We're all curious about the contents of other artists' studios. How are things laid out? What type of lighting is employed? What color are the walls? But one of the most interesting questions is: What art books do they keep on hand?
 
Books can play a valuable role in the success of an artist. They carry on a lineage of information passed from one generation to the next. A debt of gratitude is owed to those industrious teachers and painters who felt the need, or desire, to take pen to paper and place their observations, understandings, and experiences down to enlighten future generations.
 
Western art has had a long history of influential artist/authors and much has been made of the opinions they expressed. As valuable as these works can be, however, it's imperative that we place them in the context of their time. Scientific knowledge evolves, providing heightened understanding of the way we see and the phenomenon of light. Tastes change. What was acceptable in one time becomes passé and trite in another. However, the core observations and reasonings of these writers retain importance. As scholars instruct: if we don’t learn from the past, we are destined to repeat it.
 
Through study of these “text books” on the craft of painting, we create our own way, adapting what we read into our process. With time we shed dependency upon them for the “answers” of how to paint and instead rely on them as comforting reminders of art foundations—of the “why” certain things work in our paintings. They become the combined observations of many generations, providing a pool of information upon which we form our individual beliefs.

Personally, I have few historic favorites on the subject of landscape: Carlson's Guide to Landscape Painting by John F. Carlson, published in 1929 (the landscape painters’ bible); Landscape Painting by Birge Harrison, published in 1909 (a series of impromptu lectures given to the Art Students League summer school in Woodstock, N.Y. (Harrison was a teacher to Carlson); and The Art of Landscape Painting in Oil Colour by Sir Alfred East, published in 1906 (an interesting, highly informative read filled with strong opinions). Another must have is: Composition, Understanding Line, Notan and Color by Arthur Wesley Dow, published in 1899 (an eye opening exercise in design). Acquiring copies of these books use to require a treasure hunt through used bookstores. Now with book-find sites on the Internet and public domain publishers, picking up out-of-print treasures can be a mouse click away. Digital versions are also becoming accessible as PDF files that are easily downloaded to a computer. Check out “Google Books” or do a web search for available copies.

Today's art publishers, such as North Light Books, continue to provide instructional art books filled with sage advice for the beginner to the advanced. Many of these will undoubtedly become the treasured studio guides to a future generation of painters.
 
What are your favorite "historic" art books? Your favorite contemporary art books? Please share highlights from your personal library by posting a comment here.

Relating value (the relative lightness and darkness of things) to color can be a tricky exercise. When color is intense (high in chroma), this becomes even more of a challenge. Since chroma is easily related to brightness, it's common to associate lightness to it as well, leading to value confusion. This is usually the culprit when we're having a hard time associating a proper value to a given pastel stick. Grayed tones become much easier to identify. The color is diminished, allowing for the value to be easily distinguished.
 
It is worth noting that if you're use to working with oils or other wet media, you may have a distorted mental image of base pigments. Since oils are wet, the base pigment often appears darker, often by as much as two values, and richer in appearance. Think of this like a rock viewed in a stream bed. When wet, it is a jewel, filled with rich lush colors. Once dry it appears dull, lacking the luster that initially drew your attention. This explains why all those rocks I picked up as a child along the streams that ran through the woods of Oregon were nothing more than rocks when I pulled them out of my pockets hoping to impress my mother. To better understand the change in the appearance of pigments when they're wet or dry, compare burnt sienna straight from an oil paint tube to pure burnt sienna in pastel form (which has not been affected by the addition of white or black). Most manufacturers will indicate pure pigment on their labels or printed color charts. After witnessing the difference many pastel artists decide to work in a higher key, raising the value scale and avoiding overly dark pastel applications. Traditionally black pigment was added to pure base colors to darken them and this produced dead dark tones. Today many manufacturers are combining rich dark pigments in the making of their darker pastels, providing much richer darks.
 
Training the eye to see value and to not be overwhelmed with color takes time. The best advice I have in arranging pastels by value is to make marks of the color on white, black and middle gray (something close to halfway between white and black), or on a value scale representing no more than nine values between white and black. Then close one eye and squint way down. If the mark nearly disappears, it is close in value. If it stands out as noticeably lighter or darker, you'll have a better idea of where it resides on the value scale. See, for example, in the illustration above, how—when you squint—the red is close to value 6, the blue is close to value 3 and the yellow is close to value 9.

Many of us live in areas that don’t provide easy plein air experiences in the winter. The days are too short and the weather too damp for pastel work—not to mention the inhospitable temperature. It's during these times that we all long for a painting vacation to some inspiring, warm environment.

Just as the depression of winter was starting to take hold this year, I was able to arrange a plein air workshop in southern Arizona, in the Tucson area—a place I had never visited before (see photo). The desert has always held a particular fascination for me: California’s Mojave, northern New Mexico’s Pueblo country, and eastern Oregon’s rugged high desert have provided many hours of painting inspiration. Something about the textures and rhythms of the rugged earth and industrious vegetation combine with the wide-open expanse, making for unlimited painting possibilities. So, with great eagerness, I set off for Arizona. Fortunately, I was able to connect with artist friends upon arriving in the Phoenix/Scottsdale area and they graciously showed me the sights. It is worthwhile to make contact with local plein air painters when visiting an unfamiliar area for the first time. They know where all the good painting locations are and days of aimless wandering can be avoided. This also provides artist camaraderie as so much of our time painting can be spent in isolation. It's a pleasure to spend time with “our tribe.” After checking out the local art scene of Scottsdale (one of the major art markets in the United States), it was off to Tucson.
 
Upon arriving, it became clear why many artists have been drawn to this rugged and majestic landscape. The city sits at the base of the beautiful Catalina mountain range. With the intense reflected light off the desert floor, it's a nonstop kaleidoscope of value and color variation. Dry river washes that attest to the volume of water produced during the monsoon season, and the abundant varieties of cactus and desert vegetation provide a stunning foil. But it didn’t take us long to be reminded of the dangers of extreme desert painting: cactus needles that could penetrate the strongest of shoes required pliers for removal; rattlesnakes easily blended into the terrain; and ornery wild pigs left hoof prints as a reminder they were near. Curious coyotes peaked up over the ditches as we packed in for the day. All this played a part in the experience. It was a reminder to do research in advance of wondering off towards that beautiful inspiration when visiting unfamiliar locations. We definitely weren’t in Kansas anymore!
 
If you love to work en plein air and winter gets you down, try visiting the Southwest. The key of light is high and the color harmony muted with a gray that threads it all together. You won’t be disappointed. Summer in this region of Arizona is another matter: I was assured that even a pastel stick could melt!