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.

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.