Many years ago I worked in an art supply and framing shop, it was a great experience and very informative. They handled a few pastel lines—two brands, I think (it was the 1970s after all)—and whenever a shipment came in, there were invariably a few broken sticks. This was especially an issue with the unopened boxed sets.

Often, after purchasing a set, a customer would return upset because some of the beautiful sticks were “not perfect.” We’re not talking crushed or in multiple pieces, just broken in half. The policy was to give an exchange or refund, and the customer always departed happy. Some time during this period, I began teaching pastel classes and many of the pastel customers would filter through these sessions. It was always a traumatic experience for them to arrive the first day, open their pastel boxes preparing for work, only to be told to remove the paper label and break the sticks into usable sections. The look of complete horror on their faces was quite comical and I admit being amused. Hard-earned monies had been spent on these beautiful sticks of pure pigment, and they wanted them perfect. Even I am guilty of selecting another stick from open stock when I discover it is broken. It is human nature, especially for us OCDs.
 
But the issue is not about whether a pastel stick is perfectly formed; our concern is whether it's a usable tool. To draw is to use a stick and make marks consisting of lines. To paint is to make a variety of shapes consisting of value and color. This is a simplified definition but gets to the aesthetic differences between the two mindsets. The longer we hold on to those perfectly wrapped pastels, the longer we hinder their potential. Whether rectangle, round or disk shaped, the new pastel stick needs to be readied for use. Think of these pastel pieces like a brush. The wet artist obtains a variety of sized brushes for the strokes they employ. The pastel artist mirrors this by breaking their pastels into pieces that provide a diversity of edge. The exposed side of the pastel stick is capable of broad strokes; the tip a blunt mark; and the edges a variety of line and dashes. By applying more or less pressure on one edge, varying degrees of pigment will be deposited, replicating the loaded or lean paint application of the oil painter.
 
So ... peal the paper off and break those beautiful pastel sticks into usable sizes! Think of them as brushes. If you don’t do it now, some instructor will insist on it in the future. Save your shocked expressions for the awards your paintings will ultimately win.

The novice paints the leaves; the master suggests the tree.

 

Painters are illusionists. We trick the viewer’s eye into believing a bit of pigment on a surface is something real. Realizing this makes us confront the reality that we aren’t sculptors creating physical bulk but magicians creating the appearance of form where none exists. Our job is to learn the tricks involved in the illusion.
 
Beginning at birth, our brains record our experiences. All you have to do is look into a child's eyes to see the process. They explore, touch, and ask questions, seeking heightened understanding: What is that? Why? How come? These questions come bounding out as they seek explanations. With maturity, we learn that trees grow separately and are covered with leaves; rocks are individual pieces of hard minerals, some smooth and round, while others are course and sharp; fields are made up of hundreds of thousands of tiny blades of grass. This knowledge becomes internalized, ultimately prejudicing what we see. No longer do we see with the innocence of a child. This manifests itself in painting unnecessarily detailed renderings of “things”. We over-describe what we “know” instead of relying on what we “see."
 
To break free of the habit, approach a painting as if it were a jigsaw puzzle. The puzzle has no reference on its box top for comparison. The individual pieces have to be analyzed and fit together to form a relationship. As we begin to assemble the puzzle, an understanding of what the picture is becomes apparent. This exercise turns the dictionary part of our seeing off, allowing us to better focus on the abstract elements which ultimately produces a clearer impression of the scene. These non-objective “bits and pieces,” consisting of value and color, all intertwine, creating the representation of reality. The more confident we become the less information we will give. When arranged appropriately, our audience will complete the picture from just a few of these puzzle pieces. This engages them in the process; they become an active participant bringing their memories into play.
 
Stand next to a painting and ask passersby: “What it is?” Most will comment "a tree" or “a cloud.” The truth is that it is pigment marks representing those elements. In my plein air painting shown here, close analysis reveals that it is made up of nothing more than shapes of value and color—bits and pieces. In our paintings, we have employed sleight-of-hand, creating an illusion, and our audience gets to sit back and enjoy the performance.
 

There's an old painting adage: If you want to learn to draw, work from the human form; for color, go to the landscape. If a tree is a little wider or a mountain a little taller, no one notices. Misrepresent human form and everyone comments. For this reason, the ability to accurately draw is best studied with the human form.

Even if it is not your artistic passion, a certain amount of consistent study with a live model keeps your eye and hand well trained. On the other hand, the landscape provides unlimited opportunity for the study of the phenomenon of color. The vastness of its space and complexity of hue, all work with the intensity of natural light to provide constant wonderment. Whenever we think we have it figured out, a new situation arises to challenge us. There simply will never be enough pigment to appease natural light.
 
My early painting years were spent devoted to the portrait. I felt there was nothing nobler than the ability to capture a likeness. Not being interested in commission portraiture, I worked with the character study, especially weather beaten aged faces. The roadmap of their faces held their stories. This study provided a wealth of technical training; sighting, the ability to see widths and heights accurately, sensitivity to how edges are handled, and the strength of value relationships, all were practiced. The nuances of the positioning of the model and the psychology of color choices helped in strengthening the aesthetics of the finished painting.

These same concepts applied to the landscape, but it’s vastness and magnificent illumination required a different approach. Distances were now a matter of miles, instead of the inches involved in the face, requiring more manipulation of color and value to represent its luminosity and depth. The technique of under-painting, often discussed in this blog, evolved as a major part of my landscape approach. It helped to establish the big relationships and shared quality of color throughout the scene, setting up the surface for the application of pastel. These under-painting techniques are now part of the portrait work as well. The pastel portrait (above) of a Native American woman in Taos, N.M., incorporates my landscape technique of under-painting
 
Even though my passion has migrated over the years from the portrait to nature, the occasional venture back into portraiture reminds me to be sensitive to the minutia and to practice accuracy. Drawing skills get polished and the landscape is better for the diversion. I encourage the magnitude of landscape artists to give time to the portrait and similarly for figurative painters to venture out into nature. Do it for yourself. You’ll be a stronger painter for the study.

After we learn to photograph our paintings digitally, the next step is to learn how to save them and put them to use. At this stage the images are just digital files containing information. They now need to be processed for specific uses, such as printing, projection and web circulation. All of these functions involve different standards and require individual attention.

Have Back-Up: Before making any adjustments to the original files on your computer, it's wise to save an unaltered version. I save a working copy onto an external hard-drive attached to a computer dedicated just for these files. This hard-drive allows me to keep a digital filing cabinet that can be easily transferred to another computer when needed. Next, I burn a CD or DVD disk of image files, depending on the size of the file, and store it in a fireproof safe. By having the hard-drive and CD/DVD backup copy, I know the original files are always available for further adjustment. I save any altered or adjusted files in another folder, so as not to confuse them with the originals.

Label: To keep files and images organized, I label them with a date as well as a title. It can also be helpful to label according to medium if you work in more than one.

Know the Purpose of the Image File: When processing an image, decide what its purpose will be: Will it be printed on a home RGB (red, green, black) computer printer or submitted for a print publication requiring a CMYK (cyan, magenta, yellow, black) four-color process? Is it being prepared for the Internet or digital projection? These choices affect image resolution and color profile adjustments. The web requires smaller low-resolution images and is better suited to sRGB color profile (the most widely available and used profile). Even those attached images you email to friends and clients should be sized to better optimize performance. Photo-quality printing requires larger, high-resolution images. If your printer is high-end photo-quality, a wide-range color space profile like AbobeRGB is best. Standard consumer level printers are better served with the sRGB standard color profile. For CMYK printing, embed the AdobeRGB profile.

Sizing an Image: When it comes to sizing an image, a good standard for the web is 72 to 90 dpi, for home RGB printers 120 to 240 dpi (depending on the model), and for CYMK publication 300 dpi. 

Photo Fix-Up: Remember having to mask slides? Well, that is a thing of the past. Distracting edges and backgrounds can be eliminated with the photo-processing program. When you have finished adjusting the image contrast/brightness, color saturation and sharpness, and you are happy with the results, it's time to save the file.

Save It: The two most commonly used formats for image files are JPEG and TIFF. JPEG condenses the file, requiring less space. This is a must for Internet usage. TIFF retains a large file and is best suited for images where high quality is of the utmost concern.

All of this can get a little technical. Good books are available for continued study, and it's always helpful to seek the advice of other artists who have mastered the process. More and more digital workshops are being offered with artists in mind. Check in with your local arts organization or keep an eye on the national workshop listing for one that might work for you. One thing is a given, technology will continue to move forward. We have to keep up or be left behind.

Editor's Note: Due to the holidays, Richard's next blog entry will be Monday, January 5, when he will discuss how to turn a digital file into a slide for those exhibitions that still require them. Have a happy new year!