Life of a Painting

I "see" and paint "en plein air"--from life.  From "seeing" to idea to sketch to paint!

Though sometimes, while out and about and armed with only a sketchbook and marker, it's important to be alert for impromptu moments that make for interesting paintings. Such is the case with "Five Minutes Early."

While walking to the market I noticed this woman, of much dignity, taking a seat, in the sun, on a public bench. In purple dress, bright orange shoes and with a yellow-orange purse she cut quite an eye-catching figure. From about thirty yards away I sat on a step and sketched quickly. The marker sketch below took only a few minutes. A couple of minutes later she was gone; her ride arrived.

And so right then and there I made a notation in my sketchbook for the painting's title: "5 minutes early".  Twenty mintues later I was at my easel on the deck of our cottage painting from the sketch, but mostly from a memory while it was fresh and vivid.

And that is pretty much the way it was with the more than two dozen works painted in the Bahamas during January, 2011.

"Five Minutes Early"                           acrylic on canvas 20 x 24

6 x 8 inch sketch

With "Rigging to Race" I was, yet again, wandering the settlement when stumbling upon members of the community sailing club rigging the sunfish for racing. I first made the sketches on the lower right and then quickly struck upon the design idea--it was right before me; I concocted nothing--in the upper left sketch. The boats were heading out so no time to paint them at the moment. I rushed back to my easel, set the sketch up to my right front and started painting. As luck would have it there was a sunfish rigging up on the beach just below where I was painting--my reference to fine tune shapes and colors. Oh happy day! And a nice painting.

"Rigging to Race"                     acrylic on canvas 24 x 20

6 x 8 inch sketches

A "Conversation" of sort...

...and so I begin with the words of Paul Strand...

"The artist's world is limitless. It can be found anywhere, far from where he lives or a few feet away. It is always on his doorstep."

Saturday

So, as viewers and admirers of the paintings sometimes remark, "Andy, I love the simplicity and strength of your compositions, the strong color just sings--it vibrates. Tell me, how many colors do you use?"

To that commonplace but peculiar query, I say...

"First, I do not like the academia term "composition." I prefer to speak in terms of "design" for it is generic to many disciplines and so much more encompassing of reality. Yes, design it is--first and foremost. Shape. Second, I do not use any colors. I use six or seven, sometimes eight, tubes of paint. Paint is what you buy in the store. Color is what happens on paper and canvas if you know what you are doing with the paints. With those few tubes of paint, I enjoy nearly limitless color possiblities. But make no mistake, not all who paint reap the benefits of color exploding with life. There are many who paint, and their outcome is paint; dead and lifeless. They do not know what they are doing. And primarily because their palette is polluted with many more colors than is necessary; many of which are not found in nature though the manufacturer's have given clever, hard-to-resist names like "Green Earth." The short of it is if competent with paint and mixing one can achieve far more vibrant "earth tones" than come pre-mixed in tubes--thereby turning paint into color. Masters of color know this. Amateurs do not. Perhaps a harsh assessment but it is true. Think in the context of, 'less is more' not "more is better'."

And then I am asked, "So, Andy, what medium(s) do you use?"

To that I say,

"Funny you should ask. I paint in oil, acrylic, watercolor, rarely pastel, with practically anything and now with iPad. The "medium" I use is the same for all; exactly the same. It's not secret but it is secret. It is a rare, special blend of talent, education, training, trial and error, failure, success, experience, skill, and brains. That is, it's my special concoction brewed over five decades. And though I teach it, I can never provide the exact formula. And even if I could I would not. Find a good teacher, work hard at "seeing" and painting, and with time your own "medium" will bubble up. There is no other way." As Michelangelo was credited for saying, "A man paints with his brains and not with his hands."

And the next question is inevitable, "Can you teach me?"

To which I say,

"Yes, I can teach you. I can teach you first to "see" the world in a way in which you have never considered...never been exposed to. It's not your fault for your current "blindness"--culpability rests with our "education" system and the demands of surviving daily life. But there is a completely different world out there you have been missing all along. Once I show you, you will never see the same again. I can teach you about paint. I can teach you how to turn paint into color. I can teach you the simplicity (and complexity) of design. And I can give you nearly five full decades worth of tips, hints, praises and criticisms while you learn to "see" and paint. But what I cannot teach you, necessarily, is how to move paint from palette to canvas. Mixing paint to realize color comes with experience doing it. And how you place paint on paper and canvas, or any support, is inconsequential. Use brushes, knives, fingers, or toes--it matters not. Whatever works best for you. Yes, I can teach you. But you must be willing to apply yourself and work--and work--and work. As learning to play a musical instrument takes time--dedicated time--with practice and study and more practice and more study so it is with learning to paint. There are no shortcuts. Still interested in learning to paint?" Join me in January for a week in the Bahamas!

More of this conversation as time permits...

"In the meantime, visit the "Books" link and add a copy of 'On "SEEING" & Painting--An Interdisciplinary Perspective'  to your library. The book, four decades in the making, is a primer and tome; for artists and non-artists alike. Though an easy read, it will take time to digest the material. And though I authored it,  I continue to read it to remind...to not lose my way. If you are serious about learning to paint it is a book to be read but not shelved; ever within arm's reach to reread, refresh, remind, and learn."

Wednesday

And so I'm back to assure the timid or hesitant to give painting a try who say, "But Andy, I was terrible at art in my youth...at school...to this day I cannot even draw a stick figure. Is it possible I could do this--learn to paint?

It's all-too-common that I hear such nonsense. In retort I offer...

"Perfect that you cannot draw a stick figure. It's a dumb, nonsensicle, and irrelevant perspective. Who cares. I don't. In fact, my preference is you cannot. Drawing stick figures has nothing to do with learning to paint. And frankly, I am of the opinion drawing, in and of itself, is not a prerequisite for painting; at any level. That is, I believe and teach that drawing is a consequence of painting and not a precursor. Not to besmirch the art of drawing and the time it requires to become skillful but to add some levity and calm fears. Believing one must first draw can be a troublesome precursor that lures the naive hobbyist into what I refer to as the "Coloring Book" approach to painting: Draw the subject and then fill in the lines, carefully. Why? Nothing could be more contrary to truly learning the craft of painting. Nothing. So not to worry about how terrible you were in your youth. Too bad you did not have a good teacher at the time to show you and prove to you otherwise. But it's not too late. It's never too late. Yes, of course, you can learn to paint. Thinking to the contrary is absurd. It is only paint. It is only canvas. They are only brushes. There is a sort of magic that happens when paint becomes color. The only secret to it is first learning how to "see" the world about you. Truly "see" the world. And then understand the simplest aspects of paint and mixing paint to capture color. That I can teach you--how to "see" and the heart of paint. Yet you must teach yourself as well--by practicing mixing and by conquering any internal fears of putting paint on a blank canvas. There is no other way but through the act of painting. Everyone has their own way, and must have their own way. You can no more copy the way I apply paint than I can copy your handwriting and make it appear indistinguishable from its originator's. It's just not possible. Apply the fundamentals of "seeing" and handling paint and you will genuinely surprise yourself at how simple the act of painting. The results take care of themselves. Sometimes marvelous results that leave you wondering how you did it. Sometimes not-so-marvelous results that leave you wondering, well, how you did it. And maybe even why. Either circumstance you are learning to paint. And not only without fear but with confidence knowing what you are doing. Yes, you can learn to paint! Of course.

Vincent van Gogh summed it up nicely, "If you hear a voice within you say, 'You cannot paint,' then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced."

Thursday

And then the inevitable comment comes, "But Andy, I don't know what to paint..."

What? Subject matter is all around you. Don't bother taking even a single step. Stop and look--"see"--and think about what is before you. Think about the possibilities. Think about possibilities in terms that have not been presented before--as to subject and a unique, interesting perspective of which no one else has considered. Why paint the same old thing everyone else is painting? And painting it, for all intents and purposes, the same way everyone else is painting it, or whatever it is? Doing so does not make sense to me. Shake things up. Make a statement. Paint something and in such a way that stops people cold and grabs their attention and makes them smile, and points out to them all they've been missing and must pay closer attention to what is going on around them. Ergo my paintings of wires, coconuts, electrical boxes, sneakers, thumbtacks and paperclips, etc., etc. Paint the obvious which is not-so-obvious subject matter. Figure out how to make it interesting. For the true artist and painter, anything is fodder for subject matter. There is no call to wander aimlessly about the countryside looking for the perfect subject--which does not exist--when ample subject matter is right before you. So that's what you paint--anything and everything. Paint what excites you. Paint it well and you will excite others. And keep them talking! If you're not excited how can you expect anyone else to be interested, much less excited, about your painting?" 

Monday

But Andy, I'd be too embarrassed to let anyone see what I paint...I'd be the worst in the class...

"I hear it often. Sadly, too often. Ah, but you have it all wrong. Absolutely, completely wrong. It's not a competition. It's not possible to compare one's work...one's painting...with anyone else's. There are far too many variables which make comparisons impractical and simply unfair. And irrelevant. Of first and foremost concern is each of us "sees" differently. Who is to say any two people see anything exactly the same? Even something as simple as the same hue of a red...or a blue...or a yellow will not appear the same. And even if it did it's unlikely the words used to reach agreement will lead to the exact same visual experience(s) and conclusion(s). Frankly, it's more realistic to say we don't "see" anything the same and therefore making comparisons is insane. Language only further mucks up the problem. So you can only concern yourself with what you are painting. And assess your progress from subsequent painting--comparing and learning and comparing and learning; against yourself, no one else. Though we all can certainly learn from the painting of others it is foolish, and worse yet detrimental to growth, to forever be comparing to someone else's painting. Paint for yourself. Save every painting you do--even if you feel it's the worst painting of your life. And constantly compare present paintings with paintings done a month ago, six months ago, a year ago, six years ago...you will see the progress; provided you have made a concerted effort to paint, study, learn, and paint some more. 'Too embarrassed...' to let anyone see what you're painting? Ridiculous! More embarrassing is succumbing to the coward within and not learning to do something you really want to do."

Thursday

So I often hear, 'Painting is scary enough...I can paint most things but water, and especially glass and metals terrify me...and the specialty paints really do not help...'

"You are making it too complicated. The only paints necessary to competently paint anything, even water, glass, and metal, is yellow, red, blue, and white. Four tubes of paint. That is it! And with them it's possible to paint anything...anything--still life, landscape, figure, and portrait. It is no more complicated than "seeing" color and shape and, with some degree of accuracy, mixing the paint to realize the color and then moving the color to the canvas (or paper) in the general shape you see. And then adjusting color and shape about the canvas until reaching a point of satisfaction. Simple. I cannot think of anything worse for trying to capture the color of metals than using pre-mixed tubes of paint labeled "silver," "gold," "bronze," "copper," etc. One word comes to mind--"awful." Forego the temptation to try these paints. For that is all they are--and will never capture the flavor of metals we see about us. Think in terms of the reflective properties of metals. That is, metals reflect that color which is in close proximity. Therefore, a "gold" in one setting may appear completely different than a "gold" in another setting--completely different. Ergo how could a tube of pre-mixed "gold" ever capture the color. No, it's not possible. The painter needs yellow, red, blue, and white--to paint metals, and glass and water. The short of it is do not think in terms of painting specific things. Ignore labels. Ignore descriptions. Ignore experience. Ignore what you think things are. Use penetrating, uncaring eyes and "see" what is truly before you in color and shape. And paint it just that way. The result will be water. The result will be glass. The result will be metal. And you'll marvel at how ridiculously simple it was. Fears conquered. And so you continue to paint with confidence realizing nothing is beyond the basic palette."

Wednesday

So the questioner says, "Glass...especially clear...it still leaves me puzzled. I try but keep returning to the white paint thinking it will eventually look transparent. It never does. Can you give me an example...can you show me?"

Sure. Easy. Take a look at the illustration provided. I've painted the faces on a number of cubes so that you can see and with the simplest of shapes grasp the concept--the idea. There is no magic. And there's no call for white paint to paint the illusion of transparency. Look at the cubes. There's the illusion of solid, three-dimensional objects and yet by painting color and shape, just as it appears, "presto"--transparency. All glass, all transparents, all translucents, all metals are painted exactly the same way--color and shape. Nothing more. Color and shape, painted correctly, will describe that which you paint. It really is that simple. Do not complicate the matter by thinking in terms of what you know about "glass," "gold," "silver," or "chrome." As noted before, forget those labels. Forget all labels. Forget any property you've ever come to associate with any label and the thing the label represents. Forget it all. For it is a cancer that kills painting. Paint only what you see. Not what you think you see. And certainly not what you know. Paint only color and shape, and as simply as possible. Do that and you are on the path to painting any and every thing with absolute confidence--without an iota of fear. Color and shape. Color and shape. Color and shape. And just to reinforce the cube(s) lesson take a look at the simple painting of a wine glass--in color and monotone; a believable glass no matter how you look at it. Color and shape.  I cover it all and much more in my book, 'On "SEEING" & Painting'--a worthwhile book to read and read again and again.

"Five Minutes Early--Poster"                      rendering on iPad

"A painting is never finished--it simply stops in interesting places." 

"Sunfish"         painted on iPad

Paul Gardner

WeddingtonArtGallery