Right Under My Nose

We live in a wonderful urban neighborhood in Honolulu called Kaimuki.  Seated on the backside of Diamond Head, it’s an enjoyable mixture of both modern and century-old homes, a funky/trendy business area, and a populace that includes most all of our island’s varied ethnic heritages.

It’s also great for walking…rolling hills, old concrete sidewalks (with the occasional child’s handprint), and fresh trade winds that provide delightful comfort during an evening stroll.  One notable feature is a high, rocky point topped by a small park. Called “Christmas Tree Park” by locals, it’s just a few blocks from home, and during early evening it’s quite popular. There’s a group of dog-lovers who habitually gather, perhaps some first-daters trying things out, and a variety of others who enjoy the westward view over Honolulu at sunset.

While I’m not a regular, I do occasionally drift up that way after supper. And it was on such an evening that I finally decided to get started on the early-evening painting I’d been contemplating.

The Influence

For years prior,  I’d been admiring a painting by the 19th century  Spanish painter Ramon Casas.  His was also a “townscape”, of Montmartre, painted as it appeared back in the Impressionist days.  I’ve always been excited by Casas’s picture; an interesting puzzle-pattern of darks and lights, rooftops, roads, and trees. It was definitely an inspiration for where I hoped my own picture could go. 

As for my effort, I envisioned a days-end feeling: the fading daylight, with rose colored cloudbanks overhanging the rooftops and random jumble of our neighborhood. And all to be painted in thoughtful, descriptive brushstrokes.

The initial setup and progress in the lay-in.

A Strategy

I decided it would be best to arrive at the spot around 5:45 each evening.  This would allow a window of workable light of perhaps 45 minutes.  I supposed I’d need perhaps 8 or more sessions, but it was hard to tell.

Practicalities

I keep “prepared” wooden painting panels in my studio, and decided 9 x 12″ was the right size. I also chose to use a tripod mounted pochade box. This would keep things compact… important because my own shadow was needed to block the sunlight behind me from falling on the painting, which would distort the light/shadow effect. Gusts of strong wind made using an umbrella to shield the painting from the setting sun too risky.

The Start

The first round of work involved getting the “main pieces” in the right spots on my panel.
I never rush this step because the personality of the whole painting begins in how the painting’s space is”divided”.  
I thought of the “main pieces” as the areas of land, sea, clouds and sky. . . 4 large, interlocking puzzle pieces. Which of those areas were to “dominate” is what determined the cropping. 
 
The large tower’s placement in the lower left quadrant was important. It’s a strong “point of attraction”…but needed to be placed with care.  The distant peninsula needed that slight “opening” on its far right edge. It connects sky and ocean as a single shape.
 
After the first sessions work. The paint was scraped down with a palette knife to “lose” hard edges and unify the work overall.

Next Steps

Weather permitting, I continued to return each evening for more work on the painting. Progress was gradual, but steady, always keeping the original intentions I described in mind.

In time I found that I was able to anticipate what the light and color were likely to do, which was a big help. This is just a sidebar here, but becoming familiar with the “personality” of a given location is a really wonderful secondary aspect of the “plein-air “painting process.  One’s painting locations can also, in time, become places of deep reflection and attachment.  

The painting on my studio easel, a few more sessions in, undergoing some morning-after adjustments. 

As the work progressed further, I also committed to trying to maintain some ideals…

  • To attempt to paint the “ensemble effect” …the overall appearance of the entire scene as it might appear in one glance.
  • Seeing everything as “simply a piece of paint”  of a particular shape, value, and color.
  • To pursue “suggestion” over “explanation”.  

 

Completion Of The Work

The completed painting

 Further sessions were simply about adjusting and refining, always with an eye towards the look of the entire painting, not fussing over specific and irrelevant details.

There was a nice general interest from the public. Most were unfamiliar with the kind of work I was doing.  It was pleasant to offer some explanations to the curious. That was a nice sidebar to the whole project.  

Because the painting is in traditional oils, the actual drying time is a minimum of six months. At that date, the owner of the painting will return it briefly for a final varnish. This will the crowning moment. . .the painting will then be restored to its original richness of color and permanently protected.

My Wandering Watercolor Kit

The desire to create a very portable, yet complete watercolor kit has been a real side-passion.  Happily, I’ve finally arrived at something that solves both the weight/bulkiness issue,  but not by limiting key materials that I feel are necessary to solve most of my watercolor challenges.

I like it so much that Id like to share it with you!

The mission

I love the little watercolor sketches, done as studies generally, that come out of the European tradition. My favorite quality is what I’ll describe as a grasp of the whole in a beautiful shorthand. There’s enough to them to transmit the idea, vision, a mood, but it’s done in exquisitely brief terms. Artists such as Streeton, Zbukvic, Fortuny (at times), Seago, and Fowkes (sorry, it sounds like a law firm, but look them up) are great examples of painters who have impressive small works done in that beautifully simple fashion.

I’ve wanted my own sketches to have that, and so in the last 2 years I’ve taken some time to wander about, sketching in watercolor with the particular goal of creating simple, small (but composed) looks at my everyday surroundings. Sometimes, these are springboards to later and deeper works, or serve towards trying out a neighborhood location and seeing how things go.  But certainly, a big part of that mission  included choosing the physical tools that will serve me without overloading.  Some boundaries would be needed.

The parameters

These are the qualifiers I settled on…

The right pigment colors, in a suitable box, with a small but  sufficient number of good quality brushes to accomplish my objectives. A wash, a flat, a pointed round or two, and a rigger should be enough, plus a safe storage that allowed for evaporation of any small amount of moisture left on the brushes.

A drawing board and paper storage for several 1/8 sheet (7.5 x 10″) sheets of watercolor paper.

An easel that is small enough and versatile enough to set up in unusual situations. On a bench, stair step, cafe chair, etc.

Small water container

Small drawing kit

and everything fitting into a small backpack.

 

The solution

Here’s what I’ve finally chosen and have been using…

1. A small wooden easel, from an old design discovered by a student of mine in a book written by John Pike. The original was cardboard and meant to be makeshift.

2. My drawing essentials…two sharpened pencils (4B or 6B, two, so there’s an immediate backup) pencil extender, small boxcutter for sharpening (not pictured).   2 erasers…a soft, kneaded and a firm plastic eraser, small sponge, a piece of white candle wax, opaque white pigment tube. The bag is zippered and plasticized mesh, so dirt/sand/grit doesn’t collect, a great feature.

3. Watercolor paper, torn to size.  I use 1/8th sheet (7.5″ x 11″)  Saunders or Arches 140# cold press paper. A sturdy wooden drawing board, and a piece of Coroplast cut to the size of the drawing board.  Two binder clips to hold the package together, with the paper sandwiched between.

4. Watercolor box with half-pan pigments.  A mix of some Schmincke, some Holbein, and Winsor & Newton. Necessary colors for me include Ultramarine Blue, Cobalt Blue, Cerulean Blue, Viridian, Hookers Green, Cadmium Lemon, Cadmium Yellow, Naples Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Raw Sienna,  Cadmium Scarlet, Cadmium Orange, Light Red, Indian Red, Burnt Sienna, Permanent Alizarin Crimson (I’m considering a replacement currently), Permanent Rose, Raw Umber, and Ivory Black. Permanent white (tubed)

5) Small cans, one for clean and another for not-so-clean wash water. A plastic bottle for water.

6) Small sketchbook, spiral bound. Spiral is important because I want to be able to open the cover fully, and I have a clip to hold the paper in place in windy conditions. I always do a thumbnail drawing for every piece before beginning the painting… I think it’s a great means for selecting what you’re actually after before getting lost in painting decisions.

A roll of white artist’s tape.

7) Brushes:  a small squirrel mop, a well-used old #7 sable round, a sable flat, a small sable round (for a crisp touch when needed), and a rigger for very fine lines. The tooth brush is mainly for cleaning the palette after the session.

8) Square Corners….this is an adjustable-window viewfinder, I find it very helpful during the sketchbook and composing stage. Referring back to the artists I mentioned admiring, that quality of fresh simplicity is from choices they make to eliminate the clutter and get to the bones of the composition and effect. Doing this visualization in advance, with square corners and my small sketch, helps me tremendously.  Made of wood is ideal (for durability)… but cardboard works, too.

 

Setup


This little stand can be assembled in a moment, and holds the drawing board with paper at an angle that I prefer for washes and general work. It can sit on any level surface, and I’ve used it on staircases, cafe tables, folding stools, and chairs. Because it’s very compact when disassembled, I like having it along.

 

A table-top setup, for use when standing

 

Where can this take us?

Speaking personally, some of my happiest hours as an artist have been while I’m out in the world, working in the midst of actual life, surrounded by actual people. I’m convinced that the work I do in those precious hours has a positive effect on my studio work.

A grasp at the rapidly-changing essentials

Traveling With Wet Oil Paintings

When traveling, no other activity in painting brings me more excitement than taking my old pochade box outdoors in search of a new motif to tackle.

Being a Hawai’i resident, trips to the mainland are welcome opportunities.  I can paint in situations where the visual content is rich in different ways than at home. The architecture, color, climate, citizenry…all offer a fresh point-of-view.  I love carefully scouting out a spot where I can unobtrusively compose and paint a sketch.

But when working in oil, there’s also a serious practical matter involved. How can we get damp paintings home safely with minimal expense and fussing?

Here’s what I came up with.

Divide and Conquer

For this to work, the oil sketches need to be the same dimension. Fortunately, I only brought the size panels that fit my box, so all are 8 x 10″.

In this image, the paintings are numbered from earliest (1) to latest (3).  When it came time to pack, painting 1 was sufficiently set-up

My three fresh paintings, in order of dryness to the touch.

as far as being dry to the touch. It was the least vulnerable to damage. 2 was still soft, but was fairly set-up as far as dryness to the touch, being about 4 days along in drying. Painting 3 was the wet one, and so became the big concern among the paintings as I packed them.

Just a note…I don’t use driers (or any other means) to accelerate the normal drying time of oil paintings.  Exposure to air circulation and normal daylight conditions are ideal.   That discussion is for another time, but I wanted to mention it here.

Enter the Bamboo Chopstick

Being that I live (and eat) in Hawai’i, I’m used to disposable bamboo chopsticks as a part of routine life. When I needed to find a short, thin, readily available spacer to separate the paintings, I needed not look further. The ones we found are rectangular at the grip, ideal for use as spacers. Easy to cut if needed, they rest positioned on the painting’s edge, where the rabbet of the frame would overlap. That means any area of damp paint the chopstick might disturb would be easy to touch-up, and likely invisible once the paintings are framed.

The driest painting, upper left, with two bamboo chopsticks in place.

Using painting 1 as the base, I added a pair of chopsticks cut to the height of the painting, and placed them both along the edges on two sides. 

The second driest painting, top, resting over the first painting, separated. Two more sticks are in place, this time on the horizontal edges.

Next, I seated painting 2 on the platform thus created, and also facing paint-side up. There’s about 1/4″ between the paintings, which is great.

For painting 3,  wettest of the oil paintings, I faced it downwards. I was careful to seat it where the chopstick dividers would rest against the painting’s edges. Once positioned, I used some packing tape to bind the whole “sandwich” firmly together, as seen below.

 

The third and final painting, the wettest, is placed wet-side inwards. on top of the prior painting. The entire “sandwich” is then snugly and carefully taped into place with packing tape.

When this was done, it was only a matter of wrapping the combined paintings in some sturdy brown wrapping paper, and taping them closed.

Since I decided to carry them in my suitcase,  I took a moment to indicate the contents on the wrapping,  in the off-chance that my bags were opened for inspection.

Paintings wrapped and ready for my suitcase. On the off-chance that the bag is opened for inspection, I’ve marked the package descriptively.

I hope this is helpful to others. The whole process took about 20 minutes, and everything survived the flight perfectly.

Feel free to offer your comments or questions.

Portland Street Painting

Portland 12th and Stark streets

This month I had the opportunity to get to the mainland, primarily on a family visit to Portland, Oregon. While there I spent a gloriously cold morning with my beloved eight by ten inch pochade box painting a street scene from my old stomping grounds in Portland’s Southwest side.

It’s a special thing to be back in a place that holds so much that is terribly dear to me, but that has also changed tremendously.

While working out the painting, I was happy to meet a number of very nice and very encouraging passers-by. That was a plus, because I didn’t know what working on the streets would be like anymore. And, of course, the more time I spent my considering my surroundings, the more it became an indicator of how much both Portland and I have changed since my leaving in 1985.

Purposeful Painting

Somehow, when you’re painting  something you know and care for, the work just goes better. You don’t have to dig up a rationale for choices, or to dwell on how it might be received. You’re invested…it’s got a built-in purpose, a token of gratitude and affection.  I hope that reads in the final work.

Here it is…not signed yet.

12th ave PDX
“12th Avenue, Portland”      8x 10″ Oil on panel

Make An Artist’s Plumb Line

DSC_0111

For artists who draw with a plumb line regularly, here’s a nice addition to your box.

The tools of drawing are pretty simple, but over time have a way of becoming lifelong companions.  A well seasoned palette that fits the arm well, a mahlstick that’s been with you for years…these small things count for something in the pleasure and challenges of our work.

I began using a plumb line years ago.  At that time it was a simple arrangement of a small lead fishing weight and some black thread.  I still have my original from back when and it works fine,  but after seeing students come up with some awful makeshift contrivances (when I wasn’t looking!)  I decided to try and raise the bar for them.  This upgrade is simple to do and works well.

You’ll need a few things first.

Brass lampshade finials.  Check your hardware store for these.

Strong black thread.  Black reads best in multiple situations, the thread I have is of a similar strength to that of dental floss.  Upholsterer’s thread might be best.

Candle wax or paraffin. 

Electric drill and small bit (5/64th or smaller) and a vise or clamp.

PL 2

The brass finials are inexpensive and easily available, and also a perfect weight.

To begin you’ll need to drill a small hole after securing the finial in a vice. Enter with the drill bit from the threaded side, and drill a clean bore all the way through.  Brass is soft and pretty easy to drill.

PL 5

You should be shooting for holes like the ones below.

PL 6

Next, take about 20″ of your sturdy black thread and tie up a big knot of some fashion that is larger than the hole you’ve drilled. Thread the other end through the exterior hole and back through the finial, pulling it until the knot is snug against the brass.

PL 7

Next, pack or drip wax into the threaded end of the finial, adjusting the black thread so it is perfectly centered. There may be a better solution than wax, but it’s usually handy and works.  Let me know if you have an improvement to offer.

PL 9

 

Trim and tie off the end…I find 18″ of thread to be more than enough, and it’s better to be a bit long than too short. For storing, I just wind around the weight.

And now, you’re ready to go.

PL 10

 

Barclay Easel Restoration

Barclay Easel restroation

PB270003

About eight months ago, I had the opportunity to acquire this beautiful old Freidrichs easel. It’s in good shape for it’s age, which I guess to be pre-WWII, though I don’t know for sure.  While doing some digging I learned that this is known as the Barclay easel,  designed by illustrator McClelland Barclay, who was quite the innovator in numerous ways.   The manufacturer  at some point changed it’s name from Friedrichs to the familiar (to artists) Frederix company.  It’s solid red oak throughout, and the crank mechanism works perfectly well.

I’ve  always  hoped to find something like this wonderful easel and bring it back into service.  When I discovered it, covered with dust and tucked away in a basement, I was delighted. Thanks again, Brad!

After a good amount of deliberation, I decided to strip and refinish the easel myself.  This is the easel in the condition in which I received it, the only real damage is a bit of termite activity that’s not threatening anything.  I’ll post some shots of the refinishing as it gets farther along.

In doing the research, Learned that this was the preferred easel of Norman Rockwell, and found many shots of him working at his. This is a favorite.

Rockwell Barclay easel
Rockwell painting at his Barclay studio easel