in this trend comes from an invitation I received to teach a four week class on beginning oil painting.  While I mentor students one-on-one, I've never prepared a formal, stand up and demonstrate type of class, and assuming there will be enough interested folks to sign up, I've got to prepare enough material to fill up four 3 hour classes.  What to do?

So, here is my first inspiration.

I started by creating a very limited palette.  My choices are: Bright Red, Thalo Red Rose, Winsor Yellow, French Ultramarine Blue, Cerulean Blue, Raw Sienna and Titanium White.

I'm using an inexpensive white plate - under $3.00 -- as a palette.  It's actually quite easy to hold and the slightly raised rim works to keep the the turps under control  and gives me a place to rest a brush without the tips or handles getting into my paint blobs.  It also fits nicely into a the plastic carry box for hanging files that I found for under $6: I'm amazed at the useful artsy things I found in the office suppy area of my local big box discount store.

My goal was to build an affordable painting travel kit: a simple metal or plastic slotted letter organizer fits in the bottom of the plastic tub to hold wet canvases upright, a fishing tackle box works to hold paint tubes...so much fun, so little time.

Here is my still life set up.  Yes, sadly, I am using plastic lemons because I want to keep using them for classes.  The dried stem of leaves is real, though, and preserved...available at the local craft conglomerate.  The cloth was chosen because of the color, the compliment to the yellow lemons.  My light source was set up to cast interesting shadows...

Okay, this is practice.  Here is an initial wash of raw sienna, with the lights wiped out and the darks re-stated, getting the basic composition on the canvas.  Time elapsed: 15 minutes. 

Next, blocking in the background and foreground, working warm to cool, right to left, front to back.  Another 15 minutes.  Practicing the stroke, stroke, stroke, wipe system I, uh, always forget to use.  That's the one good thing about having to teach someone else, it keeps you aware of all your bad habits. 

First intoduction of main mid tone colors.  According to the digital time read-out on my camera, this took another 15 minutes.

About 45 minutes later, I had developed the image to this point.  I reworked the shadows on the leaves, trying to capture the movement and line, and create contrast with my basic lemon forms.  I was definately trying not to over blend...another bad habit, I confess.  What I discovered , though, was the hidden gift of photographing each step.  I recaptured elements that I lost when I noticed them in the progression photos.

Here is the almost finished painting.  This took another hour, although we do have to factor in the coffee break I took (actually several) while I evaluated my progress.  I might still go back into the painting, because I like the yellow-green in the photograph that isn't quite as strong in the  painting.  Otherwise, I think I accomplished my goal.  11 x 14, Lemons.  All images copyrighted. 

Start to finish, even counting the set up and safety discussions, then clean up,  I think  we can accomplish this in one 3 hour class, even allowing for a break.

Why use a Sketchbook?

If you read Katherine Tyrrell's blog, "Making a Mark," you are familiar with her wonderful sketchbook work.  I am not as prolific at sketching as Katherine, because for years I resisted the idea of using a sketchbook at all.  Why spend all that creative energy working out a detailed drawing?  When it came to painting, I found that I'd lost the creative spark that ignited my interest in the first place.  Besides, sketching books were indelibly linked to my art school days and those endless, boring assignments...perspective drawings, along with the glued on color swatches depicting the color wheel...

But about two years ago I was in Barnes & Noble and found these beautiful leather journals with an attached, old-fashioned ribbon book mark.  There was something about the tactile quality of the leather and the gold edges on pages that appealed to me, so I bought several.  Then I had to find a good use for them -- it seemed ridiculous to keep these beautifully bound books totally empty.  They were literally screaming "important stuff in here" - well, not screaming, that could be over-doing it on the hyperbole, but you get my drift.

Here you see two of my sketchbooks.  I use them more as journals to record ideas, concepts, reactions to things that I've read.  They function as my personal text books.

For instance, during those "down" creative times, I will look through art magazines and cut out paintings that visually appeal to me, including what information I might find about the artist.  Then, I'll write out a detailed analysis of what I see.  Questions I might ask and answer are:
What  do I like about the color choices?
How did the artist divide the space?
What are the value choices?

My goal is to deconstruct the painting according to my own artistic understanding, learning what I can about why the image works.  I can get quite detailed on some pieces.  Others might not get beyond being mounted in my sketch book for analysis on another day.  This process has been extremely helpful to me.

Here I broke down an artist's work into the major shapes and looked at the values and color temperatures.  Details like "color temp is expressed in mid values and complemented in dks and lights" are extremely helpful to me as I gain a deeper understanding of how these artists accomplish their goals.  If I can't attach the actual image to the sketchbook, I've learned to make detailed notes as to where I found the painting, and to keep those sources handy.  Early on, I spent countless wasted hours trying to track down something I had mentioned and wanted to look at again. 

Another use for my sketch books is to actually work out what I've learned and apply it to a work in progress.  Here I was analyzing a sketch of mine and how I might approach it with paint.  I wanted to recall as much detail about my initial impression at the location, including the direction of the sun and what initially drew me to the scene. 

This is pretty standard stuff, of course, but I've found that I like to actually see what others are doing and not just read about how an artist "recorded details, including color notes,"  so I'm including this image so you can compare it to what you are doing. 

One other important note:  be sure to include a definitions page if you use shorthand or abbreviations.  I have no idea what I meant by the "ZIP" in the notation about the Cad/red medium - turquoise.  Any suggestions as to what I might have meant?

Another way that I use my sketchbooks is in evaluating some of my photographs.  Here is one of many photographs that I've broken down into the major shapes and value pattern. My goal is to evaluate the information in the photo, to see if it might develop into a successful painting or not.   Part of this analysis includes whether the dominant shape is organic or geometric, and what value key works best.  Many of these initial work-ups get no further than this, but  months later, I might come back with fresh eyes and new excitement.  I often do lose some of my initial enthusiasm for a creative idea by doing the "hard" work first, but I've also learned that a time-out can make a huge difference.  Often, I will see where a sketched idea has real potential as a painting, or where it might fizzle out as boring.  I just need to leave it alone for awhile.   

I think the key to any idea like sketchbooks or journals is to find a way to adapt it to your personal way of working.  And that might be a totally different use of the idea than what everybody else is doing, but that's OK if it serves you well.  As an artist, I am such a visual person that I appreciate seeing the actual "things" other people create to help them on their artistic journeys  -- I hope that these pages will inspire you to create your own personal textbooks.