Small Figures in Oil

When the opportunity arises, I’ve been working out some small figures in oil.  Done in two to three hours, my goal in these small paintings is to see how much value, color and shape alone can form the image.

Any thoughtful observer of artists sees that as an artist’s abilities increase, they discard or reorganize much of the visual information present in their subject.  Beginners, by contrast, are troubled by seeing everything. They possess little ability to edit what nature visually presents them, or perhaps understand the value of it.

 

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As I chip away at these small oils, my goal is to see how much I can suggest with each touch of the brush…creating a mosaic of tones and colors that my viewer assembles.

I find it a very refreshing and intriguing approach to the visual world. I will be pursuing this more.

 

 

A Lingering Painting Revived

There is something to be said for hanging on to work that seems to be going nowhere. Can a lingering painting be revived?

This is a quarter sheet (11 x 15″) watercolor that was in a stack of unresolved pieces that occupy a drawer or two in my flat files, an Elephant’s Graveyard where works on paper (quite a few) are exiled when they refuse to stay airborne.  Sometimes they see daylight again and come back into usefulness as the backside of a demonstration piece or practice sheet.

At the End-Makapu'u

Makapu’u -End of the Beach  11 x 15″    Watercolor

This painting was probably started around three years ago from a plein air trip to this end of the beach.  It caught my eye the other day…I remembered giving it up as being rather dark and unappealing.  I was originally trying to go after the colors in the water using the darkness of the cliffs as a foil but didn’t feel it had a sufficient exit for the eye and lacked variety in the color.

Approaching it as a stranger now, I could see that with the addition of a few minuscule adjustments I could possibly bring it back to life.  I lifted some paint for figures to provide some sense of scale, lost some edges, and deepened a wash or two. Not more than 30 minutes effort.

The lesson I take from this is that it’s sometimes good to work on multiple pieces and move from one to the next. When you reach an impasse or lose your enthusiasm….just give it time.  There is no expiration date on a painting if the underpinnings of a decent idea might be lingering, waiting to be revived.

Studio Use of Plein Air Sketches

On many occasions,  I’ll find a subject that requires an immediate response, so I take the plunge.  But either weather, the poor quality of the light, or other circumstances make an in-depth plein air study hard to manage.

So, oftentimes I’m disappointed. The results of these plein air sketches are not as effective as they would be if they were more fully developed.  And almost always the main weakness is in the composition. Either nature didn’t provide (or I didn’t recognize) a suitable arrangement of elements to make viewing the painting a fully satisfying experience.

Waimanalo plein air

This sketch (above) is a 7 x 11″ watercolor that is our case-in-point.  It was sufficient in a no-frills way to capture the general effects. But the sunlight was on again/off again, I had interruptions from rain, and the composition now seems crowded into the rectangular format.

A Reminder and a Reference

The sketch’s  real value to me is only this: when reviewed  later, after I’ve moved on to other work, I’m reminded of visual/sensual experiences ( I mean sounds, smells, circumstances) that are now part of my memory.  It conjures recollections much more like a movie than a snapshot. The sketch has become a reminder and a reference.

What artists know is that sketching something plants the entire experience of being somewhere much more firmly in the mind than passive observation or photography. The information from sketching is sifted.  More personal as well as visual, gathered  through the lens of our own personal temperament. And this added dimension ultimately enriches the final painting.

From this stage, I’m then able to deal with the composition.

As mentioned, the first sketch doesn’t suggest the grandness of the place.  It’s hemmed in by the rectangle and lacks clear areas of interest. So I  put together this second study (below) in my studio, making better use of the elements that nature provided  as well as altering the composition to suit my desire for a better eyepatch and more interest.

Waimanalo studies 2
Waimanalo watercolor study, 6 x 14″

This small study is still “the place”, but is now better organized to lead the eye in an interesting way. The addition of figures and refining and simplifying the shapes now give me something with more pictorial interest.

A Point of Departure

From here the watercolor can serve as a basis for many possibilities… an oil painting, a larger watercolor, or a pastel.  In this instance I thought a larger painting in pastel would be a good response, to be worked up in my studio.  So I used both the first sketch and study to refer to as I worked.  I think I developed a better painting than I might have had otherwise…while making it much more “my own” in the process.

watercolor to pastel

Here’s the easel setup with the watercolor study positioned so I can see it directly with the pastel painting.  After several sessions I was able to complete the pastel.

And below is the final painting, now framed and in a private collection.

Makapu'u Head from Waimanalo, 10" x 24"  Pastel
Makapu’u Head from Waimanalo, 10″ x 24″ Pastel. Private collection

One Final Thought

We obviously live in a time of technology, and the option of photography as a useful reference tool has been available and used by many painters for a long time. And undeniably, many beautiful works have resulted from this.

For my own efforts I have decided to invest in drawing and painting without the advantages/disadvantages of photography as much as possible. And I recommend that my students, while they are my students, try and do the same.

Art-making and life-living in our modern world have increasingly become solely results oriented. Labor saving devices are a wonderful blessing for the many people occupied in endlessly routine and stifling or tedious work. We’re thankful for labor saving devices whenever the labor is unpleasant, dangerous, or unprofitable. 

But artworks are different.  We are richer for the experience of interfacing with our subject over time, watching the many variations and possibilities, getting to know the subject in many moods.

On that subject, we’re well served by painter Joseph Paquet’s recently published forward to the Plein Air Painters’ of America exhibition catalog.  He eloquently states the whole idea better than I’m able to.

It’s well worth the click!

Eternity Beach with John and Ann

I had a pair of beautiful afternoons to draw and then paint this 1/4 sheet watercolor at Eternity Beach, more properly known as Halona Cove, last month.  It’s a favorite subject of mine and one that I return to whenever I can.

You never can tell what sort of activity that the ocean will serve up…wind and waves vary here from one extreme to the other.  I find that it’s best to get the composition drawn on one day and return for the painting on another, which is what I managed to do on this occasion.

Afternoon, Halona Cove 12 x 15"
Afternoon, Halona Cove
12 x 15″

I was joined on the second day’s outing by my very good friend John Yamashige, who introduced me to his pal Ann Cecil, a respected local photographer.  I chipped away at the painting while Ann explored the cove, and John and I had one of our wonderful visits. Afterwards the three of us had a chance to sit and visit together as the late afternoon progressed into a cooler time of day.

Halona Cove-04882

Ann was kind enough to shoot some pics of John and myself, so here’s my favorite.  Thanks Ann!

A New Pastel Figure en Plein Air

Our “Painting the Museums en Plein Air” class had our final get together for 2014 on Wednesday morning at Spalding House on Oahu.

Michelle 2

Our model, Michelle, took a reclining pose…and we took advantage of superb weather and luscious surroundings to put in a couple hours with her before having our traditional Artist’s Holiday Bohemian Bacchanalia (Christmas Party).  We had a great time, and I’m happy to have been able to work with this fine group.

A straightforward approach to painting a pastel figure outdoors

As an informal demonstration, I decided that a small pastel piece that dealt directly with the subject in terms of color, shape, and value alone would be interesting. The piece was done without a preliminary drawing, but just as a seeing project.  Simple, mostly squarish strokes ( I refer to them as “tiles”)  of the appropriate color and value placed selectively and as simply as I could.  Very clean color can be had this way.

Michelle sleeping

I fussed with it a bit after, but essentially it’s a direct-from-nature piece, 7 1/2 x 10 inches on some pale yellow Ersta paper I have.  I have plans to frame this one rather soon for a small show, so the frame, mat, and glass are waiting.

If you are interested in finding out more or joining us, you are welcome to check the schedule for our upcoming class here. 

Lanikai Beach: Moving Targets, Straight Paint

It seems that this time of year I regularly find myself scouting for interesting subject matter in Lanikai, a beach spot not far from home. I begin early and drive the main road past Kailua Beach which then rises to the splendid overlook.  I slow down to glance North, across the bay towards Mokapu, and then bend around to follow the one-way loop into the community of Lanikai.

Lanikai, like most other now-famous beaches, was once an isolated and rather barren spot populated by families of Hawai’ian and Asian descent.  I’ve heard folks who lived here during the 1930’s speak about how farmers raised melons to trade for rice with farmers back in the mountains. Cash money was rare. Fresh water could come from holes dug in the sand, there was no electricity, and people birthed their babies at home.  During the war, barbed wire was stretched along the beach.

Nowadays Lanikai is known, and it’s a different deal. Populated by part-timers and foreign visitors as well as locals, it’s become increasingly affluent and crowded.  Sniffy, expensive California styled residences are on the rise and crowding the view. But there still are tiny slices of the old tucked away in corners and unexpected places, and it’s to these that I’m attracted.

Scouring and squinting, I often think that I must appear suspicious to residents as I slowly creep along in my chang-a-lang Rav 4,  peering into yards and empty lots.  I’m checking my rear view mirror for a view of how things appear behind me.  I climb out of my car at odd intervals to study combinations of buildings and flora, dark and light patterns, or spots of color…anything that might hold some promise of becoming an interesting composition.

And so as I went ’round the loop (it’s a single lane, one road in and one road out), I was able gradually to narrow my search to a few possibilities.  Though it was early in the day yet, the sunlight was strong and the sky clear. Streets were already filling with people hitting the beach or doing the holiday yard sales.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something good.  Dark and light foliage, a flash of  white wall/blue sea on the Makai (ocean) side of the street.  It was a small beachfront property I’d somehow never noticed before. Big modern places had been built closely on either side. Yellow sunlight cut across the darkened entry road  and there were hints of ’20’s-era architecture silhouetted in the dark overgrowth of palms and hedges.

 A Friend Indeed

“No way I am going to get to do this”,  I told myself as I skeptically considered the odds of obtaining permission to paint here. It’s no fun knocking on doors and explaining to people you’re a painter. Try it if you haven’t. And Lanikai has it’s guard up these days… understandably so.  The normally friendly residents have already been tested by the abundant supply of tourists errantly drifting through their yards, as well as out-and-out thieves.

But I was about to be surprised.  As I poked around across the street looking for a vantage point that might allow a shot at this, I saw a big contractor’s truck parked where I hadn’t noticed it on the lot.  And the name on the truck was the company that my pal Brian builds for.

What do you know about that?

And as I’m taking all this in, my feet have me automatically walking across the street.  Hope is like that, I’ve noticed.  Your body just responds to it before your brain has weighed the matter entirely.  But no matter, because at that moment my friend Brian has emerged from a dark doorway, his mind on 20 different things to do with his project.  He then sees me, looking dumbfounded at him.  What are the odds of this? We greet each other.

Yes, Mark, you can have the run of the place if you stay safely out of the way.

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Well, I’ve gone from mild despair to elation in a few minutes.  I thank Brian ( I’m STILL thanking him!), grab my trusty & rusty Julian 1/2 box, and after some deliberation regarding what to paint ( so many choices and so little time) I decide to jump on a rare opportunity to paint the beach from about 15 feet above it.  Looking East, from this incredibly well shaded perch,  Molokai is beautifully silhouetted and the sky and sea are dazzling. Visitors are walking the beach and the colors are beautiful.  Everything is moving, and it is as strikingly clear as one could ever ask for.

Straight Paint  

Unlike many oil painters, I received a lot of practice working with oil paint that is straight from the tube.  This is a hard sell to some painters because we mostly receive the idea that things have to be done to oil paint, added to it,  to make it manageable .  While this is desirable in some instances, it’s not necessary in many cases…and certainly not in this case.  I’d been working with an addition of some linseed oil lately, and also using a traditional 3 part medium for a change after years of straight paint.  On this occasion I left the turpentine (Gamsol actually) at home,  and worked with straight paint on a white oil primed linen panel. I’m happy I did.

It was delicious. Starting with the large masses of sand, sea, and sky I dropped in the large blocks of color with “tiles”, brush strokes of pure paint laid side to side, each mixed to directly capture the color and value needed.  They can be fused and modeled later. This was referred to as “Bunkering” for  the 19th century American painter Dennis Bunker by one of my teachers, James Childs. It’s work at the beginning, especially if one is accustomed to beginning with a thin wash of color that hides the white of the canvas.  But the pay off comes later, because once the painting is covered, the second round of adjusting the shapes and values in this rich lay-in is a real pleasure.  The right amount of paint is in place to model forms and the work almost becomes easier…certainly for me more enjoyable.

And so the morning went….figures briefly appeared that were desirable, though fleeting. The woman with the umbrella was only present for a minute at most…so I have developed the habit of notating the figure on a clean area of my palette, a quick gesture with color, enouch to recall the effect and place it into the painting wet into wet after the general effects of the painting are painted. Her companion was added from a memory sketch the following day.

Lanikai

Making Great Use of Leftover Paint

I’ve got a great way to make use of leftover paint for artists…and it’s something I wish I’d begun doing years ago.

At the end of a session, when it’s time to clean and prep my palette for the next session, I often have leftover pigments that might dry unusably by the time I next get back to work. I’m not one to put fresh paint over dry on my palette; though many painters do this.  Instead, I take the palette down to a clean working surface by removing  piles of unused paint with a palette knife and then rubbing the entire surface with a rag and a bit of solvent. This creates a slight and sympathetic gray (over time) that I enjoy working on.  After that I might rub on a bit of linseed oil if the palette has been left unused for a couple days, and that’s how I like to prepare my palette for the next round.

But in the past I simply (and sadly) wrote off the paint I was removing with the knife…until  I realized this was a lost opportunity.  I saw that I  could use this paint to to create a record of informal experiments.

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There are some elementary principles to applying oil paint…you can’t just pile it on randomly and expect it to remain stable over time without considering such things as the oil content of layers, the adhesion of the paint, or whether a light can go over a dark without cracking or showing through later.

Most all of what I’ve learned about artist’s pigments and mediums comes from two sources …what I’ve been told and what I’ve read. And I’m admittedly careful and conservative in my use/application of oil paint for the long term benefit of my paintings. I generally paint with either straight paint from the tube or with the most basic of two and three parts oil mediums (linseed and turpentine, for example).

But I’ve seen techniques in paintings by artists of the past that I’d like to try…glazes over palette-knife impasto, for instance. I’ve seen some beautiful effects achieved this way more than once.  Or the black glaze rubbed in over some of the landscapes of painters in the 19th century, something that I’ve read about but haven’t actually seen yet.  How about drying times of pigments, or what varnishing prematurely can do?  I’ve used a lead priming from a recipe offered in an old book by Frederic Taubes…how does it dry and adhere?

The Big, Smart Idea

So, I have an 18 x 24″ cradled wooden panel primed with two coats of Gamblin’s white oil primer that receives all the ideas I can throw at it using my leftover paint.  Impastos, glazes, mixtures,…all are noted and dated with a black sharpie, because “long term effects” are a big concern.  I’m not inventing anything, but trying things already out there in the cloud of responsible knowledge in order to learn for myself what’s what.

It’s been about two years now, and it’s really nice to be able to draw my own conclusions from my own personal experience.  There are some nice possibilities for extending the range of what I know how to do. And I throw away much less nice paint.

I wish I’d started ten years ago.