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.

It’s just practice…the Farmer’s Market paintings

A watercolor painting created as a study in composition, color, and activity.

I practice often.

Saturday Market, Kapiolani #3

By this, I mean that to improve, I need to work on my skills. It doesn’t matter what the thing is…many aspects of being an artist require that skills get “under your skin”…become subconscious and natural. 

Have you ever thought of art as a discipline?  It’s wise to give it a try.

Following Good Examples

From a young age I made progress when making an effort to emulate something that had moved me. In my ongoing search (and I sincerely hope you’ll have your own), I’d find heroes… and then ask myself what do they have that I don’t?

In time I saw that I want my drawing to be fluent…with color both representative and inspired. And I need a design that makes the most of everything that the subject offers. These are examples of the sort of things we all need to identify about our own taste. And each of us will need to discover what moves us inwardly enough to take the risk of hard pursuit.

Arthur Melville (1855-1904) Scottish artist

My hungry eye has led me to discover artist’s I never would have dreamed existed. This beautiful watercolor by Arthur Melville contains much of what I respond to.  It’s an example of casual appearance which disguises his powerful ability to compose, draw, and then execute something that, we might guess, was only a brief impression on the artists’ mind. I’m grateful to have discovered his work, because he possesses the vitality and skill that I desire to obtain. From this example, and the work of many others, I get insights…. and then look for ways to practice what I’ve learned.

 I look at using exemplars, like Arthur Melville, as hints to what I could do using my own living environment. In his painting above, I see a well drawn solitary figure, surrounded with plenty of suggested activity. There are subtle echoes of shape and color, and an excellent dark/light pattern.

Where can I find something that would have those elements now, in our world?

Putting Inspiration to Work

During the period of the COVID restrictions, I decided to visit our local green market on Saturdays. This was one of the few places where people could gather communally (albeit very supervised) and go about the business of life. I would take my traveling watercolor kit over with 1/8th sheets (7.5″x 10″) watercolor paper and then search to find a shady spot to paint from. This meant being wedged into areas between parked commercial vehicles, behind the scenes. Privacy was never guaranteed, but I’m used to onlookers and questions.  From these cramped little shade-puddles I tried to compose and paint.

It’s Just Practice

I viewed these works as practice opportunities.  Arranging elements, capturing fleeting effects, and convincingly drawn figures who were often there for moments at a time. It’s juggling and there’s never a dull moment.

Even as I write this now, I’m reminded of John Sargent’s quip that watercolor is “making the most of an emergency”.

Each painting is 7.5″ x 10″, and usually represents a single visit of a couple hours duration. I hope this energizes you to have a look at your personal world and see what’s possible.


                            



A Chance Encounter

A brief encounter on a bus sparked a portrait of a stranger, drawn from memory

I was recently on a visit to Portland, Oregon, which is my hometown. I’d planned to hit the local art museum, where I’d also attended art school decades earlier. As things worked out, taking the bus for my Sunday morning visit was easiest, and an idea that I looked forward to.

Being an experienced public transit guy, I’ve benefitted from the variety of experiences I’ve had on subways, trains and buses.  This includes uncounted hours of sketching in public transit…which ties in with my Rembrandt interest. So many of his drawings emanated from his solo experiences walking and simply observing the everyday life which surrounded him.

So, the story is that I climbed aboard a city bound bus, sparsely occupied. I had a small handful of fellow passengers and a driver who was all business, but approachable.  I checked with him about my destination, he confirmed I was in the right place. Finding a seat facing the front of the bus, I was  immediately next to the seating reserved for the elderly and handicapped that face the aisle. Because I’m feeling a bit outgoing this morning, I eventually start a chat with a fellow about my age across the aisle. It’s just pleasant small talk, but l feel at home back in Portland again.

As our trip to the city center continues, we stop and I sense a bit of change in the mood as a hard-luck sort of fellow comes aboard. Wrapped in what looks like a discarded cargo blanket, and with only the bare essentials of decrepit shoes and shorts otherwise, the small, haggard fellow takes the seat directly in from of me.  

Because it’s Portland, it’s become a normal sight, and this man seems utterly beyond concern with anyone’s reaction.  All the same I could feel our fellow passengers tighten up a bit.

Since I’d already broken the ice with my other neighbor, and knowing that I only have another fifteen minutes ride ahead, I decide to ask the man in the blanket how things are going today.  Glancing my way, he remarks that he’d been better, but I think he appreciated being addressed politely. Positioned as we were, I studied the fellow a bit, who was sitting in perfect profile.  I noticed a recent patient wristband which probably accompanied the sutures on his forehead.  

Somehow, momentary mutual trust was established, and so I mentioned that I was a visitor to Portland, but also a native. He was a native as well, and I ventured to ask if he’d attended high school in Portland.  Grant High School, he responded. I then mentioned that I’d gone to Jackson High, and asked which years he’d attended Grant. He was class of ’75, I was class of ’74. He then  mentioned having wrestled against Jackson. I asked how he’d done, and he said he’d won…and had gone on to place well in the state championships. He smiled a bit and seemed happy at the momentary recollection. But just as quickly he returned to his present reality.

Coming near the end of the my ride, I managed to locate the only cash I had, a single dollar bill. I folded it my hand, but as it turned out he signaled to get off the bus first. Before he rose to leave, I managed to explain that as a graduate of Jackson High School, I probably had known someone he’d wrestled against.  Therefore, in consideration of the ass-whooping he’d delivered, some royalty payments were likely overdue. I apologized for the meager offering, but he accepted it. Within a moment of having left the bus, I caught a glimpse of him putting the money to immediate use with a drug dealer who’d set up on the sidewalk.

I now suppose this fellow, if he didn’t get massive help, was a dead man walking.  Perhaps I brought a little joy into his bus ride, or contributed to his decline. But by the time I’d gotten to my destination a few minutes later, I’d decided I could at least attempt a drawing, a souvenir of a chance encounter, since I’d been studying him closely.

My first shot at capturing my recollection

I found a table and a cup of coffee on a sidewalk near the art museum, and set to work.  General to specific, overhead lighting. I drew a skull in pencil, and added features as I worked. He reminded me of some of my Scandinavian relatives, naturally small and slender, with similar construction in the features.  I put that familiarity to use.

The final image evolved over time. I’d pull out the drawing days later and shift something, or darken or lighten.

One interesting aside was that while I was working at the table above, a really charged-up (drugs) fellow came by and wanted to see what I was drawing. I showed him and he complimented the drawing.  And as he did, I looked at his eyes, which had been giving me problems in my drawing. And I saw the same look in his eyes that my drawing lacked. It’s something I recognized from the photos of holocaust survivors or POW’s I’d seen.  A stare, but a hollow one, if that makes any sense.  

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The Tune-up

Each developing artist has the opportunity of determining the type of artist they wish to become.

For some of us, this direction may be the response to obvious inborn tendencies. In this case the direction seems rather clear, and it becomes a matter of obtaining skills and experience, which marks the beginning of the journey. For others, the choice can take a different course; one of feeling your way along, stopping completely at times… and trying different doors, developing a gradual view of where to aim. And combinations of the two are often possible. 

In either instance, for any prospective artist, the skills necessary to achieve a level of proficiency require time and sufficient interest on the part of the person to develop. 

The necessary ingredient for any art enthusiast’s growth is that they must be a self-starter.  And in service to this truth, it’s the development and maintenance of skills that I’m writing about today. 

On occasion, perhaps a few times a year…I find myself needing to retreat from the usual routine and just concentrate on my general basic skills. And one of the most effective ways that I know is to do either a drawing or a painting from a plaster cast.

The Cast

Plaster casts have been around for centuries, and acknowledged as an excellent tool for developing visual perception in an artist. This is for good reason…

Among these qualities:

Casts are stationary models.

The cast is white, which means it’s halftones and shadows are clear shades of grey, and so within the reach of charcoal (if drawing) or paint.

Casts are often styled after fragments or entire sculptures from classical sources, and so possess intrinsic refinements.

On my little journey with the cast below, I set out to do a brief (a matter of about 6 hours) but fairly thorough oil study under daylight conditions. This is enough to serve as a checkup on my “eye” for shapes, distances, values.

As seen in the photo, I set the cast up so that it was directly next to the primed panel I was to paint on. I then chose a viewing position (about seven feet back from the arrangement), where I was to spend about half my time looking and deciding from. This is important; you must be viewing from exactly the same point, at a distance, and making your decisions there, approaching the actual painting only to paint what you’ve decided to from the viewing position.

After the strokes are placed, I step back and assess. This procedure is continued for the duration of the exercise (the strategy described is referred to as the sight-size method).

As each additional bit of the painting moves forward, it’s important to compare carefully from the viewing position. Height, width, shape, and value are all improving gradually and in a unified manner, with no single aspect getting further along than another. 

This procedure goes from the largest to the smallest, the outside (biggest shape) to the inside (smaller shapes), and from the general to the specific. This is itself a remarkably helpful habit to acquire for a representational artist. 

Over a few hours the painting begins to resemble the cast more and more. Because I prefer daylight for illumination, the shadows move very slightly but constantly, so I must eventually select a time of day to limit the work, which I can return to a following day at the same time. 

 

The artwork and cast are set up closely to help with easy comparison.

The Reason

The entire point of all this is to tune-up my ability to see shapes (the cast, the shapes of shadows upon the cast, etc) accurately. This includes being able to read the values (degrees of lightness and darkness) of the shadows and the half-tones truthfully.

The wonderful thing about the procedure is it will teach us to work from general to specific.  This is a very good habit to formulate and will serve you well in everything you do. The image above shows the first hour or so of work… essentials are laid- in very generally, yet still with relative precision at each touch of the brush. 

As I worked, I gradually adjusted things more closely to the actual cast, but moving around the object to where it was farthest from “truth” (the actual appearance of the cast) rather than “finishing” bit by bit. It’s important to keep the entire painting moving forward in the general-to-specific mode, much like slowly adjusting the focus of a lens.

As I proceeded, remembering to step back to my observation point regularly, I found that I tended to make my shapes a little too wide, and so became mindful of that. As the light on the cast gradually changed, the shadows correspondingly moved and changed value, so I also had to stay on top of that as well.

Gradually the cast came together over two mornings of a couple hours work each. I chose not to push it any further though there were things that could have be better…. with me, there’s a tipping point where the painting can turn to an over-finicky attitude that interferes with the general purpose of the exercise.

The Benefit

Confidence…I can look at something in nature (meaning anything visible to my eye) and I’m able to trust my eye to assess the height, breadth, value and shape accurately. I could liken this quality to clear diction in a speaker, being “in tune” to a musician, the ability to assess actual flavor to a winemaker. 

Fluency…this increases efficiency; I can grasp the actual shape of a mountain or a portrait sitter’s head faster and with less struggle than ever before. I can catch distortions much earlier, rather than when the work is too far along. This creates a real freedom to explore color and other expressive qualities because I trust the general foundation of what I’m painting is in place.

 

The cast-study at completion time. 9″x 9″ oil on oil-primed masonite panel.

So, in conclusion, I highly recommend this exercise as a skill building instrument. It’s for anyone painting anything where representation matters, not excluding landscape, seascape, genre, figure, or any other  form of painting. I’ve benefitted countless times from the imbedding of the good habits that come with this sort of work…and frankly, I enjoy the work very much. 

 

Thoughts on Rembrandt’s Drawing “Christ Walking on the Water”

As we wade into this topic, you should know that I love Rembrandt’s drawings and look at them often…for both pleasure and for learning purposes. You should also know that I’m not a Rembrandt scholar.  I’m simply an artist eager to look at Rembrandt drawings to learn about composition…and whatever else great painters such as Rembrandt might have used to put their pictures together.

The Miracle on the Water

The drawing we’re looking at here is one of many Rembrandt drew around New Testament Biblical accounts.  In this case, the telling of Christ’s miracle of walking on the water, and specifically the Gospel of  Matthew account, which is the only one to mention Peter’s attempt to walk on the water himself. For those interested or unfamiliar, you can read the  biblical accounts here.

Rembrandt’s purpose in making the drawing was likely to work out how he might present the story visually in a painting.  Whether he intended this drawing to be viewed by the public or drew it as a private expedition, I can’t say…the scholars might know. But either way, it’s likely a compositional drawing…concerned with deciding on the viewer’s (that’s us) point of view, choosing the characters involved, and pinning down the precise point of action to be depicted.

 

Rembrandt’s “Christ Walking on the Water”  1638,  from the British Museum

It’s such a curious drawing… delicate and refined in some portions and  heavier in line and rougher in effect in others. Compare the refinement of the figures of Christ and Peter to the boxier character climbing out of the boat. You can easily imagine that his legs, simply drawn, are an afterthought and his figure originally ended at the railing of the boat as his smaller companions does.  That difference contributes to my idea that it was a working sketch, with choices and changes evolving along the way.

 An organized sketch 

Though sketch like, the  drawing is a clearly organized arrangement. You can always look to Rembrandt for wonderful lessons in organization and leading the eye. There’s a sweep from Christ’s figure on the left to the boat’s hull and back, which provides a sort of rocking feeling that is appropriate to the conditions of the sea. But I also find that after we step inside the drawing, there’s a particular path our attention wants to follow. As with many Rembrandt drawings, this is arranged deliberately.

Here’s a  diagram of the triangular relationship that’s at the heart of the drawing. Thoughtfully considered, one will notice a sequential arrangement of not only the actions but the intentions of the characters involved.

Triangular relationship of key actions 

As the Gospel story indicates, only Peter asked the he might leave the boat. So what is interesting is how the characters are illustrating, and I’d say animating,  an entire sequence of action.

A sequential animation?

Due to placement, Christ’s figure attracts our attention from the start, and we easily follow His arm to poor, foundering Peter, angled so powerfully in Jesus’ direction.  From there, our attention most easily moves up and to the third corner of the triangle with the boldly drawn (and unidentifiable) character just leaving the boat. Look at that figure’s elbow forming the right corner of our triangle. Does he even seem aware of what’s going on beneath him?  And to the left of him, we see the young-looking fellow tucked away behind.  He’s only observing…but an important element, bridging the space from the boat over to the head of Christ reaching down to rescue Peter, their hands almost, but just not quite, touching (a wonderful choice).  And the animation repeats itself…a cycle of questioning, deciding, acting, failing, and finally rescuing. A profound statement of the faith process.

A subtle, interesting light source

Another surprising  feature of this drawing started with my questioning the indications of light and shade in the drawing. Often Rembrandt’s more complete drawings utilized tones of wash to indicate light and shade, but not in this case. This is a line drawing only; though somewhat rough in the application, there are (what artist’s call) cast shadows on the hull of the boat, and correspondingly on the ocean.  A cast shadow occurs when an object, in this instance the boat, is completely blocking the light source…(the darker the shadow, the brighter the light) and the figure of Christ and of Peter are very carefully shaded with even hatching lines, exactly as if backlit. I wondered about the intention of this, but the reason gradually became clear. The oval behind Christ is a  representation of the moon, and we then remember (from the biblical account) that this drawing represents a nighttime event.

 

I invite you to try and view the drawing in that sense…do you agree that the drawing becomes a much richer experience?  Hopefully you can imagine and admire the thinking and visualization necessary to put this together, and yet we should not be surprised.  Rembrandt’s drawings are like that.

I’d love to hear your comments and thoughts!

(And, as sometimes is the case, there’s been recent suspicion that the drawing is not by Rembrandt! You can find British Museum information concerning that here).

If you’d like to read my post of another Rembrandt analysis, it’s found here.

 

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John Carlson’s Theory of Angles and Consequent Values-A Model

“Every good picture is fundamentally an arrangement of three or four large masses-“

So begins Chapter 1 in my aged copy of “Elementary Principles of Landscape Painting”, by John F. Carlson (now revised and available as Carlson’s Guide to Landscape Painting).

Like many others, I really admire John Carlson’s landscape paintings. I first encountered them face-to-face at the Grand Central Art Gallery in NYC.  And this was about the time I’d heard about his book, “Carlson’s Guide to Landscape Painting”.  But I have to say that when you see his work on a wall… it’s deep and it’s impressive. You know it’s the work of a painter who valued his craft and was genuinely responding to nature in a powerful way.  And that leads to paying much closer attention to what he had to say back in 1928, when his book was first published.  I can only hope that everyone who has read it might also, someday, have the chance to see his work personally.

John F. Carlson “Snow Lyric”, undated, oil on canvas 16.25 x 20.25″        Image courtesy of The Athenaeum

Carlson’s Theory of Angles and Consequent Values

One of the great practical lessons from the book is Carlson’s summation of how light affects the elements of the landscape.

He refers to it as the “Theory of Angles and Consequent Values”.  Carlson recognized that any landscape typically possesses four groups of values (degrees of light and dark) affecting three major planes… the horizontal ground plane, the angle plane represented by mountain slopes, rooftops, etc., and finally an upright plane, perpendicular to the ground plane, which can include anything from trees and walls to a standing human.

In order to interpret the landscape in a painting successfully,  an artist needs to simplify and organize nature.  Values are that which make form visible. Translating nature into value patterns,(i.e. grouping of lights and darks into shapes), are one of the ways of doing so.  Applying Carlson’s theory makes that much easier.

“The first two things to study are form and values. For me, these are the bases of what is serious art.” -Camille Corot

When daylight is overhead, as it would be at noon for example, the sky is the source of light and  therefore occupies the highest values on the gray scale. The ground plane receives the largest amount of light, and accordingly is the next lightest value plane. The slanted/angular planes receive  less exposure to direct light than the ground plane and so rest within a middle-value range. This  leaves everything in the upright plane to become the darkest value element.

While this is a wonderful help in creating order, it’s also a little abstract when read on the printed page alone.

A Model 

Because of this, I decided it would be easier to understand if I had a physical model, and over time I’ve built several. Most recently a student and I assembled one out of white foam core, which makes Carlson’s theory much more tangible.  I thought it would be fun to share with others who may want to repeat the exercise themselves.

The Carlson model assembled and drying

We added a small structure at an angle for additional interest, which isn’t from Carlson’s original description.

When finished and assembled ( using a steel ruler, an X-acto knife, acid-free Foamcore, and Lineco PVA glue), we put the model outdoors in daylight with the sun directly overhead.   The results are shown below.

 

The model outdoors in noonday light. The cast shadow is the darkest value, the ground plane the lightest.

 

Studio Use of Plein Air Sketches

On many occasions,  I’ll find a subject that requires an immediate response, so I take the plunge.  But either weather, the poor quality of the light, or other circumstances make an in-depth plein air study hard to manage.

So, oftentimes I’m disappointed. The results of these plein air sketches are not as effective as they would be if they were more fully developed.  And almost always the main weakness is in the composition. Either nature didn’t provide (or I didn’t recognize) a suitable arrangement of elements to make viewing the painting a fully satisfying experience.

Waimanalo plein air

This sketch (above) is a 7 x 11″ watercolor that is our case-in-point.  It was sufficient in a no-frills way to capture the general effects. But the sunlight was on again/off again, I had interruptions from rain, and the composition now seems crowded into the rectangular format.

A Reminder and a Reference

The sketch’s  real value to me is only this: when reviewed  later, after I’ve moved on to other work, I’m reminded of visual/sensual experiences ( I mean sounds, smells, circumstances) that are now part of my memory.  It conjures recollections much more like a movie than a snapshot. The sketch has become a reminder and a reference.

What artists know is that sketching something plants the entire experience of being somewhere much more firmly in the mind than passive observation or photography. The information from sketching is sifted.  More personal as well as visual, gathered  through the lens of our own personal temperament. And this added dimension ultimately enriches the final painting.

From this stage, I’m then able to deal with the composition.

As mentioned, the first sketch doesn’t suggest the grandness of the place.  It’s hemmed in by the rectangle and lacks clear areas of interest. So I  put together this second study (below) in my studio, making better use of the elements that nature provided  as well as altering the composition to suit my desire for a better eyepatch and more interest.

Waimanalo studies 2
Waimanalo watercolor study, 6 x 14″

This small study is still “the place”, but is now better organized to lead the eye in an interesting way. The addition of figures and refining and simplifying the shapes now give me something with more pictorial interest.

A Point of Departure

From here the watercolor can serve as a basis for many possibilities… an oil painting, a larger watercolor, or a pastel.  In this instance I thought a larger painting in pastel would be a good response, to be worked up in my studio.  So I used both the first sketch and study to refer to as I worked.  I think I developed a better painting than I might have had otherwise…while making it much more “my own” in the process.

watercolor to pastel

Here’s the easel setup with the watercolor study positioned so I can see it directly with the pastel painting.  After several sessions I was able to complete the pastel.

And below is the final painting, now framed and in a private collection.

Makapu'u Head from Waimanalo, 10" x 24" Pastel
Makapu’u Head from Waimanalo, 10″ x 24″ Pastel. Private collection

One Final Thought

We obviously live in a time of technology, and the option of photography as a useful reference tool has been available and used by many painters for a long time. And undeniably, many beautiful works have resulted from this.

For my own efforts I have decided to invest in drawing and painting without the advantages/disadvantages of photography as much as possible. And I recommend that my students, while they are my students, try and do the same.

Art-making and life-living in our modern world have increasingly become solely results oriented. Labor saving devices are a wonderful blessing for the many people occupied in endlessly routine and stifling or tedious work. We’re thankful for labor saving devices whenever the labor is unpleasant, dangerous, or unprofitable. 

But artworks are different.  We are richer for the experience of interfacing with our subject over time, watching the many variations and possibilities, getting to know the subject in many moods.

On that subject, we’re well served by painter Joseph Paquet’s recently published forward to the Plein Air Painters’ of America exhibition catalog.  He eloquently states the whole idea better than I’m able to.

It’s well worth the click!