Watercolor/Pen & Ink Sketches: The Jefferson Hotel

Since my studio is right down the street from the beautiful and historically significant 5 star Jefferson Hotel, I thought I'd sketch a couple of the more famous views. This is the view of the belltowers from S. Adams street:

According to the Jefferson Hotel website, Lewis Ginter "commissioned Carrere and Hastings, a renowned architectural firm from New York. The firm designed the Fifth Avenue Public Library and Henry Frick House (later the Frick Museum) in New York, as well as portions of the Commonwealth Club in Richmond."

Along with the hotel's gorgeous grand staircase, (which supposedly inspired the one used on the set of Scarlett's famous staircase tumble in the film Gone With the Wind,) another significant interior space is the Palm Court in the hotel's upper lobby. Central to this space is a life-size marble statue of Thomas Jefferson by Edward V. Valentine, interpreted with liberal artistic license by yours truly below:

Art Books; Landscape Painting Inside & Out

In my last post I mentioned Kevin Macpherson's latest book, Landscape Painting Inside & Out. This is a nice companion to his first wonderful book Fill Your Oil Paintings With Light and Color. The latter focuses primarily on plein air painting, while the former encompases both plein air and studio work. In his newest book, the author does a pretty thorough job of describing his supplies and tools of the trade for both his permanent studio and his portable one. Personally I really enjoyed the photos he's included of his indoor studio, (which is dreamy!) as it gives the artist (who likes to dream) some good ideas about how to plan a good setup. It was interesting for me to see that he puts his taboret in front of his easel, so that his color mixing palette is directly in front of him rather than off to the side, mimicking the setup one would have on a smaller scale outdoors. I work in the exact same way, with a mini-taboret on wheels my husband rigged up for me using a small laundry cart.

Subsequent sections touch on the different qualities of light and their effect on your subject, as well as value relationships and shape relationships. He has an interesting way of explaining the importance of describing elements in the landscape in terms of shape rather than rendering every minute detail. Here the book shows various black and white silhouettes to explain that an accurate contour is what describes an object. For example, one should be more concerned with the shape of a tree and largely indicate this  as one mass, using details such as individual leaves sparingly and just to accent and better define the subject.

This book touches on a lot of different concerns for the landscape painter. Aside from the ones I mentioned above, the author addresses edges, color temperature, and includes a very interesting section on planning and designing the painting. Several of these subjects are covered in just one or two pages, but they are well articulated and will give the serious landscape painter a starting point for further investigation.

After this overview comes what I consider the "meat" of the book--a large section on painting outside on location and another substantial one on translating your outdoor studies into larger studio works. In these sections, as in his previous book, Macpherson provides several very well described demonstrations of his processes. These sections appeal to me very much. I personally love demos, as it is easier for me to understand visually than it is having it explained.

What is particularly interesting to me about this part is the way the author encourages experimentation. He includes a few demos using different limited palettes that give the reader some ideas-- experimenting with an earth primary palette, using a strong color palette, or using a set palette with a monochrome (grey) underpainting.

Different from his last book, Macpherson includes a final section on "The Path to Success". This is really a topic worthy of an entire book (or a series of books). Macpherson goes into no detail at all about how to manage one's art career, but merely touches on some things to think about. Largely he writes about things like being inspired, doing what you love, setting goals, blah blah blah. Sure, all of this is important, but it's dealt with in a pretty vague manner and personally this is the least informative section of the book which covers about the last 15 pages. I suppose it is really just meant to be inspiring, so as long as you don't expect more, you may really enjoy this part.

Overall, this is a very interesting book with some very beautiful color reproductions of the artist's lush, impressionistic paintings. The demos are good, and I like that the breakout topics are geared more towards experienced painters who might be looking to experiment or deepen their understanding of landscape painting.  Macpherson does do a  good bit of selling of his other products, such as his other book, video and his "Kevin Macpherson Plein Air Palette" and "Kevin Macpherson Prochade Kit".  But this to me is only mildly annoying because I'd probably do the same thing if I offered these kinds of products. ;-) And heck! It must have worked...I've ordered his Prochade Kit for myself and will probably blog about it once I've had a chance to try it out.

Painting is a response (so move the $%#! tree).

I was talking to a non-painter about painting recently and she said, "The kind of art I like is imaginative. I don't care much for a copy of a photograph or a copy of a scene even in life. It's far more interesting to me to see a painting that came from the artist's head." Well, I couldn't agree more. But I hate to break it to her; all art comes from the "artist's head." The artist is painting in response to something, whether it be a concept or idea, a story, or an observation. Even in landscape painting (or any kind of painting even remotely related to realism) I think that true artistry occurs when the artist is not copying, but painting her response to a subject, and is fully able to communicate that response in a way that is original and distills the subject to its essence.

The reasons behind my choice of subjects vary. Sometimes it is the sheer beauty of a place that triggers an emotional response. Sometimes the scene evokes a memory. Sometimes it is the light. Sometimes I respond to something as simple as lines and planes. But it is all about my response or my interpretation.

Copying a scene so that it looks like a photo, or even looks like the view in front of me in the open air, is not nearly as important to me as expressing my response to the subject. As I heard artist Kenn Backhaus say once, "I'm not interested in making historical paintings." Backhaus paints en plein air, but he also uses many different combinations of his own photos at times to inform his studio paintings. He uses these resources in order to express his unique vision, frequently with masterful results.

I work in a similar manner (but still working on the mastery part.) ;-) Sometimes one scene says it all. Other times I may combine several different elements from varying photos and studies to relay the idea or feeling about a place or experience. Even in realism, the subject matter is the jumping off point. It is subordinate to the idea --just one vehicle for the greater goal of artistic expression.

Painting on location is important for the simple reason that there is more to respond to in life than in a photo. But even painting en plein air, artists can fall into the trap of subordinating their art for the sake of historical accuracy. I was out painting with a fellow artist once and we set up in different locations to paint the same scene. I took a break from my work and inquired about my friend's progress. "It's going okay," he said. "But I wish that tree was in a different place." "Then for heaven's sake," I said. "You're an artist! Move the $%#!  tree."

Painting successfully from photos offers its own set of challenges, because you are responding to a frozen moment in time. That is not how the eyes see and not how we respond in life. In addition to painting en plein air, I do work from photos. But they are my own photos, usually taken from travels where I have made a point to also do some painting or sketching (accompanied usually by long spans of sitting and sighing and blissfully observing) on location. So even working from my photos, it is always about my experience, except that I am also having to rely more on memory than from life in the moment.

As an artist I've worked using many different approaches. Sometimes it all does come "from my head", and at other times I use nature as my inspiration. There are times when I am so seduced by a scene that I find it perfect, and I try to capture it just as I see it. But even then, I try to keep in mind my ultimate goal to make a strong painting that communicates my unique response. I may not always find success, but it's something to move towards. And if a tree gets in my way, I have no qualms about moving the $%#! tree.

Plein air painting; Top 10 things I love

Here is a follow up to my previous top 10 list about painting on location. You will notice that some of the things that I cited as pains in the tuccus are also some of the very things I love. And there is a lot more to love than what I've written below! 

1. The challenge of racing against time to capture the ever changing light. 
2. Appreciating the beauty of the natural world firsthand.
3. Being outside to witness the special quality of light that comes early in the morning (before breakfast) and just before sunset (around dinner time).
4. Getting lost in the experience (this happens for me in the studio, but not as intensely as it does when I'm painting on location. I lose all track of time and am able to be in hyperfocus.)
5. Those ah-ha paintings-- When everything about the painting experience gels and you've said everything you wanted to say with an economy of brushstroke and a real understanding of the light (makes all those other half-finished plein air studies worthwhile!)
6. Connecting with so many kind and interesting people from all over the world.
7. Using all of your senses to create--seeing so much more color and information in nature than it is ever possible to see in photographs.
8. The challenge of editing out some of that color and information to make a cohesive and well composed painting.
9. Painting along with other artists and seeing how differently they interpret the same scene.
10. Those moments of quiet solitude, but not really feeling "alone" because you are a part of it all!

Plein air painting; Top 10 things that are a pain in the tuccus

Since I've been doing quite a bit of painting on location this summer, I thought I'd share some of my thoughts about the experience of plein air painting. I'll deal with the less desirable aspects first, and then follow up with what I love: 

1. Bugs of all kinds (ticks, mosquitoes, bees, etc.). I'm not the world's bravest outdoorsy type and I hate the creepy crawlies.
2. Sunburn! There is no way to avoid the sun. Be prepared and deal with it.
3. Being covered in goo (otherwise known as bug spray and sunscreen) due to list items 1 and 2.
4. Finding a location with lots of lovely shady spots, but the amazing scene that you are passionately in love with is only visible when standing in the blazing sun.
5. Forgetting to pack one essential thing (and I ALWAYS seem to forget to pack one essential thing!)
6. Having to lug around a bunch of heavy art supplies and equipment (no matter how much I try to pare down, it is still too much stuff!)
7. Getting out before breakfast time and staying out beyond dinner time because that's when the best light is. (Okay, my days revolve around my meals. Note; those are TWO meals I'm missing! )
8. Getting in the groove while the light is excellent, only to encounter a passer-by who feels like a nice, long chat.
9. Enduring the elements (sun, wind, rain, heat, cold, ever-changing light, etc.), all the while hoping to create something brilliant.
10.  Spending 2 to 3 hours painting and ending up with something that's nowhere near "brilliant"!

Lest you are thinking, "Stop your complaining. If you don't like it, stay inside!", stay tuned for the top 10 things to love about plein air painting and see why I put up with it and am becoming more and more obsessed with it. You may be surprised to find some overlap ;-)

Maryland's Eastern Shore is an artist friendly place!

The Eastern Shore of Maryland has lot to offer for the plein air painter. In my vicinity I can paint the harbors, wetlands, and charming little villages like St. Michael's, Oxford, Tilghmand Island, and Easton. The people here seem pretty used to plein air painters too, since Easton just recently hosted a plein air festival and paint out. It is really nice to visit an area that is so supportive of the arts. Everywhere I go, the local establishments in Easton have plein air paintings on display. Even if I didn't paint at all, there are lots of shops, art galleries and restaurants to enjoy. If you're into antiques they seem big into that as well! And of course there is fishing. Lots of fishing! But what I like most is the natural beauty combined with the local charm of the area. You can drive out in several directions and hit the water, as small creeks, tributaries, and larger bodies of water finger their way into the land. It is fairly easy to find potential painting sites. It is also easy to pull off on the side of the road if something catches your eye. I love that there are bike paths along the byways, and big wide shoulders. I will definitely return to paint here again. I imagine spring or fall would be lovely (and a bit gentler in terms of the outside temperature!)

Ocracoke Island

Yes, I am still here! Not much opportunity to post new work yet because this week turned into "clean the studio and ship paintings" week. And today we are heading out to Ocracoke Island for what we hope will be a long relaxing weekend.  We have been to the Outer Banks of North Carolina (Nags Head, Corolla) many times, but I have always wanted to go to Ocracoke and have never gotten around to it, as it is about a 40 minute ferry ride from Hatteras. From all accounts the word most often used is "quaint" in describing this island village. It is a very natural beach with no major hotels or developments -- a real rarity these days. And for what it's worth, "Dr. Beach" has this year rated Ocracoke #1 as the best swimming beach nationally.

We're driving so I can load up the van with my paint gear! Hooray! Hope to post whatever plein air paintings and sketches I do while there.

Judging art

I've been having a great visit with Mom and siblings these past two weeks, so I have been away from the studio and consumed with matters other than painting. I don't know how other artists manage, but I am a bit of a one-trick pony. I have to either visit or paint. I am too distracted with one to attend to the other, even if alternating days. In any event, last week I did manage to do one art-related activity. I was invited to jury an all media show at one of the local art centers in town. I was delighted to see such a large array of talent in the entries. The down side is that it made it that much more difficult to narrow things down.

As I explained to the entrants the night of the opening, there were several factors that played a part in my process as juror. First, I don't care how impartial one tries to be, a certain amount of personal preference influences what a given juror will select. Believe me, I tried to be as objective as possible but art for me is often an emotional experience and I am sure my own tastes played some part.

Second, I looked for a certian amount of mastery in technique. This can be a bit more objective, as you are looking for mastery in the use of materials, composition, color mixing, drawing, etc.  There were several pieces that found their way into the show that were not my favorites personally, but I could not deny the technical ability achieved by the artist.

Third, I looked for the overall statement of the piece. What was the intent or statment and was the artist successful in relaying that message, intent, feeling or statement to the viewer?  Did the handling of the materials support or distract from the intent? This is tricky because while intent is important, you also want to avoid a "message" that is so heavy-handed that it hits you over the head with a two-by-four.

And finally I looked for how all of the pieces would work together as a show. While I wasn't involved in hanging the show, I acted as if I were. I imagined how the work might flow and dialogue together so that the guests would have an interesting overall experience.

Juried shows can be quite a hodge-podge of styles, subjects, and mediums, but overall I think the show turned out very well for one of this nature. It was interesting to see my own reaction to the way the work was hung. It was very well done, though in certain instances I imagined different works hanging together. But that is the fun of art! Everybody has their own interpretation and creates their own dialogue which only adds to the experience.

Coincidentally, today I came across a great article entitled "How to Judge Art: Five Qualities You Can Critique," which reinforces my ideas and adds some very good additional food for thought. It comes from a blog I just recently discovered and know I will revisit many times called EmptyEasel. The author, Dan provides some wonderful info and resources for artists.

Speaking of empty easels, I'm looking forward to remedying my own case of that syndrome when I return to the studio next week!

Freshly Gathered Hay

What is it about hay that makes me want to paint it? The most obvious reason, I suppose is the fascination I had the first time I say Monet's famous haystack series (Monet was truly the master at using color temperature to suggest lighting and time of day!) 

It could also be that, unlike cows, horses or other animated life forms, these heavy masses of hay don't move or walk away while you are trying to paint them to eat, well, hay! Hay bales to me represent that same kind of pastoral quietude though, and I love the way they catch the sunlight and shadow, and often cast a cool shadow of their own. Here is a little vignette I painted the other day en plein air. I was driving out to paint a beautiful garden at the Tuckahoe Plantation and I saw these hay bales along the way:

"Freshly Gathered Hay" Oil on Canvas, 8x10" $425 unframed or $495 framed

The Struggle

There must be some artists out there who never struggle with feelings of frustration. If they exist I'd love to meet them, as I am certainly not one of them! As grateful as I am for being able to pursue my art freely each day,I still have my moments.  I am happy to say, however, that my fits are briefer than they used to be, and they are fewer and farther between. It's a solitary business, and sometimes the solitude alone can get to you. Sometimes the art-making itself feels like a struggle; the vision is there, but the ability to fully execute it to your artistic satisfaction may lag behind. Other times, it's the "business" side of art that frustrates.  Being a full time painter, it is something I definitely need to manage in order to prosper; but sometimes the drive to do so just isn't there.

But life is what you make of it. It's a cliche, but the longer I'm here on earth, the more I realize it to be true. I can look at my art making as a struggle, or I can see it as a challenge. I can bemoan my shortcomings or I can look forward to mastering a new skill.

I came across a wonderful quote the other day that just leapt out at me. It comes from an article on writing by the talented best selling author Elizabeth Gilbert. The quote has to do specifically with film making, but I think it applies just as well to anyone pursuing an artist's life:

"Quit your complaining. It’s not the world’s fault that you wanted to be an artist. It’s not the world’s job to enjoy the films you make, and it’s certainly not the world’s obligation to pay for your dreams. Nobody wants to hear it. Steal a camera if you have to, but stop whining and get back to work.� - Werner Herzog German Filmmaker

This is one for me to print off and paste above my both my easel and my computer. So the next time I might feel like whining I can just take a breath, consider these words, and get back to work.

From figures to landscapes (and back again?)

From time to time I receive wonderful messages from students who have chosen my work as a focus for their school projects. Here is a recent message I received. My answer follows: I wanted to ask if you could tell me about yourself and your paintings. I am studying A-levels and I am doing a critical study on you. Could you please let me know how you got into drawing landscapes. I would appreciate it.

Thank you so much for your interest in my artwork! As to your question: In college and for some time thereafter I was developing a body of work that focused on the human figure. These paintings were heavily influenced by a number of sources in art history-- Frida Kahlo, Gustav Klimt, and the early renaissance paintings I had seen in Italy and the Netherlands:

One of my favorites from this period "Faith", Oil on Canvas (sold)

So how did I go from that to landscape? Well, in college I held a double major of study in both painting and art history, so I was a lover of art of many different styles and from many different periods in history. I loved the impressionists and the post impressionists but impressionist landscape paintings were not much favored with my professors at the time. Professors at my school were much more attuned to paintings of either a nonobjective nature, or figurative paintings with deep psychological impact. So I developed the figurative paintings as my "serious body of work" and only dabbled in landscapes every now and then.   But eventually I found myself struggling more and more with the figure paintings. They were very large and some of them were filled with a lot of angst. One painting took weeks to complete. Emotionally they were often quite draining and my inspiration was slowing down. When my father died of pancreatic cancer all of the work I had been doing on those  paintings came to a complete halt. I began to question a lot of things, including whether I would ever do another painting. My heart just wasn't in it.   My husband naturally knew of my struggles and, knowing how much I had loved the landscapes of Monet, Sisley and many other impressionist painters, he bought me my very first outdoor easel. He also signed me up for a painting class so I could learn to paint on location outdoors. I loved it from the moment I tried it. I began painting again, and I finally allowed myself to follow my bliss and paint the landscape. After the death of my father I really wanted to do things that were more life affirming, that filled me with joy. I realized life is indeed so very short and I wanted to celebrate it in a way that had meaning for ME, without worrying about whether others found it artistically "important".   Painting the landscape was one of the ways I could honor that desire, and I have been painting them ever since. Nowadays I also enjoy experimenting with other kinds of painting, including abstraction, and sometimes even the human figure again. I believe that an artist has the right to explore it all, if that is her desire.   I hope this helps you with your project!

And now for something completely different

A while back I posted about experimenting with non-objective work, so I thought I'd share the results here. I'm not sure what you'd call this configuration of canvases...an installation? In any event, I installed this piece in my living room this weekend during the power outage, and even without electricity it brightened up the place. This is my first abstract in quite a while:

As an artist exploration and experimentation is very important to me. On the surface this doesn't seem to have much relationship to my landscape paintings, but there is something to learn here, and perhaps at some point these experiments can also help me to grow with my landscapes as well. In any event,  it was fun, fun, fun! Installed, this work is pretty large, measuring about 39" across by 40" tall. The small canvases to the side may not be quite to scale, so I will try to photograph the whole thing installed in the room and post it here when I do.

Here it is in the room:

One day when I have time I'd like to get rid of those green walls, but I guess they'll have to do for now.

painting artist abstract art non-objective painting

Creativity

I thought I'd write a little bit about creativity today since it has been on my mind a lot lately. Often times people will equate creativity with "production". But for me, a lot of things go on "below the surface" that I would equate with creativity, even if there is not a lot being produced as a result.

Right now I am involved in a lot of experimentation and exploration that doesn't necessarily result in a finished painting or drawing. It's possible that some of these "experiments" may find their way here on my blog if I feel particularly happy about them and want to share, but the real point is to always explore new ways to grow.

Sometimes I go through periods of high production followed by things taken at a much slower pace. I pay attention whenever I reach a certain comfort level with my work. Comfort can be a good thing--a really nice and in the flow feeling. But sometimes I feel so comfortable that it makes me downright uncomfortable, if that makes any sense! That is when I know it is time to regroup, branch out, take a break, experiment, or do a little bit of all of the above.

For example, today I have drawn out a new painting of Tuscany. I've also got an abstract painting underway. Who knows where that will lead me? And "on the side" I've been painting lamps and furniture, just for fun (and because I need some lamps and furniture!) Now I know that there are some art marketing gurus out there who may not like me doing so many different things. You should focus on one thing and do it well! I have heard that over and over again, and I can be, and have been a pretty good focuser. I do believe it is important for artists to develop their voice and a strong body of work. But I also know the value of experimentation, just for the sake of exploration.

So I'm playing with landscapes and different mediums. I'm playing with non-objective artwork. Temperatures have been in the high nineties here lately so not much playing en plein air, but when the weather breaks I'll probably play with that too. And I'm playing with furniture. Since the lamps are the only things I have pictures of right now, I'll post those here:

These were old seventies olive green lamps (the "old" olive, not the "new olive") that were tinted with bronze and had those brown speckles in them that you see in a lot of decor from this time period. I had a "before" picture of them somewhere, but I can't find it. I bought these at a yard sale ($5 for the pair) and painted them a metallic turquoise to match my turquoise pillows. I also applied a silver leaf to the base of the lamps and bought simple linen shades (since I figured there was enough going on with the lamps!) They may be a little too "Liberace" for some folks but I LOVE my lamps! Here is a close up:

The landscape shown in this photo is one I did of a Key West scene. To see more of my Key West paintings, visit my website here.

Tags: art painting landscape painting artist plein air