The Tribe Is Gathering

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The Tribe is Gathering

Today I completed my reservations for the last hotel I should need on my way to and from the Plein Air Convention in Monterrey CA.  I leave for CA from New Mexico in three days.

Last year’s event was the singularly best thing I had done for many years. It was totally mind blowing - with so many outstanding presentations that winnowing them out would be impossible. But I have to say that the address given by Clyde Aspevig was worth the price of the whole convention. (Now don’t anybody tell Eric Rhoads!! He’ll raise the price next year!) And watching Ken Auster paint was a glimpse of divine intervention. Ned Meuller and Camille Prezwodek together, were like a finely tuned vaudeville act, but their art was sublime. It was like being a kid in a candy store with too many things to excite your appetite!

I have to say that the lack of inflated egos, the willingness and wanting to share by the faculty of this event is the key to what made this such a success. Some of these people I have known by their DVDs, some by having taken their workshops and some simply by articles and books that provide a glimpse into their creative genius. Never did I think I might be able to ask them the questions that still plague my creative mind. Matt Smith’s jitters before his presentation was really a totally human reaction of a quiet person, to having to present in front of hundreds of fellow painters and some of his heroes. And he did such a magnificent job.

My past experience with this convention tells me that Eric has got some surprises waiting for us. But the meat of the thing, the true core of it all will be the sharing of our passion, the new connections, the flash of insight and the memories we will keep and bring back to enrich our own world in paint.

I am taking my paints and intend to paint along the way, should time permit. The Paso Robles area is one that has always elicited visceral reactions for me. I find the land totally female in its composition and lovely rolling qualities. It truly is a land kissed by the mists of the Pacific. Maybe I can fulfill a fantasy and paint there for a bit of one day.

As I made the reservations for my return road trip, it occurred to me that by the time I would stay at these hotels on my way back to New Mexico, this year’s rendezvous would be over with. What will I have learned? You really need to be two people at a thing like this, one to watch and take notes, and one to paint along with your heroes.

I am packing my car, restocking my vitamins and checking to see that I don’t forget something essential. As long as it is not a painting thing, I am OK. I am looking forward to sharing a room with my Denver friend Lucy. We plan to have to open the windows to let the words out.

Watch for updates later next week. The ‘Tribe’, by Richard Robinson’s definition, is gathering.

I’d Like To Only Have To Paint All Day!!!

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There is a fallacious idea out there that all artists do is ‘paint all day’. How I wish.

Among artists I know, there is universal dismay about the amazing amount of preparatory work that goes into producing any work that is even close to finished.  It is unbelievable the effort goes into a piece  that one feels confident in putting out there for general comments and hopefully a sale. 

That said, it is a miracle to me that anything gets produced at all.

Consider what takes place in a studio setting:

Concept For Possible Painting???

1.      The concept phase

This occurs in the bathroom, before you get your eyes fully open, as you daydream at the kitchen sink, driving home from the store (I almost passed our road yesterday) or anywhere that your personal safety is not threatened by a healthy dose of thinking and gazing about. It could also be the flash you get while reading about another artist, their work or looking at an instructional video about another’s work.

2.      The elemental development stage.

You make thumbnails, notans ( 3 to 4 value sketches), then you try out color combinations, styles that might work, peruse old photos, looking for that one you took eleven years ago when the kids were small and cute. You set up your painting space, taking out those materials you have decided to use in this act of creation.

3.      The in-the-stream development stage

You consider the size of the piece, what support you are going to use, which medium you going to use, how you plan to begin this newest masterpiece.

4.      The actual production of the piece

This is what non-artists think we only have to do to be successful as an artist, and what they envision us doing all day.

5.      The all important critique phase

This is where you look at and assimilate what you have done into your consciousness, assessing the validity of the work. Does it succeed as you intended it to? If not, you are back to phase 4.

If after all this, the work is acceptable (notice I did not say wildly successful) you may decide to frame it. The type of work determines the type of framing and you must accommodate all the considerations that the work demands. If you have framed it, it may still need to be reframed if it is to be accepted in certain shows. All shows have their own framing requirements and accompanying costs.  If you try to get into juried shows, there is the whole process that each one entails and the requirements are all unique to the show’s specific needs. The submissions alone almost require a college degree to get right.  And some require a technical translator. 

Then there is the industry that packing and shipping art has spawned. So the wise artist picks the shows that will give him/her exposure, but even that requires a few years of trying different venues out. If you enter more than a few shows there is the paper pushing that simple tracking requires. Yeah, office work.

And some of us blog about the process and the production. We try to explain what is involved in the production of what may have caught their eye. An entry may take an hour or it may take three to get it down right.

All of this occurs in the studio model of production.

Then there is the plein air painter. All the above applies, but add to it;

·        driving 53 miles to get to the place that had running water last week, but no, not this week

·        hunting for that perfect view, but some body is fishing where you want to set up  

·        tripping over your feet while laden down with all your gear 

·        doing the ant dance cause you set up without noticing that ant hill right there   

·        dodging flying B52s that buzz about your head

·        getting a sunburn because it was cloudy when you left and you forgot to check if your sunscreen was in this painting kit

·        having a curious farmer come by wanting to know what you are doing beside his pasture, and you aren’t going to open the gate are you?

My Cousin Paul and Me Painting in Colorado

So yeah, I guess all we do is paint all day. My dentist wanted to know yesterday why I am grinding my teeth. It could be the problems inherent in that last painting, the eternal struggle to get what I intend down on that support, and the feeling that I am getting predictable.  I should send him the link to this blog entry.

Why do we do it? I cannot think of another career where people are so put upon display. We paint because we cannot stop. It is as essential to us artists as breathing air or drinking water, eating food or sleeping. The fact that we continue to get up and attack it again, trying new solutions and learning from our disillusions is to me, the human condition in microcosm. It’s a compulsion, pure and simple.

So what do I say when someone says “it’s so nice you are so talented” as thought the piece paints itself, or when someone asks “how long did it take you to paint that”? I think I’ll hand them this blog address. And the bill for my student loans……nah, they probably have their own.

Favorite quote of the day:

The artist produces for the liberation of his soul. It is his nature to create as it is the nature of water to run downhill.                                                                                                                                                                   (W. Somerset Maugham)

Experiments Lead To New Treasures

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Sometimes you need to stretch, stop, think and regroup. I did a pastel piece two weeks ago and hated the results. It had some nice areas, but also had a major compositional flaw. Would you believe it sold? I was ready to cut it up into smaller pieces and make two not-objectionable pieces out of it, but somebody saw it and wanted it. So now it has been shipped and hopefully she will be happy.

I am happy for the lesson it taught me.

Why am I writing about this? Well it was the subject of my last missive on “I want an undo button on my easel” post. I am rebuilding on the good parts of that piece. I have repositioned the elements, and still as it progresses, I am still moving things about. I also am using a support that allows more blending and less skin sacrificing, being far less abrasive. 

I am much happier. It is coming along much better.

WIP (Work In Progress)
Tulips and Peonies
Pastel 15x18

The colors are more reflective of my own preferences. You see the earlier piece was an experiment in many ways. Experiments are good. The make you learn as you go. I learned that I really, really like PastelMat paper.  Wallis not so much.  PastelMat allows much rework and erasing with a chamois. It doesn’t get back to white, but it does release the top layers quite well and affords much layering of the pigment. The sharp lines stay sharp and detail remains. Yup, this paper is a definite home run for me. I have not tried underpainting with it yet. And if it accepts that well, I may well have found a new support, as La Carte is so humidity reactive. Believe me, It would take a lot to tear me away from my La Carte.

So yes I sacrificed a piece, (it still sold, imagine!) but I found a new support. Experiments do lead to learning a lot and growing. No artist worth his/her salt ever got to where they are without it.

Favorite quote of the day;

Life may not be the party that we hoped for…
But while we’re here, we should dance.
-~Author Unknown

I Want a ‘Undo’ Button On My Easel

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Did you ever want an Undo button or a Do-Over button on your palette or easel? Just like the Cntrl-Z button combo on my PC? There used to be an undelete function when PCs were line command machines. Man I miss those days.

I started a new pastel piece in the studio with flowers and vase and teacup and Cobalt blue vase. I tried a new paper I do not normally use. I tried a new lighting  key and value backdrop for the background. I tried flowers I have never painted before – peonies.  OK, I know what you are thinking – what’s with all the changes? I was trying to get out of what I perceived to be a rutt in my approach to setups and works based on them. I was trying to see how successful or unsuccessful I could be by changing some of the variables.  I wanted something new to be excited about painting.

Section of Peonies and Tulips
Pastel on Wallis Paper
NFS

I found out. Some things worked OK. My drawing was sound, but I was so distracted by all the other variable changes, that I made a bonehead composition faux pas. (For non French speakers faux pas = idiot move.) I did something I have never done before. I placed three items across the page equidistant from each other. They couldn’t have been more equally spaced if I had measured them out. Now all I can see is the goof when I look at this piece. No other thing seems to be redeeming enough to make up for this; not the brightness of the colors, nor the immediacy of the strokes. It’s like the escaped nervous giggle at a funeral. Nobody ever forgets it, especially the originator.

So what to do? I wanted to rip it up and end its life. I didn’t. I began to think about its value as a lesson to myself. Whenever I see this piece I will be reminded to keep my eyes on the prize. To stay true to the initial concept. (You see I had moved the teacup, and that was after hours of doing a lovely setup.)

The second lesson was to limit the change of variables in a new piece. If you change a few things at a time, there would seem to be a bigger chance of success with the painting.

The pity is that some parts of this piece are acceptable. Shoot.

I want an undo button on my easel.

What Color Is Water?

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If you don’t like the weather just hang around a bit. That pretty much sums up the climate of New Mexico. I love this place. Don’t get me wrong, the weather variety does present real challenges. I thought California was changeable. Ha!

Three days ago a new painting buddy and I left the Mimbres Valley and headed to Lake Roberts. I expected snow and maybe ice on the lake. Un-huh. It was warm, it was sunny, it was gorgeous. So we set up on either side of the boat ramp and started to paint, exclaiming on our good luck weather-wise, and enjoying the pine tree rimmed lake.

Part way through and after the wind blast.

As we got into it, I walked away for a second to take a little longer distance view of what I was working on, when suddenly a rogue gust of wind blew through our area around the boat ramp.  Of course everything fell over. Face down. When did a pb&j sandwich ever fall down bread side down? I don’t mind a little texture in the lower parts, but dirt colored skies are not too appealing, and I had left LA far behind in California. Luckily the painting was drying in record time and I could brush a lot of errant bits off the surface without moving the paint around.

I had set up next to two local fishermen, one of them being well into his eighties. It was entertaining to hear the exchange between the father and son. Amusement is where you find it, I guess.

Because the skies were changing so rapidly the color of the water kept changing. When we got there the lake was pea soup green, later it got to a turquoise color with gold reflections from the surrounding bull rushes, and just before we left it had turned a cool blue. The temps were headed downward despite the blooming pussy willows.

Lake Roberts with a undecided lake color
Oil 11x14
Available

So what color did I paint the water? Pea soup green made it look muddy, and turquoise just jumped off the canvas and socked you in the eye.  So I floated a transparent Indian yellow over the turquoise to find a color that was not so out of place.  There is not much green around the lake except for the evergreen trees. Even the native bushes are still washed out and either a goldish color or a grayish one. My water is an amalgamation of all the colors I saw. They were all there. You just had to look. I bet that water turned orange with the sunset.

Painting En Plein Neige

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Painting En Plein Neige

For you not so Frenchy folks, that is painting in snow!!

Two days ago a painting buddy and I went to Lake Roberts in Southwestern New Mexico to paint. It was sunny, it was warm, and it was beautiful. We had a blast and I am still putting finishing touches on the lake that kept changing color with the sunlight. I am thinking seriously about naming it Chameleon Lake. That was two days ago.

This morning as I popped out of bed (7a.m.) and threw back the curtains I spied the most beautiful sun light kisses on our neighbor’s territorial style adobe house, with a dark purple backdrop of an approaching storm. Stunning! 

The storm was in the mountains. Surely I had time to throw clothes on and get out there and paint. Everything was in the car, so all I had to do was back it out of the garage and open the hatch door.  Oh I have to learn to time these things better! I had just started when the light left. I looked up and I was becoming enveloped by a cloud, I thought. No it was merely snow. Well I had used the car as a windbreak, so I was a bit sheltered. Surely I had time to finish a little study.  Nope.

Painting on Our Property in a Darned Snowstorm!

I threw in the towel about the time I had to move the piles of snow about the palette in order to get to the paint. My white was more the consistency of stiffening mortar. Oil and snow do not mix. I could have dealt with the cold and the wind. But those gorgeous big, fluffy, flying flakes were accumulating! It was beautiful. We do need the moisture. But it was also aggravating. My paintbox and canvas is drying on the kitchen table. I hesitate to try to sop up the water with a paper towel, as I will sop up my paint as well.

I think I need to get up earlier.

Get Out There And Paint!

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That is what I did today. Why? I dunno. Seemed like the prudent thing to do, that is, for about fifteen minutes. The thermometer said 40+ degrees at home. But down in the bottom of the canyon it was in the lower thirties, with a stiff breeze blowing. So much for playing it smart. I even waited later in the morning, until the light was not throwing long shadows, so it would be warmer. What the wind chill factor was, I have no idea. I only know that by the time I finished, I could no longer feel my finger tips. So grabbing the brush, even with my fingerless gloves, was proving to be quite a challenge.

I finally threw in the towel and cleaned up my spot, making sure to police the area for errant paper towels and runaway brushes.

I painted Karen Carr’s place again, but this time from another vantage point, looking slightly down on it. I included more of the buildings and no truck this time. The buildings were moved to be able to include the distant mountain range, which was decidedly blue today. It’s nice to play god and move things about; especially when the composition wouldn’t otherwise work. It is still recognizable, but slightly altered for compositional considerations. 

When you paint in the studio, you have complete setup control You abdicate that when you paint plein air. So I figure if I can't change the temp, the sun or the wind, I sure as heck can move a building!

Wind Canyon Etude 7
Oil on Board 11x14
Available

The little bit of snow we have had has melted almost completely away. So my hope of getting some snow painting in has proved elusive.  The land still wears its golden brown dress and has not got any evidence of new greening about to pop up yet. So my palette was mostly in the muted gold and neutral range. This late winter painting gives me practice with mixing grays and neutrals, as in when painting the naked deciduous trees. With the lack of rain and snow in the area, I may have to restock the yellows and golds in my palette.

We still have a couple of months before the warmth comes back. Maybe we will get lucky and get some rain and snow. In the meanwhile, I guess I’ll learn to paint with paint that stiffens with the cold and wear another layer, like maybe a wind breaker. That is the price you pay for getting out there and painting.