Dark skies

Winter Sky study 9x12 oil, copyright 2013

Connected study 8x10 oil, copyright 2013

Since taking the workshop with Steven Walker I've been playing with my oils, trying to work out how they will work best for me, and I find myself focusing more and more on the sky.  Really, that shouldn't be much of a surprise as that is what I have been doing for some time in pastels.

These two are the most recent of those studies.  During the workshop Steven pointed out several times that my clouds were rather dark and ominous looking, and these are no exception.  I like the drama that dark skies create and have many, many reference photos of storm clouds.  After finishing the second one in particular though, I realized he had a point - it's a bit too dark.  It may not be obvious on a computer screen, but it is obvious when it's on my living room wall.  It appears that I need to learn to compensate for the fact that a typical room in a house is not as well lighted as my studio.  I think I will try the second one again, but larger and brighter, while keeping the drama.

Thoughts on the Steven Walker workshop

The first week in April I took an oil painting workshop with Steven Walker, and it quite an eye opener on so many levels.  I learned so much, but more importantly rediscovered the joy of oil painting.  It's a long post, but I wanted to share my thoughts on the experience.

Steven working on his first demo.

The first day we introduced ourselves - more than half of the other artists were watercolorists, some were full time artists, and most already knew each other - which meant there was lots of chatter and laughter.  Then Steven talked about himself and his background in illustration and how he ended up in Ohio from Richmond, Virginia.   He takes his work seriously - but not himself, a good combination.

After that he showed us his set up, going over colors and additives and techniques in detail, answering questions as they came up.  Then the first demo, again talking as he worked.  It was mostly finished in about and hour and a half.

Then it was our turn.  I rather unwisely chose a single cluster of clouds as my reference photo for the first painting.  I say unwise because I struggled with it for the first two days - it was far more complicated and difficult than it seemed at first.  Watching the professional artists next to me breeze through their paintings with beautiful results made me feel rather inadequate.  By the third day I was done with that cloud whether or not the painting was finished.  One of my fellow students kindly told me that I was being too hard on myself.  I didn't see it at the time, but he was right.

The troublesome cloud painting,
with a study and the reference photo.

Finally found the "zone" with this one.

A landscape was chosen as the next painting, and that just clicked.  I was able to relax and get into the flow of things during the rest of the week.  The fields were painted with gusto and a pallet knife, a first for me.  It is such a wonderful feeling, being in the "zone" and such a relief to finally get there.  The rest of the week went very well I am happy to report.

What I learned

1) Relax.  I put too much pressure on myself to get it right immediately, instead of just going with the flow and letting it happen.

2)  Don't compare to others.  There were some impressive artists in the workshop, far above my skill level.   Experience counts for a lot, and I still have many, many hours of experience before me.

3) Plan.  As fast as Steven works, he still takes the time to think about what the final product will look like.  He had a stack of small scale studies that he often paints before starting on a larger painting, and encouraged all of us to do the same.

4)  Simplify.  It's a painting, not a photograph and not every detail is necessary, so worry only about what's needed.  At the end of the week he made a point that I had never thought about before.  If the painting is small, the viewer will automatically step closer to see details.  If it's large, the viewer will step back to take it all in, so larger paintings can have less detail than smaller ones.

5) Soften.  This goes along with the don't fuss over details idea.  Hard, sharp edges don't often occur in nature so having them in a landscape can make it look forced or artificial.  I was about doubtful about this with my clouds, but I went along with his suggestion to soften and blend cloud edges on my last painting.  The response from other artists and viewers was positive, so it turns out he was right!

Softer clouds on this one -
 I still need to finish the fields though!

There is much more I could talk about, but those are the basics of what I got from the workshop, technique-wise.  But most important of all was confidence.  I feel much better about my abilities with oil and believe that there will be a big improvement in the quality of my painting.

If you ever get the chance to take a class or workshop from Steven, I highly recommend you do so.  He really is a wonderful teacher.  And a special shout-out to Dan Knepper and his son Jordan for encouraging me to participate in the workshop.  Thanks guys, I'm sure I'll be seeing you around soon!

Last Light

Last Light 11x14 pastel, copyright 2013

After I had so much fun with the little 6x6 pastels on claybord, I decided to try again with a larger one.   It works!  I am really loving this surface.  It doesn't take as many layers as the paper, but that's a good thing.  I tend to try to correct mistakes by adding more color and end up with "mud".  It takes some effort to fix when it's on paper and I've ruined a few erasers (and some paper) in the attempt.  But with this surface I can just wipe it down with a wet rag, paint on a little more primer and go back to work.  Perfect!

This scene is from a series of photos I took this fall while my husband drove me around the backroads near our house.  I've gotten a lot of inspiration from those photos, so don't be surprised if you see even more of them in the future.

Listening

For the past two weeks I have been struggling with three different pastels, each very different from the other other but all of them giving me fits.  One is nearly done but not quite there.  The other I may give up on, it's been wiped down twice already.  And then there is this one.

Drifting Fenceline 9x12 pastel, copyright 2013

It started out as a painting of a plowed field, snow covering the furrows in rows behind one lone fencepost.  It works quite nicely as a photo.  But those nice neat little rows did not want to work in a painting.  First the perspective was wrong.  Then the shadows.  Then the color.  The pastel layers kept getting thicker and thicker until I finally realized I was just making mud - or perhaps slush would be a more appropriate term.

Last night I finally gave in, wiped the snow off completely and started over.  It just did not want to be a plowed field, and I'm slowly starting to learn to "listen" to my paintings.   They want to be painted, but they sometimes seem to have their own opinion about what they want to say.  And this one was reminding me to simplify - so that's what I did.

Playing with paper

Fields at Dusk, 8 1/2x11 pastel, copyright 2012

Dairy Barn, Evening Sky 8 1/2x11 pastel, copyright 2012

Thanks to a post by pastelist Karen Margulis (check out her work - she's very good!) I have discovered a new pastel paper called Shizan.  It's handmade 100% cotton rag made from recycled material and is quite reasonably priced.  The texture is irregular, as are the edges and sometimes the size.  

With the first one I quickly discovered that it won't hold many layers, and vine charcoal does not work at all.  That was a bit frustrating, although it does make for a sort of vague, sketchy painting.  On the second one I added a single thin layer of pastel primer, which gave it enough tooth to hold more layers.  The texture and color of the paper still come through and force looser, sketchier images.  That's a good thing since I usually feel that my looser paintings are better.

Both of these paintings are from reference photos taken a few weeks ago when my husband was kind enough to drive me around just before sunset.  A native of the area, he chose the route down a winding, quiet road that ended at closed bridge (and haunted) bridge.   It was a beautiful drive, and I was able to get plenty of good photos that will hopefully find their way onto this new paper.

Morning snow

Light Snow, Bright Morning 12x9 pastel, copyright 2012

It's hard to believe given the unusually warm weather we are experiencing now, but two weeks ago we woke up to a bit of a surprise: an overnight snow.  It was only and inch and was gone by midmorning, but it is the most significant snowfall we've had this winter.  Naturally I grabbed my camera and walked around a bit after the kids got on the bus.

Watching the light slowly creep over the trees and chase back the shadows has become a highlight of my morning, a justification for getting up before the sun.  While I can see this happening from my kitchen window, I realized that morning that I've never watched it in this particular field, which is in the floodplain of the creek and completely surrounded by trees.  It can't be seen from the road, making it almost a secret space, a little hidden surprise at the end of the lane.

October fields

October Fields 12x16 pastel, copyright 2012

Corn and soybeans are the most commonly planted crops in my area, and most farmers rotate their fields yearly between the two.  Corn is more interesting in midsummer, when the long leaves are dark green, topped by pale yellow tassels.  But in the fall, soybeans have them beat.  The leaves on the plants turn bright yellow before they fall off and the remaining stems and seed pods are wonderful shades of warm brown.

I noticed these fields along Twin Creek about five miles north of our house, on a bright October day last year.  There was actually quite a bit more going on in the photograph, with trees along the road and shadows and weeds on the fence line.  The bottom right hand corner got quite complicated - and very distracting.  An eraser solved that problem, and put the emphasis back on the yellow soybeans where it should be.  I have to keep reminding myself that photos are to be used as guidelines only.

One sunrise, but not the same

      Sunrise, First of December 6x6 oil, copyright 2011

December Sunrise 12x9 pastel, copyright 2011

A first for me, two different paintings from the same reference photograph.  The first was just a quick study, painted the same day I took the photo.  It came out a bit softer and more muted, in part because I was spent perhaps 15 more minutes on it than I should have, and was starting to make mud.  I stopped when I realized it, made a few corrections then quit.  The second one I finished just yesterday, and perhaps overcompensated a bit for the earlier painting's softness, though the colors look a bit too saturated on my monitor.

Looking at the two of them together, I can't decide if one is really better than the other as both capture some aspects of the mood of the moment.  I'm not sure if it's the media or light in the studio or my subconscious that made them so different.  It's an exercise worth trying again with another photo.

Edit:  The pastel image has been revised, and is now a bit closer to the real thing.

Learning curve

Snow Shadows 6x6 oil, copyright 2011

Field of Snow 6x6 oil, copyright 2011

One of the good things about doing so many of these little paintings is that I am learning rather quckly what works and what doesn't work.  With these two there was a lot of the latter and a little bit of the former, particularly with the painting on the left.

With this one I decided to experiment a bit.  I've been coating the panels with a pastel primer, which is a clear acrylic base with very fine pumice mixed in.  I was curious what would happen if I didn't use the primer and just painted directly on the surface.  This is what happened:  the surface immediately soaked up all the oil from the paint, making it gum up and very difficult to move around.  This means I couldn't really blend the paint on the surface and if I messed with it too much it rolled into little balls.  No matter how many layers I put down, the effect was the same.  From now on I will always use a primer for oil paints on clayboard.

The second one turned out better since I did use the primer for it, along with a purple wash.  I also experimented a bit with a dry brush technique.  This works by using an essentially dry brush to blend the paint after it's laid down on the surface, for a softer look.  It can work well for backgrounds but if overused in the foreground it can make the image too fuzzy.  That was one thing that actually worked in this painting.   But while a large expanse of snow in the foreground and a straight horizontal line of trees in the background can make an interesting photograph, it can also make for a boring painting.

So now I know.