Framing your work is like choosing clothing. Dependingon the task, you need to dress appropriately. I have two different presentation methods for my finished pastels: One is to use a traditional mat and frame; the other is to frame in the fashion of an oil painting. Depending on the piece, one of these options usually works well. The most important purpose of framing pastels is to protect them from damage. Unlike paintings that dry and are able to be handled with little concern of damage, pastels are fragile and are better protected when framed properly.

Although I've been concentrating on plein air tips for the most part on this blog, I do often use photographic material as a reference when painting in my studio or in a classroom. It's a useful tool and has allowed me to record details of many places and things. There are three basic ways a photograph differs from our perception. Understanding them will allow us to better work from photographic reference.
 

[left] photo reference for Opal Evening
[below] Opal Evening (pastel on pumice grit board, 16x20) by Ricahrd McKinley


First, value ranges will be exaggerated. Film—and now digital formats—have limitations on their ability to record the full range of light and dark visible to the human eye. Digital is getting better and future advances will make it more accurate, but for the time being, it's still limited. Most photographs are exposed for the light, allowing for more detail to be recorded in those areas. This leaves the shadows underexposed and lacking reportable texture. If we exposed for the darker areas, the lights would blow out and show too little detail. For this reason, it's often wisest to shoot one exposure for the shadows and another for the lights. By using both photos as reference, it  becomes easier to relate natural variations within the darks and lights, and comes closer to what we see.
 
Second, color is easily misrepresented. Films are made for certain lighting conditions and, used outside those close parameters, can shift toward a warm or cool bias. With digital, the white balance (or color bias) is the key to accurate color representation. Don’t forget, the camera doesn’t know what you're taking a picture of. It just averages everything unless you manually override it to respond to the situation. A little reading of your owner’s manual section on white balance can help you adjust your digital camera for more accurate images.
 
Third, focal-plane manipulation, referred to as the "depth of field," can alter the focus by allowing only one upright plane to be in sharp focus. Everything in front, as well as behind, that plane will be blurred. Depth of field may also be manipulated to produce sharp focus from the tip of your toes to the horizon. The human eye sees in a focused cone, and everything around our area of focused attention will become softer. So, don’t be fooled by the manipulated depth of field of the photograph.
 
It's important to remember that nothing comes close to working directly from the source, one on one. Processing the visual information gathered through the eye, analyzed by the brain, and felt by the heart is an integral part of being a representational painter. The photograph is an artificial representation, easily manipulated and limited by its physical restraints. Don’t let it use you; learn to use it, and never accept it as fact.

Question: I have heard you say "lower your expectations" and "expect to fail." Is this an attitude for workshops, plein air painting and the studio?  At what point should an artist approach a painting with the attitude of creating a jewel—if not a diamond, maybe a treasure?

I am glad for the opportunity to clarify. I often generalize and this is a good example. When you heard me say “lower your expectations” and “expect to fail," it was in the context of a plein air workshop and I was speaking with beginners in mind, not advanced painters.

What I have noticed over the years is that we all come to our painting with enthusiasm, eager to paint that masterpiece. But, until we master the necessary skills required to accomplish that end—and even then it is often a struggle—we will come up short and be disappointed. This often leads to an internalized sense of failure and can lead to giving up. Or, in the case of working on location, going back to working from photographs in the studio.

Painting on location is difficult for even the well-seasoned artist, and instead of expecting your best work, I encourage painters who are new to the experience to expect to fail a few times, and to not expect a painting as good as what they are capable of in their studios. With time, patience and a bit of tenacity, they will get more confident and then it's appropriate to expect great things.

We are a society that's used to everything in an instant, and after watching a demonstration or seeing the results from another artist, it's easy to expect the same level of competence from ourselves. Just as an infant falls when he first attempts to walk, so will most of us when we first attempt to paint on location—or try something new. With time, though, we'll be walking with confidence and not expecting to fall.

Let me be clear: I want everyone to stand before his or her blank surface and paint with confidence and passion. I have high hopes for my paintings and firmly believe we have to paint with the erect posture of a confident person not cowering and unsure, but it's also wise to take stock of where we are on this journey and celebrate those little steps. A rough stone needs the skilled hands of a jeweler before it becomes a gem, and a lot of diamond dust is produced along the way in creating that treasure!

Working with pastel on location is a rewarding process, facilitating immediate spontaneous applications of pigment to surface. The anxiety is transporting our fragile pastels into the dangerous world. If you have ever spilled your pastel case and spent the rest of the day picking up bits and pieces, you know how important it is to have a stable setup.

The first consideration is to organize a strong case with the least amount of pastels. It's difficult to know which sticks to select until you've worked on location for awhile. For my palette layout, I limit myself to a selection that represents the color wheel, value scale and a neutral range of warm and cool colors. Then I'll make changes to my field palette depending on where I'll be painting. In areas such as the Northeast, for example, I might add a wider range of greens and blue/violets and decrease the red/orange family. Whereas when painting in the Southwest, the opposite approach would better suit the situation. I always know I can make final touches back in the studio where I have all my pastel choices.

Next, be sure to have a stable system for holding your pastel palette and surface. One of the oldest and most widely used is the French easel. The open drawer holds the pastel case, which may be secured with a bungee cord. The inner drawer is useful for holding miscellaneous items, and the pastel surface attaches to the easel for painting and transport. If weight and size are a concern, a half French easel is a good solution. All-in-one boxes are a convenient and compact alternative to the traditional French easel and separate pastel case. They are available from a variety of vendors and attach to a sturdy camera tripod.

Another useful item is an umbrella which shades the working area and keeps an even light on the painting and pastel palette. Make sure it's white, black or neutral in color, so it doesn’t create a color cast. Smaller, sturdy models have become available from suppliers of plein air equipment. Wind is always a problem, and never more so than for the pastel artist. Picking up a turned over oil setup is one thing, but dealing with a couple hundred pastels strung across a field is another! For this reason it's advisable to weigh down or secure the easel as much as possible when wind is present. Recently, I've had good results using a model available from Artworks Essentials  that allows the umbrella to lift off in severe wind.

Other items I bring along are: extra pastel paper; a sketchbook for thumbnail composition sketches; a small digital camera to record the scene and record the stages of the painting; a small watercolor palette for possible underpainting; a few oil bristle brushes; Viva-brand paper towels; a small secure container of mineral spirits for spreading the pastel if needed; a few 2B drawing pencils for sketching and drawing; a good wide-brimmed hat to shade my eyes; water; bug spray; and sunscreen. Some of these are stored inside the French easel and the rest in a small backpack. Learning to travel light and still have the things we need is an ongoing process. If I haven’t used something for awhile, I remove it and lighten the load.

I have wondered (all plein air painters must at one time or another) why I go through it—lugging my equipment around, standing in the sun, getting eaten by insects, and fighting the constantly changing light. But, after experiencing the allure of natural light, the sensitivity gained from a tactile relationship, and the differences in my work because of these, I've become totally hooked!

We each find our individual comfort zone when holding and applying pastel, but there are a few factors that will affect the outcome. First, to what surface will the pastel be applied? Every surface accepts the pastel differently and only through experimentation will it be clear how you wish to apply the pastel.

Secondly, what brand of pastel is being applied? Some brands of pastel flow like butter onto the surface and others scrape across in a gritty fashion. For this reason most of us, myself included, prefer to have an assortment of brands at our fingertips.

The third factor is how much pressure will be used, and this is the thing we have the most control over. Inherently, we might have a light touch or a heavy hand, but with practice, can learn to control the pressure applied. Facilitating a varied touch will allow for a variety of applications.

To hold the pastel stick, I use a “three finger” hold. I came to pastel having worked in oil for a number of years and this influenced my technique. I wanted the pastel to go onto the surface like a brush applying paint and found that by holding the stick between my thumb, forefinger and middle finger I was able to utilize its side for broad strokes. If I rock it up slightly, I create a hard and soft edged stroke. If I tip it up even more and work with the forward edge and dab it, I create smaller dashes. These motions all related to common brushwork I'd been using in my wet painting that have stayed with me all of these years.

As for the size of the sticks, my choice varies depending on the size of strokes desired. Most of the pastel pieces in my cases range from a third- to a half-stick (for an average size major pastel brand, about an inch to an inch-and-a-half). For a larger painting I would use larger pastel sticks. This may be why most of my paintings range from 9x12 to 18x24, as the sticks I have allow for strokes that work well within that size.

As I said at the start, we each come into our own technique with time and experience. Mine is to think like a wet painter and apply the pastel as if it were a brush stroke. A nice side effect of this 
is that my oils and pastels are hard to tell apart because they both retain a similar application, which represents my style.

If you have questions for Richard, make a comment here on the blog, or email your question to The Pastel Journal editors at pjedit@fwpubs.com