Growing--Painting Process--Using a Limited Palette

When I first started painting, I used whatever paint colors I thought would best mimic the actual landscape that was my subject or sometimes used my "artistic license" to attempt to improve on nature, choosing whatever colors I wanted. Although this approach can work, and some of those pieces turned out well, I have been more pleased with the results of using a so-called "limited palette" approach. That means using just certain selected paint colors throughout one painting. Two happy results of this change were that the pieces seemed to have better internal unity and were more pleasing to the eye (in my opinion) and secondly, that I discovered a tremendous power and range in color blends. Even a limited palette can produce amazing variety in color and tone. Rich neutrals result from combinations of opposites on the color wheel, like producing an earthy, warm brown from mixing red and green (which can be varied with different reds or greens from the tube) or like the range of lively greys emerging from purple/yellow or blue/orange combos. Alternatively, one can use the opposite (complementary) color in small amounts to soften a tube color. For example, a too-strong blue for painting a realistic sky color can be knocked back with the right orange, or even with a few drops of burnt sienna.

The painting in today's photo shows early spring wildflowers at Jacksonville Beach against a white fence, photographed near an oceanfront home. A dear friend purchased the painting at my Open Studio Reception this past November, so I visit it often. The other photo shows some of the palette experimentation and notes that led to the palette used for the piece. Other color combos I tried and rejected for this particular painting are saved in a file for possible future use. The colors used here are cerulean blue, paynes grey (which is also bluish), sap green, cadmium red deep, burnt sienna, Naples yellow, buff, black, and white, with a touch of orange added later for bright highlights in the flowers. This May, I started a second painting from the same set of beach photos, one which includes a nearby bridge over the protected dunes down to the beach, and am using this identical palette again. If some of you are interested in this topic, I will include palette details in an occasional future post showing paintings. Please let me know what you think.

Question of the day: I think I have asked this before, but can't resist again--where would be without color in our world?

Two Beach Paintings--Two Different Palettes

"Early Spring Dune"

     Artist's choice of color, color temperature, and palette are significant factors in the mood and overall impression of a painting on the viewer. These two acrylic beach paintings are both based on observation and reference photos from Jacksonville Beach on the Atlantic in Northeast Florida. Yet, they evoke different feelings, at least partly because of different color palettes. My style, an interpretive realism, does not attempt to copy what I see, but to represent my feeling and impression of the natural scene, so I sometimes modify colors.

     When I first began painting, I tested colors and color combinations but did not restrict the palette for a given work. I chose tube colors and various blends of those colors according to the scene and my inclination. Later, when I learned to limit the palette for each work, the results were much more unified, cohesive, and pleasing (at least to me).

     The first painting, "Early Spring Dune" with a view outside the white wall of an oceanfront home and yard, has stronger, clearer, warmer hues, as well as sharper edges than the second. The palette included: Cerulean blue, Paynes grey (which is bluish), Sap green, cadmium red deep, burnt sienna, Naples yellow, buff, white, and a touch of black in a few shadow mixes.

"Sea Oats"

     In the second piece, "Sea Oats", a softer light glows from a partly cloudy sky later in the day. Considerable artistic license inspired this palette because the reference photo was taken on such a grey day that it almost looks like a black and white print. Memories of mature sea oats at different times of outdoor study informed my color choices. The palette for this work included: cobalt blue, Paynes grey, permanent rose, yellow ochre, burnt umber, buff, white, and a bit of black. The hues were softened by blending some with their complements or with gentle neutrals. You may notice that the blue and yellow chosen are cooler than those for "Early Spring Dune". Using permanent rose was a mistake for this piece, by the way; although a lovely shade, it is strong and can be difficult to handle. Regarding the choice as a learning opportunity, I blended the rose into submission, practicing on heavy art paper until the result worked.

     Same off-shore island, different paintings. You may prefer one or the other, but I enjoy exploring a range of palettes and always keep a record of each painting's palette in the file with my reference photos, sketches, and a photo of the completed painting. Those files have sparked many new adaptations of previously used palettes.

Question of the day: What differences do you notice in your response to the two paintings?      

Details of New Painting and More About the Painting Process

The Lyons Club Park Boardwalk painting got off to a decent start in terms of composition, but some other aspects of the process were unsatisfactory at first and required revision. For those of you interested in the painting process, that is the topic today. The photos are close-up detail shots of the new painting I showed you last time as well as a photo of the entire piece.

As I mentioned last post, I shifted the viewpoint a bit from the reference photo, but you could see that I retained the basic elements of the scene without radical change. I raised the horizon line, which often seems to land in the horizontal center of my photos, because a painting should (almost) never be cut in half by a major element or line. I made small, grey-tone sketches of several possible compositions to consider and gridded over them horizontally and vertically into thirds (resulting in nine smaller rectangles). I try to place my focal point near the intersection of two of these lines, which is pleasing to the eye (these are sometimes called "sweet spots"). In this piece, I regard the center of interest as the area in the upper left third where a single tree stands and the boardwalk comes to a point and makes a sharp turn to follow the river bank. That is such a compelling angle that the viewer's eye is inevitably led there. But I include a path over to the right and then visual paths up, down, and around so that the viewer's eye will naturally move through the entire composition and find other areas of visual interest as well.

I thought I had chosen a perfect palette for this painting, but needed to change it along the way. I use a limited palette for each work, meaning a selection of certain tube colors which will blend well to create the entire range of color variations for the scene. Even though the viewer may not notice the use of a limited palette, the result is more pleasing and harmonious than using many randomly chosen colors would be. The palette I choose varies with the subject, weather, and season. This painting has no tube green at all; greens are blended from blues and yellows, and modified with red, purple and grey. After one change, the final palette consisted of cerulean blue, cobalt blue, paynes grey, dioxizine purple, cadmium yellow light, yellow ochre, cadmium red light, buff, and white. Although the photo is almost entirely in greens and blues, I wanted a livelier scene and added shades of purple in the water. Then, I used burnt sienna (a favorite color) to add a range of tones in the marsh grasses. This was a mistake, in my opinion. The burnt sienna did not blend well with the blues and purples I had used, so I put it back in the drawer and experimented with other shades for the grass. Some of our North Florida marsh areas include a sort of brownish burgundy grass that seemed likely to fit in, so I worked that into various spots in the grass along with some buff and greenish blends. This particular burgundy is a blend of cad red light, paynes grey, and a little purple (used with care--the purple is strong).

This painting came together a bit more quickly than sometimes (I am a sloooow painter). If you have any other questions about the painting process, please feel free to ask either in a comment or to email me (see profile for address). I enjoy sharing "shop talk" with interested readers.

Question of the day: What aspects of the painting process (if any) are of interest to you?

Learning--Romanticized Creek Painting--Color Mixing and a Cerulean Blue Palette

Looking back, I realized that I had never posted this painting for you. Creek Bend Fantasy, painted several years ago, is a personal favorite--not completely sure why--just like it, that's all. As with many of my landscapes, the reference scene is a humble place that many people would pass without giving it much notice. We look from a small bridge over Hogan Road toward a bend in Little Pottsburg Creek, not far from our home. The piece is 18" X 24", acrylic on gallery wrap canvas.

The painting developed in an interesting way. The original intention was for something more direct and realistic. The resulting composition still builds on the actual scene, but is romanticized somewhat. As the painting developed in early stages, through block-in and then the truly ugly stage many pieces experience, I somewhat wildly stroked in what were intended as base colors and movement in the creek and then didn't want to completely cover them. The dark woodsy area on the left seemed sort of mysterious and fairy-like, and I also hated to lose that feeling with too much detailed development. So the result blends realism and fantasy.

The palette was based on cerulean blue and cadmium red deep, an unlikely pairing that produces some very interesting neutral purply tones. The rest of the palette consists of sap green, burnt sienna, white, and black, with very minor touches of yellow ochre and ultramarine blue. Except for brilliant flowers, I seldom use the intense colors of acrylic paints straight out of the tube. They are especially unsuitable for landscapes without some modification. Besides, mixing colors is such fun and can produce such gorgeous and surprising results. I have a number of pieces of paper and card stock on which I have played with color mixing in a whole range of palettes. Here in North Florida, we have an amazing range of colors and tones in the sky, the ocean, marshes, creeks, rivers, forests, and meadows, constantly changing with the seasons and our changeable weather. So, as long as I remember to label the paint colors I used for each set of mixes, they form a valuable reference bank for a variety of paintings.

Question of the day: Where would we be without color?

The Importance of Shadows in Landscapes

Recently, I have been reflecting on how important shadows have been in some of my landscapes and seascapes. Although a few scenes, either for reasons of the weather or for the perspective involved have few or no obvious shadows, most landscape painting and photography relies on shadows for drama, contrast, indication of light source, and pattern.

This will be the first of several posts about shadows, and I invite artists and non-artist viewers of nature to contemplate the subject with me. Today, the photos show a painting that originated from my interest in shadow patterns one afternoon, as well as one reference photo from the actual location. The rest of the scene evolved gradually, but the foreground shadows were both the starting point and my primary interest in the project. This is an 18" x 24" acrylic painting on gallery wrapped canvas adapted from a location on a private school campus in Jacksonville, Florida.

In early work, I sketched, then rough-painted indications of some of the darker value areas, as shown in a post about a year ago about the painting process. As the painting progressed, I wanted to create liveliness and interest in the shadowed grass, so tried to vary both the patterns and the colors in the shadows. One of the tricks my essentially mathematical mind played on me involved the patterns. Knowing that a nice balance of variety and related rhythms is most attractive to viewers, I painted in much of the grass and shadow area very quickly, trying not to think overmuch about what I painted where. Oddly, what I produced was a very regular, boring, repetitive pattern. Whoops--good thing that acrylics dry quickly and can be painted over relatively easily. In addition to the shadow patterns and variations in lighter and darker regions, notice the variety of colors--not corresponding to nature, really, but added for vividness and glow. This painting has a fairly strong palette to begin with, including the intense (and sometimes difficult to use) phthalo blue and a strong purple. All the darker tones in my palette appear in the shadows--purples, blues, greens, browns, and greys.

I am thrilled to say that our local son and daughter-in-law particularly liked this piece and accepted it as a second anniversary gift recently. Since it is among my personal favorites as well, it will be wonderful to be able to see it often.

Question of the day: Do shadows fascinate anyone else out there? There is so much one could say, both about actual visible shadows and about shadow as metaphor in life.

Growing--New Landscape Painting--Tranquil Creek Bend

This is one of my newest paintings, completed just in time for the Open Studio Reception. Two photos show portions of the painting for more detail (and as always, you can click on a photo to enlarge it). Once again, the location is a spot that many people would walk by without stopping to look. A small bridge on Hogan Road crosses Little Pottsburg Creek near our home on the south side of Jacksonville, Florida. On the lookout for scenes with water features, I pulled over to explore and was especially taken with the view in one direction, where the creek widened and curved out of sight around a bend. A thickly wooded bank on one side was countered by oddly charming, spindly trees rising above bushes on the other. The trees reminded me of children experiencing a sudden growth spurt practicing in dance class, somehow combining awkwardness and grace.

This is the second painting to emerge from photos taken that day. I decided to push myself away from my favorite palette and began with a pinkish sky. Although the sky was actually a pale overcast grey, the pink tones somehow captured the bright, warm haze of that morning--the kind of light that requires sunglasses in spite of pervasive cloud cover. One painting goal was to let the sky set a certain mood and to continue experimenting with a limited palette of ultramarine blue, cerulean blue, Paynes grey, cadmium red deep, burnt sienna, yellow ochre, and white. All greens, browns, and blackish tones are mixed from these colors. The second painting goal was to try to evoke the tranquility of the moment and the feeling of mystery as the creek glided around a bend and out of sight. The reflections in the water seemed central to portraying the stillness of the scene.

As usual, pursuing the goals of this piece gave me fits along the way, and it was even more difficult than usual to decide when to stop revising and to declare the painting finished. For some reason, I continued to tinker with small details, to wish it looked a bit different (but not knowing precisely what to change), and to put it away repeatedly to pull out days later for more tinkering. Of course, this can be the ruin of a decent creation, and I finally had to exert some self-discipline and just STOP. Have you seen news features about chimps, elephants, or other non-human animals who paint amazing abstracts? One commentator remarked that the unseen co-artist is the person who pulls their work away and gives them a fresh canvas. Left to themselves, they would happily continue slapping on more and more paint--producing, presumably, a less interesting result. I can definitely relate to the chimps who might not be the best judges of when to stop painting. However this piece, now signed and finished with a light coat of medium, has been declared officially complete and has hung on our bedroom wall for a few weeks. And, as it catches my eye in lamplight or as morning brightens, it has definitely grown on me.

Question: What experiences have you had with the art of knowing when to stop?

Growing--Landscape Painting Experiment--Tranquil Creek Bend

I first showed you this painting about six months ago and am repeating that post for newer readers. Two photos show portions of the painting for more detail (and as always, you can click on a photo to enlarge it). Once again, the location is a spot that many people would walk by without stopping to look. A small bridge on Hogan Road crosses Little Pottsburg Creek near our home on the south side of Jacksonville, Florida. On the lookout for scenes with water features, I pulled over to explore and was especially taken with the view in one direction, where the creek widened and curved out of sight around a bend. A thickly wooded bank on one side was countered by oddly charming, spindly trees rising above bushes on the other. The trees reminded me of children experiencing a sudden growth spurt practicing in dance class, somehow combining awkwardness and grace.

This is the second painting to emerge from photos taken that day. I decided to push myself away from my favorite palette and began with a pinkish sky. Although the sky was actually a pale overcast grey, the pink tones somehow captured the bright, warm haze of that morning--the kind of light that requires sunglasses in spite of pervasive cloud cover. One painting goal was to let the sky set a certain mood and to continue experimenting with a limited palette of ultramarine blue, cerulean blue, Paynes grey, cadmium red deep, burnt sienna, yellow ochre, and white. All greens, browns, and blackish tones are mixed from these colors. The second painting goal was to try to evoke the tranquility of the moment and the feeling of mystery as the creek glided around a bend and out of sight. The reflections in the water seemed central to portraying the stillness of the scene.

As usual, pursuing the goals of this piece gave me fits along the way, and it was even more difficult than usual to decide when to stop revising and to declare the painting finished. For some reason, I continued to tinker with small details, to wish it looked a bit different (but not knowing precisely what to change), and to put it away repeatedly to pull out days later for more tinkering. Of course, this can be the ruin of a decent creation, and I finally had to exert some self-discipline and just STOP. Have you seen news features about chimps, elephants, or other non-human animals who paint amazing abstracts? One commentator remarked that the unseen co-artist is the person who pulls their work away and gives them a fresh canvas. Left to themselves, they would happily continue slapping on more and more paint--producing, presumably, a less interesting result. I can definitely relate to the chimps who might not be the best judges of when to stop painting. However this piece, now signed and finished with a light coat of medium, has been declared officially complete and has hung on our bedroom wall for a few weeks. And, as it catches my eye in lamplight or as morning brightens, it has definitely grown on me. Update since the first time I posted this: This painting and several others are now available at a lovely local shop in the San Marco section of Jacksonville, Trends Home Decor. If you visit there, you will be amazed at the variety of distinctive art, home accessories, and furniture at affordable prices.

Question: What experiences have you had with the art of knowing when to stop?

Painting Class #2 with Anthony Whiting

     The homework exercise for the second painting class with Anthony Whiting was to paint a bowl of fruit. He had suggested we could pull down a reference photo from the internet, but I couldn't find one with the kind of lighting I wanted. So, did it the hard way--set up a bowl of fruit and took some photos. The image to the right shows my finished painting exercise in acrylic paint on 8 1/2" x 11" heavy paper in a bound sketchbook.

     Before painting the fruit, we were to make an outline sketch of the 8 - 12 major shapes in the image, then a 5 value sketch to plan the placement of the lights and darks, and finally some color samples to choose the paint hues we would use. You can see the preliminary exercises page here. I tried my grey scale markers for the value sketch and used 5 of them, from a very light grey to a very dark grey. The markers helped with decisions about placement of values, but did not allow for the kind of subtler shading a pencil sketch can provide. Instead of individual color swatches, I made a couple of choppy stroke blended patches (as in the first class's homework; see previous post). I used a limited primary color palette with only 3 tube colors altogether plus titanium white--alizarin crimson, cadmium yellow medium, and cobalt blue--which created a wide range of color blend possibilities. Limiting the color palette also makes for a pleasing underlying harmony.

     Anthony Whiting's teaching and homework assignments are providing me with new techniques and leading me to real growth. The subjects, brush stroke technique, choppy blending method--and more--are a change for me. And a challenge. Some of what we do for the class is well outside my comfort zone, or, in other words, at the perfect learning edge.

Question of the day: Where is the learning edge in your life currently?

Growing--Two Versions of a Landscape--New York Hills Painting

This pair of paintings represents a rare undertaking for me--creating a second version of a landscape I had already painted once. You have seen the painting on the right before, on the November 5 blog post, along with the following description: " . . . Look to the Hills, II, recalls a deeply renewing visit to Warwick Conference Center near Warwick, NY a few Octobers ago. Our long-time friends, Ken and Arlene Tenckinck, manage the center and direct all its programs. As I type this, I find myself smiling and breathing deeply with pleasure--they are remarkable people, Our too-infrequent times together are always rich, meaningful, and full of laughter."

The original Look to the Hills painting, on the left above, differs in the painting palette, in the appearance of the large tree, and in the degree of detail developed in various areas of the composition. It remains a personal favorite as a reminder of that wonderful visit with treasured friends and for the tranquil feeling it gives me. Although I am open to selling most of the paintings I currently have on hand, I plan to keep the first version of this scene.

Why did I decide to create another painting from the same reference photos? I guess part of the reason is the attachment I feel to this scene. I also like an occasional break from Coastal North Florida scenes and felt like a return to the mountain vista of the Warwick, New York area. Finally, I was curious to try a second version with a different palette, a more limited group of basic paint colors from which I mixed all the colors you see in version II.

There may be some truth to the saying that "You can't go home again", as the second version proved to be much more difficult than the first. It simply refused to come out well and is still a distant second to the first in my opinion. However, hearing the response of other people to the two pieces has been interesting and instructive. At my Open Studio Reception in November, several guests really liked Hills II , and at least one of them is still considering purchasing it. Their opinions serve as a good reminder that taste and preference in art are very individual and that I should not assume that viewers will always rank paintings the same way I do. If any of you want to vote for one or the other, that would be fun, and I would love to hear the reasons for your preference.

Question of the day: What experiences can you recall that illustrate the wide variation among people in their taste in art?

Creating a Painting to Match a Room's Decor

September sun fully risen over the Atlantic

     I have not yet planned a landscape painting specifically to match a room's decor. However, I do not necessarily try to duplicate the hues I see in a scene either. Since I sometimes determine a painting's color palette in advance for my own creative reasons, having an "assigned palette" may not be too different. So, when a beloved daughter-in-law asked for a painting to blend with the warm tones of the remodeled master bedroom in their Jacksonville Beach home, I was honored by her request and started planning. The room is painted a rich, warm yellow with bedding that quietly introduces orange and a soft sea-foam green, and Ashley wanted warm tones like orange and yellow to predominate in the painting.

About 15 minutes before sunrise

     So, blue sky and lush green vegetation are out--an Atlantic Coast sunrise is in. Why a sunrise rather than a sunset? Because here in Jacksonville, Florida, the sun rises over the ocean and sets over land. Although I have some nice ocean view photos taken around sunset, they lack rich, warm reflections in the water because the sun is setting behind the viewer over the land. 

Before sunrise looking north, showing morning mist

     Creating this painting does scare me because sunrise and sunset paintings seem quite difficult. They can either be gorgeous or can be so dramatic as to look phony, and I have avoided trying one so far. The other scary part is that this painting will be the largest I have undertaken to this point--in other words, a true learning experience lies ahead. I claim to love learning experiences, right?!?

Before sunrise, looking into heavier mist to the south

     These photos are of a sunrise we saw from a beach house weekend a little south of Jacksonville Beach. I plan to (carefully) intensify the warm colors somewhat, maybe with more clouds and more reflections in the water. A Google search for images of Jacksonville Beach, Florida sunrises has offered some possible modifications of the sunrise I personally saw and photographed. Of course, I would never paint directly from someone else's photos--just gather a few possible ideas to enhance my own original composition. As slowly as I paint (and given that I have a couple of other smaller projects in the works), you may not see the finished painting for a number of months. But I would love your suggestions for meeting the challenges of painting a sunrise. Please share!

     By the way, I know that many artists reject the very idea of creating or choosing a painting in colors to match decor. At home, I personally hang paintings or other wall art that we love, whatever the color scheme; landscapes in particular look fine anywhere in my view. However, I completely understand that many people like to complement or match a room's color scheme and will enjoy giving the challenge a try--especially for our fine son and his wonderful wife.

Question of the day: How do you feel about choosing art works to match the colors of the decor in a room?  

     

A Second New Salt Marsh Painting--"Castaway Island Cedars"

     "Castaway Island Cedars" is the second of two paintings begun at a painting workshop with painter/teacher Roger Bansemer. I described the painting process for "Castaway Island Palms" a few posts ago when it was finished. Both are 9" x 12" acrylic works on gallery-wrapped canvas using reference photos and notes from my outing to Castaway Island Preserve on the intracoastal waterway here in Jacksonville, Florida. Each scene shows characteristic North Florida native trees and other vegetation growing in or near salt marsh areas, scenes like those that greeted the first Europeans to step on the shore of what is now Florida.


     With apologies for the slightly washed out look of the palms photo, here is the other painting. As always, you can click on the images to enlarge the view.

     I used the same limited palette for these two scenes so that they could hang harmoniously as companion pieces, but made certain each could also work alone. This palette includes: cerulean blue, ultramarine blue, Payne's grey, cadmium yellow light, Indian yellow, cadmium red light, white, and buff, with some burnt umber in a few of the mixes. As described in the "Castaway Island Palms" post, this is my first experience using Indian yellow, a warm, slightly orangey hue. It's very nice. I rubbed each canvas with an uneven burnt sienna mid-tone before painting, which provides a warm undertone unifying the entire work as well as a base from which it was easy to judge the tones (relative darks and lights) of the rest of the painting. Beginning with what I planned as the darkest darks, then moving to lights and mid-range tones, I laid in the rough shapes of the composition, then gradually worked in greater detail. "Castaway Island Cedars" came together more quickly (or in my case, less slowly :>) than the palms piece.


     For each of these paintings, I had excellent reference photos, including those that showed more detail of the red cedar branches and needle clusters, or other crucial detail areas. Several times in the workshop, Roger Bansemer stressed the importance of starting with well-composed reference photos with adequate tonal variation. Sounds obvious, maybe, but I have begun with so-so photos more than once in the past and then struggled to compensate for a poor composition or monotonal appearance. There is a point beyond which I am not good at "making it up"--especially in trying to add something to the given scene that is not actually there. Some aspects of a scene are fairly simple to adjust. Given the lush, varied vegetation here in coastal North Florida, I inevitably need to leave things out to make a pleasing composition, which is simpler than adding elements. The horizon (which is often near the horizontal center of photos) can be moved easily to avoid cutting the composition in half (much less pleasing to the eye than placing it a third of the way from the top or bottom--or at another less symmetrical level). Beyond that, the fact that these works both came from good, solid reference photos helped me complete them with less stress and difficulty than sometimes.
Question of the day: In visual art (including photography), how often do you think about or notice the placement of various features of the overall composition? Do you know why you are particularly drawn to certain compositions?  

Blog Hop, Part II--My Creative Process

A great blue heron, seen at  Jacksonville's Hanna Park

Somewhere in Michigan (a scene from memories)

     Thanks again to Mary Paquet for the invitation to contribute to the blog hop project by responding to four questions. I continue here with the two last questions (see my previous post for Part I). And don't miss Jo Castillo's post on Monday, Dec. 15; I "tagged" her to be next in the blog hop and know that you will enjoy her lively creative sense and fine art works.

3) Why do I create what I do?

     I have always enjoyed sewing, knitting, and crocheting, but did not believe I had any talent for the visual arts I so admired. My love for color and for the beauty of the natural world kept tugging me toward giving landscape work a try.

Castaway Preserve Cedar

Castaway Preserve Palms

     Finally, about 11 years ago, I signed up for a week-long class in acrylic painting at the John C. Campbell Folk School in North Carolina--expecting to enjoy playing with color and making creative messes, then to toss them and return home renewed and relaxed. Well, with an excellent teacher and time to practice and learn, I painted pieces that I really liked. No tossing occurred, and I was hooked! Now, with more workshops and lots more practice behind me, some pieces even sell. More importantly, I find continued delight in creating acrylic landscapes and learning more all the time. Another Folk School class this year started me in silk painting as well--a fluid, often unpredictable medium that gives me additional pleasure. Creating art is a whole new world for me and a rewarding pursuit in semi-retirement.

Jacksonville Beach

Jacksonville Beach

4) How does my creative process work?

     While considering this question, I used the little search box at the top of my blog and entered "painting process". Oh, my--I have written many posts that include discussion of the creative process in general and of the particular processes involved in individual paintings or silk scarves.

An early work--A favorite retreat near Warwick, NY

Silk scarf (using resist)

Silk scarf (natural blending--no resist)

     So, what are the common threads in varying processes for individual pieces? For processes in making the silk scarves, please see recent posts on that topic.
     
     Nearly all landscape paintings begin with a photo or a cluster of reference photos. Since I am endlessly fascinated with coastal North Florida scenes and want to convey the beauty and serenity I find in exploring out-of-the-way places in this area, I study angles of light, color (how to capture the incredible range of greens?!), and take notes to accompany the photos I take from various angles and distances.

     In the studio, the next considerations are composition (including tonal balance--the lights and darks) and color palette. In our area, good composition almost always involves leaving out some of the lush growth and sometimes other elements. Sketching--very roughly--a few possible versions of a scene, sometimes moving the point of view or focal point, helps me decide on a final version. Here are some previous posts that discuss composition.

     Choosing a limited number of colors helps both in unifying a painting and still gives an incredible range of possible hues. I don't try to match the actual scene so much as try to capture a feeling while staying in a realistic color range. Sometimes I go for low contrast and cool serenity, sometimes warmer, lively vistas. Again, here are some previous posts with more about color and palette for interested readers.

      Revision is the other most crucial piece of my process. The beauty of acrylics (especially for a learner like me) is that they dry quickly and cover well. I can paint over an area that does not please me, take out a superfluous bush, or whatever. Sometimes before a major change, I try it out by cutting a shape out of construction paper that approximates the change, tape it to the canvas, and squint to judge the effect on the composition.

     When wrestling with a piece that is not cooperating, it helps to remind myself that any work is a valuable learning experience (taking myself too seriously is fatal). At times, I put a painting away for a time and work on something else. A fresh look later on often yields a solution.

Question of the day: Do you enjoy hearing about the creative process or watching artists work? Or would you rather simply experience the art for yourself with no background or explanation given?

Landscape Painting -- "On the Jones Creek Trail"

"On the Jones Creek Trail"

 My newest acrylic landscape painting, "On the Jones Creek Trail", on 16" x 20" gallery-wrapped canvas, was inspired by lovely walks in the Jacksonville Arboretum and Gardens with my husband and little Shih Tzu dog. The memories and photos used as reference material (one of them shown below) span several visits, and this painting is a composite of scenes along one of the trails, which weaves in and out of a woodsy area, with many views of Jones Creek. Here in coastal North Florida, natural vegetation can grow so thick that I need to "clear out some underbrush" to create a pleasing, balanced composition for painting. However, what is included in the painting is truly growing near the creek in this amazing park within Jacksonville, Florida. 
 

     Our city is blessed with a wealth of parks, preserves, and nature trails. The arboretum was rescued from unused land owned by the city (which had acquired it after a mining company had strip-mined it for materials used to make titanium). Although illegal dumping and the residue of mining had compromised the area, some citizens could envision its future as an arboretum and natural recreational site. You can read more about the delightful park it has become and see photos here. My husband, a master gardener and member of the North Florida Native Plant Society, worked on clearing and planting projects with many other volunteers. My previous posts about visiting the arboretum also show its uniquely North Florida beauty.
                                                                                     

One of the reference photos used in painting

     I used a mostly cool palette for this painting because it represents a transitional season toward the end of winter, when vegetation here is more subdued in hue than in spring and summer. The acrylic paints used include cobalt, cerulean, Payne's grey, lemon yellow, yellow ochre, burnt umber, and titanium white with a few touches of naphthol red to temper and vary the greens.

     I hope you enjoy taking a walk in the arboretum with me.

Question of the day: What kinds of natural environments have been restored and preserved in your area?

Learning--Planning Stages of Painting Process

Last post promised some details of my planning process for paintings, so here is a fairly simple example, a 9" x 12" study of a sanderling skittering and feeding at the edge of the surf. The original reference photo shows the bird on the right side of the scene. In another photo, you see doodling and notes on printer paper. Sketches explore possible compositional arrangements and combinations of darks, lights and in-between values. These rough sketches are in grey-scale markers in 5 tones from lightest to darkest--depending on the subject, I sometimes sketch in soft pencil or colored markers instead.

I have misplaced the original messy experimentation with paint colors for this piece, but in the lower right corner of the paper, you can see the results--stripes of the tube colors I chose: cerulean blue, burnt sienna, Paynes grey, black, and white. Then beside the paint colors are a few of the possible mixes that provide a warmer grey in the foreground, gradually going cooler and bluer in the background. Those of you who paint know what interesting greys you can make by mixing a brown (here, burnt sienna) with any blue or bluish color (cerulean or Paynes grey), plus white for lighter versions.

Another photo shows the usual set-up at my easel. On a large foam board, I tape the reference photo(s), a larger scan of the reference photo in black and white to aid in planning tonal balance, the sketches, notes, and palette plans (basic colors and a few important mixes). All are right above the painting I am working on for easy reference. Finally, you see a photo of the completed study, which was a good learning experience for me.

Since I have written about this study previously (enter "sanderling" in the blog search box above for earlier posts), I'll stop here for now. Please let me know if you enjoy entries about the painting process and what aspects in particular you would like to hear about. Since my painting personality tends toward a combination of some planning and some discovery and revision as the work emerges, there are varying bits of preliminary work on the shelves from each work I have completed.

Question of the day: Would you enjoy an occasional post like this one? What other topics would you like us to discuss?

Learning & Growing--Choosing Paintings to Show

As I prepare for the Open Studio Reception I mentioned in the last post, one task is to decide what paintings to show and offer for sale. Advice from other artists is proving very helpful, especially from those who will give me a clear, honest assessment of the pieces I am considering. We don't like all our own creations equally, of course, but cannot predict how other people might see them. Some that disappointed me in some way strike my "jury" as having merit and might prove to be another person's cup of tea. I find that I am ready (more so than even several months ago) to part with most of my "better" pieces, knowing that I will go on to create more. So, the timing is right for a show. UPDATE: I have now added an index to all blog posts about planning and holding an art reception. Access it here.

Today's painting, on an 14" X 18" canvas board, is a romanticized version of a scene near our home which I pass on one of my favorite walking routes. A broken-down, abandoned shed surrounded by rusted metal debris stands on the curve of a two-track dirt drive leading far back into a wooded area. Perhaps there was a house on this lot once although there is no evidence of a foundation, just half-ruined utility connections. It's on a back road shared by a mix of small "Old Florida" homes, newer construction replacing tear-downs, and older mobile homes, so might once have boasted a double-wide. Now natural vegetation and overgrown plantings are gradually taking over, but the place still somehow breathes with the spirit of people who once used tools stored in this shed. It invites the imagination to spin a story of those who called this spot home.

After studying, sketching and photographing the scene a couple of years ago, I came up with this painting, called Long Gone. It took on a life of its own, as creations often do, and I was led away from the initial subdued, realistic palette to make it sing with color. In spite of the air of abandonment, this has always struck me as a happy place, so that's what flowed from my brush. The result has a sort of storybook quality rather than realistically representing the actual location. This painting made the cut for the Open Studio Reception and hopefully will make an interesting contrast to other pieces with more limited palettes and greater realism.

Question of the day: In your own creative pursuits, how often does the process take on a life of its own? How comfortable are you with those experiences--do you like to maintain some control or do you enjoy being carried away and surprised?

"Castaway Island Afternoon", an Acrylic Landscape Painting

     One of the many preserves in our coastal North Florida area is relatively small, but is a favorite of mine. Castaway Island Preserve is on the Intracoastal Waterway with residential neighborhoods on both sides. It's an easy drive from our home and has yielded lots of painting reference photos over several visits. Part of the preserve is salt marsh with raised walkways that allow visitors to access the wetlands. I love it there and have made several paintings from Castaway scenes; I'm sure there will be more to come.

     "Castaway Island Afternoon" is a 24" x 18" acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas, designed to be hung as is or to be framed--either way looks great. Apparently my camera was tipped a bit when I took the photos (the reason the cedars look as though they are slightly leaning toward each other). Whoops. Since I have now signed the piece and given it a protective coating (for which I use a combination of matte and gloss acrylic medium), it is more difficult to take a good photo. Now it shows a bit of a sheen in photos, so I'll be content with the one I have.

     There is more than a little artistic license taken here. The hues are punched up from the actual scene, and, as usual, I had to clear out lots of vegetation and plant debris from the exuberant growth we see in coastal North Florida. So, the initial planning of the composition was crucial and involved several tonal sketches (using a range of artist's grey-scale markers) and various arrangements of the elements in the scene. 

     I also experimented with a few possible palettes and finally chose: cerulean blue, ultramarine blue, Paynes grey, lemon yellow, yellow oxide, Indian yellow, burnt sienna, burnt umber, buff (unbleached titanium ecru), and titanium white. The result is lighter and brighter than some of my other Castaway Island paintings, such as "Castaway Island Cedars" and "Castaway Island Palms". A side note on those two: although I used the same palette and canvas size so that they could be hung as companion pieces, they have ended up apart--which is just fine, too. The smaller cedars piece turned out to be a personal favorite and hangs in our home, while the palms piece was a perfect fit for the home of our older son and his interior designer wife. I was honored when she requested the painting and happily made a gift of it.

Question of the Day: Do you have favorite places in nature that you revisit to recharge or for creative or spiritual renewal?