Thoughts on Painting
Posted on 4/15/2011 7:15:02 AM
By Christine Marx
4 Comments
Cherry Blossom Study
Well, yesterday I made my first attempt at painting en plein aire. Until now I have always painted in a studio, in a controlled environment. The lighting doesn't change, the temperature is controlled, the coffee pot (and restroom) are steps away.
I have had visions of myself, up until yesterday's fiasco, growing old and painting the vast landscapes of our beautiful country (Yosemite, Zion, the Grand Canyon, etc., etc. ) as well as Italy, Spain, and France and maybe an annual trip to Hawaii as well. I would wear smart clothes, have a big floppy hat and have a really fantastic, expensive travel easel that pops up in less than 30 seconds, and if I was really good, have an assistant to do such tedious preparation chores for me. Ahhhh, the good life.
I joined a plein aire group that starts meeting next month, in anticipation of my quasi-retirement plans that is decades away. So, rather than have my first outside setup occur in front of seasoned outdoor painters I thought I'd do a little painting in my backyard, because there is a blooming weeping cherry tree that enthralls me every spring. It only lasts a couple of weeks at most, so what an opportunity for me! I brought my not-really portable easel upstairs from my studio and took my huge laundry basket full of about 50 tubes of paint, turp (in a very large, heavy glass container), paper towels, palette, qtips, a mirror, and just about anything leftover from my various past three still life paintings, which includes two heavy vases. If you are a plein aire painter you already see many, many problems with my travel case for painting! My friend, Terry, has seen my dilemma based on what I bring to art class every week, and has so sweetly offered to come over and help me pack a realistic travel pack for painting. The look on her face when I barge in with my laundry basket always makes me laugh. She is very organized and has a neat and tidy compact travel bag.
So back to the painting. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining and the birds were singing. I got all set up, coffee in hand, and began the serious business of painting something I would not be totally ashamed to put online. After moving my easel about 50 times so the light was correct on my canvas I got it blocked in. The sky was perfect and I moved on to the tree. I was about 1/2 hour into the tree when I looked at my sky and there was a big black gnat mushed into my most perfect cloud. Yikes!!! So after picking him out and ruining my perfect cloud I spent another 10 minutes fixing the cloud. So, back to the tree. Very intensely working on the tree, picked up my ice-cold coffee, took a big swig, and realized the rest of the gnat family was floating around in my coffee cup. Yuck! On the list before I paint next month with the group is a big insulated coffee mug with a cover!
I finally finished the study after about three hours. I know this is not the worst plein aire story ever told. I've heard of spiders, rattlesnakes, and bears ruining a perfectly good painting session. I felt pretty safe from those perils in my own backyard. Suffice it to say, I have a newfound respect for those painters that go out in the snow, the rain, the blazing heat of summer, and out into the wild and come back with a gorgeous interpretation of where they've been! I tip my big, floppy hat to you!
Posted on 4/1/2011 8:20:02 AM
By Christine Marx
3 Comments
Speckled Eggs - Oil on canvas
Are you ready for another person on the East Coast bemoaning the snow that is defiantly falling outside right now? Huge, fluffy snowflakes are swirling outside my window in a circular motion, making me feel like I live in the center of a snow globe. Now, if this were December I would be sitting at the window, tea in hand, oohing and aahing over the beautiful snowflakes and winter wonderland and blah, blah, blah. But it's not December, it's April. And we've had one heck of a long winter, or are continuing to have one heck of a long winter. Spring did not arrive last week, I don't care what the calendar says.
So here I sit looking out the window and I find myself angry at the snow and the gloom. And I keep looking out the window, cursing another cold day, and then I notice the blooming daffodils and pansies out in my garden with the snow falling around them and they look absolutely brilliant....so much brighter and luminous than anything else in the gray landscape today. And what comes to mind is something I learned from my art teacher, which was when something looks kind of blah in a painting and is not as bright as you want it, make whatever is next to it a little darker before trying to lighten up the object. I tried this last week when painting pink tulips that looked flat and not light enough, by darkening the background a little bit, and BAM....the tulips became almost surreal and their magnificence was turned up on notch. So today the drear and the grey is dampening my mood, but it is making the flowers outside especially brilliant.
Finding the beauty in every day is an artist's calling. When I sit down at my easel I am trying to capture the beauty that I see in whatever my subject is. It's easy to focus on conveying the light and beauty, but without the darkness and shadows next to the light there would be no beauty, no contrast. If you look at the shadows in a winter landscape painting, you will see that the shadow is never black, it is always magnificent purples and blues with some pinks and even orange making up the shadows. Sometimes there is more beauty in the shadow than there is in the light.
I think what I will take away from today is that the dark is necessary to truly appreciate the brilliance of the light. You cannot have one without the other.
