The Oil Painting Blog

Join the Controversial Conversation

MaureenSharon — Tue, 21 May 2013 04:43:00 GMT

The moment the June issue of The Artist's Magazine hit the newsstands we started to receive a deluge of letters of protest and of praise. The cause of controversy was an article I’d written on the work of social realist Max Ginsburg, whose beautiful Swing graces the cover. Ginsburg’s immediate subject is the city of New York but the incendiary work in question shows the horrors—both physical (on the enemy/victim) and moral (on the warrior/perpetrator)—of war.

I invite you to join the conversation, as our September issue will feature our readers’ letters and Max Ginsburg’s response. Also in the June issue are articles on nocturnes in pastel (Stan Sperlak), improvisations in acrylic (Robert Burridge) and still lifes in both oil and pastel (Claudia Seymour), plus answers to your questions on using water as a medium for acrylic, advice on entering art fairs, and, as always, much more.

--Maureen

Versions, Variations & Copies

SABennett — Thu, 16 May 2013 20:10:00 GMT

A Collector's Decision to Commission a Reinterpretation of an Existing Work of Art

Patricia Watwood has explored her decision to paint a second version of one of her most well received works, Pandora. She described her thinking about doing the second work as well as her discussions with the commissioning collector. As that collector, I had my own concerns.


The variations in the detritus around Pandora, both the 2011 and 2012 versions.

The starting place for any later version is, of course, the first work. When I saw Pandora on "Women Painting Women" (a great site), I could tell it was extraordinary. This led to a phone call with the disappointing news that Pandora had been sold. I now had a choice: walk away, pick another work, watch Patricia's inventory for something that appealed to my sensibilities, or commission a variant.

In our conversations, Patricia and I were both intrigued with the idea of a "second version" but, at the same time, wary of it. So, we talked about "variations." How many times did Pearlstein render the same scene or Munch paint The Scream? (Munch made four variants, none identical). In any case, we agreed that painting an idea for the first time is wholly different from painting it again.

In the end, we agreed to a reinterpretation: use the second time as an opportunity to see it anew, correct anything not liked, experiment with prior ideas not implemented. We also discussed ways in which the first painting could change: rearranged or different "junk" around the figure, different dimensions, a new model. Patricia rejected this suggestion as she had a rapport with the first model, so we agreed that she would work from life a second time. Everything else, esp. how closely to follow the original composition, was left to Patricia. I didn't need to see the work in progress nor did I ask for sketches. I wanted Patricia to follow her own instincts.


The variations in the feet of Pandora, both the 2011 and 2012 versions.

If you have read Patricia's comments, clearly painting the second work was a learning experience and a metaphysical journey. In the end, I was surprised at how much the two paintings resemble one another. Indeed, had Patricia asked me about tracing version one as a starting place for version two, I would have discouraged her. Nevertheless, for me as a collector, I found the result to be the gratifying outcome of a trusting collaboration that resulted in another extraordinary work of art.

Undoubtedly, viewers and artists will want to place the two variants side by side for comparison. For me, however, I think the two works stand alone and together quite nicely. I wouldn't change a thing.

--Steven

Seeing Double?

Patricia Watwood — Thu, 16 May 2013 03:34:00 GMT

I just finished a very interesting commission. I've shared my oil painting, Pandora, on Artist Daily before. It was one of the central paintings from my 2012 exhibit at Forbes Gallery. I got a lot of positive feedback on that painting--and then got an inquiry from a collector, "Is Pandora still available?" Happily I had already sold it, but the collector and I started talking about doing a second version, and the historic tradition of multiple versions of successful paintings. We both agreed that a commission of a second version would be a great project.


These two images are so similar, you could do a search and find for small details. I even have to look twice to figure out whether they are the same or different. Pandora by Patricia Watwood, 2011, oil on linen, 30 x 26.

I'd never done an autograph copy of a fine art oil painting before, and I did not want to just make a copy of the first painting. How could I make another one and create the same level of quality and freshness, rather than a technical repeat that wouldn't have the verve of the first? I think we've all seen 2^nd and 3^rd versions of famous works by artists in museum exhibits, and there's often a sense that the first is the best one and the others are derivative. So, my challenge was to make a second version that was every bit as "first rate" as the original.

The collector and I agreed upon some basic working strategies. For one thing, I would not copy the original oil painting, but re-create the painting from life--particularly by doing the figure work again from the live model. I would also re-set the "still-life" objects that create Pandora's seat--the pile of junk around her in the foreground. I recreated the set-up and placed the objects so that the composition would be an improvisation on a theme, rather than a rote repetition of the details. Lastly, I made the picture at a slightly different size--two inches larger in each direction.

To proceed, the first thing I did was make a full-size black and white copy of the original painting (from a photograph of the artwork), and transfer that to the new canvas. I rubbed soft pastel on the back of the paper copy, and scribed the lines on the front with a pencil to transfer the drawing. Next, I did my underpainting (in my usual limited palette) by copying the original painting. After that was mapped out on the new canvas, I set the original aside and began to finish the second painting on it's own, referring to the first only to check general color and value consistency and design.


		Pandora 2012 by Patricia Watwood, 2012, oil on linen, 32 x 28.

In the end, I was very pleased with both the process and the result of the second work. Repeating the composition caused me to reflect on how a personal visual language has been developing through this work, and others I'm making in this vein. I was no longer asking myself: "How should I do this?" and "Where should this hand go?" I could dwell on larger questions like: "What is personal and meaningful about these things I'm painting?" and "How can I give this more deftness and grace?" I'm learning that this is one of the great boons of working on a series--that you can dig deeper into the "why," and explore variations rather than building the machine from scratch each time. I made the figure just a bit bigger--and learned how just a small change in scale can change the impact and technical handling in the figure. There were a few passages that I kept almost exactly the same, and that gave me confidence that "Yes, I did like how I solved that problem last time." Like anything we repeat, practice makes perfect. The second painting went very smoothly, and I felt increased confidence in the execution and result.

I'll leave you with a word of praise for the art collectors out there, who play a crucial role in the development of an artist. I have been lucky enough to work with a few collectors who are deeply committed to cultivating art and talent. When you have a patron who is both setting a high expectation, and trusting you to be your best self, the outcome can be optimal for both parties. Collectors who buy the work of living artists get to go to "Art Heaven," and this direct support of artists makes the world a better place for all of us who strive for the continuance of excellence in the arts. So, thank you, dear collector.

--Patricia

Adept in Every Genre

MaureenSharon — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 18:44:00 GMT

Discovering David Ligare's work was a great gift. Adept in every genre, he is master of composition, light, and color. With a classical sensibility and an ardent love of antique Greek and Roman culture, he is simply brilliant, and his work is beyond gorgeous. (One of his landscapes is on the cover.)

This May issue of The Artist's Magazine celebrates the range of media that contemporary artists are lucky enough to work with: in addition to oil painting (Ligare); we have colored pencil (Joseph Crone, John P. Smolko, Arlene Steinberg, and Shawn Falchetti experiment with different surfaces in order to attain odd and enthralling effects.); acrylic painting (Mark Mehaffey tests JKHolbein's new line of paints and Charles Gibbons infuses abstraction with an Eastern mysticism); finally, Stephen Quiller relates the history of an ancient medium, casein, and shows how it can make a splash in the present and future. We're very proud of the issue and we think you'll love it, too.

--Maureen

Editor, The Artist's Magazine

Serious Serendipity & More

MaureenSharon — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 03:29:00 GMT

So excited about the April issue of The Artist's Magazine!

We first saw the painting now on the cover of our April issue, Aine, Death Valley (oil painting, 20 x 30) when we were judging entries in The Artist's Magazine's 2011 Annual Art Competition. We loved Katie's work, even though she didn't (that year) win a prize (next year she did!). Our very own Christine McHugh (managing editor for The Artist's Magazine) had a lively chat with Katie and the result is "Serious Serendipity."

While Katie is as impulsive as she is talented, Argentine artist Alejandro Rosemberg is grounded in the classical tradition. Read about his measured approach in the April issue as well ("Classical Style in a Contemporary Context"). Finally, Cherie Haas and I took a trip to a local framer's studio to get the scoop on the newest and most archival ways to frame works on paper for "In The Frame." All this and more in the April issue, on sale now. Don't miss it.

--Maureen

Editor, The Artist Magazine

Being Human, and All That

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 05 Feb 2013 05:11:00 GMT

"You know, it's not a sin to make mistakes, fail to succeed on the first (or 45th) try, or generally show that we're imperfect. The unspoken strictures that some businesses, churches, schools, other establishments place upon their members or employees make following the 10 Commandments look pretty darn easy." --From Start Your Week with Steve, the free weekly e-mail newsletter of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

Painting materials aren't free and time is precious -- that being said, if more artists would worry less about creating the perfect painting and more about experimenting as a painting artist and getting better at what they do and the painting techniques they employ, then they would sooner reach a consistency of quality as a painting artist and create artworks with which they are delighted, time after time.


It's a great big world out there, and we're a part of it. Dream big and work hard in your painting art. The rewards will follow. Diaphanous by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

But if you skip that stage -- the one where you practice and try and say, "Oh, what the heck; if I don't like it, I'm out a little paint, the canvas, some time -- but I've gained in experience and wisdom" -- then you'll find that you're so worried about perfection, that you never achieve it.

There are enough people in our lives expecting unrealistic things of us that we don't have to be one of them. Falling down isn't failure. Trying and not getting it quite right isn't tragedy. Doing something completely different, just because, isn't a waste of time.

Go for it. Grab a different painting brush. Use a color you usually avoid. Shake around your subject matter. Play with your paint and see where it takes you on the next step of your journey.

--Carolyn

Investing in Art

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 08 Jan 2013 04:31:00 GMT

I love my Honda Fit. And while that may seem to have nothing to do with art, actually, it does.

You see, I drive my Honda Fit everywhere and in the process of its being used it gets dusty, the tires see wear, the interior windows next to where my Toddler sits get coated with whatever sticky stuff she's got on her hands and smears onto the glass. (I know. I don't want to know much more than that, either.)


Art pays off in happiness dividends. Instantly, a fine art painting or any other kind of art provides color, depth, and emotion to our life. Dancer by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

Honestly, if I kept my Honda Fit inside the garage and never drove it for, say, 10 years, it would look exactly the way it did the day I bought it and I could resell it -- maybe at a profit -- because it would be such a great investment!

But you know, people don't buy cars to keep as investments. They buy them to drive in them, and when it's the right car, like my cute, sassy, blazing barbecue orange Honda Fit, they enjoy the process.

If more people thought about making art this way, more people would own and enjoy painting art. But all of a sudden, when people look at a painting, they go into this "I Must Make a Profit on This" investment mode -- even if the artwork they're looking at is a limited edition print for $80. Somehow, they tell themselves, if they purchase this, they need to be able to resell it, ten years down the road, for $200, because that's what you do with art -- you buy it as an investment.

As an artist -- you've heard this before, haven't you?

What a sad, limited world view, one that keeps people from enhancing their aesthetic lives and their home's walls. The best reason to buy painting art-or any kind of art for that matter -- is because you like it, because when you see the oil painting or the print on your wall it makes you happy, because you want to have it in your life, because -- like my Honda Fit -- it's smart, sassy, sophisticated, and fun -- in short, that painting is You.

That's most likely what you want people to say about your own painting art, and that's why you buy the work of other artists yourself. Let's be bold about this and counteract this pervasive investment message and, one by one, we'll let people know that great art is a great investment because it pays off, instantly, in happiness dividends.

--Carolyn

Get Out of Your Comfort Zone! Um . . . Why?

Carolyn Henderson — Thu, 03 Jan 2013 04:23:00 GMT

"When someone tells you to 'get out of your comfort zone,' wait for it. It's highly likely that they're subtly or not-so-subtly nudging you into doing something that they know you don't want to do, but they need done." -- From Start Your Week with Steve, the free weekly e-mail newsletter of Steve Henderson Fine Art.


		Just because we're in our comfort zone as painting artists, doesn't mean that we're not facing big, exciting challenges. Bold Innocence by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

We really owe seminar speakers a lot: they are the ones who come up with these tiresome platitudes that we battle on a daily basis.

Have you ever asked yourself, "Why are random people so concerned about my comfort zone, and whether or not I'm in it?" And, "Just where is it that they want me to go?"

In the real world, there is a difference between a rut and a path, the former being a place where dirty water settles and that gets your feet all wet, the latter being a directional aid in getting you where you want to go. All too frequently, we muddy the two, helped no doubt by people around us who point out that we seem too "comfortable" doing things the way we do, and perhaps we should step off our clear path onto the one they are suggesting.

But there is a reason we feel comfortable doing what we do: it fits us. It makes sense. It's relatively easy because it meshes with the way we think, believe, and process information. It's only when we're afraid, timid, reluctant, huddled in the ditch against the breeze that we're actually in a rut, and generally, we can figure this out without someone pointing it out to us.

Go ahead: do what you do best in your painting art, and do learn how to paint in the way that makes sense to you. Challenge yourself in your painting lessons, try something new, shake up your routine as a painting artist -- but do it because you want to do it, not because someone scolds you into thinking that you should.

--Carolyn

Be Kind -- Starting with Yourself

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 01 Jan 2013 05:10:00 GMT

As an artist, it's good to know how to critique yourself and your painting techniques -- and that's the key element: HOW to critique yourself.


Stride into that studio of yours and take control of analyzing and critiquing your own work. Cadence by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

This type of "critique" when you are learning how to paint doesn't work: "What a lousy painting. I'll never know how to do this right."

And quite frankly, that's not critique so much as it is self-evisceration. You'd never say this to a friend or fellow painting artist, and probably not even to an enemy, at least not to his or her face, so why attack yourself with it?

On the opposite spectrum, this also is not valid critique: "I am so amazing! Everything I produce is so significantly superior to what I see out there that I don't understand why I'm not artist-in-residence on the Oprah network."

While it's good to be confident, arrogance is confidence on steroids, and it'll wind up eventually bringing you and your fine art painting down, because if you are already at the pinnacle then where do you go from there?

So, the best thing to try for as you give yourself painting lessons in self-evaluation is something in between the extremes, which applies to pretty much anything in life. Look at your painting art -- closely -- and try to define what it is about a particular piece that you like and don't like, and why. While this may be difficult if you've never really done it before, it gets easier with practice.

And, since you're doing this for yourself, it's not as if you are crafting an English 101 essay, to be returned with red marks throughout for all of the aspects you "missed." You're doing this for yourself, for the betterment of your art, and for the increased ability to view, analyze, and critique your own work. You're the judge, so be kind and strive for fairness.

--Carolyn

The One and Only You

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 25 Dec 2012 04:39:00 GMT

The Norwegian Artist and I walk 3-5 miles every day, broken up in two or three sessions. It gets the dog out, me off the chair in front of the computer, and the Norwegian from behind his oil painting easel. During the break, we propound to one another correct solutions to national, international, and domestic problems.


		There's no one quite like you in this whole entire world. Celebrate that as you learn how to oil paint. Mesa Walk by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

Unless it's raining. At that point, I stay in, regardless of the Norwegian's exasperated sigh or the dog's pleading look.

It's not so much that I'm inordinately difficult as that I wear glasses, and I really, really hate droplets spattered all over the lenses because then my whole world looks blotchy. While I subconsciously realized this, it took me years before I thought to communicate my reasons to the Norwegian, who, now that he wears reading glasses and understands the irritation of fingerprints or dust on the lenses, nodded and said, "I can see that. Why don't you wear a hat?"

Well, at least we achieved partial understanding. The Norwegian is content to accept that this is the way I am, and on rainy days he and the dog share special time together.

What about you? Do you do something a certain way because of something unique about you?

Do you find it more comfortable to sit when you are oil painting, but everybody you know says that you should stand while putting oil on canvas? Or do you stand closer to your easel than many people do because that's how your eyes focus best? How about light? Maybe you prefer it coming from one side or another or even behind you -- possibly because you wear glasses and they catch a reflection. Or maybe you paint very very quickly, and other artists say that you should slow down.

Before you hang your head and mumble that everyone else is probably right, and you're wrong, as usual, think about me and my glasses. You may have an excellent reason for doing what you do and how you do it and that reason is intimately tied in with something distinctive about you. Take some time and think it through -- not so that you have to answer the people critiquing you, but so that you can answer yourself about what is right for your oil painting art. It'll be the best painting lesson you give yourself.

--Carolyn

A Dreadful Flood of the Unexpected

Carolyn Henderson — Thu, 20 Dec 2012 04:25:00 GMT

While it was a lousy summer for tomatoes, something in the air made the pumpkins and winter squash particularly prolific, and we find ourselves with a workshop full of the stuff.


What we are convinced is a flood of trouble may actually be a sea of opportunity. Golden Opportunity by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

Like most people of my generation, my primary experience with winter squash is baked, smashed, and slathered with butter and brown sugar, and while I've become remarkably adaptable in my grown-up years, my inner child simply refuses to eat, or make, this stuff, which means that I have to get really creative, and I am, thinking, dreaming, cooking, and even writing all things squash (Awash with Squash).

In the process of dealing with this abundance of unusual, unlooked for, and unrequested bounty, I came to realize that this is the story of our lives as artists and painters, because if we don't realize what we have, then we will 1) miss out on our ability to advance as artists and hone our oil painting techniques and 2) possibly squander or let rot valuable painting resources in ourselves.

Maybe you, like me, have been presented with a lot of something that you're not familiar with and don't want to use. How much better, you think, to have buckets of strawberries, or chocolate, or asparagus.

But you don't have those things. You have squash -- and if you forget about feeling bad because you don't have strawberries or chocolate or asparagus, and concentrate, instead, on using what you do have to the best of your ability, you will 1) advance in your oil painting skills and 2) learn to paint using those valuable resources that are inside you ready to be tapped.

Are you not a dynamic, exciting person who does ad lib demos and wows audiences to the point that they snatch up everything in your art booth? Strawberries.

Then talk to people, quietly, and get to know them, and share sincerely about yourself and your oil painting art. Squash.

Do you get cold easily, shudder in the wind, and squint at outside light during a plein air painting session? Chocolate.

Then brew a cup of tea and enjoy the cozy atmosphere of your studio. Squash.

Look around you with your painter's eye. See what you have a lot of, and use it. It won't be the same as what your neighbor or another artist has, but if you worry about what you don't have, you won't focus on using what you do.

--Carolyn

Creativity and Apple Pie

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 18 Dec 2012 04:14:00 GMT

Like his father, our Son and Heir likes to bicycle around the countryside, and during the autumn he never returns without panniers full of wild apples, picked from abandoned fruit trees.


An abundance of apples or a challenge to face in your art--both are best met with creativity and ingenuity. Afternoon Tea by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

Every afternoon found a new pile of fruit product piled somewhere on my kitchen counters; when I mentioned that the apples were getting in my way, the Heir moved them from one counter to the next, but then filled up the released space with a newly discovered variety from yet another forsaken tree.

I had apples on top of the microwave, behind the toaster, in the breadbox, and tumbling out of the refrigerator; when kitchen counter space became scarce the laundry room was the new landing page for these refugee fruits.

Yep, I could make applesauce; I'm sure that's a great suggestion, but I really hate canning. I also hate wasting good food -- especially unsprayed, organic food -- so I did adjust our meal plan to incorporate apples in all forms, for all meals. You can make a really quick healthy apple concoction on the stove with water, a little sugar, cinnamon, lemon juice, butter, and -- what else -- apples, and I shortly found that this was a fast, cheap, easy breakfast option. We ate it day after day, and the pile of apples grew noticeably smaller (it helped that the weather grew colder and there were no more afternoon harvest sessions).

So what do apples have to do with painting, aside from being a still life painting subject?

Just this: as you work around a potentially overwhelming situation or circumstance -- in this case, it was apples everywhere; in your case, it could be trying to create oil paintings on the side while working a day job, or making do with limited financial resources to purchase painting materials, or not having the art studio of your dreams (who does?). You get pretty creative with what you have, and the solution you find to your problem changes how you do everything else.

How do you like them apples?

--Carolyn

What a Roux Has to Do with Youx

Carolyn Henderson — Thu, 13 Dec 2012 04:03:00 GMT

Our youngest daughter, Tired of Being Youngest, recently started culinary school, which means that we're eating a lot better these days. It's not so much that she's doing a lot of experimenting on us -- most nights she's home late and doing book homework -- but on weekends she creates, and I watch. Then, during the week, I copy.


We don't have to look gentle and patient to exhibit some of these characteristics. Queen Anne's Lace by Steve Henderson.

This last week I made roux (pronounced "roo," like the Winnie the Pooh character) -- a flour/butter concoction that you gently and patiently stir over low heat until it turns nutty brown. Added to soup, it transforms lunch into something decadently divine.

Now I've known about roux for years but never made it -- that "gently and patiently" part always tripped me up. But it wasn't until I tasted what it does to tomato soup, thanks to one of those weekend practice sessions of our daughter's, that I realized what I've been missing all these years. Surely, I could be gentle and patient for 15 minutes.

That's soup. What about oil painting?

I'm willing to bet that there's a product or oil painting art technique or method that has been kicking around in the back of your mind for years, but you haven't tried it because of, well, that "gentle and patient" part.

"It can't make that much of a difference" you tell yourself, and don't do it again.

You may be right -- it might not make much of a difference at all. Or, you may be missing out on something -- like a truly delectable, complex tomato soup -- and not know it.

Why not give it a try? Go ahead -- doux it. What's that fine art oil painting process you have a feeling could enhance your process? Leave me a comment and let me know, and then go do it and report back!

--Carolyn

A Simple Productivity Tip from Da Vinci

Will Kemp — Tue, 11 Dec 2012 18:43:00 GMT

Ever wondered where Da Vinci found the time to create all his masterpieces? Alongside his fine art painting he managed to dabble as a scientist, geologist, architect, mathematician, engineer, and anatomist with a bit of aeronautical design thrown in for good measure!

So how can we adopt a little bit of Da Vinci in our own practice? One of the most simple ways is to use a colored ground for our painting art. Or, as Da Vinci favored, an imprimatura.


Self-portrait by Leonardo Da Vinci, red chalk drawing, 1510-1515.

An imprimatura is an initial stain of color painted onto a white ground. It is usually created using an earth color such as burnt umber or raw sienna. When painted onto your canvas it provides you with a transparent toned ground to work onto. (For more oil painting terms and definitions, here's my free online Glossary for Oil Painting Terms--An Essential Guide for Beginners.)

Why does it speed up your process as a painting artist? The toned ground acts as your mid tone. You then just have to work on the lights and darks. This means you can quickly establish a feel and mood for the painting with very little effort.

The name Imprimatura comes from the Italian for 'first paint layer' and often, the initial stain is left visible in areas of the finished painting.

You can use this painting technique to prepare a selection of different colored surfaces that can be perfect for quick oil painting sketches and poster studies.

Maybe a burnt sienna imprimatura for an autumnal scene, or a terre-verte for a landscape painting?

By knocking down the white glare of the pre-primed canvas, you can quickly get your ideas down and speed up your painting time in the process.

To get started with an imprimatura try using a raw umber from your painting palette. It is a neutral, semi-transparent tone that is ideal to apply to your surface. It creates a unified layer of neutral tone that dries quickly.

How to Apply an Imprimatura

1 - Place a few small dots of raw umber evenly around the canvas.

2 - Then dip your painting brush into a small amount of turpentine.

3 - Now evenly scrub the turpentine with a coarse bristle painting brush over the small drops of paint into the surface of the canvas until all the white has been eliminated.
You are looking for a translucent, even thin layer of paint, like a stain.

Toning as such creates a clean, strong foundation for subsequent paint layers.

You can now block in your drawing with the raw umber, which is thinned to a fluid, flexible consistency with turpentine and a touch of linseed oil.

If you'd like to learn more oil painting terms I've just published a Glossary of Oil terms for beginners.

--Will

Why Are Brush Sizes as Confusing as a Currency Converter?

Will Kemp — Tue, 04 Dec 2012 04:59:00 GMT

How does brush sizing work and where do you start?

Have you every ordered some new brushes online, feeling pretty confident they'll be the perfect size for your latest oil on canvas creation? After all you spent all afternoon researching them. Only to then be bitterly disappointed when the painting supplies arrive?


		Choosing painting supplies such as a painting brush can be troublesome if you assume each manufacturer sizes their brushes according to the same system.

They were the number you saw in the magazine but have turned out to be either far too small, or far too big. Where did you go wrong?

You aren't alone. Painting artists struggle with this all the time when deciding how to paint and with what brushes. Selecting the right painting brush size can be very tricky as every manufacturer's sizes are different. There is no universal sizing system, so a size 10 in one brand can be completely different from another brand.

Confused? Here is a quick painting brush guide to keep in mind next time you visit the art store:

All brushes increase in size depending on the number, so a size 14 will always be larger than a size 12, whatever the brand.

There are other numbers on the brushes that indicate the series number (often abbreviated to SER). This is usually 4 digits long, for example: SER 6474. This helps to identify a brush correctly when ordering.

Brushes can come in short and long handles. Short handles are best for detailed work or painting on the flat. Longer handles are best if you intend to stand at the easel.

The longer the length of bristle, the more flex there is in the brush. A short length of brush hair will appear to be much stiffer and coarser than a longer length--even if the bristle is the same softness of hair. This length is called the 'length out' and a long length out was favored by the Old Masters.

Pro painting art tip: When you are next in the art store, flick your thumb from left to right over the edge of the brush. This will give you a feel for the 'snap' of the brush. The brush will 'crack' when you first flick it, this is the gum arabic that has been used to set the head. It's advisable to rinse the new brush before use to remove any excess gum arabic.

So the ultimate question is, which size should I buy?

I tend to go by the width of the brush and the length of the bristles, rather than the size or number.

To get started with a small acrylic paintings or oil painting art piece (under A3), I would recommend:

Round brush 6mm - 7mm in width with a 25mm length out.
Filbert brush 10mm in width with a 16mm - 20mm length out.

Of course, to find the perfect brush for each person can take a little while but this should point you in the right direction. Do you agree? Where did you start in terms of painting brushes? Leave a comment and let me know.

--Will

Will Kemp is an award-winning professional artist from the U.K. He teaches classical painting techniques with a modern approach, so you can discover how to paint & draw in the quickest time possible. Will creates weekly videos at Will Kemp Art School about painting, drawing & creativity.