Plein Air vs. Studio Work

Afternoon on the Blue oil 9 x 12 SOLD

We had a late Spring this year, but I have been spending more time outdoors painting plein air pieces recently.  It is good to get out!  The immediacy of the outdoor experience can't be matched. When I do get out to paint, I get hooked on being outside.  There are challenges like the wind and the bugs, but the light is more true and the colors more vivid. It is an important tool for me.

I spend more time in the studio than I used to.  Winters are long and deep here and I have learned that I am more productive leaving the plein air work to the other seasons.  I do enjoy applying some of the knowledge gleaned from being outside to my studio pieces.  I also find I can slow down with the studio work and control my technique a bit more inside.  I think both approaches complement each other and each serves a very different purpose for me.

I painted this piece on the banks of the Blue River on the cusp of Spring.

Bread and Butter

Before the Run-off oil 14 x 18

I am in the midst of painting a body of work for a solo exhibition at the end of July. In preparation I have included many pieces that I consider my "bread and butter" works--those paintings that I know are sought by my collectors.  They follow a previous series or have a wider appeal. For me, these include paintings of aspens or water elements and reflect the local landscape. Sometimes I resist these images, but they do create a brand for me and they spur other sales.

I try to also include work that is a little more experimental.  I think it is important to explore new subject matter or new approaches that may be a little riskier.  It keeps the work fresh for me and sometimes even leads to a new thread that will prove to be my bread and butter. I don't go too far off route with these pieces.  I'm careful not to introduce a new style. They still feel like my other works, but they often speak about my goals as a painter and may be less "saleable", but they keep me motivated.

Second Nature

In the Wild oil 12 x 9

One thing that I love about repetition is that things that used to take a lot of effort to get right become second nature.  I remember watching a teacher of mine draw.  His lines were fluid and the proportions seemed effortless. The practice showed up on the page. And it really wasn't as magical as he made it seem.  It was that he had drawn so much over a lifetime that he was fluent at it.  I wished for that ability at the time.

I notice these days that the drawing part of painting is now second nature to me because I have the practice.  I don't have to think about the rules of perspective as much.  I don't have to hesitate to capture the curve of a field or the character of a tree. I don't always get it right the first time, but years and years of doing the same thing over and over make the challenge easier. Like practicing a language or a yoga pose. The body has memory. And I like that I'm in a place where parts of the process are intuitive.  Now there are new things to practice (the list is long)! But I know that someday the new challenges will also become second nature.

The piece above will be auctioned off July 9th to benefit the Continental Divide Land Trust at their Wildflowers and Art Celebration.  For more information visit http://www.cdlt.org/.

Artist Friendships

Backyard Aspens oil 14 x 18



 Artists are solitary by nature.  We live inside our heads.  We communicate through paint or clay or charcoal.

Friendships with other artists come naturally.  We seek out people who understand what drives us.  We vent about the work and about what inspires us.  We spur eachother on. We root for eachother's successes. We know the exact blue that would make a painting work. We share information about supplies. We gather to paint together.

Matisse had Picasso.  Van Gogh had Gaugin.  Do you have an artful friend who spurs your creativity?

Working Large



The Pond-Late Spring oil 30 x 30

I have been focusing on painting some larger paintings for an upcoming show this summer. I readily admit I am more comfortable painting small than producing large works.  I used to illustrate books, and the work had to be fairly portable and had to be no larger than a drum scanner.  So it was a leap to start working big.

I realized recently that I do get a lot more attached to the results in a big painting which really doesn't make a lot of sense.  I edit a large portion of my smaller paintings, so why do I have such a hard time doing the same to the larger ones?  For one, they take more time and more materials.  I feel like I should have the idea pretty well figured out before I start a big panel. The failure just feels bigger.

What I am finding is that though most painters work up a small study and use it for a larger painting, if I am stuck in the work on a large painting, working up a small study at that point helps to resolve any problems I am having.  I can try out a different shape or a new color without spending lots of time or actually ruining the larger work. Since I find I am more reluctant to gesso out the larger works than I am a small study, I feel like I can burn the smaller piece if I need to.

Sometimes, the smaller piece is the one that makes it out of the studio, but I am finding that this process can help me succeed with the larger work. And a few of those are making it out the door too!

Things I Wish I had Learned at Art School

Afloat oil 12 x 16

 I am one of those rare people who actually went to art school and stuck with it after graduation.  We worked hard at art.  I learned how to take criticism and how to draw the figure and how to use gouache.  I put together a professional thesis project that was presented in New York City. I did not learn anything about marketing my work, approaching galleries or publishers, applying for grants or residencies, or writing an artist's statement. We lived in a bubble where production and technique were emphasized and there was very little time for what would happen once we left that little world.
 
Right out of college, I went on to work a year-long internship with the illustrator Barry Moser. It was there that I learned about the day to day life skills needed to succeed in the publishing business.  I learned by example. 

So while art school may look good on my resume, would it have been more prudent to seek out a working artist and ask for an apprenticeship?  Or to sign up for workshops with artists whose work I respected?  I was too young to have the foresight or to even know which painters I may have looked to for guidance, and I am grateful I had the opportunity to go to art school. I have learned about the business side of art by trial and error. I have made many mistakes along the way. Perhaps, that is what succeeding at this art thing is all about.