The Oil Painting Blog : plein air

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

Words of a Winner

Austin R. Williams — Thu, 12 Jul 2012 05:06:00 GMT

The winners of our Self-Portrait Cover Competition are featured in the September issue of American Artist, and they share advice about how to paint the figure and how to maintain a successful painting practice. When we asked David Tanner, the winner of the competition, to give his advice, he offered more than we had room to print. So I thought I'd share it here--hopefully it's useful for those of you working on how to paint the figure realistically, as this artist does. Here, then, are David Tanner's recommendations:


Self-Portrait by David Tanner 2009, oil painting, 16 x 12. Winner of American Artist's Self-Portrait Cover Competition.

If you are interested in representational painting, make sure you find a school or take classes taught by artists who can "walk the walk." Even the most general of painting classes should be taught by a painter capable of doing a basic still life demonstration painting from life.

Paint what you love, of course, but also challenge yourself to paint subjects that hold less interest. I had no idea how much I would love plein air landscape painting until I tried it for the first time, and I'm positive it has improved my reaction time to light and color in other genres.

Draw from life constantly--both alone and with fellow artists. Take advantage of local open figure drawing sessions, where you can join other artists and chip in for a model fee to practice with a live model outside of your classes.

Go to museums and galleries, and linger over the paintings that resonate with you. In particular, look to see how the artists have simplified their subjects down to the masses of color-values.

Study magazines like American Artist, and pay close attention to the advice presented in the articles. In my early days as a painter, I created my first successful flesh-color combinations after reading an interview in American Artist with a well-known portrait painter.

Painting from life is the only way to successfully sensitize your eye to color, value, and form. Avoid frequent painting from photographs until you have extensive experience painting all subjects from life.

Squint and compare when observing your subject and your painting to see value relationships. Let your eyes blur and go out of focus when observing colors on your subject. The blurring will simplify the color to a mass and may make your color mixing choices easier.

Stand far back from your canvas after every few brushstrokes to monitor the success of the effect you are achieving compared to the subject.

For more information about the artist, visit Tanner's website. You can learn more about the artist's painting--and see all the finalists of our Self-Portrait Competition--in the September issue of American Artist.

--Austin

Framing Paintings

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 05 Jun 2012 18:12:00 GMT

In any painting, the biggest expenditure for the artist is the frame that goes around the finished piece. If it's a watercolor painting, there's the matting, the glazing, and the frame holding it all together; for the oil on canvas or acrylic work, it's "just" the frame, but depending upon the size of the finished work, "just" the frame isn't cheap.


In the same way that fine houses are built bit by bit, with craftsmanship, so are businesses. Build the price of the frame into your work and ensure that you receive the profit you need to keep growing. Bayside by Steve Henderson, oil painting.

While for some oil painting and acrylic pieces, gallery framing--keeping the edges deep and painting them black or an extension of the work on the front--is a pleasing and inexpensive option. But not all works or subject matters lend themselves to this treatment. And watercolors on paper can't be dealt with in this way at all.

So what do you do to keep from sinking more money than you want into framing your painting works?

First, what you don't do: buy cheap used frames in second hand stores and "recycle" your works in them. Yes, this can work but not if you're planning to charge more than very little for your paintings. Yes, it's green, but a battered used frame doesn't send the message to the buyer, "This is a classy painting worth the high price I put on it."

Accept that there is no uber cheap option for framing your work. After you've accepted this fact of life,

1) Research online framing establishments for solid, basic frame models (sometimes they're called plein air frames) in black, gold, stained wood, or silver. Skip the cheap but avoid the most expensive.

2) Frames come in standard sizes and custom-made ones, the latter more expensive. Keep your painting canvases in the standard sizes.

3) Build the price of the frame into your work.

4) And when you sell a painting, set aside funds from the sale for the framing of your next piece.

--Carolyn

Video Lesson on Using Photos for Studio Landscape Paintings

Mitchell Albala — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 04:19:00 GMT


Upper Ridge at Dusk, 2011, oil on panel, 18 x 18.		Mt. Shuksan in Sunlight, 2010, oil on panel, 12 x 12.

At my April 2011 exhibition at Lisa Harris Gallery, I gave an hour-long presentation on my "In Sunlight" series. This was a special opportunity for artists and laypersons to get a "studio perspective" on my creative process for landscape paintings executed in the studio. One of the key lessons is the proper use of photographic reference. Paintings should never look like the photograph, but only be used as a launching point. I alter the original reference, severely cropping and inventing color combinations. I also discussed how I synthesize compositions into a few simplified shapes, handle paint texture to augment spatial illusion, and work with color strategies.

The painting series experiments with alternative ways to capture the illusion of natural light. In many paintings (discussed in Video 2), I almost completely abandon traditional value relationships in favor of saturated colors, modulated primarily with subtle hue and temperature differences. You can read more about the development of this series in three posts at my blog, Essential Concepts of Landscape Painting, and see the whole series of paintings at my portfolio site.

Video 1 covers the paintings Snow Rivers in Half Light and Pinnacle Peak, Last Light.

Video 2 covers the quartet of brilliant "yellow" paintings for which the series is named.

Video 3 covers the paintings Upper Ridge in Snow, Upper Ridge at Dusk, and White Space.

Video 4 covers the paintings December Peak and Ascent, followed by a Q&A session.

--Mitchell

Mitchell Albala is the author of Landscape Painting: Essential Concepts and Techniques for Plein Air and Studio Practice (Watson-Guptill, 2009). Find him on Facebook and YouTube.

His Painting Palette Was the Size of a Piano Top

johnandann@theartistsroad — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 03:58:00 GMT

Under the Awning by Joaquin Sorolla, oil painting, 1910.

"There is nothing truer than truth. All the mistakes committed by great artists are due to their having separated themselves from truth, believing that their imagination is stronger...There is nothing stronger than nature. With nature in front of us we can do everything well." - Joaquin Sorolla

Upon the opening of the 1906 Paris exhibition of Sorolla's work, Camille Mauclair wrote, "Artists of France, I beg you to visit this exhibition, where you will learn all the lessons of plein air, line, color, impasto, and originality."

Last month, John received the catalog, The Painter: Joaquin Sorolla by Edmund Peel as a birthday present. It is from the 1989 exhibition of Sorolla's work and it has left us both, once again, in awe of the talent, energy, and mastery of this great artist. John was fortunate enough to see the exhibition when it was in New York at the IBM Gallery, and to see in person the large canvases, many painted entirely outdoors—it changed his vision of what painting could be, forever.

It is refreshing again to see Sorolla's bold use of vibrant color. Although he began with earth colors and a darker "Old Masters" palette in his portrait paintings, it seems to have been the pull to paint his subjects outdoors, in sunlight, that transformed his palette to the brighter, more vibrant colors for which he became known.


Sewing the Sail by Joaquin Sorolla, oil painting, 1896.

A major influence on the young Sorolla was the painter Jules Bastien-LePage, who championed the rural life of France in his pictures. Sorolla, likewise, loved to paint the working people of Spain, especially the fishermen. He loved to paint white fabrics in the intense Spanish sun. White sails, white dresses, white beaches were all painted lovingly and exuberantly, and he made brilliant use of cool violets and blues to set off the shadows, all painted with decisive, calligraphic strokes. His masterwork, Sewing the Sail is a prime example of this.

He was also remarkable for his prodigious and ambitious workload. He exhorted his students to produce not one study for a studio work but ten! He had no qualms about working life-size outdoors, where he rigged up great swaths of fabric on frames to shade his work and provide the right lighting for his models. When one model would tire, he had a replacement step in so that the work could continue. Historians record that Sorolla worked 6 to 9 hours a day and kept a covered bed in his studio in order to sleep close to his work and be able to begin painting quickly without disturbing the rest of the household.


My Wife and Daughters in the Garden by Joaquin Sorolla, oil painting, 1910.		Valencian Fisherwomen by Joaquin Sorolla, oil painting, 1915.

It is said that in the studio he sometimes used a palette the size of a grand piano lid and brushes three feet long to allow him to stand back from his large paintings. He would paint with quick, decisive short strokes until the finish, when he would secretly knit the loose assemblage of colorful strokes into a masterwork with a careful application of middle-greys, that he said, "are worth lots of money."

If you ever get the opportunity to see this master's work first-hand, we heartily recommend it. It may provide a lifetime of inspiration.

Join us on The Artist's Road for more inspiring in-depth articles.

--Ann & John

Finding Meaning in the Details of My Painting

Patricia Watwood — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 03:26:00 GMT


Some of the inspiration for the landscape in my painting, Leaves of Grass, came from found images of industrial areas along the New York waterfront.

Sometimes in making a small study for a larger oil painting, an artist will sketch in certain areas very loosely. It's almost as if she says to herself, "and there's some other stuff that fills in this area of the composition, but I'll think about that later." With the set of small paintings I was doing recently, I wanted to push myself to answer those questions earlier, and allow myself more time to critically consider the elements I include, before committing to the time and scale of a large work.

The still life and landscape details in an allegorical painting are the passages that tell most of the details in the narrative story. In what time period is the piece set? Where? What kind of person is this figure? I am interested in creating images that tell viewers they are looking at a world we share and live in. It is important to me that we have images of the human body that show a contemporary experience of the figure in art, as opposed to a sensibility that refers to a time past.

I mentioned in a recent post that Whitman's "Leaves of Grass," was the inspiration for my painting of the same name. So, I wanted this painting to feel like the figure has flopped down on a grassy bank, but not in Whitman's time--in the modern world. I chose the still life objects around her--paperback books, an aluminum water bottle, and an iPod--to show that she is contemporary to our time.


	I often take simple snapshots of landscape elements for my paintings. I don't paint directly from the photo. I use the details to support my imagination.



	Creating plein air studies is also a rewarding way to get a basic knowledge of natural forms that you can draw on for later studio paintings.

The bright colors of these objects also anchor them in modern life. All our stuff is so colorful! What a feast for a painter! To compose the still life painting elements for this work, I gathered objects mostly from my home life, though I'll sometimes shop or borrow for something specific. For example, I knew that I wanted the fabric my figure is laying on to be blue, because it would complement her skin tone, work with the overall design, and to create a relaxed setting. So, I headed to the fabric store to find something that suited the picture.

The landscape is where I departed into the world of imagination. I designed the landscape based on the composition needed for the image. The dark of the trees behind her creates a good contrast for the paleness of the model's skin, and also makes the space feel more private and secluded for a bit of nude sunbathing. The open meadow slopes down to the waterfront of Brooklyn, and shows both nature and industry peaceably cohabitating. Whitman is big on embracing the Holy in the World as it is, not prettified or cleansed of human messes. The waterfront I ended up depicting is not a specific viewpoint, but an amalgamation of elements from the New York waterfront and park landscapes. I combined observation from nature, landscape paintings by other artists, and a few photos from the internet, for my references. I usually print out a set of reference photos and then invent the landscape from my head based on all this material.

For more detail on the landscape, I'll often do outdoor studies, search for found images on the internet, and simply take my own photos for precise details of say, an oak tree branch or a container crane. In general, I paint from life as much as possible, but I am happy to be able to draw on photo reference for background details such as this. I have done many plein air studies, and so have a basic knowledge of natural forms and atmospheric effects to invent from as well. Combined, they express my vision.

--Patricia

For more painting instruction from Patricia, check out her latest DVD, Figure Painting: Realistic Skin Tone.

Oil Painting: The Knowlton Gallery Presents Yosemite on Canvas

American Artist — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 11:10:00 GMT

During the spring of 2008, 13 women painters from California, Nevada, and Utah gathered together in the Yosemite Valley to paint the national park for a week.

Yosemite on Canvas: 13 Western Artists Paint the Park
Through November 29
Knowlton Gallery
Lodi, California
(209) 368-5123

During the spring of 2008, 13 women painters from California, Nevada, and Utah gathered together in the Yosemite Valley to paint the national park for a week. The work that resulted from the excursion—both plein air paintings done on-site and studio paintings created later—are on display in this exhibition at the Knowlton Gallery, in Lodi, California. Artists with work on display include Cynthia Britain, who took the lead in organizing the outing for the group of painters, Anita Hampton, Peggi Kroll-Roberts, Camille Przewodek, and Jean LeGassick.


Yosemite Falls—Early Morning by Camille Przewodek, 2008, oil, 11 x 14. Courtesy Knowlton Gallery, Lodi, California.	Yosemite Falls—Wet & Wild by Cynthia Britain, 2008, oil, 36 x 24. Courtesy Knowlton Gallery, Lodi, California.	Reflections in the Merced by Kate Starling, 2008, oil, 12 x 16. Courtesy Knowlton Gallery, Lodi, California.

Oil Painting: David Koch: Using Photoshop to Create Ageless Paintings

American Artist — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 11:10:00 GMT

Utah artist David Koch likes to bring elements of his state’s pioneer past into his computer-aided compositions.

by Linda S. Price

Crossing The Sweetwater
2002, oil on linen,
55 x 44. Collection
Walt and Katie Gasser.

Until David Koch won a competition to paint two 8'-x-10' murals for The House of Representatives Chambers in the Utah State Capitol building, the largest canvas he’d ever worked on was 40" x 60". “I was pleasantly surprised to learn that it was not much different than painting a 16"-x-20" canvas,” he says. “I just used bigger brushes and more paint.” For the competition, the legislature chose the subjects to be depicted—both scenes from the state’s history—and gave the artists a month to come up with the concepts and sketches. Koch thoroughly researched the topics and posed models in costume to recreate the events, which he claims gave him the competitive edge. Then he worked with digital images and Photoshop to develop the final composition.

After stretching the large canvas on a custom-made frame, the artist laid out a grid and carefully drew from the Photoshop image. Once the drawing was complete, the artist started painting in one spot and worked outward, using his 24"-x-30" oil sketches, rather than the computer image, for color reference. In total, the project took about five months, with a few interspersed breaks to provide paintings to keep his galleries happy.

The artist admits that he probably put in more details than were necessary, especially for two murals destined to hang 30 feet above the chamber. But he realized the scenes would be viewed by generations of legislators, and he wanted his paintings, to be not only decorative but also inspiring, uplifting, and motivating for the lawmakers. In fact, Koch often includes symbolic meaning in his work and does many religious paintings as well as what he calls “pioneer pieces,” which depict scenes of the Mormon migration. The artist is currently working on a scene of a wagon train with a towering thundercloud bearing down. Besides providing a dramatic contrast between light and dark, the artist says the scene echoes the story in the book of Exodus, where a pillar of a cloud leads the Israelites out of captivity and toward the Promised Land.

Hope Shining Brightly
2006, oil on linen,
40 x 30. Collection Corey and Lisa Willis.

Koch also paints portraits with a historical context, and many of his portrait commissions are of children. “If I paint them in jeans and T-shirts the portrait becomes dated,” he explains. “If I can introduce a costume from the past, it becomes timeless.” Most clients come to him with a preconceived idea of the portrait they want, usually a superficial one. However, as he talks to them, he discovers what elements he can interject into the portrait to give it deeper personal meaning, even if it is only a subtly suggested background location. “I want people to say, ‘That’s a great piece of art’ rather than, ‘That’s a great portrait,’” he says.

Time constraints make working from photographs a necessity for the artist, but he explains that he’s painted enough from life that he can compensate for the deficiencies of photographs, such as the shadows that are too dark, the light areas that are blown out and don’t provide enough detail, and the midtones—actually the richest in color—that appear dead. Aware that the camera can’t record all the subtle color variations the eye sees, Koch occasionally paints from a black-and-white image and pushes the colors in the desired direction. The artist also takes digital photos that he then manipulates with Photoshop, and he’s enthusiastic about the program, particularly from the standpoint of composition. “It speeds up the process,” he says. “I can look at 10 different options quickly, combine images, move them around, and tweak them until the composition is right. As a result, my compositions are better.” It also allows him to show his clients the exact composition they will be getting in their portraits. The artist paints from the image on his laptop computer screen so he is able to zoom in and see details. Because he devotes so much time to making certain his composition is right, Koch alters little on his canvas. If the scene is complex, he may grid the canvas. When he’s doing a commissioned portrait, achieving a likeness is essential, so he spends more time in the drawing phase. The drawing on the canvas may be done with graphite, charcoal, or thin paint.

Silver Reef
2007, oil on linen,
30 x 60. Collection State Branch of Southern Utah (Hurricane Bank).

Although most of Koch’s portraits are done from photographs, many of the artist’s landscapes are done en plein air. Even when creating larger studio paintings, he works from on-site sketches as well as photos. Then, instead of using a computer, he usually creates his composition with thumbnail sketches, starting with a few key directional lines. Even though he uses photos for reference, he’s careful to compensate for their shortcomings and not get hung up on details. “I like to paint as loosely as I can and still have it read,” he explains. Koch also paints still lifes, which he sets up in his studio. “Painting from life is the best teacher, and it’s hard to beat the lessons learned by painting a small, simple still life,” he says.

The artist paints alla prima, explaining that he likes to put the paint on thick and push it around. “I want to see immediate results,” he explains. “That’s what excites me. Maybe that’s why I don’t glaze lots of layers—because I don’t have the patience.” Although at times Koch will block in an entire painting to determine how dark or light he can go with the piece, most frequently he begins by completing the focal point and establishing the lightest lights and darkest darks.

Blue Bonnet
2004, oil on linen,
12 x 9. Collection Brian and Jana Watts.

Koch teaches two workshops a year in which he incorporates what he calls those “a-ha!” moments of discovery from his own artistic experience. His basic concept is simple: The key elements of good art are shape, color, and edges, and each of these concepts contains subcategories. Under “shape” are such categories as composition—defined as the unequal distribution of shapes—and drawing—the accurate placement of the correct shapes. Value and temperature are two examples of the subcategories under “color,” and Koch points out that in almost all cases, value is more important than color. Edges, he says, may seem like a small thing, but they are what make your painting come together and read as a whole. He goes on to explain that it’s the variety in these elements—shapes, edges, textures, and value—that provides the spark that makes a painting exciting. Color, however, is different because if there is too much color variety in a painting it becomes a hodgepodge that doesn’t hold together. “My preference is to have a painting go predominantly in one color direction,” he says. “Otherwise it’s too broken up.”

The artist’s palette is fairly simple and consists of titanium white, cadmium yellow light, cadmium orange yellow, cadmium red light, Venetian red, alizarin crimson, ultramarine blue, sap green, burnt umber, and raw sienna. All are either from Utrecht or Vasari Classic Artists’ Oil Colors. His paintings tend toward the earth tones, and he grays down his colors by using complements. For instance, he puts red in his greens—Venetian red and raw sienna added to sap green—to neutralize them. This means that even a slight shift can, by contrast, make the colors sing. The only time Koch uses any medium is when the paint on his palette gets too stiff, then he adds paint thinner or Liquin. He likes to paint on oil-primed linen, preferably double primed, because it is less absorbent than latex-primed canvas. Although he does use various surface textures, most of his work is done on smooth, tighter-toothed surfaces. He prefers flat bristle brushes, which help give his style its angular feel, and he frequently uses painting knives to exploit thick versus thin paint application, a technique that helps achieve the variety that provides interest and dimension to the painting.


By Small and Simple Things... 2006, oil on linen, 28 x 30. Collection Jon and Shauna Robertson.	Paper Boxes and Bits of String 2001, oil on linen, 30 x 24. Collection Margaret Barton.

In summing up his feelings on creating art, Koch says, “I believe that artists are made, not born. Granted, it comes easier to some people than others. But, if you practice, you will improve. All the elements of good painting are possible to learn. But I hate to give hard-and-fast rules because some artist will come along, break them, and do it marvelously.”

About the Artist
David Koch always enjoyed art-related subjects in school but didn’t realize being an artist was a legitimate profession. It wasn’t until his second year at Utah State University, in Logan, that he took an art class for fun and it dawned on him that art offered a career path. He enrolled in the university’s illustration program, although after graduation he went into the graphic- design field. Believing it would allow him more time to pursue his own painting, Koch eventually turned to freelancing, which resulted in even longer hours. After a few years, and with some local galleries selling his art fairly regularly, he took the plunge and devoted himself to fine art full time. Even though he admits there are still some financially difficult times, he claims he can’t imagine doing anything else with his life. “It’s a privilege to pursue something I have a passion for as a career,” he says. “It doesn’t feel like work, although there is lots of hard work involved.” Koch is a member of Plein Air Painters of Utah and is represented by the Kneeland Gallery, in Ketchum, Idaho; The Mission Gallery, in St. George, Utah; Apple Frame Gallery, in Bountiful, Utah; and Williams Fine Art, in Salt Lake City. For more information on the artist, visit his website at www.davidkochartist.com.

Linda S. Price is an artist, writer, and editor living on Long Island, New York.

Oil Painting: 3 Views of the Same Scene

American Artist — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 11:00:00 GMT

Three painting friends exchanged photographs and then produced paintings of the same 15 subjects in an experiment designed to teach them about different approaches, challenge them to push beyond their comfort zone, and allow them to work on a common painting project.

by Bob Bahr

Line up three painters in front of a landscape vista and the result will almost assuredly be three very different paintings, with each zooming in on a different aspect of the view. If Thomas S. Buechner, Thomas Gardner, and Martin Poole are any indication, similarly disparate paintings will result even from reference material that is tightly controlled. Last spring, the three upstate New York painters supplied one another with five carefully selected photographs they shot. By doing so the vantage point was fixed, the weather conditions were set, and the subject matter was chosen. Despite this structure, the three artists together created 45 paintings from the 15 photographs that display enormous variety.


The reference photo.	Amelia by Thomas S. Buechner, 2008, oil and alkyd, 24 x 12.	Amelia by Martin Poole, 2008, oil, 36 x 24.	Thaïs by Thomas Gardner, 2008, oil, 24 x 36. Courtesy West End Gallery, Corning, New York. “I really struggled with this one,” says Gardner. “I thought, ‘What am I going to do with this girl?’ So I combined her with a picture from Italy, a cathedral in Tuscany.”

Every artist has a distinct way of interfacing with the world and expressing what he or she sees, but something else was going on with this trio. Buechner, Gardner, and Poole are friends who paint together, and there’s a tinge of competitiveness in their relationship. “Yes, there was a little bit of a spirit of competition to it,” says Poole. “There was also a playful bit of ‘Hey, look what I’m doing to your photo.’ It was kind of like playing poker with your friends and cheating a little bit.”


The reference photo.	Boat by the Shore by Thomas S. Buechner, 2008, oil and alkyd, 16 x 20.	Boat by Martin Poole, 2008, oil, 24 x 24.	Boat by the Shore by Thomas Gardner, 2008, oil, 18 x 24. “I was really impressed with this painting,” says Buechner. “Gardner has a very crisp way of handling paint. An artist could have focused on the city in the background, but the boat was so ‘present’ in the foreground. We all handled this scene quite differently.”

Of course, it’s hard to cheat when there aren’t many rules. The artists had to produce a painting for every photo based on something in the picture, “We each put our five photos down, and it was ‘like it or lump it,’” says Gardner—but they could choose any part they wished. The photos were ostensibly subjects the artist/photographer wanted to paint, but even the owners of the specific photographs often took great liberty when making a painting from the reference photo.


The reference photo.	The other reference photo.	Boy With Horse by Thomas Gardner, 2008, oil, 18 x 24. Courtesy West End Gallery, Corning, New York.	The Kid and the Horse by Thomas S. Buechner, 2008, oil and alkyd, 24 x 30.

Boy With Horse by Martin Poole, 2008, oil, 24 x 30. “This project was good for our friendship—it gave me a little better look at these two,” says Poole. “You have a tendency to think you know someone because of your experience and history with them, but there’s always more. This project made Gardner and Buechner a little more clear to me.”	Big Sky by Martin Poole, 2008, oil, 36 x 48.

Gardner’s photo of a boy patting a horse amid a group of four horses provoked comments from all three artists—and their treatments of it varied widely. “There was definitely the sense of, ‘Oh, I’ll never be able to turn that into a painting—and that was the fun of it,” says Buechner. “We chose things that would challenge the others. Gardner put in that one with the boy and the horses, all seen from the rear, and I thought it was the last thing in the world I’d want to paint.” Buechner’s solution was to have the boy leaning against a tree instead of patting a horse, and to contrast the “ordinary-looking” boy with an imagined troll-like creature that the artist says is “sort of a self-portrait.” Gardner re-imagined his own photograph to place the boy and the horse in a field. Poole read a lot into Gardner’s photo, saying, “Gardner gets the weight and power of the relationship between the small boy and the powerful horse, so the problem became, how do you make a visual version of this idea?” Evidently, Poole was fascinated by the challenge—he executed two paintings of the scene.


The reference photo.	Snowy River by Thomas S. Buechner, 2008, oil and alkyd with acrylic underpainting, 18 x 24.	Snow Scene by Thomas Gardner, 2008, oil, 18 x 24. Courtesy West End Gallery, Corning, New York.	Winter River by Martin Poole, 2008, oil, 24 x 24.

For the most part, the three artists didn’t see their colleagues’ paintings until the end. In some cases, the paintings in progress were shared—Gardner recalls seeing the paintings by the others of the pond photo and feeling stuck. “I was stymied,” he says. “How did they come up with their ideas from this photograph? They have such great imaginations. So I just laid in what I saw, and while I was looking at my canvas, I noticed a reproduction of Sargent’s piece of Paul Helleu painting by a pond that I had hanging beyond my easel, and I decided on a lark to try to learn a little by copying a Sargent (see The Pond Painting below). So I incorporated his painter into the pond scene from the photograph. I looked at it like a learning tool, as an exercise.” In contrast, Gardner didn’t see the others’ paintings of the snowy creek, but he found a novel way of getting a different feel into his version anyway. “The difference from theirs to mine is subtle—I spattered it with snow flurries that had to be treated carefully,” says the artist. “I wanted to have a little bit of action in it.”

The Pond Painting
by Thomas Gardner, oil.

Poole says he wasn’t stumped by any of the photos, but some did push him as a painter. “Some were far enough afield from my predilections that I had to work on them more, and sometimes the photos were hard because they were just so beautiful,” says Poole. “I had to find a way to deny their picturesque quality. It’s interesting to have a photo so beautiful that it actually could make a less interesting painting.”

The painters had a tight deadline for the project. Poole had a show booked with Rodger LaPelle Galleries, in Philadelphia, in April, and the photographs were distributed in January, with Gardner receiving them more than a month later due to travel. The trio had to finish 15 paintings each in less than three months. “I wasn’t nuts over the idea, to be kind of frank,” said Gardner, who shoe-horned the project in between two shows of his own. “None of the pictures really knocked me off my feet. But as I got into the project, it started opening up. Plus, by getting the photographs so late, I got to see some of what they had done before I got started, which I thought was a real advantage. I got a big cheat on it! There was definitely a competitive aspect to this project.” The gallery owner was intrigued by the concept. The artists were glad to be able to work on a project together. And the last step in the process offered them all food for thought.


The reference photo.	Tom's Trees by Thomas Gardner, oil.	Sunlit Trees by Martin Poole, oil.	Untitled by Thomas S. Buechner, oil and alkyd.

Shortly before the opening of the show, which was dubbed “Three Views,” the artists gathered in Buechner’s studio, grouped the 45 paintings by subject matter, poured martinis, and critiqued every piece in a marathon session that stretched from late afternoon until 11 p.m. “We weren’t overly kind to one another,” recalls Gardner. “It’s hard to take out a hatchet and hit your friends’ paintings, but it was a tough-love situation. We would pointedly ask, ‘Why did you do that?’ I’m always amazed how I can walk through a classroom of students and instantly see the problems and say, ‘Oh, you need to do that,’ or ‘Here’s what I would do,’ boom, boom, boom. But then I walk back to my own painting and am absolutely stupid. It’s hard to divorce yourself from the picture and the subject and really see your painting.” Comments Poole, “We talked about whether a painting was successful, and took notes. In some cases, the advice proved very useful, and adjustments were later made, and on others, we insisted on our idea and stuck with our approach for a painting.”


The reference photo.	White House by Thomas S. Buechner, 2008, oil on board, 16 x 20.	Morning Mist by Thomas Gardner, 2008, oil, 24 x 30. Courtesy West End Gallery, Corning, New York.	White House by Martin Poole, oil.

The three artists have known one another for more than 20 years, with Buechner serving at first as a sort of mentor for Gardner and Poole, then later as a colleague and plein air-painting companion. The project allowed them to have a show together and to enjoy one another’s company—Buechner says quite a bit of humor infused the process. And equally important, the venture allowed them to grow as painters. Says Buechner, “It stimulated us, and we may have done some work that was better than we would have done otherwise.”

Bob Bahr is the managing editor of American Artist.

Oil Painting: Kevin Sanders' Plein Air Landscapes

American Artist — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 09:00:00 GMT

In this online exclusive gallery, view more examples of plein air landscapes by Kevin Sanders, one of the artist featured in the September 2008 issue of American Artist.


Ponte Vecchio 2006, oil, 18 x 24. All artwork this gallery private collection, unless otherwise indicated.	Landscape with Brook 2007, oil, 19 11/16 x 39 3/16.	Tramonato nel Chianti 2004, oil, 19½ x 27½.


Sundown 2005, oil, 13½ x 39 3/16.	Via Luce 2005, oil, 19½ x 27½.	Moonlit Olive Grove 2005, oil, 19½ x 27½.


Winter Glow 2006, oil, 15 x 35.	Autumn's Peak 2006, oil, 20¼ x 30.	Winter Sunset 2004, oil, 13½ x 19¾.

Visit the Plein Air section to stay on top of the latest plein air artists and events.

Michael McNamara's Urban Plein Air Tips

American Artist — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 11:13:00 GMT

American Artist July/August featured artist Michael McNamara offers some tips on painting in a very congested city such as New York.

Painting in the Urban Jungle

by Karen Frankel

Location, Location, Location
McNamara’s first advice: Find a spot where foot traffic won’t run you over. “Look for a stationary object to paint next to or behind, such as a mailbox or a lamppost that pedestrians will have to go around anyway,” says the artist. He reminds other painters that busy cities can be unpredictable. Delivery trucks will come and go, and people may ask you to relocate while they unload their truck. “Also, in the summer, the city can get like an oven, with the concrete absorbing the heat,” he says. “So you’ll need to find some shade, which can be difficult.”

Simplify Your Equipment
You may not have to hike as far with your gear in the city as you would in a very remote area, but the hiking will likely be more strenuous. McNamara recommends painters carefully choose their easel. He favors an inexpensive aluminum model made by Testrite. For him, its light weight compensates for its somewhat diminished stability. The artist filed down the easel’s sharp edges so it wouldn’t injure him or other subway riders. He packs all his gear in a tote bag: small jars for linseed oil and Turpenoid, a small Tupperware tub filled with paint tubes, and an oval palette. He carries his brushes exposed in a tube inserted in an exterior pocket so the hairs don’t get bent. Although he partially cleans the brushes after a painting session, McNamara says he still must remain very aware of their presence while in transit so he doesn’t get paint on anyone. “It’s a good idea to avoid rush hour on the subway,” he comments dryly.

The Natives Have Questions For You
With several million people milling around his painting location, McNamara is inevitably engaged in conversations. He says for the most part this doesn’t bother him—in fact, it’s a way for him to further interact with the neighborhood. And the artist optimistically points out that for this reason and others, painting in the city develops a high level of concentration, which is useful for painters. “I’ve had other artists suggest that I put out a tip cup—that might keep people away,” he says. “But generally people ask very short questions, so it’s not a problem.”

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Oil Painting: Scott Prior: A Contemporary Approach to California Impressionism

American Artist — Wed, 07 May 2008 10:28:00 GMT

Urban landscape painter Scott Prior proves that a contemporary, “punk-rock” alternative to classical California subject matter can still produce moving and thought-provoking imagery.

by James A. Metcalfe

Island Life
2007, oil, 24 x 18.
Courtesy Timmons Gallery,
Rancho Santa Fe, California.

Scott Prior is often classified as a California impressionist, and given that he was born and raised in Southern California and that the majority of his subject matter is rooted in California settings, this label suits him just fine. However, the artist takes this one step further and actually prefers to define himself as “a classical impressionist with a contemporary, punk-rock edge,” which not only classifies his approach to painting but also reflects his own personal style.

What sets Prior apart from so many other Golden State artists is the focus of his subject matter. Avoiding the sun, surf, and Hollywood glitz that many envision when they think of California, Prior finds more joy in painting the simple, everyday scenes of urban life in California. “So often it is the simple aspects of life that tell the best story,” the artist states. When choosing a story to convey through his paintings, Prior draws from either past memories or current observations of his surroundings. Other times, he says, the subject matter chooses him.

When the artist does consciously choose a subject, it is often one close to his heart and from deep in his mind. For instance, in Island Life the artist attempts to relate a fond childhood memory. “I was raised close to Newport Beach, near Balboa Island,” Prior says. “As children, we would hang out there, eat chocolate-covered frozen bananas, ride our skateboards around the island, go swimming, and watch the boats go by. In this painting, I wanted to capture a moment similar to those I experienced as a kid near Balboa Island. It was a simple time in my life but a most memorable one.”

Powell Street
2007, oil, 36 x 48.
Private collection.

Powell Street, another work derived from recollections of the artist’s youth, depicts the neighborhood where Prior attended art school. “I used to walk up and down Powell Street to get to school,” he remembers. “I love the energy of that street—the hustle and bustle of the people, the shopping, the sound of the cable car as it passes by. Even when the weather is bad, the street has a positive vibe, and I wanted to convey that energy and movement.” Powell Street also presented a unique challenge for Prior in terms of its size. “I felt the image needed to be large enough to properly capture all that was going on in the scene,” he explains. “Actually, it’s my largest painting to date, and I loved the process of planning it and seeing it come together.”

Sometimes it’s a comparison of the past with the present that Prior chooses to explore in his work, as is the case in Old Truck, Old Barn. “My aunt lives in Paso Robles, in Central California, and I did this painting from a photo I took while driving home from visiting her,” the artist explains. “This, to me, is what old California would have been like. With California’s constant growth, and open spaces disappearing daily, I really wanted to capture that old California feeling, and the old truck and barn spoke volumes. The late-morning light aptly set the mood, and I tried to push the warm light and cool shadows to fully capture the atmosphere of the scene.”

Old Truck, Old Barn
2005, oil, 24 x 30.
Private collection

Even when the artist begins with a preconceived idea for a painting, he is sometimes led in a different direction. “I’ll plan my subject, and inevitably I find something else to paint,” he says. “A dilapidated barn dwarfed by a younger, more modern structure or an old tractor resting motionless in the morning light behind the hustle of a busy garage suddenly beckons to be painted.” Generally with cars, buildings, and dwellings, Prior feels compelled to not only preserve their character but also to relate the story behind them. “Certainly, a painter can fudge a tree or a rock,” the artist notes, “but if a building is not painted properly, the viewer will instantly know something isn’t right, and that will detract from his or her understanding of the story.”

Despite the artist’s personal connection to much of his subject matter, Prior insists that he’s not an intentionally emotional painter. “I just love to paint what’s in front of me, editing as I go to ensure the story is told,” he explains. “The character, feelings, color, and dramatic effects just seem to happen as I work. For me, creating the mood is extremely important, and capturing the right light is crucial. Whether it’s an interior scene with a really warm feeling or a crisp morning light with the coastal haze in the background, it really is all about the light. To do that, I pay particular attention to how the color temperature changes while sticking to warm light with cool shadows and cool light with warm shadows.”

A San Francisco Treat
2007, oil, 24 x 30.
Private collection.

That descriptive sense of light that Prior seeks to convey is certainly evident in A San Francisco Treat, a painting that depicts a time when the artist and his wife lived in San Francisco. “We loved to go for cable-car rides, and it was always a treat to take one across town to North Beach, one of our favorite neighborhoods,” he tells. “Everyone enjoys riding a cable car, but, for us, it was inexpensive entertainment and a way to really feel the city. This was one of those crisp San Francisco mornings when the light was really clear. Fortunately, I had my camera and took a great shot just before the car turned up the hill. Capturing the morning light was most important in this painting. You can tell exactly how the day will feel just by looking out the window on days like that.”

Whether Prior is painting en plein air—his preferred style—or in his studio, he insists that his art is a faithful depiction of the scene, be it a cityscape, a landscape, or a figurative work. “It’s not a photographic representation,” he notes, “but I do attempt to have the viewer see it as such.” The artist works from both outdoor studies and photographs, and although he accentuates or mutes colors to suit the tone or atmosphere of the scene, he generally does not otherwise alter them. As he explains, “I use the studies for color and values and the photographs to help with drawing.”

Santa Monica Bus Stop
2006, oil, 24 x 30.
Courtesy Vail International
Gallery, Vail, Colorado.

In Santa Monica Bus Stop, Prior used a reference photo taken while running errands with his daughter to help him remember not only the appearance of the scene but also the mood. “There was a bus strike going on in Los Angeles at the time, and you could see the people’s patience being tested,” he remembers. “I’ve been in their shoes before, waiting and waiting for the bus to show up, so I could relate to their growing impatience. Ironically, this painting taught me about patience as well and the importance of taking time to finish a painting. Once I finished the drawing, I put it away for a few months and eventually returned to finish it. It was very challenging with the various values and temperature changes happening on the sidewalk and street, not to mention all the people!”

When Prior begins a painting, he starts by sectioning off the foreground, middle ground, and background and then draws the subject on the canvas, whether it’s a streetcar, building, or a piece of fruit. “I then relate the rest of the scene to the subject so that all of the proportions work,” the artist says. “I draw as much information as I need, and then I start working dark to light, background to foreground, all while paying attention to values, edge control, proportions, basic shapes, and the shapes within shapes. It’s not always the same—sometimes I begin with what intrigues me most about the scene, and other times I start by drawing the basic perspective of the scene. I make every attempt to stay away from being a method painter, making my approach fresh every time.”

Sand Crab Hunters
2007, oil, 24 x 30.
Collection the artist.

Prior—who works primarily alla prima, in oil, with some layering and scumbling—feels that if he has established a good drawing, adding color happens almost intuitively. “As I move around the canvas, the colors just seem to evolve,” admits the artist. “It’s not neat or tidy, or even very pretty at first, but as I manipulate and push things around, the scene usually comes together. I try to capture the energy and movement of the scene through my brushstrokes, which often have a movement and energy all their own.”

About the Artist
Scott Prior is an active member of the California Art Club and Oil Painters of America. He has exhibited in national shows, juried competitions, and invitational events throughout the country, including the California Art Club’s Annual Gold Medal Juried Exhibition at the Pasadena Museum of California Art; exhibitions at the Frederick R. Weisman Art Museum at Pepperdine University, in Malibu, California; the Academy Art Museum, in Easton, Maryland, through the Plein Air Easton! annual event; and in the prestigious Oil Painters of America National Show. He has received awards from Oil Painters of America, Laguna Plein Air Painters Association, the Society of Illustrators of Los Angeles, Carmel Art Festival, and The Bowers Museum Plein Air Show, among others. Prior lives in Oceanside, California, with his wife Wendy and daughters Hannah and Olivia. He is represented by Timmons Galleries, in Rancho Santa Fe, California; Vail International Gallery, in Vail, Colorado; South Street Art Gallery, in Easton, Maryland; Lee Youngman Art Galleries, in Calistoga, California; Sarah Bain Gallery, in Anaheim, California; and El Prado Galleries, in Sedona, Arizona. For more information on Prior, visit his website at www.priorityart.com, or e-mail him at scott@priorityart.com.

James A. Metcalfe is a freelance writer residing in West Warwick, Rhode Island.

Oil Painting: Tree's Place Gallery Exhibition: Six Premier Landscape Artists

American Artist — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 10:45:00 GMT

Six top artists combined observation, investigation, and invention to respond to the encompassing reality of the landscape. They will be exhibiting their sketches and studio paintings together for the first time this summer.

by M. Stephen Doherty

The difference between looking at a photograph and a great painting is similar to the difference between seeing a plate of food and eating it. One tells us what we are looking at while the other provides a fulfilling experience. Among landscape painters, there are many who accurately describe the appearance of nature, and some who go beyond that to provide a complete response. The six contemporary artists exhibiting together in August at Tree’s Place Gallery, in Orleans, Massachusetts, all have that extraordinary ability.


Vinalhaven Sunset by Jacob Collins, 2008, oil, 36 x 70. Courtesy Hirschl & Adler Modern, New York, New York.	Detail of Yellow Birch, Kaaterskill Falls, New York by Jacob Collins, 2007, graphite on toned paper, 13½ x 10½. Courtesy Tree’s Place, Orleans, Massachusetts.

Three of the exhibiting artists, Jacob Collins, Travis Schlaht, and Nicholas Hiltner, have extensive academic training in drawing and painting the figure, and they apply those skills to the challenge of understanding and interpreting the landscape. The other artists, Joseph McGurl, Donald Demers, and William R. Davis, grew up sailing in the waters of New England and learned to draw and paint what they were obliged to understand about the forces of nature. Despite the differences in their backgrounds, all six artists approach landscape painting as a process of combining knowledge and observation to form a complete interpretation of the emotional, factual, and personal experience.

Collins, Schlaht, and Hiltner have painted together for a number of years and spent several summers creating pleir air landscapes. However, it wasn’t until the summer of 2007 that they began working together to establish a new direction in landscape painting when they led a group of 30 artists (along with artist Edward Minoff) in the Catskill Mountains district of New York State. During the three-week workshop, the participants applied the same level of understanding and investigation to landscape painting that they were already using to create their figure paintings. The program began with an emphasis on scientific research and careful drawing of the elements of the landscape—clouds, plants, rocks, and land formations—and continued with plein air color studies based on observation. The students and teachers then returned to their home studios to use this collective knowledge and resource material to create imaginative, accurate, and comprehensive views of nature.

The goal of this Hudson River School for Landscape (www.hudsonriverlandscape.com) was to establish “a new movement of American art, modeling itself after the artistic, social, and spiritual values of the Hudson River School painters,” says Collins in reference to the 19th-century artists who established the first indigenous art movement in America. “The Hudson River School painters saw the beauty of nature as a deeply important part of our world, and they believed their job was to faithfully represent that beauty. In their tradition, the beauty of the land was a revelation. This deep reverence for the land and idealism is sometimes missing in the contemporary art world. Those painters also laid the groundwork for what became the American Conservation Movement. My hope is that reuniting the kind of idealism that these artists brought to their art with the reverence for the land that they helped introduce to American culture will make a small contribution to solving current problems.”


View Toward Stonehorse Ledge From the Saco River by William R. Davis, 2007, oil, 8 x 12. Collection the artist.	Washington Valley Creek by William R. Davis, 2007, oil on paper, 8 x 10. Courtesy Tree’s Place, Orleans, Massachusetts.

In a question-and-answer exchange Collins provided for the Plein Air section of the American Artist website, he mentioned being influenced by the writings and artwork of 19th-century American artists. “Last year I read Asher B. Durand’s Letters on Landscape Painting, and I was struck by the advice he gave to aspiring landscape artists to draw the individual pieces of the landscape for as long as it takes to understand them before putting it all together,” Collins wrote. “He recommended perhaps even years of drawing branches of trees and rocks, outcroppings, and clusters of trees with a sharp pencil, seeing them as the alphabet of the landscape. I was impressed with his analogy that trying to paint a landscape without learning this alphabet was like trying to write a novel without learning the letters and words of language.”

Schlaht and Hiltner also mention being influenced by Hudson River School painters, such as Frederic Edwin Church, Thomas Cole, and Asher B. Durand, as well as other important landscape artists whose work has been presented in recent museum exhibitions. “We’re fortunate to have ready access to galleries and museums in the Northeast,” Schlaht says. “For example, the Brooklyn Museum recently mounted two shows simultaneously that offered an interesting comparison between American and European artists. There was a major exhibition of Durand’s work on one floor and a display of French Barbizon and Impressionist painters on a lower floor. It was fascinating to compare the connections between on-site observational work and studio pictures. I’m not a huge fan of the Impressionists, but I learned a great deal from seeing the way they responded directly to nature; and then I walked upstairs to study how Durand composed studio paintings from his sketches and color studies.”


Detail Study of a Rock by Travis Schlaht, 2007, oil on linen, 5 x 5. Courtesy Tree’s Place, Orleans, Massachusetts.	Drawing of Trees by Travis Schlaht, 2007, graphite, 9 x 7. Courtesy Tree’s Place, Orleans, Massachusetts.

Hiltner mentions that he also followed the example of Hudson River School painters by making annotated drawings in a notebook while participating in the summer workshop. “There happened to be several exhibitions of drawings in area museums, and I was impressed with the fact that 19th-century artists filled their sketchbooks with drawings and written commentary,” he explains. “They would draw trees, rocks, valleys, and streams and then write notes about the weather patterns, color relationships, and tree identifications, and that would inform their studio paintings. I followed their example and made a lot of small sketches during the workshop, and now I’m reading some books on woodland plants, species of trees, and cloud formation. All of that is helping me formulate plans for studio paintings that are filled with scientific details and, at the same time, are formulated out of the total sensory experience of being in the landscape. The hope is that the studio paintings will say more about what I felt, saw, and studied.”

Collins recently exhibited a 50"-x-120" panoramic landscape painting and over fifty preparatory drawings, plein air sketches, color studies, and paintings for that picture in a solo exhibition, entitled "Rediscovering the American Landscape: The Eastholm Project," at Hirschl & Adler Modern in New York City. In writing about the experience of using outdoor studies to create a large studio painting, he indicated that he loved “the connection between painting outside—scrupulously observing the details and nuances of nature—and painting in the studio, remembering, inventing, and conceptualizing the landscape. Each time I paint outside, I’m desperately trying to record all that I can, to organize the infinite complexity of nature, but sometimes it is hard to know what to look for and pay attention to. Once I’m back in the studio, I find myself asking a million questions—such as whether the horizon could conceivably be pink at this time of day or the surface of the water could ever be lighter than the sky in a certain context—and wishing that I had noticed more when I was outside. At these moments, I vow that I will pay more attention when I’m outdoors, and when I go outside, I end up working with a renewed intensity because I have so many questions in my mind.”


Rock Study by Nicholas Hiltner, 2007, oil on linen, 8 x 10. Collection the artist.	Rock in Stream by Nicholas Hiltner, 2007, graphite and gouache on paper, 6 x 9. Collection the artist.

The Tree’s Place exhibition will include many new drawings, oil sketches, and studio paintings that Collins, Schlaht, and Hiltner created since the 2007 workshop. “Although I’ve done a lot of landscape paintings in the past, these will be some of the first completed paintings created since I began pursuing this broadly informed approach to the landscape,” Schlaht mentions. All three of the artists (who will once again be joined by Edward Minoff) will be conducting a second workshop this summer through the Hudson River School for Landscape from July 17 through August 22, 2008, and they are developing a series of workshops that will be offered in the future.

Having grown up with a passionate interest in the sea and all forms of boating, McGurl, Demers, and Davis have had a personal connection to nature that goes back to their childhood experiences. “When I was an art student, my work consisted of landscapes, figures, and still lifes,” McGurl recalls. “Unconsciously, my work moved toward landscape as I delved deeper into what gave the most emotional feedback. My struggle then became one of getting beyond the rendering so the paintings were more real in every sense. At this stage, I can pretty much paint what I want and it comes out looking realistic, but I want it to actually be real. I want to paint a tree that exists in three dimensions and also will die in the winter and bloom again in the spring. I want my water to have depth and transparency and movement. I want the sun to be warm and so bright you have to squint, and the sky to extend through the universe. I want the viewer to become part of the painting so that he or she feels totally immersed in the realm I am trying to convey.”


Field Study for Autumn Point by Donald Demers, 2007, oil on linen, 6 x 8. Private collection.	Autumn Point by Donald Demers, 2007, oil on linen, 20 x 30. Private collection. This painting was exhibited at the American Masters show at the Salmagundi Art Club, in New York City, in May 2008.

McGurl goes on to say he understood from an early age that in order to paint an encompassing landscape he had to understand it as well as he did the information that helped him navigate a sailboat. He had to understand the forces that impact the shape and movement of the clouds, waves, branches, and grasses, as well as the physics of light that allows people to understand the texture, shape, density, transparency, and distance of what they see. “Without thoroughly knowing what I am painting, I can’t reach that higher level,” he explains. “Sketching from nature gives me a better familiarity with the elements of nature, not just the plants and animals but all the other parts that make up the world. That allows me to use them in the studio, not so much in a botanical, meteorological, or topographical sense but in terms of how these elements react to light, space, and color. Observation also gives me organic patterns on which to base the forms.

“I lean toward painting what I see, but I still want to understand why the world looks the way it does,” McGurl adds. “Why does the pine grove grow on a particular side of a mountain? Why is one cloud darker than the others? What’s causing the light to take on an amber glow? By understanding this, I can give more truth to my art and better master the scene developing on the canvas.”

Demers also makes sketches that inform his studio paintings. “I make graphite, watercolor, and oil sketches outdoors, often leaving them unfinished so I am not tempted to repeat myself in the studio,” he explains. “Once I have identified a subject worth developing into a larger painting, I close my eyes and think about what the observed scene really meant to me. That understanding becomes my guiding principle as I try to clarify the image on canvas.”


Into the Sun by Joseph McGurl, 2008, oil, 30 x 40. Courtesy Hammer Galleries, New York, New York.	Thumbnail—Composition Study by Joseph McGurl, 2007, graphite, 8 x 10. Courtesy Tree’s Place, Orleans, Massachusetts.

Both Demers and Davis are closely associated with the field of marine art, or paintings that present accurate representations of both historic and contemporary sailing vessels. These artists, like most realist painters, are often negatively criticized for placing an emphasis on the literal content of their pictures. “Every painter balances the physical and emotional aspects of making pictures,” Demers points out. “Whether someone is painting a figure, a bowl of fruit, or a yacht, he or she is connecting to the viewer’s understanding and appreciation of the subject while trying to also express a personal response to it. The challenge is to have the subject be very specific while also offering a personal interpretation or expression. A masterful painting can be a portrait of a specific person, flower, or plot of land that still conveys strong emotions and an informed understanding. The point of this exhibition is to clarify that landscape paintings based on observation, study, and imagination can be both specific and profound.”

About the Artists

Jacob Collins earned a B.A. degree from Columbia College, in New York City, and studied art at the New York Academy of Art, in New York City; Ecole Albert Defois, in Lex Cerqueux, France; and the Art Students League of New York, in Manhattan. He is the founder of The Water Street Atelier, and he a founder and the director of The Grand Central Academy of Art, both in New York City. Collins has had over twenty solo shows and numerous group exhibitions at prominent galleries in North America and Europe. His work is included in several American institutions, including Harvard's Fogg Museum and Amherst's Mead Art Museum as well as a multitude of important private collections. Collins is currently represented by Hirschl & Adler Modern, in New York City; the John Pence Gallery, in San Francisco; and Meredith Long & Co., in Houston. For more information, visit his website at www.jacobcollinspaintings.com.

William R. Davis grew up in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, and in 1987 he was the first artist to mount a solo exhibition at the Maritime Gallery at Mystic Seaport, in Mystic, Connecticut. Since then his landscape and marine paintings have been included in exhibitions organized by the J. Russell Jinishian Gallery, in Fairfield, Connecticut; the Cape Cod Museum of Art, in Dennis, Massachusetts; The Copley Society of Art, in Boston; the American Society of Marine Artists; The Guild of Boston Artists; John Pence Gallery, in San Francisco; Hammer Galleries, in New York City; Tree’s Place, in Orleans, Massachusetts, and others. For more information, visit his website at www.williamrdavis.net.

Donald Demers studied at the School of the Worchester Art Museum and Massachusetts College of Art and Design, in Boston, before launching a career as an illustrator and fine artist. He is a fellow of the American Society of Marine Artists and a signature member of the Plein-Air Painters of America, and his paintings have been included in exhibitions organized by the Haggin Museum, in Stockton, California; the Maritime Gallery at Mystic Seaport, in Mystic, Connecticut; John Pence Gallery, in San Francisco; and Tree’s Place, in Orleans, Massachusetts, among others. For more information, visit his website at www.donalddemers.com.

Nicholas Hiltner studied at The Cleveland Institute of Art and later with Jacob Collins at The Water Street Atelier. He has exhibited his artwork at John Pence Gallery, in San Francisco, and Meredith Long & Company, in Houston, and teaches at The Grand Central Academy of Art, in New York City. For more information on Hiltner, visit his website at www.nhiltner.com.

Joseph McGurl grew up working with his father, James McGurl, who was a muralist and scenic designer, and he studied with Ralph Rosenthal at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, and privately with Robert Cormier. He subsequently graduated from Massachusetts College of Art, in Boston, and worked for a few years as a yacht captain. He is represented by Hammer Galleries, in New York City; Robert Wilson Galleries, on Nantucket, Massachusetts; John Pence Gallery, in San Francisco; and Tree’s Place, in Orleans, Massachusetts. For more information, visit his website at www.josephmcgurl.com.

Travis Schlaht earned a B.A. degree from the University of the Pacific, in Stockton, California, and later joined The Water Street Atelier, where he studied with Jacob Collins. He has exhibited his artwork in New York, San Francisco, Washington, DC, and Houston, and he currently teaches at The Water Street Atelier and The Grand Central Academy of Art, both in New York City. For more information on Schlaht, visit his website at www.classicist.org/grandcentralacademy/schlaht.html.

M. Stephen Doherty is the editor-in-chief and publisher of American Artist.

Oil Painting: Jimmy Sanders: The Structure Needed in Painting and in Life

American Artist — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 10:05:00 GMT

For almost 20 years, Jimmy Sanders has set specific goals for his art education, the types of paintings he creates, and the projects he undertakes. “Goals are dreams with deadlines,” he says. “They are important to realist painters who have to develop skills and focus on a style that is reflective of their personalities.”

by M. Stephen Doherty

Self-Portrait, Age 40
2004, oil, 38¼ x 33¼.
All artwork this article
courtesy Hirschl & Adler Galleries,
New York, New York.

Jimmy Sanders is something of a romantic artist, who sacrificed material possessions to remain steadfastly dedicated to the integrity of painting, and eventually gained recognition from astute collectors and critics. He worked for seven years to afford an art education, lived below the poverty level in a small apartment in Florence while he studied, and then developed a portfolio of painting, finally gaining the support of dealers and collectors.

But Sanders is not an aimless bohemian without social graces or a sense of responsibility. He is a well-grounded man who learned early in life that he would never achieve his dreams if he didn’t focus all his resources on those objectives. “Growing up in a small town in Tennessee with a single mother and three siblings, I knew I wouldn’t accomplish much as a person or an artist if I didn’t dedicate myself to those goals,” he reveals. “Painting saved my life because it gave me purpose, and I feel blessed that people are now recognizing and appreciating my work.”

The dream of becoming an artist formed in Sanders’ heart and mind when he was just out of school and read an article in the December 1988 issue of American Artist on Daniel Graves and the Studio Cecil-Graves, in Florence, Italy. Students enrolled in the private atelier followed a classical educational program of drawing and painting from plaster casts, as well as from live models. “I couldn’t afford to enroll in the school at the time, so I spent seven years working in an art-supply store in Memphis until I saved $20,000, enough money to live and study in Florence for two years,” Sanders explains.

Toward Borgo San Frediano
2005, oil, 27½ x 19?.

After studying at The Florence Academy of Art, the atelier Graves founded after parting with Charles Cecil, Jimmy Sanders and his brother, artist Kevin Sanders, shared a small apartment/studio on Borgo San Frediano in the Oltrarno district of Florence for 10 years and struggled to create paintings they could sell back in the United States. Jimmy began to exhibit his figure and still life paintings with the Grenning Gallery, on Long Island, and then Hirschl & Adler Galleries, in New York City. Kevin studied briefly at The Florence Academy of Art and then established himself as a landscape painter.

Starting in 1992, Jimmy Sanders began writing down what he wanted to accomplish over the next year, as well as the following five and 10 years. “I read the self-help book Unlimited Power by Anthony Robbins (Simon & Schuster, New York, New York) that recommended writing down one’s goals and the steps necessary to achieve them, and then taking actions and making changes to one’s approach until the goals are achieved,” he explains. “That helped me clarify what I wanted to accomplish and the actions I needed to take in order to reach those objectives. It also made me realize that I would have to make tough choices in order to remain on track. I still make lists and keep them in notebooks, posted on the refrigerator, and thumbtacked to walls in my studio. They remind me of what I need to do each day. And as I achieve those goals, I feel good enough about myself to believe I can reach more, even those that once seemed beyond my capabilities. Those successes also help me forgo short-term gratifications and remain focused on long-term ambitions.”

Tuscan Still Life
1998, oil, 30 x 34.
Collection J.D. and
Mary Susan Clinton.

The lists of long-term objectives included items such as securing a studio with large north-facing windows, learning to handle color in a manner similar to such painters as Johannes van Eyck (ca. 1395–1441), having greater financial security, and establishing a style of painting reflective of his environment and his values. “I saw some of Richard Maury’s paintings in 1990 at the Wichita Art Museum, in Kansas, and I admired the honesty and integrity of those pictures,” Sanders remembers. “That helped me clarify the direction of my own painting. Maury painted the rooms of his home, the members of his family, and his self-portrait, and also hired models. Every picture was an honest assessment of his life and the time in which he lived. I wanted to eventually meet Mr. Maury and understand more about the ways those remarkable paintings connected to him as a person. When I finally got the nerve to introduce myself to him in Florence, he didn’t want to talk about painting technique and that was fine with me. I finally enjoyed seeing his studio, meeting him and his wife, Anne, and witnessing his creative ability.”

One of the most ambitious objectives written on Sanders’ lists was to create a perspective box similar to one he saw at The National Gallery, in London. Later in this article he offers a complete description of how he finally realized that goal in 2007.

Portrait of Donald Sutphin and His Studio
2002, oil, 48 x 36.

Painting in a Classical Mode

Sanders’ paintings are always done from life, with the artist first making a series of drawings and transferring those to the wooden panels he prepares. The panels are usually plywood with a thin veneer of poplar that the artist seals with rabbit-skin glue, covers with linen, and then coats with several layers of true gesso (a combination of calcium carbonate, zinc white, and rabbit-skin glue).

Preparatory drawings are made with hard sticks of charcoal or graphite and then transferred by one of two methods. Sanders either puts charcoal on the back of the drawing paper, lays it on the panel, and traces the lines; or he spreads a thin layer of raw umber oil color on newsprint paper and uses that as an oiled transfer paper so he can trace the lines of the drawing to the gessoed panel.

“I start with thumbnail sketches and studies of various elements, and then I put everything together in a drawing the size of the painting panel,” Sanders explains. “I prefer using the sight-size method of positioning my easel in such a way that the image in the drawing or painting is exactly the same size as the subject when both are viewed from a measured distance. However, sometimes it’s not possible to get that far back from the easel, as was the case with the 4'-x-3' painting Portrait of Donald Sutphin and His Studio. I spent eight months painting that at close range in Donald’s studio.”

Autumn
2004, oil, 12? x 10.

Once a drawing is transferred, Sanders begins applying thin washes of the local color over the entire pane. “Some artists tone the surface of their panels with an imprimatura, but I like the way the bright white surface causes the transparent colors to glow,” the artist says. “The painting looks flat and general at first, but as I build layers of color and focus on subtle relationships, the image will hopefully come alive. I want a bold, overall feeling at first, and then I can glaze thin colors with meticulous brushwork.

“As I continue working, I use various combinations of oil color, beeswax, sun-thickened linseed oil, turpentine, and Canada balsam in a traditional fat-over-lean procedure,” Sanders adds. “The key is to establish color sensitivity because I believe the subtle differences between colors contribute a deep sense of meditation. Toward the end of the painting process I apply retouch varnish or a thinned version of final glazing medium to even out the surface of the painting.”

Sanders usually works on two paintings at a time, taking advantage of the light illuminating a subject for three or four hours during one part of the day, and a similar amount of time later in the day. When the light in his studio isn’t consistent enough for continuing to paint a specific subject, he works on drawings or outdoor landscape paintings.

Portrait of Julia
2005, oil, 16? x 12½.

The Perspective Box

As was explained earlier, Sanders became fascinated with artists’ efforts to create deceptively believable three-dimensional images in frescoes, oil paintings, and boxes by carefully drawing perspective lines, making sure every person and object adhered to the correct scale based on his or her distance in space, and having viewers look from a single vantage point. These anamorphic images have fascinated artists from the early Renaissance to the present because they allow painters to explore various ways of creating the illusion of three-dimensional objects on two-dimensional surfaces.

This curiosity was a natural extension of Sanders’ education in realistic drawing and painting because it connected to his training in understanding and carefully recording observations. He set a goal of creating his own perspective box and, after researching the subject in London and Florence, made a full-scale model using poster board. Finally, in March of 2004 he began making drawings for a wooden box with painted panels on the three sides, top, and bottom that, when viewed through either of two holes on the sides, would give viewers the sensation of looking into a room in which everything was three-dimensional. Some of the furniture would even seem to be resting in the middle of the room.

Pears and Grapes
2005, oil, 9¾ x 11.

Just as the 17th-century Dutch artists had painted the interiors of churches, their homes, and their studios, Sanders decided to use his apartment studio as the model for the room inside the box, but he expanded it beyond its actual limits so the space would project farther. “To make it more interesting, I added views looking down the hallway, into the studio from the vacant apartment next door, and from a third vantage point that really didn’t exist,” he explains. “I knew that as long as the logic of the perspective and the lighting were accurate and I painted everything from life, viewers wouldn’t know the composite scene didn’t really exist. It seemed like an extension of the idea that I was creating something that was at once undeniable and impossible.”

Sanders recognized that the perspective drawings for his box could conceivably be devised scientifically or with a computer program, but he wanted to use a simple two-point perspective system and make observational judgments. “The goal was as much to teach myself about painted illusions as it was to have viewers question the nature of realistic perceptions,” the artist says. A carpenter made the six panels with tongue-and-groove and rabbit joints so Sanders could assemble and disassemble the box as he painted, and then check the accuracy of the perspective. A family of craftspeople made the outside panels of the 2'-x-2'-x-3' box from cherry veneer wood using traditional Florentine furniture.“I worked from empirical knowledge based on observation, and I made careful measurements and projection,” Sanders notes. “I wanted to focus as much on the subtle manipulation of colors and values as on the linear structure of the design. The painting process by which I developed the panels was quite straightforward. As with other interior scenes, I worked from a detailed drawing and added or subtracted elements as the painting of each panel developed. I also made adjustments to maintain a consistency in the light and depth of field.

“I couldn’t work on the box exclusively during the first few months because I wanted to complete a commission in Florida while painting pictures to sell through the gallery, but after meeting those obligations I went into the studio each morning filled with excitement about the project,” Sanders adds. “I completed the perspective box in 2007.”

Looking Ahead

Sanders was fortunate to receive a grant from collectors who were impressed with his perspective box and his easel paintings. They provide the means for further explorations through the Melinda and Paul Sullivan Foundation for the Decorative Arts. “I was thrilled and humbled to receive their support, and I reviewed my list of goals and wrote new objectives that might be realized with those resources,” the artist explains. “Chief among those is the longstanding ambition of having a proper studio with abundant north light. I would never have been able to afford that in Florence, so I moved back to Tennessee, where I’m now in the process of determining whether I have to build a new studio or renovate an existing structure. Several people have advised me against taking on a big construction project because that would consume the time I could spend painting, but I know myself well enough that I won’t be satisfied just making do with an existing space. I’ve done that for too many years and want to finally realize my dream of having a proper north-light studio.”

About the Artist

Jimmy Sanders studied at Dyersburg State Community College, University of Memphis, and Memphis College of Art, all in Tennessee, as well as at The Florence Academy of Art. His paintings have been included in numerous gallery and museum exhibitions, and he is represented by Hirschl & Adler Galleries, in New York City. He currently maintains a studio in Brownsville, Tennessee.

M. Stephen Doherty is the editor-in-chief and publisher of American Artist.

Oil Painting: Steve Armes: Creating Imaginative Studio Paintings

American Artist — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 09:00:00 GMT

For me, the goal of landscape painting is to paint stirring images that engage and inspire viewers, and this is more likely to happen when I use information from a variety of sources.

by Steve Armes

Sketch for Sierra Blanca
2005, oil, 8 x 10.
All artwork this article
collection the artist.

Artists usually create landscape paintings in one of four ways: They paint entirely on location; they rely on memory or imagination; they work from photos; or they use a combination of these sources. Hopefully, each of those approaches also incorporates the artist’s accumulated knowledge and experience about pigments, surfaces, procedures, and the wisdom passed down from generations of others who have recorded nature.

The focus of this article will not be on techniques artists can use to develop plein air sketches as finished works of art but rather as documents that aid in the creation of studio paintings. My recommendations may be at odds with what you have been taught or what you have read, and that’s neither surprising nor problematic. All of us base our approaches to art on the personal objectives that motivate us. Like every other artist and teacher, I do what helps me create the kind of pictures I admire.

I am fortunate to have been trained by Maynard Dixon Stewart, whose father, LeConte Stewart, was a tireless landscape painter. M. D. Stewart also studied with Frank Vincent Dumond, the legendary artist and teacher at the Art Students League of New York, in Manhattan. During my studies with Stewart, I learned to paint plein air sketches that provided enough information to complete larger, more finished paintings in the studio.

Sierra Blanca
2005, oil, 30 x 36.

Because of this training, I still use sketches as references for paintings and avoid the temptation of developing them into complete works of art. They might become beautiful paintings, but I try to keep in mind the overarching need to gather information during the three hours I record the changing effects of light and atmosphere with broad notes of color.

I was able to paint a satisfactory sketch long before I could paint a successful finished landscape. But after much effort, I arrived at some methods that now allow me to use my sketch to complete a larger, definitive painting. What I have learned falls under five broad topics: understanding the difference between a sketch and a painting; matching colors to the sketch; using photographs judiciously; invention; and knowing how to sacrifice.

Path Along the Lake
2004, oil, 18 x 24.

The Difference Between a Sketch and a Painting

My primary concern when creating a painting from a sketch is to improve the overall design. This is best done in the calm environment of the studio because it requires reflection and trial and error. I was taught to evaluate various compositional schemes by making small monochrome studies, each time altering the arrangement of the large shapes. I do that by making several black-and-white gouache studies using five or six basic values and arranging the masses into the best design. This is the most important part of making a picture because the large, simple masses are what the viewer will see first.

A location sketch is very different from a studio painting in its purpose and execution. The sketch is a tool to help capture the subtle tonalities of nature, making it possible for the artist to create a larger painting in harmony with the visual truths of nature. It is done quickly and usually in one session, with the artist focusing on the broadest tones and laying them down in proper relation to one another. A painting is planned and executed in stages, and it may include underpainting and layering of color.

Sketch for
A Texas Landscape
2005, oil, 16 x 20.

When the sketch serves as the basis of a studio painting, the challenge is to keep the good qualities of the sketch (the breadth, simplicity, and immediacy) while carrying the painting to a larger scale and a greater degree of rendering. This can be difficult because the sketch involves mixing colors rapidly, with pigment often being hastily slurred. That wonderfully bold, gestured effect is difficult to recreate in the studio, and I prefer not to even attempt that feat. Rather, I analyze what I’m trying to capture on location, and I attempt to convey the same effect.

In order to compare the sketch to the painting, I clamp my sketch to a music stand turned upright, then move my canvas and easel back so that when I am standing in front of my sketch it appears the same size as the canvas. I make all observations and judgments from this position. This allows me to see my sketch and painting side by side, which allows for better comparison while also forcing me to view my painting from a distance.

A Texas Landscape
2005, oil, 36 x 48.

Matching Colors to the Sketch

I usually start a studio painting with a monochrome or limited-color underpainting and layer color during subsequent sessions. This requires planning to ensure that the color, once modified, will match the color in the sketch. In order to gauge the accuracy of color while painting, some artists hold up a loaded brush or palette knife next to the sketch. Because I have labored in the field to get accurate color nuances, I want to carry that over to my painting. That is why I prefer to varnish my sketch, dab mixtures of color directly on the protected surface, and then wipe off the dabs before they dry. If I do that quickly, I will have a better sense of whether or not I have matched the colors. I have learned that one color on top of another may appear different than when it is laid on the canvas. I use great care to match the colors I saw on-site, since that is usually the greatest aid the sketch affords. I will often recheck the color in later phases because it sometimes needs to be modified to match the sketch. However, there are occasions when it is better to change or modify the color in the larger painting. I find it easier to paint from my imagination once I have established accurate relationships between the tones.

In the Vineyards
2006, oil, 10 x 15½.

Using Photographs Judiciously

I regard photographs as necessary evils in developing studio pieces because I usually need the information contained in them to complete the paintings. They supply ideas not suggested by the sketch, which can be useful for enriching the details. However, I have learned to use them with caution, never copying them exactly. Instead I interpret the information and do not base my painting on the way colors and values appear in a photograph. I note edges, shapes, and other details that can aid my understanding of what I am trying to render, being careful to think of them only as suggestions. Additionally, the use of a telephoto lens can enhance details that can’t be seen by the eye while observing the scene. If I use one, I study the details in the distance, but render them in the vague and mysterious way that atmosphere transforms images. Too much reliance on photographs can result in paintings that lack breadth and are broken apart by tedious detail. I know this because I have made that mistake far too many times, and I’ve learned the hard way that my sketches are better guides to studio painting than any photograph.

A Tuscan Hillside
2003, oil, 20 x 30.

Invention

To progress as a landscape painter, it is necessary to expand on nature because—like many subjects that are transferred to canvas—it needs clarification, simplification, and improvement. Nineteenth-century painters added foreground details such as rocks, trees, streams, figures, and animals. Their skills enabled them to pull such accessories out of their imaginations. Few contemporary artists have those same skills, and most—myself included—rely on oil sketches, notations in sketchbooks, or photographs taken under conditions similar to those of a chosen subject. I may consult that kind of reference material in order to add a tree, a road, or figures; or I will make memory sketches to help me invent what is needed.

Howe Sound
2004, oil, 18 x 26.

The practice of sketching from memory is nearly forgotten today, but it was widely practiced in the 19th century. The most common method was for artists to study a simple scene or effect, analyze the color notes, and later sketch it in the studio. I find this to be very difficult but valuable, especially in that the process increases my confidence and allows me to transfer images from my imagination to a finished painting. I attempt at least one 30-minute oil memory sketch each week in a sketchbook designated for this purpose. I have found it best to begin with painting the sky and cloud effects.

Knowing How to Sacrifice

Horseshoe Bay
2003, oil, 24 x 36.

Landscapes require artists to sacrifice and select in order to create harmonious pictures. John Ruskin (1819–1900) pointed out the necessity of representing some facts while sacrificing others to the greater truth. Painters reach the end of their color gamut long before they can paint anything that approaches the brilliance of the sky. They are forced to choose the most important color notes, paint them simply and frankly, and add only such detail as will enhance—but not undermine—the large masses.

About the Artist

Steve Armes studied with Maynard Dixon Stewart and Herbert Perleman before launching a career as an illustrator and then transitioning into fine art. In 1996 he was unanimously voted an associate member of The American Society of Classical Realism Artists’ Guild, and in 2006 he was invited to join Stephen Gjertson and Kirk Richards in forming “Triad: Three American Painters,” a traveling exhibition that debuted at the Newington-Cropsey Foundation, in Hastings-on-Hudson, New York. He maintains a studio in Dallas and teaches workshops throughout the United States and in Europe. For more information on Armes, visit his website at www.stevearmes.com.