The Pastel Pointers Blog

The Problem with Green, Part 2

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 15:56:53 GMT

In last week’s blog, I split Malinda Wiesner’s question concerning the use of green into two parts. In part 1, my advice was to acquire as many “mixed pigment” green pastels as possible for inclusion in your palette, avoiding the harsh raw green pigments like Viridian and Phthalo. This week, the discussion continues with a few more tips that I hope prove helpful when dealing with the issue of green in landscape painting.

Whenever color is concerned, it's best to begin with the color wheel. By studying the relationships of individual colors and how they interact with each other, we develop a better understanding of why certain colors work when placed together. This is a powerful tool in choosing what to place in a painting. Nature works. It shares an atmospheric relationship and a light source that creates the natural appearance we accept. Our paintings, on the other hand, are created "artificially" with pigments on a flat surface. We have to create the illusion of reality and harmony.

Science has shown us that light is made up of all color. Its primary colors, those that are the root of all the others, are the secondary colors of paint—that’s another topic to expand on at a later date. For now, just remember that light is an additive synthesis. It gets lighter and brighter as it's mixed. Pigment, on the other hand, is a subtractive synthesis. It gets darker and weaker when mixed. The three primaries of pigment color, from which all the other colors are derived, are yellow, red and blue. They share no relationship until mixed. When mixed, they create what is referred to as the secondary colors: orange, violet and green. These secondary colors share a common thread. Any combination of them completes the triad of color, creating natural harmony.

The theory of simultaneous contrast also plays a big part in why certain colors work better in relationship to one another (see my July 30, 2007 blog post for more). This visual phenomenon teaches us that everything is affected conversely according to what it is next to. For example, things look lighter when placed against dark, and warmer when placed against a cool. This is very useful when confronting green and helps to explain why one green pigment is never best for all situations.

Understanding these color theories is empowering but it still comes down to what is placed on your painting. Make a mark and then another. As the surface becomes covered, it will become apparent whether the green choices are working. If not, increase the presence of violet and orange (see blog post from June 9, 2008). When ask about green by students, I reference the color theories explained above and reply, “The secret of green is orange, and its friend is violet."

[pictured above] This image shows the three secondary colors placed next to each other, compared to the three primaries.

The Problem With Green, Part 1

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 15:16:15 GMT

Malinda Wiesner recently sent a question concerning a statement I made during a presentation earlier this year: “Last May Richard McKinley presented a demonstration at the IAPS convention in Albuquerque. In that session he commented that there was a prejudice against the color green. There were other comments about how it worked with orange and purple. Could he clarify and elaborate on that?”

Thanks, Malinda, for your question. I'll break it into two blogs. We’ll address the prejudice against green in this posting, and next week, the use of green, orange and violet.

A few years ago while I was on a painting trip with legendary pastel plein air artist Glenna Hartmann, the question of how to handle green was posed. After a perfectly timed pause, she quietly responded, “I avoid it at all cost.” The ensuing discussion was very interesting. It seemed that every painter there had an issue with green.

As the discussion unfolded, it boiled down to a few issues. One of the most mentioned was the pigment used to make green pastels. What we see in nature is light reflected off of a surface. It shares a relationship with its surroundings as well as the bias of the light source. In our paintings, we're creating an illusion of what's real. Since we're incapable of placing real light on a surface, we have to use man-made colors that reflect light back to the observer, representing what we see.

These pigments have limitations, and this is where the issue begins. Most green pigments that are green by nature are artificial to foliage. Even the strongest blue-green in nature is rarely as intense as pure viridian or phthalo green pigment. Dealing with this often entails layering and intertwining other colors over them to produce a more natural appearing green; this is also an excellent method of uniting and harmonizing a painting.

Most manufactures that offer a limited number of color offerings in their pastel lines suffer from an abundance of these harsh tones. Other manufactures with extensive offerings usually mix pigments together to expand their color range. By mixing pigments together, they're duplicating the subtle temperature shifts that wet painters are capable of producing by mixing on their palettes. This produces more natural appearing green tones and has made painting the landscape with pastel much easier. If your pastel palette is small, it will serve you well to add some of these mixed green sticks, thus alleviating one of the issues with green.

In next week's bog I'll address how the other colors within your scene have an effect on your green pastel choices, and why orange and violet work with green.

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When is a Scene Best Left as a Photograph?

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 17:24:51 GMT

Each year I eagerly await the arrival of fall and the turning of the leaves. The visual stimulation is always inspiring and becomes an annual obsession. While the northeastern area of the United States may be the most famous for their spectacular color show, all the other regions of the country have something to offer, too, even if it is more subtle. In southern Oregon, where I live, we're fortunate to have a diversity of trees, some deciduous and others evergreen. This produces wonderful variety and contrasts. The valley oaks turn to shades of orange and rust and the aspens in the high altitudes become a blaze of yellow. These are offset against the evergreen firs and pines to create a wonderful counterbalance.

As the color show unfolds, I always find myself attempting to paint these images. With a few exceptions, the paintings usually come up short. This year, after spending a couple of days totally immersed in spectacular fall possibilities, I began to think that this may be one of those nearly unpaintable situations. Unless painted on a grand scale, like the romantic Hudson River School of painting employed, it may be that these images are better left to the photographer. I'm not saying they can’t be done (see, for example, a good tip for dealing with fall color in my November 17, 2008 blog post), but often, the scens are so spectacular that no matter what we do, they end up looking fake.

This is sometimes referred to as the “sunset effect.” As beautiful as it is and as drawn to it as we are, the sunset usually doesn’t make for a good artistic painting. The inherent beauty is too much, allowing no room for personal expression, and is nearly impossible to put down on surface. These spectacular subjects, unless finessed properly, become a postcard. To make them work, we need to step back from the high drama of the moment and allow the viewer a little more to anticipate, engaging their imagination in how beautiful the subject matter might become. There is no hard and fast rule as to what works and what doesn't. Many artists have painted highly successful renditions. However, museums and galleries are rarely full of spectacular sunsets and over-saturated fall scenes. When they work, they work well, but when they don’t, we walk right past them as overly sweet, decorative wall art.

I will continue to be drawn to the beauty of what the autumn season has to offer and the breathtaking drama of a sunset, and, inevitably, will continue to attempt to communicate that beauty with pastel, but I do realize that some things might be better left to the photographer. This is not meant to diminish what some artists have accomplished by painting these subjects. I just realize that because it is beautiful, it doesn’t necessarily mean that it will make for a worthwhile painting.

Are there any other subjects you might place in this subjective "unpaintable" category? If so, please post a comment.

[pictured here] Photographs of this year's fall spectacle in southern Oregon.

A Matter of Consistency

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 14:24:57 GMT

I was recently asked by a good pastel artist friend to address the problem of surface area consistency within our paintings. An instructor had counseled her a few years ago to create continuity between the structures and the surrounding landscape within her paintings. The quandary: Aren’t some areas greatly different in texture, like the side of a house and the surrounding trees? Shouldn’t they be painted differently to represent that difference?

This is an excellent point for discussion. Indeed, the appearance of the sky is much softer than the trees, and the skin of a youthful face smoother than the hair. While this is certainly true, we have to consider the nature of a painting; it's a window into a universe of the artist’s making. And, to be believable, there has to be a degree of harmonious cohesion.

In the consideration of how painters approach the separate areas of a painting, there are basically three aesthetics: The decorative attitude tends to apply a different technique of application to each area. Consider the “magic” television painters. The sky in their paintings was brushed in with a large soft brush; the trees pounced with a fan brush; and the rocks applied with a painting knife. Even though they are all made up of similar paint and have value and color consistency, they exist without shared application. The decorative nature of the application is the major appeal. These works can often appear gimmicky and wind up relegated to the spot above the sofa.

The second attitude is the application-consistent artist, which is the opposite extreme of the decorative. These paitners choose to use the same repetitive stroke of product application to create visual consistency, leaving the visual play of value, color and subject matter to tell the story. Think of Renoir using the same cupping stroke to apply all of his paint, yet we see the children at play in the park. The paint, or product, is not the element that grabs our attention. It is widely believed that the French Impressionists used this method to separate themselves from the bravura paint applications of their predecessors.

The third attitude is a bridging of the two mindsets. The artist may employ a wide array of product application and technique, but never isolates any given area. A sky may be dominated by soft applications but a few bold strokes will appear in the clouds, uniting it with the heavily painted textured trees. Since softness recedes and heavy texture comes forward, most of these painters use a variety of applications throughout the painting to heighten the appearance of depth. Areas are not singularly painted. Visual continuity is created through technique repetition, letting us believe that everything exists within the same visual space. My plein air painting Sentinel of the Lavender (above; pastel on UArt paper, 12x10) is an example of this aesthetic.

Look for Richard's latest column on the importance of focal point in the new November/December issue of The Pastel Journal on sale now at www.northlightshop.com.

A Painterly Approach to Drawing

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:09:19 GMT

One of the methods pastel artists often use to place an initial drawing on their pastel surface is to use a graphite pencil. On a sanded surface—like Wallis, UArt and Art Spectrum—the graphite pencil is capable of a variety of lines. The marks flow easily and, by varying hand pressure, a multitude of effects can be produced. Since drawing is capable of producing lines—the one thing that doesn’t exist in nature—it is important to keep the mindset of a painter. Painters traditionally rely on shapes of value and color to define the painting instead of the line of the draftsman (another topic in itself). One way of keeping the attitude of a painter is to use a brush and make things soluble. Whether by spreading pastel with a wet solution, or a watercolor underpainting, a wet start helps to set up a painterly aesthetic before the application of dry pastel.

One means for combining graphite and a wet brush is to use one of the recently introduced water-soluble graphite pencils. These are available from a few manufacturers. The one I have the most experience with is Derwent, a British company with a reputation for artist grade materials. The pencil version is called Watersoluble Sketching. A solid graphite pencil/stick is available called Watersoluble GRAPHitone. Both are produced in various degrees of hardness, producing soft to harsh tones. These products are ideal for line and wash sketches as well as value understudies (see me June, 15, 2009 blog post on notan sketches).

If your surface is capable of handling water and is not prone to wrinkling (I work on mounted pastel paper surfaces to alleviate this issue), applying a drawing with either Watersoluble Sketching or GRAPHitone pencils and setting it with water can produce a painterly notan value understudy in advance of pastel applciation. Even though the graphite can be lifted with the addition of water, the act of making it wet helps to settle it into the surface, allowing for less interference with the color application. An additional advantage is that these pencils are easily sharpened using a regular pencil sharpener; sometimes less easily done with pastel pencils. Experiment on your pastel surface of choice and explore the limitless possibilities of these products. They may be the perfect marriage of drawing and painting you have been looking for.

[pictured above] At top is an initial drawing in which I've used Watersoluble GRAPHitone pencil on mounted Wallis Museum paper. The second image shows what this sketch looked like after I had spread the graphite with a brush and water.

A Lesson From Sargent

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 13:46:06 GMT

Recently, I was fortunate to have the opportunity to visit the current exhibit "Sargent and the Sea" at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. What a treat! Being a life-long fan of the expatriate master, I have tried, whenever possible, to experience his original work firsthand. As useful as books may be—especially for those of us who live in areas that don’t afford easy access to major museums—these can be our best resource—there is nothing like standing in the presence of the original work. It's always easy to identify the other painters in the museums and galleries; they are the ones closely analyzing the paintings as if they were on their own easels.

In recent years, John Singer Sargent has gained in popularity and is being given the due respect many of us felt he always deserved. Although best known for his society portraits, this exhibit explores his other works, many of which represent his love of the landscape and document his travels to exotic locations.

The Corcoran has brought together more than 80 marine paintings and drawings from his early years as an artist, 1874 to 1879, when he was 18 through 23 years of age. The centerpiece of the exhibit is the larger of two oils depicting fisher-folk at Cancale, France, painted in 1878. This painting is in the permanent collection of the Corcoran and the smaller version is on loan from the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. Recent discoveries of other seascapes and pictures have brought new attention to his work around these themes.

Not all of the reviewers have been overly impressed with this exhibit, but I think anyone who paints will find it informative and inspirational. What impressed me the most was the volume of sketches and studies executed in advance of the paintings. Sargent experiemnted with composition elements, adjusted figures, adding and sometimes deleting elements. Over this five-year period of time, while he was still working on his other subjects, he amassed innumerable studies and sketches, reinforcing his passion for his craft and his constant work ethic.

Many of us wish we were as good as Sargent but are not willing to invest the time and effort into the study he did throughout his life. After visiting this exhibit, I was both humbled and motivated to sketch, and to think more in advance of making my pastel marks. Next week, I have an opportunity to paint with a group of friends in a remote location in eastern Oregon for a few days. Instead of focusing on finished paintings, I plan to sketch and produce field studies. Hopefully, I will be able to suppress the urge to rush ahead to a signature. Good intentions are one thing, but the passion of the moment another.

"Sargent and the Sea" will be showing through January 3, 2010, then it travels to the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, from February 14 to May 23, 2010, and the Royal Academy of Arts, London, England from July 10 to September 26, 2010. For more information and a slideshow, visit the Corcoran online.

[above] En Route pour la pêche (Setting Out to Fish) by John Singer Sargent (1878; oil on canvas). Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, DC. Museum Purchase, Gallery Fund 17.2.

John Singer Sargent in his Studio, unidentified photographer (ca. 1884; 21 x 28 cm). [Artists in their Paris studios,], 1880-1890. Archives of American Art.

Why a Painter Needs to Think Like a Sculptor

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 21:33:52 GMT

Working on a one-dimensional surface has its challenges. As magical as it can be to create the illusion of depth and form upon a flat surface, there are many lessons to be learned from the sculptor. The debate as to which is the nobler of the arts is one that can be traced as far back as the Renaissance. I won't venture into the debate here but will note that each has its important lessons.

I learned one such lesson many years ago and it has had a profound effect on my paintings every since. When starting out as a painter, I spent considerable time learning to draw and paint the portrait. After some years of effort, I had obtained a modicum of ability and, being young of years, felt I knew everything there was to know about art in general. As the years have ticked by, however, this has been greatly disproved. Because I was capable of painting a portrait, I decided to try my hand at sculpting the human head. Seated in front of my mound of clay that first day, I began the task. As I closely studied the model and the clay began to take form, I thought to myself: “Wait until the instructor sees my piece; I am going to receive such praise in front of the other students.” Finally, the instructor approached. As I eagerly awaited my impending praise, she leaned over my shoulder and turned the turntable the clay was resting on. As it rotated, I was shocked to discover that I had placed the ears an inch and a half from the eyes in depth. When looking straight on to the subject, that was the visible width but when the head was observed from the side, it was apparent the distance was closer to four or five inches in depth. This was a revelation! The sculptor deals in literal depth and the painter has to create the illusion. The painter must think like a sculptor, while the sculptor thinks like a sculptor.

Applying this to our paintings can be difficult. We become involved in the visual widths and heights of the objects we are painting, forgetting that they also have depth. Only an inch or two of a field may be visible, yet it represents one or two miles of distance. One means of reminding ourselves of the surfaces we are dealing with is to apply faint topographic lines on the initial drawing before attempting the painting. This simple visualization, though lost as the painting is started, is then internalized and we make wiser choices when dealing with the elements of edge, value, and color; ultimately producing a painting that has greater depth.

[pictured above] Before beginning the painting, apply simple topography lines to a drawing to assist in the visualization of form and depth.

Confronting a Gallery's Pastel Objections

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 13:47:48 GMT

One of the goals many pastel painters have is to be represented by a nice gallery. We all seek validation for our efforts, and seeing our works nicely displayed, well illuminated, and — hopefully — sold is rewarding. Sadly, works under glass often face considerable prejudice from many galleries. Add to that the perceived fragility of pastel and this becomes even more of an issue. After many years of building gallery relationships, I have a few observations to share:

If a gallery represents a majority of works on canvas, they will be more receptive to displaying works that are presented in a similar fashion. Current trends are heavily weighted towards the plein air or Impressionist's frames of the early 1900s. Regions differ, so it's wise to visit a broad cross section of galleries to better see what kind of framing is typical. Since pastel has a close kinship to oil, both being opaque by nature and often applied with bold strokes, presenting it in a similar method to oil paintings can often open doors of opportunity that may be closed to a traditional mat and frame offering. (See my blog post from October 8, 2007, for more on that subject.)

The necessity of glass is the most frequently mentioned concern of most galleries. This is a two-fold issue: the reflective glare of glass and the additional difficulty of shipping a piece framed with glass. With the advent of anti-reflective glazing and museum glass, which incorporates UV protection, the first can easily be remedied. Paintings framed with these glass types are often hard to tell from other works on canvas. There's an added cost involved in using these glass products, but prices have been decreasing with the rise in demand. Ask your framer if they might pass on a discount if you buy in volume.

When dealing with the second issue, that of shipping, it's as simple as learning how to properly pack a painting under glass. With a little effort, this can easily be accomplished. I can attest to many pastel works having been shipped, both by myself and from galleries, with no damage. (See two previous posts on shipping methods from May 19, 2008 and May 27, 2008.)

The bottom-line, though, is that galleries will only sell what they believe in. If a gallery isn't interested in your work or isn't enthusiastic about pastel, don’t waste your time. Even if your work is displayed, the sales staff will undoubtedly steer patrons to other works. I have had galleries tell me that pastel simply doesn’t sell. This is ironic in the face of considerable sales volume from galleries that represent some of the best pastelists in the country. If a gallery simply isn’t interested in displaying works under glass, for whatever reason, there's no point in trying to convince them otherwise. If, on the other hand, they like your work and are sure it would sell but are concerned about the fact that it's pastel, a little education may convince them to give it a chance. And, if they present the work with confidence, their patrons will believe in it as well.

[pictured above] A pastel painting framed in a traditional oil painting manner with anti-reflection museum glass.

What’s In a Number? Selecting Your Pastel Palette

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 13:56:38 GMT

How many pastel sticks does one need to do a painting? This question frequently comes up among pastel artists and is a popular topic of discussion on community websites like Wet Canvas.

Pastel is unique among media in that it is applied dry. Wet media, like watercolor and oil, are easily intermixed, creating a variety of hues, values and chromas. Because of their abilities to mix pigments, allowing them to achieve a full color spectrum, wet-media painters can get by with as little as three tubes of color plus white. Because of pastel’s dry nature, however, mixing individual pastel sticks doesn’t produce the same results.

Layering one color on top of another and crosshatching techniques can expand pastels' range, but more than three sticks of color will be needed to produce satisfactory results. This leads us back to the question: How many pastels are enough? What a working palette has to provide is the ability to represent the three elements of color: hue, value and chroma. In other words, we need to be able to create the full spectrum of the color wheel, a range of lighter and darker values within that spectrum, and grayer versions of those colors. (For more on this, check out my blog posts from August 6, 2007 and August 11, 2008, or the Pastel Pointers column in the February 2009 issue of The Pastel Journal).

Many pastel painters amass huge collections of pastels over a lifetime. They attempt to expand their palettes, feeling that there is always something missing—that certain subtle color or value. With the availability of more pastel brands, there are more choices than ever before. Manufacturers have started mixing pigments together, instead of relying on just the addition of black and white to one pigment to create value variations. These mixed pigment sticks have greatly helped in matching the quality of perceived color versus a total reliance on one pigment. This is most evident in the family of green.

As comforting as it might be to have every pastel available on the market, it can also prove to be overwhelming and confusing. This often leads to unharmonious pastel marks and a fragmented painting. As the old saying goes; less is more. To set up a limited palette of pastels, start by selecting a value range of the basic color wheel colors. It can be limited to the three primary and three secondary colors or expanded to take in the tertiary colors. Have at least five values of each color family. This would be approximately 30 to 60 pastel sticks (Maggie Price Basic Values Set, available from Terry Ludwig Pastels is an example of this concept). Next, add grayed versions of the color families in a few values. Good gray sets are available from a variety of manufacturers, including Girault, Unison, Great American and Mount Vision. This limited palette would be somewhere between 48 and 78 sticks. While many successful paintings can be done with far fewer pastels, this palette, with some overlapping and at times a little compromising, will allow you to represent the basic quality of light in all its varied settings.

[pictured above] A limited pastel palette of 78 sticks for landscape painting that I put together for Great American pastels.

Digital Thumbnail Sketch

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 18:15:50 GMT

Understanding the elements of a scene before attempting to paint is crucial to a successful outcome. The abstract design of shapes, angles, values and colors all play a major part in why one painting works and another fails. Often we're attracted to the story of the scene but don’t put enough effort into understanding its essence. A winding country road with a charming grove of trees in the distance might be appealing in story content but lacking in other key elements that provide balance and harmony. As I mentioned in a blog post about thumbnails from July 20 2009, these underlying visual elements can be the make or break of a painting.

As important as thumbnail sketches can be, many painters still choose to ignore them and jump headlong into the painting without an understanding of the underlying strengths and weaknesses of the scene. This is especially true when working en plein air. Because everything is changing, painters become anxious to get started. The excitement and anticipation can be paramount to holding a thoroughbred horse in the starting gate before a race. But there's a solution. When you feel like you don’t have time to physically do thumbnail sketches, there's a modern tool that can quickly provide similar information: the compact digital camera. Take a series of reference exposures of the considered scene and scroll back through them using the LCD screen on the back of the camera. If color is a distraction, you can adjust the camera to take grey scale (black and white) images or convert color images after the fact. Hold the camera at arms length to mineralize the picture size. View the images in a shaded area when working in extreme sunlight. While scrolling, look for visual impact. If you still have a hard time ignoring the story content of the picture, close one eye and squint. Strong patterns of value and shape will be noticeable, making it easier to see which images have the strongest elements to work with. This provides something to hold onto throughout the painting, reminding you of the abstract relationships that hold the painting together. You understand the big picture.

While it's always better to devote preparation time to a series of thumbnail sketches in advance of painting, for those times when you just can’t wait, a quick digital review will expedite the process, providing a quick glimpse a scene's visual elements without the story line interfering.

[pictured above] This shows one of my reference photos, viewed at arms length, while painting on location.

Read Richard's column about an intuitive approach to underpaintings in the October issue of The Pastel Journal available here.

Reflecting on Reflections

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 18:05:45 GMT

Artists have been attracted to reflections throughout history. We all admire what Monet did with the reflections of the Houses of Parliament as well as the famous water lily series. This attraction to reflections was certainly an impetus for my painting, Winter Canal (left; pastel, 12x12).

Contemporary pastel artist, Fred Somers, from Minnesota, has also done some very interesting and intriguing paintings of reflections on water—such as his painting, Gold Leaf on Crimson Waters (pastel, 18x24) below. (To learn more about Somers, see the feature on the artist in the October issue of The Pastel Journal, and visit his website).

As beautiful as reflections are, there are a few observations about them that are often overlooked by the novice painter:

1. Reflections are not a mirror reflection of the scene. You are seeing the reflected images and the scene in front of you from two different viewing angles. The reflection is coming off the surface of the water, but you see the reflection from an angle as far below the water's surface as you are above it. Depending on your visual height compared to the reflective surface, this can vary considerably. If you are six feet tall and standing on the edge of the reflective body, the reflection would be coming from a distance of six feet below the surface of the water. In other words, the reflection is showing you the underside of what you can see and, due to its angle, may cut off things you are capable of seeing in the distance. This is evident when looking at a distant mountain across a lake but only a tip of it reflects below the tree line along the shore. From the water surface, the mountain would not be visible, but to you it is very clear. Think of the reflection as being you, submerged in the water, looking up. The angle of vision is greatly different than what you see eye-level from the shore. This is more pronounced when closer to the reflection and becomes less noticeable at great distances.

2. Generally, darks reflect slightly lighter and lights slightly darker. Depending on the clarity of the water, this can be more or less pronounced. Color will be affected by the surface tone and is rarely brighter in chroma than what is being reflected.

3. All reflections move towards you. A reflection takes three components: the objects reflecting, the surface they are reflecting on, and you. You are the component most often left out of the recipe. Reflections travel towards your eyes and will appear to follow you when you move. To best see this, go to a boat basin and look at the reflections of tall upright poles in the water. As they reflect, the tops (which are at the bottom of the reflection) appear to come towards your feet. This can be subtle but is a fact of reflections.

4. Edges should be softer than the reflecting objects. Due to the refractive nature of even the stillest water, edges should be slightly softened. Sparkles on the surface of the water should also be softened and radiate from near white to a slight orange yellow as the light is being bent. As light hits the surface of the water, it is shattered. Try not to paint those perfect little white dots that photography is capable of capturing. The human eye is not a camera lens and shutter.

By looking for these tendencies, you will become more sensitive to the true nature of reflections and your paintings will manifest a more natural appearance.

Plein Air Permission

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 14:11:15 GMT

While demonstrating for a workshop in upstate New York a couple of weeks ago, I was reminded of one of the major benefits of working en plein air: permission to interpret. As I worked out a thumbnail sketch in advance of committing pastel to surface, the task of editing began. I established a center of interest within the framework of the composition and then manipulated other elements of visual composition—edge, shape, texture, value, and color—to strengthen its presence. I altered or even ignored major elements in the scene as the composition took form.

After feeling confident about the bones of the painting, the process of applying pastel to surface commenced. If I have a good idea of the big relationships and purpose behind the painting in advance of starting, it's easier to focus on the technique of painting, which allows for a more confident application. That assured feeling often comes through, producing a more spontaneous and positive end result. As the painting developed and these manipulations became more apparent to the students paying close attention, one of them made an observation: “It looks like you do what is best for the painting, instead of being subservient to the scene.” And indeed. that's what painting is. We do what is needed, manipulating and orchestrating the elements of the painting to best communicate our intensions about the scene.

This student’s observation got me thinking. A few days after the event, I compared the photo from the scene to the finished painting. The photo appeared cold and boring. If I hadn’t been there in person, I would never have given this photo a second glance. When in the presence of the unlimited possibilities of nature, we have two choices: to feel completely overwhelmed and cower before it, or to open the door of chance and allow all it has to offer to provide inspiration. Being surrounded by natural light that's always in motion and the influences of the entire setting, even the areas outside of our view, all have an effect. By practicing and applying the principles of composition, light and dark relationships, and color theory, we're able to harness the power of the paint and become more confident and free to make choices that lead to personal artistic statements. No one gets a prize for making it exactly the way it was.

[pictured top] The Fields of the Hudson (pastel, 10x14) and the reference photo of the scene.

Painting Camaraderie

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 13:32:05 GMT

Painting can be a very isolating and lonely experience. We painters work intensely on our paintings, often alone for major periods of time. Even when loved ones are present, we seek the camaraderie of those that paint. We have a shared bond, one forged in the depths of technical and conceptual struggle. There is an unspoken commonality.

Participating in weekly classes, workshops and critique groups are helpful. Here we find painting buddies and form artistic friendships. Joining a pastel organization is another way of reaching out to others that share a common interest. Most states have an organization and some have multiple. A quick Google search will provide information on what is available in your region. You can also check the member pastel societies listings on the International Association of Pastel Societies (IAPS) web site for one that may be close to you. If you belong to an organization that is a member of IAPS, plan to attend the international convention that is held every two years. The next will be in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in early June 2011. This is a wonderful way of connecting with a variety of artists from all over the world.

If there is no organization in your vicinity and travel is prohibitive, you can stay connected with the pastel community through social networking sites like Wet Canvas. Artists are also networking through web sites like Facebook and Twitter. Look for the ArtistsNetwork page on Facebook here (it combines news from The Pastel Journal, The Artist's Magazine and other F+W Media fine art properties). Online communities such as these provide offer artists a sense of connection without leaving home. Of course, a subscription to art magazines like The Pastel Journal, will also keep you abreast of current trends, products, exhibition possibilities, while providing a venue to see what old painting friends have been up to, as well as providing exposure for new emerging artists.

I was recently reminded that painting alone could be compared to experiencing a sunset alone. As nice as it might be, it is always better when shared with someone. Near the end of a demonstration during a workshop in Bend, Oregon, the sky turned dark and the threat of rain loomed. Always the plein air optimist (something that has put me in more than a few painting predicaments, I assure you), I opened up a large umbrella and kept painting. “No more than 10 or 15 minutes” is what I told the onlookers. The smart ones packed up and readied themselves for a quick dash to the parking area while I kept on painting. As light rain turned into a pelting downpour and thunder lead to mothball-sized hail, I finished up. Others had kindly held additional umbrellas over my work area to protect the fragile painting and pastel palette. After a mad dash to the car and the rescue of the remaining equipment, a small but totally wet and muddy group of plein air diehards remained. “Looks like it’s letting up,” said one one of the ladies, as she opened a bottle of wine she had safely stowed in the back of her car. Glasses were filled and laughs were had all around as we shared the moment. As wet as we were and as messed up as some of the painting equipment had become, we had shared a wonderful moment together. Alone, it might have been just a disaster, but together it was a plein air moment—one I will not soon forget. Thanks for the wine Lise and thanks for the memories to all you dedicated—albeit wet—painters!

[above] Richard McKinley and fellow painters sharing a "tailgate toast."

A New Surface for Pastels

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 18:39:59 GMT

One of the pleasures of pastel is its ability to be placed on a wide array of surfaces, producing a variety of appearances. A couple of weeks ago, I was at Dakota Art Pastels in Mount Vernon, Wash., teaching a workshop. While there, I was introduced to a new pastel surface with fabulous possibilities. As I entered the warehouse for an afternoon of pastel indulgences, Robyn Williamson and Craig Lemley (owners of Dakota Art Pastels) asked me to try out a sample of a new paper called Pastelmat, which is being introduced in the U.S. by Ladd Forsline and Bernadette Ward of Colorfin in partnership with Armadillo Art and Craft.

The paper is milled by Clairfontaine of France and is available in a variety of colors and sizes. As I touched the surface, I thought: “This paper won’t work for my techniques; it's too smooth and lacks the necessary tooth to hold the pastel for multiple pastel applications," and as I glanced upward, I noticed a slight smile on Robyn and Craig’s faces and a hint of a twinkle in their eyes. “Go ahead; make some pastel marks before you judge the paper,” they encouraged. As pastel was placed to the surface, it was like magic. It grabbed the pastel, retaining a heavy bold indication of the stroke. Multiple applications of pastel could be added without any indication of the tooth being compromised. Trying to smudge the pastel produced no effect. The marks stayed in place. The feel of the paper was like a cross between velour and fine sandpaper.

Next, I wanted to see how it accepted water. Since my painting technique often relies on a watercolor underpainting, or the spreading of pastel with water, it was critical to see how it would respond. The paper accepted the water without a problem and didn’t wrinkle. Brilliantly colored underpaintings were easily produced on the white surface, and the application of pastel over the top was as before, velvety smooth.

Now they knew they had me hooked. The only thing left to ascertain was its archival properties. Happily, I can report that it is produced on an acid-free, 170-lb premium card stock, and is lightfast. Single sheets are available in eight subtle colors, including white and maize (a creamy antique white). Pads of the paper are available in three different sizes with two variations of color combinations and the paper is separated with individual sheets of glassine. The paper is now available at Dakota Art Pastels or 1-888-345-0067. You can also find out more at the Pastelmat website.

As the popularity of pastel continues to rise, so will the selection of ready-made surfaces for its application. Each of these surfaces has a unique personality, allowing artists to express themselves with a multitude of techniques. While there may not be one surface for everyone, Pastelmat is surely one I would recommend giving a chance. It has quickly become part of my favorites list.

[above] Pastel field sketch painted on Pastelmat paper.

What Is In a Title?

Mon, 10 Aug 2009 13:28:21 GMT

As I prepare to deliver a group of paintings for an annual gallery feature, I'm faced with the job of giving them titles. Many years ago, that seemed easy. There were so many unused possibilities. Now it can take me days and considerable mental effort to come up with something appropriate and unique.

Each painting is like a child. It deserves a suitable name before going out the door. Often these titles are utilitarian, merely serving as a means of identification for future reference. At other times, they may provide a bigger purpose as a component of the painting’s intention. In fact, some paintings are titled even before starting. We're so motivated to paint the subject that we know its identity in advance of placing pastel to surface. The concept is formed and it becomes a critical part of the process, providing a reminder of the purpose and motivation behind the painting.

Other times the title comes to us while painting. All of a sudden it has an identity and the phrase pops into our head. These titles are often the most poetic in nature. They're formed in the initial concept and best identify our intentions. If I know the title in advance or while working on the painting, I write it down on the border around the painting, or on the back as a reminder. If I need to finish the painting at a later date, I can remember the motivation behind its start and often slip back into the mindset I had.

Then there are those times when we can stare at a finished painting for days without being able to place an appropriate title. These are the times when it's best to remind yourself why you were drawn to the subject in the first place, asking what it was that you wanted to make the viewer feel. Analyze the time of day, time of year, lighting effect, regional area of the scene, and mood you felt when you looked at the subject. Let these help you in the process.

Words have power. We all understand the implications of words such as journey, introspective, quiet, joyous, dance, rhythmic, etc. Using such words in our titles evokes a human response. We influence our audience to look at the painting in a certain way. A couple of examples I have used with simple tree subjects are: Listen, They Whisper and The Poetry of Trees. Both of these titles relate how I felt about the subject matter and, when read by an observer, should influence them to look at the painting in a certain way.

Artists have strong opinions concerning the titles of their paintings. Some feel no need to title a work, feeling that they don’t want to influence the observer with a title and preferring to allow them to make their own associations. Others believe it's a vital part of the presentation, helping to advance their concept. Personally, I like to influence the viewer whenever possible with the title. It doesn’t need to be a mundane description but a means to make them look deeper, beyond the superficial for a more profound notion.

What are your thoughts? Please post your comments here.

[pictured above] A group of paintings waiting for titles.

The Flatter the Better

Mon, 03 Aug 2009 20:08:25 GMT

One issue pastel painters often confront is the flatness of their painting surfaces. Many papers and surfaces are made from cotton rag for archival reasons. As superior as these are, they're also prone to wrinkling and warping when moisture is introduced. Depending on your technique for applying pastel, this can be a major or minor inconvenience. Artists that employ a stroke application with pastel are less bothered than those that swipe the pastel stick across the surface. Often this swiping technique requires the pastel stick to remain in contact with the surface while pressure is varied for effect. If the paper is washboard or irregular, the pastel hits the high points with more force. This deposits a heavier mark, creating a speckled appearance.

The weight (or thickness) of the paper as well as mixed-media techniques employing water can exacerbate the wrinkling situation. The heavier the weight of the paper, the less prone to wrinkling and warping it will be. Thin papers, like most charcoal/pastel papers, should be kept as dry as possible or mounted to a rigid substrate in advance of painting. Heavy rag papers, like watercolor papers and some etching papers, can be stretched prior to painting. Follow good watercolor painting procedures for stretching these papers. Sanded papers like Wallis and UART are manufactured on rag or pH neutral papers that are very prone to wrinkling when wetted. For this reason, many artists who work with watercolor or spread pastel with water to produce an underpainting have their papers mounted in advance (see my blog posts on January 14, 2008 and January 21, 2008).

Kitty Wallis, in the literature that accompanies Wallis paper, describes a method of reverse taping and stretching the paper taut when wetted, which allows the paper to dry considerably flatter: Before wetting the surface, turn it backside-up and run a thick strip of tape half over the edge. Flip the paper over (right-side-up) and place it on a secured drawing board. You'll now have a portion of exposed tape with the tacky side facing out. Run an additional strip of tape around the paper adhering to the tape edge and drawing board. Once the paper is wet, the tape can be lifted and the paper gently tugged tight and then reattached to the drawing board. Some methods of mounting paper rely on a moist glue to adhere the paper to the mounting board. These are often prone to bowing once dry. If you're producing your own mounted paper using this method, make sure to place it under heavy weights overnight or until it has had a chance to dry. This can alleviate most of the bow. If it persists, you can try painting the back of the mounting board with an acrylic varnish or paint. Often this will shrink as it dries, pulling the boards back to a flat condition. Another method is to mist the back with a fine spray of water. Place this under heavy weights while wet and allow it to dry. The best way of avoiding bowing is to use a dry-mounting procedure. It may cost a little more but usually produces the flattest outcome.

Picture above: Wallis paper with reverse tape showing around the edges; moist mounted Wallis paper in need of flattening; acrylic painting medium and a water spray bottle.

A French Adventure

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 13:32:20 GMT

As a landscape painter, I find myself constantly curious to see what lies over every hill. Of course, there's more than enough to keep me painting in my own backyard; Oregon is filled with diversity and wonder, but when opportunity provides the chance to explore, I'm always eager.

A few weeks ago I was fortunate to have been teaching and painting in the Lot Valley of France. Having visited the Provence region three years ago, I was anxious to return to France. As Robert Henri noted in his book, The Art Spirit, France is a nation that centuries ago embraced its artistic nature. It's manifest everywhere. The aesthetic of beauty is not just by accident but also by design. They honor and respect painters. Art is thought of as a noble endeavor: What’s not to love about that?!

The workshop was hosted at a popular artist's retreat, Domaine du Haut Baran. Hosts William and Rosalie Haas have transformed an 18th century country manor into a painter’s paradise. Nestled in a quiet hillside overlooking the Lot River valley and the village of Puy L’Eveque, it provides ample painting opportunities in its own right. This popular location has hosted many art workshops with some of the most recognizable names in the art community, artists like Elizabeth Mowry, Alan Flattmann and Judith Carducci. With quiet Bastide villages nearby, painters find they can focus on their craft while still enjoying the local culture without compromise.

My visit occuring near the end of June and into the first part of July allowed our group to witness firsthand the summer heat and taste a bit of the humidity which keeps the valley so lush. All of this was forgotten with the first glimpse of lavender fields. There's nothing quite as perfect as a decaying ochre-colored 13th century castle perched on a hillside above a field of lavender. It didn’t hurt that it was set near a winery that nursed the mood of a few frustrated painters. Another afternoon we visited some of the first pastel paintings recorded 25,000 years ago in the caves of Pech Merle (early man even formed them into stick form before applying the pigment to the cave walls) making us proud to have carried the torch into the 21st century. Say what they will, pastel was first!

The final thrill caught us by surprise as we drove back from an afternoon of painting in the hilltop Bastide of Belaye. A panoramic view into the Lot Valley brought glimpses of the river as it meandered through the fertile valley, and then sunflowers—entire fields of them! William encouraged us to walk into the fields amongst the rows of flowers. It really was a sea of dancing cadmium. As a group, we were so impressed that on the final day we persuaded him to take us back and even more fields were explored. Every culture has its art, but as a landscape artist, it's easy to see why France is so dear.

You can visit Haut Baran’s web site at www.hautbaran.com. If you're able to attend one of their fine workshop offerings, I encourage you to do so. I know I’ll be back. The sunflowers must be painted!

Thumbnails—Your Ticket to Better Compositions

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 18:31:48 GMT

Just like a house needs a solid foundation for support, so too does a successful painting. One of the best ways of insuring this is to focus on composition and design elements prior to applying pastel to the surface.

As painters, we are often reminded that the ability to draw is essential to a successful painting. Being able to accurately render the appearance of things is crucial to capturing a likeness. But composition entails more than that ability. It encompasses the arrangement of simplified shapes, angles of visual direction, value masses, and color choices throughout the framework of the painting. Just like an author arranges words and the musician arranges sound, the painter arranges visual elements to communicate intent and reinforce their concept.

One of the best means of exploring these possibilities is to do a series of thumbnail sketches prior to painting (see above an assortment of some of my thumbnails). As the name implies, these sketches are meant to be small. Working large encourages detail—the nemesis of composition. Details tell us about things; thumbnail sketches tell us about relationships. If you are accustomed to sketching detailed renderings of scenes, this can be an awkward exercise. Give yourself permission to be messy, even crude, with these sketches. Keep them simple. Break elements of the scene into no more than 4 or 5 major shapes. Analyze the directional thrust of the shapes. Associate reflective light (value) to the shapes. Scrutinize these thumbnail sketches and make adjustments. Leave out, add, move, and alter elements to strengthen your concept—the idea you wish to communicate about the scene. Rely on these sketches to set the foundation of the painting.

Many hours of frustration may be avoided by orchestrating these compositional elements before committing time and energy to the process of painting. As the painting progresses and details are added, they provide a reminder of what was really important and help to keep you on track as you become enamored with incidentals. They become the blueprints of the structure. Remember, all the pretty pastel in the world will not support a weak design.

For a broad selection of opinions on design and composition, investigate Margot Schulzke’s book, A Painters Guide to Design and Composition, published by North Light Books.

Trimming a Finished Pastel Painting

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 13:43:35 GMT

Pastel surfaces often need to be trimmed to fit framing requirements or to improve the overall composition of the painting. Once pastel has been applied, this becomes a more delicate matter and requires added precautions so as not to alter the appearance of the painting.

Useful items to have on hand are: glassine protective paper, X-Acto utility knife with fresh blades, heavy-duty utility box cutter with fresh blades (for extremely rigid surfaces), metal straight edge (a metal carpenters square works well), cutting surface, drafting tape, and an emery file board. In place of a metal straight edge, a mat cutter can be used.

Start by placing a sheet of protective glassine paper over the painting, taping it to the backside or extra boarder of the surface. The glassine protects the surface of the painting, allowing the straightedge or mat cutter to be placed on the painting for the cut. By tacking it in place, you can avoid slippage and potential smudging. Make sure the surface on which you're cutting is skid proof and won't be damaged by the penetration of the blade. Cutting surfaces are available at most art supply, quilting or craft stores. Keep the height of the table low enough that you can apply a moderate amount of pressure when leaning over the piece, helping to keep the painting and straightedge in place.

Mark the placement of the cut lightly with a pencil, then gently place the straightedge over the painting at the desired marks and score the painting with the utility knife. It's best to start with a weak incision, creating a track for subsequent cuts. If a mat cutter is being used, follow the same procedure, placing glassine over the painting and then carefully placing the painting under the cutter edge at the desired point. In my experience, it's been easier to use a utility knife with a mat cutter than the mat-cutting attachment, which often cuts a distance from the metal edge, requiring compensation. Many pastel papers are abrasive and, after a few passes, the utility knife blade will be dulled and need replacement.

Different surfaces need different care. Thin papers are the easiest, often requiring a single pass of the blade. Mounted papers may require multiple cuts to penetrate the mounting board. Rigid wood composite panels, like Ampersand Pastelbord, or homemade grit surfaces are the most difficult. It's easier to cut them on a table saw in advance of painting. Once pastel has been applied, these surfaces require a good strong hand, a heavy-duty utility knife and patience. Score the board with a few passes of the knife, then place the board over a straight table edge at the scored point and snap it down. If everything goes well, the board will snap along the scored cut and only minor sanding with an emery board will be required to clean the edge.

Practice on a few failed paintings before trimming your masterpieces. With preparation and calm resolve, everything will come out fine, and your paintings will have the outer dimensions you require.

Pictured here: A pastel painting in need of trimming, surrounded by a cutting surface, glassine, X-Acto knife, utility knife, drafting tape nd metal carpenters square.

Traveling Even Lighter

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 20:50:47 GMT

I am often asked what supplies I take with me when I travel and how do I get them to my destination intact. I've addressed these questions in previous posts (in December 2007 and March 2009), but—as useful as these methods have been—I continue to look for ways to make the process easier.

Air travel is the biggest issue. When I drive, the car can be filled with extras of everything, providing a sense of security. I know I will have what I want when I want it. Air travel is another matter. Baggage is often brutally handled. Pastels when scanned look suspicious. Easels often prove to be fragile. To avoid these concerns, supplies can be shipped in advance of travel. Since an extra charge has been added by most airlines for baggage, however, it has proved to be as cost effective and considerably less stressful to ship in advance. Many hotels will accept shipments before you arrive and will be helpful in arranging for pickup at the end of your stay.

While this may be the best solution for domestic travel—especially when you have a lot of supplies—it is impractical when it comes to traveling abroad. Most airlines allow for extra checked luggage without an additional charge when traveling overseas, but you still have the concerns of lost or damaged content. There is nothing more frustrating than waiting for lost luggage to arrive, only to find your supplies damaged and unusable. As Americans, we are pretty spoiled by the art supplies available to us. Many of the papers and brands of pastels we are accustomed to using are not available in other countries. To better enjoy your time painting and to avoid the hassle of tracking down usable supplies, it is advisable to take with you as much as possible. This is where the issues of “how much” and “how to transport” really come in to play.

For my upcoming workshop in France, I decided to forgo my usual system and work to fit everything required for 10 days of painting into a backpack. After considerable anxiety it has been organized and consists of:

The backpack, strong enough to hold the contents, which weighs close to 15 pounds. It will fit in the overhead bin of the airplane. If you are unable to carry this much weight on your back, try using a sturdy rolling computer bag.
A backpack size Heilman box containing the pastel palette.
A small watercolor palette for underpainting procedures, a couple of brushes, and a small plastic cup.
Twelve pieces of mounted pastel paper (9x12 to 11x14), covered with glassine tissue, and sandwiched between two pieces of rigid Gatorboard® for protection.
A SunEden Artist Self-400 that attaches to a tripod, for holding the pastel palette.
A lightweight sturdy tripod (Bogen Digi model 725B).
Sketchbook, pencils, value markers, viewfinder, apron, hat, Viva brand paper towels (can’t pastel without them), and compact camera.

Note: Instead of using the SunEden or Heilman easel attachment, I mounted the tripod camera quick release plate to a 12x16 board, making an attachable drawing board to hold the pastel paper while painting.

I’ll let you know how the downsized system works in a few weeks when I return from l'aventure en France.