The Artist's Life : Watercolor Painting

5 Tips for Using Social Media to Market Your Art Business

Jennifer King — Thu, 11 Oct 2012 03:10:00 GMT

We all enjoy using Facebook to stay connected to our friends and family, and Pinterest is a lot of fun for collecting and sharing ideas, but have you thought about how you can utilize these social media tools as part of your overall marketing efforts for your art career and to sell art online? A recent study shows that 81% of business owners using social media have seen an increase in business. By understanding these tools better, you can develop a streamlined, efficient social media strategy that will up your art business sales.


		Made In Poland by Jane Freeman, 29 x 21, watercolor painting.

1. Let people get to know you. As you probably know by now, collectors usually make buying decisions based on more than just the work of art—they want to know and like the artist, too. Having your own website that includes your bio is a great start, but you can use social media tools to give potential buyers more and frequent glimpses into your personality and lifestyle. For instance, nature painter Jane Freeman's daily meditative Facebook posts on her environment reveal her love of nature and her poetic outlook, which supports her artwork. Similarly, your professional pages on Facebook and LinkedIn with frequent posts about your artistic activities will let people get to know you. And don't forget Pinterest, another way to show your followers more of your style. With about 900 million people using Facebook, 161 million members using LinkedIn, and nearly 19 million people using Pinterest, plenty of would-be art collectors will have a better chance of getting to know you through social media.

2. Celebrate your successes. Another great thing about social media venues like Facebook and LinkedIn is its immediacy, making it the perfect means of building your credibility by announcing big accomplishments like awards, commissions, and media coverage right when they happen. You might be uncomfortable with the idea of "bragging," so find creative ways to work around that. When Silvano Raiti wanted to announce a recent award, for instance, he used a Facebook post to thank the judge for the honor. It was subtle, but you can believe potential buyers were excited to know that the painting is also a gold medalist, which makes the work more valuable.

3. Market your artwork. Of course, new works should be added to your website as you complete them, but don't miss any opportunity to "push" your latest works out to potential buyers with Facebook or LinkedIn posts or by adding them to your Pinterest board. You never know who may be looking at your pages for fine art since the vast majority of social media users are silent observers, or spectators, as they've been dubbed by Groundswell authors Charlene Li and Josh Bernoff. Countless artists are reporting that these spectators often turn into buyers. Even better, the more you can demonstrate a consistent record of selling artwork on your own, the more likely you'll be to land gallery representation.


Chuck Marshall teaches a painting workshop.

4. Market your other services. Hardly any professional artist has the luxury of making a living solely from the sale of their creations. Almost everyone supplements their income by providing other services to fellow artists, such as teaching, workshop teaching, critiquing, and coaching. Although you'll be marketing these other services to a different audience than your artwork, you can still use social media tools to do the job—at no cost to you. Facebook, LinkedIn, Pinterest, and more are filled with artists communicating with one another, individually and in group forums. Once you get involved in these venues, you can start promoting your services, just like artist Chuck Marshall. Chuck is an active Facebook user with more than 4,200 friends, and he says his workshop teaching business has exploded since he joined Facebook four years ago.

5. Find inspiration in others. Swapping stories, sharing trade secrets, enjoying others' works, and rediscovering your motivation when it flags are all benefits you'll enjoy from engaging in social media tools like Facebook, Pinterest, or DeviantArt. But these go beyond mere personal enrichment. With inspiration and knowledge, you can continuously create the best works you can, which will inevitably lead to more sales at higher prices. So social media is not just for fun—it's smart art business, too.

Of course, these are just some of the many social media tools and uses that are out there. What have you been using, and why? I'd love to hear your success stories!

--Jennifer

I Coulda Been a Contender!

Apetriello — Thu, 02 Aug 2012 03:20:00 GMT

It's that time again: the time for nations big and small to meet and lay claim to their dominance based on overinflated biceps--um, I mean, athletic prowess. I'm talking about the Olympics, of course.

Whether you're an avid Games-watcher or you could care less, chances are you didn't know that the Olympics used to be more than just a brawn-fest. It also used to award gold medals to artists.


Fine art competitions were originally part of the Olympics in ancient Greek times and were later reinstated, during the 1912 Games.

As Mental Floss notes, fine art competitions were originally part of the Olympics in ancient Greek times and were later reinstated, during the 1912 Games.

The first modern Olympics were held in 1896 in Athens. The man who revived the Games, Pierre de Frédy, Baron de Coubertin, was also the force behind the inclusion of art as sport.

According to Mental Floss, "Coubertin's vision for the modern Olympics was only partly realized with the Athens Games. In the ensuing years, he devoted himself to reestablishing art competitions--a staple of the Games in ancient Greece--as part of the quadrennial Olympiad. Coubertin felt strongly that art was as much a part of the Olympic ideal as athletics. As documented in Richard Stanton's thoroughly researched book on the subject, The Forgotten Olympic Art Competitions, Coubertin once wrote: 'Deprived of the aura of the art contests, Olympic games are only world championships.'"

It wasn't until the 1912 Summer Olympics in Sweden, however, that Coubertin's vision was finally realized: "We are to reunite in the bonds of legitimate wedlock a long-divorced couple--Muscle and Mind." The original fine art categories were architecture, sculpture, painting, music, and literature. All entries were to be inspired by the theme of sport.

After the 1928 Games, painting was split into three categories: drawing, graphic art, and painting. These changed again in 1932, this time to painting, prints, and watercolors, and they continued to morph alongside the larger trends of the art world.

The fine art portion of the Olympics was discontinued in 1948 because artists were deemed "professionals," and Olympic athletes were required to be amateurs. And to think--you coulda been a contender!


Jean Jacoby's Olympic winning figure drawing.

Jean Jacoby remains the only artist to win two gold medals; he won his second with the figure drawing, titled Rugby.

Whether you're an Olympic-level painter or more of a weekend watercolorist, why not challenge yourself to reach further with your art this summer? Find out how you stack up by entering in our own version of the Olympics, the 75th Anniversary American Artist competition.

--Amy

Life As YOU Know It

Naomi E — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 03:56:00 GMT

When an artist chooses to work representationally, he or she inevitably has to take a stance on the use of photographs and the artistic merits of photorealism. Whether perusing a workshop catalog or engaged in a debate with fellow colleagues, the question of "what's real?" will never be definitively answered.

I got to thinking about this after receiving a letter from a reader who was displeased with the tight photorealism featured on the cover of a recent issue of Watercolor magazine. Transparent watercolor painting is known, and often sought out, for its unpredictability, looseness, and painterly results. With drips, blooms, brushmarks, and sometimes even brush bristles visible on the completed fine arts watercolor painting, the artist found the idea of a photorealistic watercolor to undermine the medium itself.


		In his workshops, Robert Silverman shows students how to use grids, a viewfinder, and other tools to help clarify their vision, demonstrating that even when working from life, tools are useful for encouraging greater expressiveness.

And I get that. After all, if you want to capture something perfectly, don't do manually what a machine has already mastered. In other words: Take a picture, it'll last longer. And it'll be a heck of a lot quicker.


Matching color value and temperature to what one observes is just one of many ways to depict the world as you see it. Photo by Joe Vinson.

But what if, when you're looking at an exquisite sunset, you'd rather sit and revel in nature's glory instead of breaking open your pochade box and rushing to accurately note color relationships? Or what if the crispness of a photograph, with its sharp, hyper-pigmented colors, is what took your breath away to begin with? Maybe it's that unrelenting fish-eyed lens that, for one artist, really captures a sitter's sense of whimsy or mischief?

I guess what I want to add to the never-ending discussion of "what is real?" is this: For someone who simply enjoys the act of putting brush to canvas, pastel to paper, or thoughtfully mixing color, perhaps it is the process that is the most real, the most lifelike, and the most important.

What do you think? Leave a comment and let me know!

--Naomi

Naomi Ekperigin is an associate editor of American Artist magazine.

The Beginning of the Affair

Brian Riley — Thu, 05 Jul 2012 03:12:00 GMT

We had a run of some pretty severe thunderstorms in the New York City area recently, and as a father of three, that's terrifying. Nothing can be worse than three kids under the age of five locked up in a house for a day, especially when the thermometer is telling them they should be running in the sprinkler. In an attempt to occupy them for at least a little while, I pulled out an old set of watercolors and got them all watercolor painting. It went over way better than I expected, and lasted way longer than I thought it would (HOORAY PAINTING!). It also got me thinking about what first sparked my interest in making art.


Playing with my first art materials led me to dreams of being a comic book artist, which led me to discover illustration, which led me to discover fine art.

I was six years old, and my aunt gave me an art kit for Christmas. It was in a giant black box that looked like a briefcase and it was full of generic-brand art materials: markers, colored pencils, watercolors, charcoal, and even pastels, but no crayons. That was big for me. To this point, they were my main mode of art-making. For some reason, it made them seem more serious. I couldn't even bring myself to take anything out of the kit at first. I just stared for a little while. When I finally started drawing by putting pencil (and marker, and charcoal, and pastel...) to the drawing pad my aunt had also given me, I was hooked. Playing with those materials led me to dreams of being a comic book artist, which led me to discover illustration, which led me to discover fine art. That path has served me well. I'm far from calling myself an artist, but I've been an art magazine editor for nearly a decade (and counting) and that's not too shabby.

Who knows if this past rainy Saturday afternoon will be that moment for one of my kids. Maybe they'll lump it in with any other day when we all spent time coloring, which would be fine. Who doesn't love coloring? But maybe, that instance will rise above all the others and be marked as the moment they started to really love art. And wouldn't that be pretty great?

What was your first art experience? Leave a comment and let me know.

--Brian

Brian Riley is the managing editor of American Artist magazine.

Are You a Real Artist?

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 26 Jun 2012 03:38:00 GMT

I chatted with a watercolor painting workshop student the other day who sighed, "I'm not a real artist. I probably never will be." "Why?" I asked.

"First, because I'm still taking painting workshops and learning. Second, because I don't make a living off of my art."


No artist ever arrives at his destination, but it's the journey that brings about the best art. County Road, available as an original watercolor painting and limited edition print, by Steve Henderson.

Let's talk about the first statement first. No artist ever "arrives." There is never a point, in a true artist's life, when he or she sits back and says, "Well, I've learned all there is about art. I'll just keep painting the way I am now, because there's no place to go from here." Even typing it sounds supercilious, conceited, and egotistical.

All artists are constantly, consistently learning, and if a workshop from another artist propels them to the next stage of their development, then that workshop is a good thing, something to point at with pride and not embarrassment.

Artists are always looking at other artists' work, and while generally, a more advanced artist can figure out a still life painting technique or watercolor method with which to experiment by analyzing a colleague's work, he or she is able to do this because of hours and hours of experience in the studio.

And that is a key component of being a real artist: working in that studio, playing with paint, analyzing color, wrestling with composition, getting frustrated and wanting to roast hot dogs over a bonfire of canvases, but always, always, learning and spending a decent amount of time doing so.

--Carolyn

Next week: Lots of money and being a "real artist" do not necessarily go together.

A Votre Sante--To Your Health

johnandann@theartistsroad — Thu, 21 Jun 2012 18:44:00 GMT

Watercolor Painting Step-by-Step Demonstration

Rousillon is a sleepy village in the Luberon region of Provence, well-known for its ochre mines that provided the pigments for the manufacture of paints, including the ones we artists use. On our last workshop painting trip we purchased some ochre pigments from a local shop. They can be mixed with oil or gum arabic to make artist-quality oil, watercolor, or gouache paints. Those same colors are reflected in the paint colors of the houses and buildings in the village, which glow intensely in the light of dawn or sunset. A Votre Sante was inspired by one of those glorious late afternoons in Rousillon, when the light is just right and the people settle back to enjoy "la belle vie" --the good life--with a glass of wine and a toast, "A Votre. Sante - To Your Health."

My palette included Cerulean Blue, Prussian Blue, Violet,
Alizarine Crimson, Burnt Sienna, Yellow Ochre, Naples Yellow,
Cadmium Yellow, and Cadmium Red.


Step 1: Watercolor painting demonstration

Step 1: I am fond of using Arches French watercolor painting paper. Here I am working on a 20 x 30" 300# sheet which I have thoroughly wet using my 4" flat wash brush and clean water first. I love the weight of the 300#. It is more like painting on a cotton shirt than paper, and it really soaks up the water, staying damp much longer than you would imagine. I have waited until the paper is just cool to the touch--slightly damp--before laying on my first saturated wash of Naples Yellow (Winsor-Newton), while reserving my whites. Naples Yellow is a sedimentary color, so it goes down first, in this case. The Winsor-Newton version of Naples Yellow has a wonderful color of sunlight to it that is just right for this painting.


		Step 2: Watercolor painting demonstration

Step 2: Now I'm really starting to have fun! I prepared for this step by mixing up large amounts of saturated color on my palette before I began to paint. This is VERY important. I don't want to have to stop this wash process to mix paint. I began by soaking the sheet again, and once the wet shine disappeared, I laid in my wet-on-wet blends, which you can see here. As the paper dried, I worked wet-over-dry to define my edges. I do not get too precious about my white edges, as speed and freshness are most important at this stage. Any mistakes, like that big drip in the center, can be fixed or absorbed later. Always keep the center of focus in mind as detail is developed in the work.

Step 3: This step is the danger zone where I must be vigilant not to overwork the peripheral parts of the composition, nor should I put too many washes down trying to adjust the painting. I generally get only 3 layers before the light and life goes out of my paintings. It is better to repaint as many new versions as necessary in order to get those troublesome areas just right. You can really see how I love to work with saturated colors. This just takes practice and a fearless attitude. After all, it is just a sheet of paper - and it has two sides! Here you can see the development of shapes, figures and deep values in a series of wet-over-dry washes.

Step 4: In this, the final version of A Votre Sante, I have toned down the reds to help balance the color intensities and bring more prominence to the center figure holding the glass in the air. I added just enough detail to create a convincing representation of the scene, without overdoing it. I could have reduced details even further, like those in the roof tiles and probably not lost any of the impact.


Step 3: Watercolor painting demonstration		Step 4: Watercolor painting demonstration

Wax On, Wax Off!

Jean Haines — Tue, 29 May 2012 18:31:00 GMT

I now have my own range of watercolor painting brushes and while going through the process of choosing their design, fond memories came flooding back to me from my time living and studying art in China. There I was fortunate enough to meet a wonderful artist from Shanghai who taught me all she could about Chinese brushwork.


I needed a fine Kolinsky sable brush that would load well with color, release well to flow, and curve or move freely over paper, but I also wanted a round brush with a good point for my Asian influenced brushstrokes. All in one brush! Jean Haines watercolor painting brushes available from Rosemary & Co.

Under my mentor's guidance in Asia, my watercolor art improved and the way I paint today is very much from her having given me such a sound foundation as to how I use and move my brushes. I also gained many bruises on the back of my hands because if I didn't hold my brushes correctly I would get a rap from a bamboo stick to reinforce what she was telling me to do. How many teachers today could do that to get their point across?

Friends at the time thought I was crazy to put up with such treatment but they had no idea how much I was learning. I smile when I think of my studies because I felt like very much like the character in the Karate Kid movies. Learning from my master was not always easy, nor were her teaching methods what I would have expected when learning how to paint. But now I can instinctively move my arms correctly to gain movement and visual excitement in my work. I can also use any size brush and gain a million brush marks from it purely by the angle it is held and by the pressure used to release color.

Wax On?


	Asian influenced brushwork creating beautiful carnations in a simple composition.

Things I once took for granted in my work I now consider carefully. Mainly because now I know what will happen with brush marks and that knowledge helps me make my watercolors interesting and successful.


Holding my brush near the sable at an angle for fine detail work.

Holding my brush at the correct angle helps me to gain curved or straight lines but I use my whole arm in larger marks, not just my wrist or hand, which I often see Western artists doing!

My mentor also taught me to close my eyes and see what I was painting long before I picked up my brushes. And if the subject happens to move? In that case, use soft flowing brushwork with more water added to the pigment. If a subject didn't move? Use stronger pigment and more pressure when applying color.

Wax Off?

When and where my brush leaves the paper makes a huge difference to my results. It is vital to know what will happen to the pigment when removing the point from a wet section.

Most importantly, my master taught me to always hold my brush in the right place, which is the furthest end for movement and near the sable for detail. Her voice still plays in my mind when I work. I can hear her say, "Why you stand up your brush?" She would remind me of this if the brush was supposed to be laying down at an angle for depicting a branch or twig mark of a tree.


	Lifting and removing my brush at the right time creates watermarks that I can later use to add brickwork effects for an old canal bridge.

Some memories stay with you for a lifetime and good lessons always play a huge part in your success. I will never forget studying brushwork in China but I am often amazed at how little time new artists take to understand how brushes move--how they feel and react with different pressure on paper. How easily the load or don't load with pigments and vary in release of color by timing of application.


A collection of my Chinese brushes.

For an experiment, try placing a dry watercolor brush on the back of your hand. I was taught that if you can feel it, you are using far too much pressure on your paper when you paint. Keep placing this dry brush on the back of your hand until you feel a slight whisper of sable. Then paint with that whisper and notice how your colors sing because you haven't pressed them onto a surface. Instead you have given them permission to shine.

All this thanks to a little lady who taught me so much. Happy painting and take a second look at how you hold and use your watercolor brushes!

--Jean

Jean is the author of Atmospheric Watercolour, released in May 2012. Full details of Jean's brush sets and new book are available on her website.

The Fugitive Color

johnandann@theartistsroad — Tue, 29 May 2012 03:28:00 GMT

We are big admirers of J. M. W. Turner's work in oil and watercolor, especially his magnificent, ethereal watercolor paintings. Unfortunately many of his paintings are much less vivid today than they were when he painted them. We know this from written descriptions of the paintings that were written when the works were just created. But Turner was notoriously indifferent to the permanence of his art colors. He just did not care. In a famous exchange between Turner and William Winsor, of Winsor & Newton, on the topic of color permanence of the pigments he was buying, Turner is said to have told Mr. Winsor to mind his own business. The fading nature of his pigments is especially striking in the reds the artist would use. Although there were some permanent reds available to the artist, the brilliant, vivid reds that Turner loved to use in his sunsets have almost all turned fugitive, significantly losing richness over time.

San Giorgio Maggiore at Dawn by J.M.W. Turner, watercolor painting, 1819.

Before the invention of aniline dyes derived from coal tar in 1859 and cadmium red in 1907 to expand this section of the color wheel, there were only a handful of red pigments available to artists. Red ochre is probably the oldest of those, and is the red commonly found in cave art. (See The Color of Provence.) The ancient world also had red madder lake, artificially made red lead, and vermilion (natural mineral cinnabar). Cinnabar is a type of red mercury ore (still mined today) that was mixed with an equal amount of burning sulphur to create an expensive red paint that was very popular with the Romans as a cosmetic and for decorations. Today, a safer, polymer resin-based pigment is used instead of the toxic cinnabar.


The Fighting Temeraire tugged to her last Berth to be broken up, 1838 by J.M.W. Turner, oil on canvas, 36 x 48, 1839.

As for the reds in Turner's color schemes, ochre, madder, vermilion and carmine lake were the ones he was most fond of. There are two varieties of carmine lake (cochineal lake and kermes lake), both produced from the bodies of insects. Cochineal lake comes from the blood of the cochineal beetle, which is native to the Americas and was discovered by the Aztecs. The beetle feeds on prickly pear cacti, eventually covering the plant with a wooly white mass that the Aztecs harvested and processed into dyes and paints. The Spanish Conquistadors brought this new color to Europe in the 16th century and maintained a monopoly on the secret source and supply of the pigment for centuries. Carmine lake, from cochineal blood, is still used today in cosmetics and foods, notably the red color for Cherry Coke. Kermes lake also comes from an insect that lives on certain species of European oaks. Workers scraped off the insects, which are then processed into a powerful scarlet dye.

Turner's most notable and tragic selection of a red pigment was made during the oil painting of The Fighting Temeraire tugged to her last Berth to be broken up, 1838. In this, perhaps his most famous painting, which he referred to as "my darling," he used a relatively new, but very fugitive, iodine scarlet to create the vivid, moody sky. Why? It had been known for at least 23 years prior that this same color fades drastically when exposed to light, yet Turner persisted in using it to get immediate effects at the sacrifice of longevity. By 1859, the staff at the National Gallery in London noted that the red sky of the painting was fading away, and today we are left to imagine what once was. Was he right to satisfy himself at the risk of permanence in his work? Leave a comment and let us know what you think.

For more interesting in-depth articles, demonstrations and valuable information, please join us on The Artist's Road.

--John & Ann

Sources: Color: A Natural History of the Palette by Victoria Finlay; WebExhibits.org

The New Three-Day Rule

Naomi E — Thu, 24 May 2012 03:33:00 GMT

Regardless of the kind of art you practice, if you have any hopes of making a living at it, you'll eventually have to share your creations, whether at an open mic, in a YouTube video, or putting together an oil painting group show with artist friends. This can be the most challenging part of being an artist, because it is in this exposure that we feel the most vulnerable.


Shimmer by Irena Roma, 2011, watercolor painting, 17 x 17.

For painters and draftsmen, juried exhibitions offer the most straightforward means of building a reputation without hiring a publicist. The process is, however, quite unpredictable, and gaining entry into a show is just as much about current trends, the jury's preferences, and the requirements of the exhibiting venue as it is about the quality of one's work. "Knowing whether you should submit or show a painting is a gut reaction that develops over time and, unfortunately, requires experience with rejection," said artist and instructor Irena Roman during a recent interview for Watercolor.

Ugh! Who wants to experience rejection? After working hard to develop skills and then being brave enough to apply those skills to self-expression, we have to repeatedly offer up our work for scrutiny and expect to be dissed? I wish there was a three-day rule when it came to submitting artwork for juried art competitions. You'd know in less than a week if they're "just not that into you" and you can shake it off and move on to the next one.

Of course, this isn't the dating game, but it may help to take a similar attitude when it comes to entering shows or submitting work for art contests. After sending in your artwork, don't think about it for at least three days--and after that, you won't even remember to care.

If you're not sure if you should risk it, here's a pearl of wisdom from Robert "The Art Spirit" Henri: "Don't ask for criticism until you are sure you can't give it yourself." Try your best to be objective. Best sure you've put down the brush before you invite a judge into the studio (even if it's your mother--especially if it's your mother!). And remember--even Robert Henri received rejection letters.

--Naomi

Artist Mother, Artist Son

dmaidman — Sun, 13 May 2012 03:37:00 GMT

My mom is an artist, but she's nothing like me. For all that, we're both artists. If you want to know where I got my artist genes, I got most of them from her. Genes alone don't make an artist, though. Making art is kind of a stupid career to choose. Nobody needs art, and if you become an artist, odds are good you'll either suck, or starve. Likely both. It takes encouragement to become an artist, reckless encouragement. I got that kind of encouragement.

Left to right: To Gorky by Ellen Maidman-Tanner, 1974, oil on canvas, 48 x 72;
Hands #1 by Daniel Maidman, 2011, oil on canvas, 24 x 24.

Most people want to be artists, a little bit, I think. And by and large, people should be discouraged. Art-making should be necessary; it should burn the artist not to make art. All good parents would like their children to be safe and secure—to make a living, save something for retirement. But parents have another concern: that their children should be happy.

I got the usual crayons and watercolors as a child. And then I got interested in other things, for a long time. When I came back to making pictures, my mom saw what it meant to me, and encouraged me to go so far as I could. That's a big thing.

Here's another big thing about her: while she's an artist, she had to reckon with my sister and me needing to get fed and educated when we were little. Her mothering isn't the maternal type we associate with matching hand towels and adorable clam-shaped soaps. She's more of a wild animal, and I wasn't so much a child to my parents as a small, nosebleed-prone friend. My mother is an adventurer; my father's mother was an adventurer; my sister jumps out of airplanes. We're all adventurers, one way or another, probably me least of all.


Marrakesh by Ellen Maidman-Tanner, 2009, watercolor painting on paper.		Doodle by Ellen Maidman-Tanner, 2011, ink drawing.

So here you have my mom, 24, 25, jazzed on graduate school and Eva Hesse and matte-finish postcards for three-person shows. It's the sort of lifestyle that doesn't involve a lot of cash flow, and like I said, we were hungry and ignorant, as little children are. It was going to take a real income from two parents to raise us, not just my dad. So my mother stopped making installations, and went into advertising. I remember her being an artist when I was a toddler, and I remember her being in advertising, and then marketing, and then in an executive position, when I was in elementary school and high school. It was obviously a demanding career, but we never caught a whiff of resentment; we knew we were loved.

I took it all for granted at the time, but I don't take it for granted now that I'm following the same path she started down. Once in a while, I consider getting a real job. Fortunately, I live a nearly responsibility-free life, and what responsibilities I have, I fail miserably at. It causes a lot of stress, but not so much stress as if I had to stop making art. That would break me in two. What my mom did to provide for us before we could provide for ourselves is a hell of a thing. That she neither resented nor parasitized our own creative pursuits is a part of it, a remarkable part of it.

St. Martins by Ellen Maidman-Tanner, 2010, both watercolor paintings.

There is good news: for those of us fortunate enough to live in the new world, life is long and resources are plentiful. There is time to put your children first, and time left to undertake the arduous return to yourself. There is room for a lot of love. Now that my sister is safely shipped off to her airplanes and motorcycles, and I to my brushes and canvases, my incredible mother is calibrating her high-powered career to allow more time to paint. She started out strictly abstract expressionist; now she's doing loose watercolors during her bewilderingly far-flung travels. On Mother's Day, I wanted to share some of her work with you.

With lots of love to you, Ima, and gratitude to all of you mothers out there, for everything you do and sacrifice to raise us. It is noticed. Happy Mother's Day.

--Daniel

Afraid of the Dark?

Jean Haines — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 03:34:00 GMT


Carnations flowing in a loose watercolor with exciting watermarks and color effects evident within the composition.

I have just taken a week of watercolor painting workshops and I came across a problem that many watercolor artists have in common. Many of us start a wonderful painting but when we seem to be half way through the creative process we hit a wall of what to do next.

Often the problem lies in that the painter has gained such a beautiful result so quickly that he or she is terrified of ruining it by going any further. This can result in many half finished paintings that never make it to a frame. I can understand the problem, but it is only by fighting through the fear that we can improve and grow in technique.

To understand how we should progress in any painting we need to fully comprehend where we are heading. Unfortunately, this too is a huge problem for many new artists who have yet to find their style. Picking up a brush and simply hoping for the best does not always lead to great results!

So before you begin painting, decide what you wish to achieve, especially if you are aiming to working in a loose interpretative style of watercolor art.

1. Soft Results.


	Adding darks can add powerful impact and drama to a painting.

These carnations were specifically painted with a soft result in mind. The composition indicates a gentle flow of direction. It holds a sense of movement and leaves much to the imagination. But is it finished? This is where a watercolorist's personal opinion will make the decision on whether to add more detail or leave the painting as it is.

2. Drama and Definition.

I decided to keep going. By working further and adding strong darks to surround the flowers, the composition appears more dramatic. In the second image where darks have been added as a backdrop they literally jump off the paper but is the original sense of movement that was so beautiful in the first version now lost?

Adding darks to sections of a painting can make or break the composition. Careful additions of a few brushstrokes can make all the difference to what otherwise could have seemed a boring work. But too much definition can kill the excitement and freedom that so many artists struggle to achieve when creating a watercolor painting.

3. Finding the Balance.


Blue Rhapsody by Jean Haines, watercolor painting.

Trying to create a fantastic masterpiece that screams of fascinating sections and is unique and interesting because of its originality is a hard task. But to the artist who is not afraid of the dark, knows when to add strong colors and when to leave sections soft as a contrast, the pleasure involved in creating is endless.

Don't be afraid of the dark but do use bold brushwork and color additions wisely.

Study your paintings at different stages in their creation so that you know exactly what is needed to either make your work fantastic or just a touch bolder. Most importantly, be unique!

--Jean

You can discover more about watercolors by Jean on her website.

Painting for the (Trash) Bin

Jean Haines — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 04:48:00 GMT

The aim of being an artist is the ability to create. But with this desire of wishing to constantly achieve wonderful paintings that can be framed or exhibited comes an enormous amount of pressure on our shoulders. We expect to always succeed in our goal to capture a scene or subject on paper or canvas. I strongly believe it is this stress factor that can put off the beginner or lead to gaps in a professional artist's life, where they simply don't feel like picking up a brush. Or it becomes a point of despondency because one thinks he or she will never able to reach his or her goal.

		I painted this watercolor exercise (with cadmium yellow and French ultramarine blue) for fun, for the bin, and with the aim of simply achieving vibrant fresh color on paper with texture effects for added interest.

		In this watercolor painting for the bin, pigment is breaking up by use of simple water application. I refer to this watercolor painting technique as "water flow." Indigo and French ultramarine blue formed amazing patterns in the experimental wash.

		Abstract result from purely experimenting with watercolor and textural effects.

In my studio I start and close each day with color experiments that, over time, have improved my art and knowledge of the medium I am working in which is watercolor. In my watercolor painting workshops I encourage everyone to experiment simply with color first rather than always aim to create a masterpiece straight away.

The fun and light mood in the room whilst this experimental part of my sessions takes place is incredible. I sometimes get the feeling many artists are so serious about their work that they have forgotten how wonderfully enjoyable the experience of creating can actually be!

This fun process has aided my own growth as an artist, led me to completely new and exciting discoveries in watercolor painting techniques, and increased my passion for painting. While I am painting for the bin (which is what we call the trash can in Britain), I often unintentionally create pieces that are perfect for framing.

I do constantly stretch myself by looking for new color combinations and pigment reactions. And I am not alone in loving this experimental way of approaching each new day of painting. I am increasingly fascinated by the reactions of artists attending my demonstrations. The joy they feel when told not to paint a subject but to simply love working with color for a change is amazing. I think possibly being given permission to "play" instead of always aiming for that special painting frees our inner artist and pushes us on our own road of discovery.

So the next time you don't feel like painting, how about letting go of all your inhibitions and self-imposed restrictions, and free yourself by doing this exercise:

Paint four scraps of paper with different colors. Set yourself the challenge of making each one unique. Increase the challenge by not allowing yourself to use your favorite shades.

Look out for great experimental results and use them in your more serious compositions. Most of all have fun, aim for the (trash) bin in your warm up sessions and surprise yourself at how amazing your experimental results become.

Paint for the bin more often and take the pressure off of your shoulders. I was once told if your bin isn't full, you haven't practiced enough! Although be warned, this exercise can become completely addictive, and that means taking out "the trash" more often!

--Jean Haines

You can read more about Jean's watercolors on her website and blog. Enjoy!

What's the Wisp?!

ShenShen210 — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 04:25:00 GMT


Elton, 11 x 14, mixed media on gesso board, 2011.

Yesterday was an interesting day for me. I thought I was near finished with a painting I had been working on for over three months, but when I sent it over to my agent in New York, who I call my third set of eyes, (hubby Matthew is my second) he called me rather than send a quick email like usual. What I was left with made my head spin. He said, "It needs to be like a wisp...in the creation as well as in the final viewing. You have struggled on this painting and it shows."

That stung a little. He also reminded me that I do fine art painting because I love it. He also said that the final set of eyes judging any of my painting work needs to be mine.

In this particular painting, I was working from photo reference, as I have often done to translate photo to painting, and I worked in "spots" rather than viewing the work and painting it as a "whole." This is a trap that I have fallen into before, and I was usually on my own to figure it out! I am thankful to now have a community of artists and friends to help me to see when my vision becomes impaired or simply fogged. Seeing my work through their eyes is a gift.

I have a number of deadlines looming and commissions due as well as new projects that I am excited about starting. The beginning of a piece is always my favorite part, because the possibilities are endless! And there is a very busy personal life that needs attention also. So this morning I am reflecting about being present in each moment as I paint and I'm looking forward to starting a new painting and letting this one go, if just for now. The option to return to it later will be there, so I can just relax.


		Wellspring, 24 x 36, watercolor painting, 2006.

But what can I do to assure that "the wisp" happens?

I probably can't do anything specifically. I need to allow the peace, mental space, and inspiration to come so that it has the room to be in my presence and to breathe. I can't corner it or hunt it down. I have to trust that the muse that has visited and romanced me for over 25 years will be back.

Only now I have a name for her. Wisp Maker! :)

~Shen

Shen loves making the flat surface of a painting or drawing come to life. A professional artist and entrepreneur for more than 25 years, she lives to discover new techniques, mix media, and make difficult concepts simple! You will often find her painting live at events of all kinds to "wow" her audience. Her work has been collected by celebrities, corporations, and galleries spanning the globe. She is also an art instructor and keynote speaker, speaking to artists about how to market themselves in new, fun, and creative ways. Shen lives in Vail, Colorado, with her husband and three beautiful daughters. More of Shen's work may be viewed at her website.

Educate + Inspire + Equip

Courtney Jordan — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 19:29:00 GMT


	Old Cedar by Bill Guffey, oil, 18 x 24.		Peasant by Joan Langdon, watercolor painting, 10.5 x 11.5.		Tomiko by Adriana Guidi, oil on canvas panel, 14 x 18.

That's Brian Neher's mantra for his upcoming free art contest, and it is one that I can certainly identify with. These are truly the three essentials I've found that really do lend themselves to artistic growth. And without any one of them, the others are less effective.

So when Brian let me know that art competitions were on his radar (past entries, above), and that he was pulling together a strong list of sponsors like Richard Schmid and Daniel Gerhartz, plus prizes from Yale University Press, Blick Art Supplies, and Jerry's Artarama, among others, I was really impressed. It is so gratifying to know that there are so many artists out there working to put together art contests that can really make a difference to artists.

We at Artist Daily and American Artist want to support Brian's important mission to reach artists and help them along their individual creative roads, which is why we have donated a one-year digital subscription as part of the Grand Prize package for the art competition.

If you are looking for a way to recharge your painting or drawing practice, or are simply interested in gaining some well-deserved recognition through art competitions, this free art contest could very well be for you. Enjoy!

Why I Workshop

Michael Gormley — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 05:39:00 GMT


We spent a lot of painting time along the cliffs outside San Juan.

Painting can be a pretty isolating affair, and though I love the alone time spent with my muse, I miss the collective energy that working in a group of like-minded colleagues provides. I also want to get better at painting, and though I'm certainly evolving as an artist, that learning process is a pretty steep climb and going it alone can be murder. Then it dawned on me that going it alone is a choice--and frankly not the best one for me right now.

We learn better with others around us because we feel safe--and if we feel safe we're likely to take risks. True learning requires that we let go of perfection---we must stretch our boundaries, leave our comfort zone, allow ourselves to experiment, and even make mistakes. I don't know about you, but I prefer to have some trusted friends, and a dedicated mentor, nearby once I summon the courage to cross the threshold into the unknown and untried.


	The courtyards of the inn kept us fully immersed in nature.

The opportunity to take such a leap presented itself to me a few months ago when I received an invite from Teresa Spinner to attend a plein air painting workshop she was putting together with Judith Carducci. Spinner is a portrait artist and owner of Signilar Art Video, which has been producing high quality instructional videos of today's master artists since 1989. Carducci is likewise a respected portraitist and a seasoned instructor.

The workshop was to be held in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico, at the Gallery Inn--which is owned and operated by Jan D'Esopo--Spinner's sister. D'Esopo, an accomplished watercolorist and sculptor, has lived on the property for close to fifty years. Though the house was little more than a royal wreck when she first acquired it, D'Esopo had the vision to transform it, and subsequent adjacent properties, into a magical kingdom replete with planted grottoes, shimmering fountains, and fancy dress dining halls. Now a rustic Spanish castle filled with fine art and period furnishings, it rises majestically atop a high bluff overlooking the fortifications of Old San Juan and the endless sea beyond. Without question the perfect setting for a painting party.

And indeed it was. Spinner and Carducci scouted out landscape sites in advance--though I would have been perfectly content to paint the Inn and its lush courtyards. Old San Juan is a treasure trove of the picturesque--breathtaking natural vistas and compelling architectural forms were to be had at every corner. Our days commenced at dawn as we rushed to the breakers to paint the sun as it crept up over the horizon and bathed the bluffs and forts in a surreal and heavenly light. Group critiques were held over a mid-morning breakfast--freshly prepared omelets and café-con-leche eased the embarrassment of displaying and talking about our still-wet paintings, which never seemed quite up to our hopes and expectations.




Night painting in and around Old San Juan was an atmospheric, moody, and all around exhilarating experience.

We set out again in the afternoon to find the perfect spot that begged to be painted. Open air painting in the tropics is a challenge--squalls are a constant--but then again so are the rainbows. Coming back indoors in the late afternoon, we painted each other, the hotel staff, and for that matter anything that stood still. Carducci was an ever-present and energetic cheerleader, making the rounds to the workshop participants and ever ready to share her encyclopedic grasp of picture making. Demoing throughout the five-day workshop, Carducci's light-filled landscape paintings were an inspiration; and her nocturnes magical in their economy of line, compositional force, and striking play of color.

In three days I became unrecognizable to myself--transformed into something and someone else. "I" the artist, meaning "I" in the sense of the almighty "I", slipped away and in its stead I became an earnest seeker among fellow earnest seekers striving to channel the sights, sounds and smells of life in Old San Juan into sensitive and spirited works of art. I like to think that we succeeded.

If you'd like to see if you might have the same kind of transformational experience in a workshop, be sure to watch out for the March/April issue of American Artist. It is our 75th anniversary issue and comes with our annual workshop and art school directory.

--Michael

Michael Gormley is the editorial director of American Artist magazine.