It hurts my heart to do this. I LOVE to blog. Showing you photos, drawings, paintings, life as an artist, Mineral King, the good stuff of Tulare County and California, and yackety-yacking at you about it all, then getting your emails and comments just floats my boat.
The Oak Grove Bridge is my favorite subject to paint and blogging is my favorite thing to do on the computer.
I know that people have other things to do this time of year than to read the mental ramblings and verbal recitations of a California Artist. So, in spite of the withdrawals that I’m sure to experience, I will refrain from posting to my blog until January 2, 2013.
(Unless Jesus returns before then, or the world ends, or whatever is supposed to happen today.)
Meanwhile, please enjoy any of my past 1167 blog entries (REALLY!!), have a nice Christmas, and eat your vegetables.
If we are still here on January 2, 2013, you can read an announcement about a new plan on this weblog. Hope to “see” you back here!
Last week I wrote about studio artists in this blog post.
Working from photos isn’t the only choice for a studio artist. Sometimes they set up still life things (Still lifes? Still lives? “Things” works for me.) Sometimes they work from sketches they made outside. Sometimes they paint people who sit still and try not to fidget. Sometimes they finish paintings they began outside.
Sometimes they just make stuff up.
If I tried to paint this scene while sitting here, I might get hit by a car.
I’d fall off the bank if I was standing at my easel here and a car came by. There is no shoulder on this road right here.
Painting from photos is often considered “cheating”, not “real art”, and cheesy by many in the ArtWorld.
Ask me if I care. . . never been very affected by others’ opinions. (“Do you care?” – “Why do you ask?”)
Am I a fake artist? A cheater?
Nope. Don’t think so. Hate that snobbery, so there.
But, I know I could learn if I tried those other things. If I get bored with my current style of painting, or when someone comes along and says “Hey, want to learn how to paint differently? I’ll show you!” and I can fit it into my life, I might say yes. Until then?
I’ll just keep working from my photos.
If I stood on the bridge to paint this scene, I’d flinch and grit my teeth every time a car drove over the seam on the bridge because it makes a loud rattle.
I’m glad we had this little chat. Thanks for listening. Always nice to visit with you all!
Did you know that some studio artists paint from photos?
I paint from photos. They provide ideas, inspiration, visual guidance and instruction.
I paint from photos that I take. Sometimes I adjust them on my computer. Sometimes I have other people shade my lens, hold branches out of the way or manipulate the scene in other manners. Sometimes I arrange things and rearrange them and move them around to other locations.
My friend Jimmy brought me the most beautiful pomegranates he could find. It was at a busy time as I was preparing for 2 different shows. I knew they would shrivel before I could paint them. No problem. I have a camera and am not afraid to use it.
Perhaps this is just the practical side of being a California artist in rural Tulare County.
My drawing students really impress me. They sign up for lessons, come for an hour a week, and produce wonderful pencil drawings. Most of them begin knowing nothing. They persist, they do the work, and they learn to draw.
I show them the way, but they do the work and grow in their knowledge and skills. Some of them go to other workshops on the side, like watercolor painting or oil painting, or knitting. They come from a variety of backgrounds, and most have much more formal education and are far more travelled than I am.
Got me to thinking – do I make an effort to grow? Am I working on self-improvement, personal growth, being a life-long-learner?
I don’t take any classes and in fact, I’ve quit many of the classes I’ve tried.
That admission makes me look like a sluggish quitter.
But wait! There’s more!
Currently I am forcing myself through something called the hundred pushup challenge. Really! Weenie-armed, never-done-a-pull-up or a boy push-up, girlie wussy me. Even if I don’t succeed in the 6 week time frame, I will certainly be able to do more than I could before I started!
My great friend in the Seattle area gave me a 6 month subscription to a site called Lumosity. This is a brain training site that claims to be able to improve your abilities in the mental areas of memory, attention, speed, flexibility and problem solving. Over the past several weeks, I have grown mentally in all areas. Or not – perhaps I’m just better at playing the games. Whatever the truth is here, I’m having a great time!
While I paint or draw, I listen to podcasts by Michael Hyatt, Chris LoCurto, and Artists Helping Artists. Okay, sometimes I just listen to music, talk radio, sermons, or talk on the phone, or savor the silence, but often I take the chance to cram more knowledge and wisdom into my brain.
7 years ago I learned to knit.
Knitting has changed my life!
6 years ago I began learning to oil paint, and a few weeks ago I took a portrait painting workshop.
I’ve learned how to train for long power walks and done a 5K, a 9-miler, 2 1/2 marathons, and a 21-miler. I’ve also learned about Plantar Fasciitis, dang it, and all the various treatments for it, dang it, including acupuncture, which is finally bringing some relief.
I have learned to blog, update my own website, to comment on blogs, to use LinkedIn, Adobe InDesign, Paypal, Pinterest, and Daily Paintworks, all in the past several years. (no smart phone, Twitter or Facebook – gotta draw the line somewhere!)
I LOVE to learn new things, especially things to do. (These are just the ones I remember, because according to Lumosity, my memory is the weakest part of my mind.)
Last week I showed you this watercolor painting by Jim, who asked me for a critique.
This is what I told him:
“Wow, you are a get-‘er-dun kind of guy! Love the title too. . . (I’m puzzling over what to call my painting of the same scene that isn’t too dumb, obvious and boring)
“Your shapes look great, the textures are convincing and the colors of the fruit are bright.
“3 suggestions for a little better results (just to push it up a level):
“1. If the background part of the reflection is darker than looking out onto the grass (wow, so cumbersome to find words when if we were together I could just point!), then it will have more impact. This is because the contrast will be greater both between the inside and outside of the window, and between the reflections of fruit and background.
“2. Edges of reflections and shadows should be fuzzy EVEN IF they appear sharp in life or in a photo. It helps the viewer know which is real and which is an illusion (bring to mind that poem at the end of Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues – I loved that song in 8th grade)
“3. I know nothing of watercolor so this might be useless information but here goes. . . the shadows on your lemon and lime look as if you just put black there (could be the monitor, the photo, the airwaves between your town and Three Rivers. . .) When I want a shadow in oil, I mix a darker version of the same color. Often shadows will show in a photo as black, but we have to disregard that visual information and make the color be a real color. (stupid deceptive lying sneaky cheating photos)”
And here is Jim’s reply:
“Thanks so much for your quick response…I understand everything you said, and I appreciate it, especially about the shadows on the fruit. I didn’t know that, so, wow, that’s valuable information. I really thank you, also, for your encouragement. I want to get to the point where I call myself and artist and BELIEVE it.
Blessings, my friend,
Jim
“Oh, and feel absolutely free to use any of my stuff on the blog; that’s the purpose, right? Even throw your suggestions to me on there if you desire. There’s so much we can all learn from each other in this world if we’re honest.”
Jim is smart, nice, funny, hard-working, and talented. (Forget it – he is married!)
A man named Jim took drawing lessons from me. His real desire was to learn to paint with watercolor, but he is a very smart guy and knew he needed to hone his drawing skills first. After several private lessons (in which the student learns at an accelerated rate), he was off and running.
Jim saw my photo of the Most Beautiful Fruit Bowl I’ve Ever Seen and asked permission to paint it. I’ve got a strong attachment to all my drawing students, both past and present, and it is my goal to help each one further their art skills. Besides, I was flattered, so of course I said yes.
He sent the painting to me and asked for a critique. That sort of request can be weird between people. If you don’t know the person really well or haven’t established an honest relationship, it can be a real sticky wicket. (No, I have no idea what that expression really means.) Does the asker just want reassurance that his work is good? Does he want suggestions?
It is a very important part of my drawing lessons that we are honest with one another. Your mom and your best friend and your little sister will say “Wow! That is beautiful! You really draw good!” If you overlook their grammar and manage to resist the effort to correct them, you can bask in the praise.
It feels good but it isn’t very helpful. When you are among people who draw, people you trust to be kind while speaking the truth, and you are able to hear the truth without resisting and arguing, you can really improve your art and your skills.
You can learn both from being the critique-er and from being the critique-ee. For that reason, I frequently ask my students to let me have it about my own work, and we all enjoy the process.
Jim and I established that sort of relationship when he took lessons from me, so I felt comfortable telling him the truth about his painting. Here it is for you to see, and next week I will share the conversation we had about it.
I still have a very large commissioned oil painting of redwoods to complete. Redwoods are sequoia gigantea, not to be confused with California redwoods. We grew up calling them “the big trees”, and I had no clue what a privilege it was to live so close. (I might have been a bit of a twit.) I choose to call them Redwoods now because I went to Redwood High School, and although I will skip the upcoming reunion, I have retained enough loyalty to hang onto the name. But, I digress.
The customer liked a similar painting that I made for someone else, which was based on the pencil drawing called “Redwood & Dogwood”.
You can see the drawing, plus a photo of a sequoia on my laptop. The reason the palette is on the floor is because I was kneeling there to work on the lower portion of the tree. You can see the primary colors running across the top of the palette and the redwood colors running down the side.
But wait! There’s more!
Sheesh. This California artist has a thing about redwood trees. On the left is half of the pair of doors to the painting studio. I had to open them because it is sort of dark in there. Then, the swamp cooler had to be on high, so the doors were blowing around.
It’s rough being a California artist in the heat of summer.
Wah.
This is how it looked at the end of the noisy, dark, overheated day of painting. It should dry enough overnight to begin adding the dogwood flowers on top of the redwood tree. I mean layered in front of the tree, not up at the top of the painting. You knew that, right?
If you call my studio during work hours on a work day, often you will get the answering machine. You might be thinking, “That flaky artist doesn’t work much!”
Au contraire!
Sometimes I just can’t get to the phone.
The phone is on the far left of the photo, atop the filing cabinet, and requires that I put down my paintbrush from my left hand, take the one out of my mouth, put down the one I am using, and climb over the cords to the speakers and to the laptop. Ain’t happenin’. Sorry.
When it is hot, I can’t even hear the phone over the swamp cooler on high and the music coming from the laptop. Sorry.
This is what it looks like while I am painting a large commission. I’ll show you more about it tomorrow.
