Discovery

Peaceful Valley oil 18 x 14 SOLD

So it has been about 7 months since I started writing this blog.  I have posted more than I thought I would.  I have also discovered something about myself. I am not a writer. Blogging has become another thing on the list of things I have to do.  I thought it might give my readers some insight into my work, but what I have found is that I love to paint.  Painting doesn't feel like a job to me.  I amvery lucky that I somehow wound up making my living at it.

I have work to do and it is making paintings.  So, I am going to leave you with this post.  In the meantime, you can keep up with my work and my current events on my website http://www.katekieslerfineart.com/.

I will still keep up with my favorite blogs and I will still spend my free time taking in all I can about art.  I hope you do to.

Attachment and the Importance of Failure

Winter's Designs 12 x 9

   When you make your living as an artist, it is easy to get attached to the final product in your painting.  When a painting does not succeed, it feels like the day has been unproductive.  I want every painting to be a painting that I am proud of, and, as I have written before, sometimes you have to allow yourself to make a bad painting in the process of coming up with something good .  Being too attached to the results can actually hinder you.

I started out the day today wiping out a few hours of work.  But I am trying to look at it as a good day because I tried to paint something that scared me.  I tried painting something that was out of my comfort zone.  And I learned something from it.  And one of these days, I am going to master the things that I failed at today. 

It is important to me to try and tackle new subjects and new ideas. Failure can be and indication of growth. It isn't the easiest thng to face, but it is better than making "safe" paintings. There is nothing worse than being stagnant with your work. 

So its back to the easel for me. A new day and the freedom to fail if that's what it takes.

Try again. Fail again. Fail better. --Samuel Beckett

P.S. I tried to tackle the painting posted here about 8 months ago and failed.  I tried it again this week and I feel pretty good about this attempt!

The Illusion of Speed

Brush in Sunlight oil 12 x 9

The subject of speed has come up recently in regard to my painting so I thought I would discuss it here.  I love loose paintings. I love accurate, loose paintings. My goal is to create something with obvious brushwork that is applied thoughtfully and with intention. You may prefer something more detailed with hundreds of hours poured into the surface detailing.  Neither one is better than the other--again, it is a matter of preference.

Richard Schmidt writes in his book Alla Prima," Looseness should describe how a painting looks, not how it is done".  In other words, to create something that has confident control takes training.  It does not mean that the painting was done in a couple of hours. It means that the person who created it has practiced for hundreds and hundreds of hours to produce the illusion of speed. And I am still practicing this! Some paintings are finished quickly--on the days where the paint flows easily.  Most are labored over far longer than they may appear.  The paintings that appear labored are burned.  The paintings that appear to have been made quickly on the first try are framed and hung on the wall.

August Endings

Floating Leaves SOLD

August always feels like an ending to me.  Perhaps it has been ingrained from my school years where summer activities come to an end and a new season begins again.  I start to wish for cooler days and the first blush of color in the aspens--and a new color palette and new subjects to paint.

In a few weeks, the garden will be harvested for the last time before the first frost.  There is a finality to storing potatoes and putting that little square of land to bed.  The leaves will start to fly soon. 

Autumn is restful after a busy summer.  It gives me time to build up my inventory before ski season begins and my galleries are bustling again.  I can't imagine painting a place without the rhythms of the four seasons.  There is renewal and a structure to the year that keeps me in its grips in anticipation of the next season and the next canvas to be filled.

In the Eye of the Beholder

All that Glitters oil 22 x 28

Painting is subjective.  There are basic concepts that make a piece a good painting. Concepts like composition, color, balance, and rhythm, and drawing.  But after that, the definition becomes blurred.  Perhaps you prefer very detailed renderings of fruit.  Or painterly interiors. Or works that recall the past. Maybe you like the color blue.

What makes a painting "worthy" or "good" has been weighing on my mind lately.  Sometimes I feel like there is a very narrow definition. And the tastes of the general public or the magazine editors are not always a good barometer. Sometimes I imagine Cezanne or Matisse standing before a room of contemporary paintings.  Which would they think were the best?

Fodder for Thought

Antique Wagon Wheel 8 x 6

Once you have started to paint on a regular basis, you will notice that you begin to look at the world around you in a different way. You will notice the color of light.  You will see a combination of shapes instead of a single object. You will ask yourself how to capture a certain moment in time. You will become more attentive.

I have noticed lately that for me, the smallest things are becoming fodder for thought. The small things have great potential for exploration in your paintings. The idea does not have to be grand or expansive. If you are paying attention, a whisper can be louder than a shout.

A Few Thoughts on Criticism

Reflection-Collected Gold oil 20 x 16



 I have been thinking about the pros and cons of criticism lately.  I think it is really easy to dismiss another person's work with off-hand criticism.  It is hard not to do it sometimes. We all have our own views of what makes a piece of art legitimate. I do think that criticism should be CONSTRUCTIVE and is useful when it is delivered constructively.

I have a few stories of my own, largely from art school critiques, where the criticism was aimed at the person, not the work. And I think that it even easier to criticize some one's work when you don't know them. I would like to believe (and I know this is not always true and may be viewed as idealistic) that everyone who picks up a paint brush is doing the best they can at that particular moment in time. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to hang one's imperfect paintings on the wall for the world to see. And perfection is REALLY hard to achieve. The best we can do is take one step at a time towards improving our work and work diligently.

I read this on illustrator Dan Santat's blog recently: "In a world where the arts seems to always be the first thing that gets cut or closed down due to financial strain I think it's more important than ever that there are people out there trying to create some form of art whether it may seem good or bad."

Ditto.

What Teaching Teaches Me

My students hard at work.

I just wrapped up teaching a two-day workshop through the local college.  I took the majority of the summer off from teaching this year because I wanted to focus solely on painting.  And it was good to do so.  I think my work benefited from it--I made better paintings more consistently. I could afford to edit more.  But, every time I teach I am reminded that I benefit from sharing knowledge as well.

My students are a dedicated bunch.  They are enthusiastic learners.  They teach me patience and renew my passion for the arts when it grows stale. They expose me to their unique approaches to painting and I learn from that. Some of them grow in leaps and bounds and make me feel humbled. They teach me to be open-minded. They show courage. In the end, they remind me why I paint.

Making the Ordinary Extraordinary

Across the Divide oil 36 x 30

Artists are supposed to be the ones with imagination.  A good part of our job description is to get people to use theirs.

--Robert Genn

If I could write a job description for the art profession, it would probably include something about making the ordinary extraordinary.  The best artists make the viewer use their senses in a new way.  They take the everyday and make it special.  They make the viewer notice the small things. They paint not objects, but subjects. They cause you to pause for a moment during a busy day. They tell stories.  They allow their viewers tell their own stories. They use skills that, in themselves, are quite ordinary to produce a kind of magic that can be awe-inspiring, thought-provoking, uncomfortable, noble, ambitious, curious, and commanding.

Our job is to expand upon the world--to make some kind of order out of chaos. A skill that is rather extraordinary.

Solo Exhibition



Local Color 24 x 48 SOLD

About 30 new pieces are now on view in my third annual Solo Exhibition at Breckenridge Gallery. The opening in this Saturday, July 30 from 1-5.  Please join me if you are in the area!

This year I revisited a lot of the places I observe on a daily basis in my own backyard.  It was a good challenge to reinterpret the landscapes I am so familiar with. I feel like I am starting to understand each spot in a way that allows me to explore some of my ideas about painting instead of focusing so much on the setting itself.  I pushed myself to go beyond my normal approach and I am very happy with some of the work.  I'm sure it will lead to further exploration of my favorite spots!

You can view the pieces on my website or on the gallery's website.

Momentum

Evening's Shadow oil 14 x 11

Summers are a busy time for me.  One show is stacked on top of another, my galleries are selling work, the crowds are bustling in the resort towns near where I live.  Much of what I had to do happened in July.  I have finished painting for my Solo Show (more to come in my next post).  I have wrapped up my wet paint event in Crested Butte. August does have some teaching responsibilities, but for the most part, marks a winding down period for me.

Many artists experience the "post-show doldrums."  A lot of energy has gone into producing a show and it can be a time to reassess one's goals and sometimes the what-next can stop your momentum. So, I have learned over the years that it is important for me to line up specific projects for myself after a period of intense creation.  Otherwise, I lose focus and my production wanes.

A few ideas:

• Sign up for a plein air event.
• Line up some commission work. A specific assignment and deadline keeps you from aimlessly trying to paint.
• Visit a place that inspires you.
• Go to the nearest art museum. Study the artists you admire.

Maintaining some kind of schedule helps me immensely. Sometimes I have to do a few bad paintings to get back into the swing of things, but I do find that I can get back to my normal routine fairly quickly if I follow some of the ideas listed above.

Crested Butte Plein Air



In the Thick of It oil 16 x 12

I am just settling back in the studio after a week in Crested Butte for their plein air event. I had a great time painting--we did have some challenging weather to work around.  I spent the first night huddled in my tent listening to the rain and woke to a substantial amount of fog.  Hard to paint when you can't see anything other than what is at your feet!!!

I finally took shelter in a stand of aspen trees and waited out the rain.

Aspen Enclosure SOLD





When the weather cleared, I was in full production mode and I managed to get some good painting time in.  What I really love about these events is being around other painters and the chance to look at how everyone interprets the landscape in their own way.  There was some really beautiful work and I have returned a bit tired, but definitely inspired. A select amount of paintings from the event are still for sale at the Oh-Be-Joyful Gallery through this week.




Above the Valley SOLD



Turning Towards the Sun oil 14 x 11

 

Preparing for a Plein Air Event


In a few days, I am headed off to Crested Butte for the Plein Air Invitational. I participate in these kind of events once a summer and after three years of painting in Estes Park, I am excited to be painting in a new location.  Crested Butte is one of the most spectacular settings in Colorado. I made a preliminary trip a few weeks ago to paint for a few days before my return this week to complete the required days.

There is a lot of packing to do including framing supplies and a tote for wet paintings and a tent and sleeping bag. I always make sure that I have new crisp brushes with me and clean turpentine.  I try to pack light as I love hiking in to the more remote spots.

This time of year the wildflowers are in full bloom and the snow has yet to fully melt from the moutain tops.  I'm looking forward to painting with a great group of artists.  I'll update you with more details upon my return!

On Borrowing and Stealing

Under the Canopy oil 12 x 16

There is little or nothing new in the world. What matters is the new and different position in which an artist finds herself seeing and considering the things of so-called nature and the works that have preceded and interested her. — Giorgio Morandi

I think it is important to be looking at art--all the time.  Look at art from the past and look at contemporary art and figure out what it is that attracts you to a certain piece.  Is it color, or technique?  Is it subject or design? Would you hang it on your walls? What can you borrow from the work? Be a sponge and soak in what the artist does well. If you are a collector, you will probably notice that certain styles appeal to you time and again.

Throughout the history of art, there are countless examples of how one artistic movement borrows from another. What is important is how those influences are extracted and molded to what satisfied the artists that followed.  If you have influences (and you should), ask yourself how you can make those ideas your own. How can you put a new twist on an old idea? How can you learn from the past and explore some of your own thoughts at the same time?

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.

Creative Chaos

Calder's studio Photo courtesy of Herbert Matter

I recently bought a book as a gift for my mother about living artfully with clutter and it spurred a conversation about our studio spaces. Some amazing work comes from cluttered studios (see Calder's studio above).

I grew up in a house where the dining room table served as a workspace for my mother's projects.  She was a crafts person then, making 3-dimensional quilts and soft sculpture.  Her actual work room was filled from top to bottom with scraps of fabric, beads, zippers, you name it.  I went to sleep every night listening to the hum of her sewing machine (accessed by climbing over the piles of stuff).  She now has two levels of workspace filled with house paint and various furniture projects.

I work in a spare bedroom at home. If I am in the middle of a lot of work (as I am now), my studio is stacked with paintings and reference material and frames and boxes.  It is slightly neater than my mother's workroom (the mess is regulated to the outer reaches of the room). I do a thorough cleaning about once a year. Rest assured, the remainder of the house is neat and clean!

I am envious of those who have ample space and no clutter to work in. Those glossy pictures in the monthly magazines that show pristine and organized spaces(certainly scrubbed for the camera crew) make me yearn for a place to relax in my studio without having to move something out of the way.

Do you do your best work surrounded by chaos?

My mother's studio circa 1980

In Support of Art

Catching Light oil 18 x 19

I was interested to read that a new study suggests that cultural participation such as visiting art museums, going to the ballet, or attending gallery openings encourages good health and happiness in men. These activities measurably improved their lives. The study found that the effects were not the same in women--perhaps because we find other ways to wind down.  So, where physical activity was previously recommended for men, it seems that the leisurely activities that stimulate the mind and the eyes are just as important. Another reason to cultivate, not cut the arts!

Put Something of Yourself In

Autumn Collection oil 18 x 14 SOLD

You paint the way you are made. And the viewer, looking at your pictures, is interested because he senses your mind and your emotions at work --Emile Gruppe

One way to improve upon using reference photos in the studio is to put something of yourself in.  Show your viewer how you think--how you see the world. Merely replicating the photograph pixel for pixel doesn't say anything.  Can you change the compostition to tell a story?  Can you change the palette?  Can you capture a shape with one brushstroke?  Can you express in paint why you picked the photograph in the first place? Are you thinking about what you are trying to express or are you blindly copying?  Are you trying to make something whimsical?  Political? Thought-provoking? What makes the painting uniquely yours?

When I look at art, I want to see something of the artist's personality there.  I want to see how the artist thinks--even if I don't entirely understand the message. I am not interested if the painting "looks real".  I want to see an interpretation of the artist's world. So go out there and make something that tells a story about you.

Artist Stereotypes

A Bright Spot oil 12 x 9

It always makes me laugh when the artist stereotype comes up in conversation.  Broad catagories like artists are unkempt and drink too much.  Artists can't manage their time or artists are irresponsible and lazy.  Artists don't (or can't) make a decent living. Artists are eccentric or mentally off-balance.  Artists dress in black and wear berets.

I know many artists who are grown-up, responsible, deadline-adhering, hard-working, well-dressed and regularly-bathed members of society. In fact, most of them are.

Heroes

Aldro Hibbard Winter Stream

Every artist has a few heroes that have come before them.  Painters that they look to for inspiration or information.  Heroes should motivate you to paint better. The list may grow as the artist grows and in writing this, I notice a few on my list that were influencial at first, but I no longer look to them as much. I still love their work, but I find it is important to continually study work that speaks to you in new ways.

I have a few to share today.  The list is longer than this, but best shared in small amounts.

The only living artist on my list was one of my first influences, Russell Chatham.  His work has an abstract quality to it that I love. I bought his One Hundred Paintings book right out of college.

• Aldro Hibbard.  A New England painter who structures his brushstrokes in a way that I find intriging.
• Emile Gruppe.  A contemporary of Hibbard.  You can see their work together in a wonderful small gallery in Jeffersonville, Vermont. They painted in the area.
• John Carlson for his beautiful ability with trees and light.
• William Wendt. A California Impressionist who again uses brushwork and color to structure his paintings.
• Ernest Blumenshein.  A Taos painter.  The abstract qualities and design elements in his paintings are interesting to me.
• Last but not least, John Singer Sargent.  I think he shows up on every painter's list of heroes.



John Singer Sargent Home Fields

 

Postcards

Painting Detail

I read somewhere (I can't remember quite where right now) that in painting, one should be happy if any part of the painting goes well. Quite often I find that if I am struggling with a piece, somewhere in the painting there is a little postcard size section that really sings. A little 4 x 6 that works in terms of color and brushwork and composition.  It is piecing a bunch of postcards together that is the difficult part.  Sometimes it can be hard to let go of a painting that has a passage like this and wipe it out, though I suppose it is enough that that little postcard happened in the first place.

When I used to teach watercolor techniques, I recommended actually saving that little piece and using it as a postcard to send to a friend. It is more challenging to do so if you are working on board, but I suppose one could do the same.  Or photograph it and stick it in the recesses of your files. The best thing to do is to try to replicate it in another attempt.

I liked this small section of a recent painting because of the brushwork and subtle color ideas and I am going to try and capture the feel of the successful parts in another painting.

Small Works

Apple Branch Study oil 8 x 6



I recently had a request for some small works.  I don't usually work smaller than 8 x 10, but it was fun to sit down and paint a few 6 x 8s--I think it allowed me to let go of the results a bit since there was less time and material invested.  I cut a bunch of boards and painted several to choose from.  It also allowed me to really simplify shape and brushwork.

A friend owns an orchard on the Western Slope of Colorado and we visited during harvesting time while there were apples to be picked and cider to be made. I made several paintings from the trip, watching the sunrise on the mesa. The landscape is different there--it has a high desert feel--it is warmer and drier than the mountains and there are several orchards and vineyards in the area.  We have been invited back this Spring when the trees are in bloom and I am really looking forward to it!

Routines and Rituals

Permanence oil 18 x 14

Disciplined routine is an important part of my everyday life.  Even though I work from home, I treat my painting day just as if I needed to show up at an office where I was accountable for getting work done. Otherwise, I would waste my day on the little stuff like laundry and cleaning out my paint drawer.

Every morning, I wake and walk the dog.  This clears the sleepiness and starts me thinking about what I will make for the day.  I am at my desk by 8:00. I paint until 12:30 or so NO MATTER WHAT. I break for lunch and then it is back to work until about 2:00. Then I can take care of prepping boards, and framing, and inventory, and the blog and website, in the late afternoon when I am too fuzzy-headed for good work.  And then begins the long wait until the next day when I can wake up and get to work again (I stole this line from Donald Hall's Life Work and he stole the line from Hemingway).

I find that many professional artists have a similar routine--though some work at night instead of during the day. I read recently that it actually promotes creativity to have daily rituals. If I haven't followed the daily routine, I get a bit anxious, like all work will cease and I will never sell another piece in my life.  So, it is important to me to stick to it.

What are your routines or rituals?

Capturing Value

On the Bluff oil 12 x 16

Here is a new trick I'm trying.  Value and its structure is one of the more important components of a painting.  I love using color and sometime lose the light and dark pattern in my work. Or I get caught up in the details instead of the big shapes. Look at Sargent's paintings.  He is a master at the big shapes and value placement.

I am using my photo editing program to change my color photos of my work (not the reference photos) to black and white.  It is useful if you have trouble translating value to color. From there I can simplify values if they aren't working and make sure that they lead the eye. Sometimes this trick helps. At other times, the painting wasn't planned well from the start and it is beyond help!

Me and Leonardo

Leonardo da Vinci

I admit that I DESPISE finishing paintings.  I like the first session where the idea is fresh and exciting and I feel hope about the outcome. If I could make every painting alla prima, I would.  But, alas, I can't...

I spent the day going over the unfinished paintings in my studio.  I need to have a body of work completed in the next few months and it is imperative that I finish those that should be finished.  Generally this means that I am adding detail or changing shapes or fixing edges and sometimes I don't get it right and the whole painting goes down the tubes. AND I FEEL LIKE I'VE GOTTEN NOTHING DONE. 

In addition, the unfinished paintings tend to be the ones that I lost interest in half way through, and there is nothing that makes you feel like you should just give it all up for a waitressing job like bad starts. I can spend hours trying to make a bad start work to no avail.  BUT, I did make some progress today and I have a line of FINISHED and partly wet paintings lining my walls. HOORAY!

Leonardo da Vinci rarely finished his work.  I think oftentimes he had moved on to the next thing in his head and lost interest in what he was working on at the time.  But, that's a guess.  I wish I could say I was half as talented or ingenious, but I can't. HOWEVER, I did finish something today.

The I in Artist

Pathway oil 11 x 14

I have been feeling a little uncomfortable with how much the word "I" appears in my blog posts. But it did get me thinking.  Must an artist be comfortable with talking about themselves?  Can we successfully market our work and not have the conversation center around what we do and how we think?

Madeleine L'Engle wrote (to paraphrase) that all artists are "a paradoxical combination of arrogance and humility". There has to be some degree of "Hey, look at me" to decide to put your work out there.

I do know a couple of artists who make good work and are so introverted that it is virtually impossible to talk to them.  The work is good enough that it sells without the egocentric "I". I also know a few whose work perhaps does not sell as well as it could because they are uncomfortable talking about themselves in front of a crowd. And I know a few who sell well and aren't that good at the painting part, but very good at talking about their work. It is an interesting debate.

Intention and The Art of Flexibility



Pond Lyric oil 11 x 14

In painting you never do what you set out to do.  Something else happens.  If it always turns out right you are probably doing something wrong.--Ken Kewley

It is very rare that a painting turns out exactly as I had intended or envisioned from the start.  Elements of painting have a life of their own and what I had pictured putting down somehow turns into something else. Hopefully, with a bit of luck and skill, what does end up on the page is worthy of a frame or teaches me something that I can control better in my next attempt.

 Yesterday I made a painting that, with some distance, has a rather bothersome circular pattern that overtakes the subject. I didn't see it at first and I will have to fix it--not what I had envisioned, but hopefully something that can be resolved and maybe enhanced or even made into the main idea of the painting.

I think the intuitive part of painting allows for more flexibility and less attachment to results.  If a shape doesn't turn out just as I had imagined, I try to let it lead me.  Sometimes it can be exciting and sometimes disastrous or disappointing. (There is always that burn pile)!!!  I find that I need the same flexibility in my teaching.  Class planning can be restrictive when a group exceeds your expectations or when they need more work with a certain topic.

 So as much as I try to produce a painting that comes close to my original vision,  I try to stay open to changes that might come up along the way. There. A lesson in bending.

Colorado Governor's Invitational Show

The Golden Hour oil 9 x 12

I am very excited to be participating in this year's Colorado Governor's Invitational Show which opens April 23rd at the Loveland Museum in Colorado.  There is a ticketed opening on Saturday from 5:30-9:30 which benefits the local Rotary Club and the show runs through the month of May.

I have been working for most of the winter to compile four paintings for the show.  If you are in the area, stop by the museum if you have the time--the show presents a cross-section of Colorado's contemporary artists and should be worth the visit!

I always worry a little about my choices for shows like these. The pieces are not juried first. The artists are chosen based on their previous body of work and so there is some pressure to perform. It does keep me focused though! I was captured by the abstract nature of winter and the late day color that happens right before the sun goes down in the painting posted here. It is easy to overlook the beauty of a snow covered landscape.

Pivotal People



Cattails in April oil 10 x 8

 I recently watched a video of a talk given by the artist Bo Barlett and was struck by his artistic journey.  Every time he thought about closing the door on painting, someone would show up and lead him back to a life in paint. He was very fortunate that one of those people was Andrew Wyeth.  He was invited to work with the family to produce a film and that led him back to painting.  Since Wyeth's death, he says he has been even more motivated to do the best paintings he possibly can.

When I look back at my winding path in the arts, there have been several pivotal people that have shown up at the right time. There are memorable people who tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me to stay on course when I thought I wouldn't be able to make a living in the arts. People who opened doors for me and provided opportunity when I needed it, oftentimes immediately after a run-in with someone who did everything in their power to discourage me.

In fact, every time I tried to head in a different direction where I thought I should pursue something more stable, roadblocks appeared, and someone would show up and whisper, "hey you, remember painting?" Nothing but a career in art has made sense to me and I am lucky that there have been positive influences and pivotal people who make me want to work harder every day.

Your Own History

Early Winter oil 18 x 36

Robert Genn has a recent post about getting rid of your old or inferior works.  His advice was to destroy the bad work instead of selling it at a discounted price. Good advice. However, I would add to this by saying give the pieces at least six months before you burn them.

I turn many of my boards over and paint on the other side, gessoing the first attempt (now on the back) out. I keep about 60-70% of what I paint. So while I largely agree with making a "burn pile", the post did make me squirm a little bit.

I ask my students to keep what they have made--even if they hate what they have done at the moment.  It shows progress which can be otherwise difficult to see--like how much your own child has grown. At the very least, photograph the piece and keep the photo in the recesses of your files. No one needs to look at it except for you. Remind yourself of how much you have grown. If you must burn it or paint over it at this point, do.

Many of my better paintings started out in the burn pile.  Something in them made me come back and rework what I didn't like.  If I had destroyed them immediately, they wouldn't have made it on the wall. Furthermore, the more distance I gave them--some sat for six months, the more potential I saw in them.  The time lapse let me separate myself from the initial frustration. The painting posted here was saved from just that fate.

So, save your work for awhile before you destroy it. It shows your own history, your growth, and can end in some pretty good work.

Recharging



Relics oil 9 x 12

A while back I wrote about cabin fever--the urge to be outside during the long winter months. April has arrived in the high country and the weather is chaotic and unpredictable.  The trees remain bare and the snowbanks are receding but dirty and the landscape is rather unappealing. Definitely not the stuff for hanging on your wall.

When I need some inspiration for upcoming shows, I have found the best thing to do is get in the car and drive to points south to recharge.  Taking in a different landscape, warmer weather, and unmuddied roads allows me to sit at my desk the next day with a clearer head and new ideas. We drove to Salida over the weekend and though there is just a tinge of green, the snow has melted and the ranches are filled with new babies and it was just good to get out and see the promise of Spring. I have been busy the past few days painting from that trip with a renewed energy.

Risk



Slivers of Light oil 12 x 12

Risk is an inherent part of the creative life.  The decision to make one's paintings available to the public is one that invites judgement and criticism. Opinions are offered, good or bad.

Every time I make a painting, I am exposing a part of myself that is deeply personal even if I am "just making landscapes".  They are a part of me. They reflect how I see the world. They show my struggle, my questions and observations about my surroundings, and they occasionally show my triumphs too. I try to keep that in mind when looking at other people's art.  What were they risking? 

A painting without risk is lifeless, made for viewers who expect something pretty. Try starting a painting that scares you, whether it be a new subject or a never-tried color or technique. It takes courage to venture into the unfamiliar and to invite failure or criticism. The risk is always worth it.

"Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go."-T.S. Eliot

Inviting People In

Reflection in Sienna and Gold oil 12 x 12

Something jumped out at me as I was reading another artist's blog post today.  They were talking about sharing your secrets--about letting people in as a way to connect with your audience (they used Bob Ross as an example). It resonated with me.  The idea was this: a piece is more personal to a collector if they know more about the whys and wheres and hows of your work. Be an open book. A collector is going to remember you if you were generous with your time and you told them a story or shared your technique. Or you offered them something extra like a personalized inscription on the back of their painting. And you did it with a smile. This may seem elementary, but you would be surprised at how many artists there are who would rather remain mysterious.

Yesterday, I was talking with someone who had purchased a painting by Stephen Quiller.  They visited his studio and he offered that they stay and fish in the river on his property.  Then he offered to deliver their painting to them since they didn't have room in the car with the dog.  They subsequently bought three more paintings and raved about how nice he was even though he had just met them.  Those paintings are going to mean more to them than the painting bought without the personal experience and the story and the generosity of an artist inviting someone in.

Themes--Earth not Air

When I look for themes or strengths in my work, I notice a gravitation to earth and water, not air. I just don't connect to skies, though I admire a good skyscape when I see one.  Maynard Dixon is a master. I also am intrigued by the cloud studies of John Constable.

Maynard Dixon

As much as I have tried and tried again to paint skies, my efforts fall short.  I paint earth--mountains, trees, fields, rivers--most with high horizons. I like to garden and dig in the dirt.  I love the smell of Spring--its earthy, wet scent. I notice the pebbles on the beach, the hidden aster in August, the cranberry torch of the understory in autumn.  I think I am fairly grounded, not flighty, when it comes to personality. So it is earth and its many variations and surprises that speak to me. You may have noticed if you are familiar with my work.

Is your head in the clouds or do you connect to land and water?



Mountain Theater oil 12 x 24

The Making of Magic



Tracks by the River oil 16 x 12



 Working at art was different--I could do it, then I couldn't do it.  This cycle repeated itself again and again.  Sometimes I spent as much time trying to work as I did working.  I talked to friends--"maybe you're not inspired now," they often said. "Screw being inspired, I don't want to be inspired, I just want to be able to work." So in the making of magic, there is no magic in doing it.--William Accorsi

In painting, there are days that everything flows easily. Those are few and far between, but when they happen, I am extremely grateful.   More often, every brushstroke is hard work and struggle and a whole lot of concentration and I really have to earn a painting for the day.  Sometimes I will wipe out or sand down a whole day's work.

People often ask me how long it takes to make a painting.  There is no answer for that.  Some flow easily and some take days or weeks. I make many more paintings than I actually show.

Picasso said each painting had taken his whole life. The process really isn't magic.  It is a lifetime of hard earned skill and hours in the studio.  I had a beginning student once, who after the first day in class announced, "Now I know why paintings are so expensive!" It is certainly a lot more work than one might think.

The public enjoys the magic part.  The artist knows that if we can make the process seem like magic, then we have really done our job.

The painting I posted above was on of those magic moments where everything just works.

The Creative Drive

Spring Line Study oil 9 x 12

I can't imagine a life where I didn't use my hands to create something. I paint because I am driven to paint. It is difficult to explain the creative drive to anyone who doesn't wake up in the morning excited about what they may make that day. When I was an illustrator, I remember thinking that I couldn't make work without a set deadline or a specific assignment.  What would I choose to paint everyday?  There were too many choices and too many risks. I didn't have the vision to just paint. Who would pay me?

There were gaps of time between illustration assignments and I started to yearn to paint what I wanted to paint everyday. It was difficult to sort out what was important to me at first, but after a trip to Taos to make monoprints, I started to have more clarity about what I wanted to create. And I began to work. Ideas flooded my head. I was in tune with my environment. I wanted to paint it--loosely and with a focus on shape and brushwork. I got cranky if I couldn't get in the studio and work. I didn't need an assignment to motivate me anymore. I had found my creative drive.

What motivates you to paint? Is it your creative drive or something else?