My across-the-street neighbor Matthew is a building contractor who specializes in house shingling jobs (he shingled my house and did a beautiful job with many artistic flourishes). But right now he is working on his roof. I’m amazed at his strength and stamina. He was up there all day today, ripping off the old roof and putting up a new layer of wood, then tar paper. I could hear him up there hammering after it was dark.
He is so strong that a few months ago when I stupidly sped backwards out of my driveway right into his massive pickup truck that was parked where it usually isn’t, he fixed the big dent in the back of my car for me by pulling it out with his hands. (I hit his bumper which didn’t even get scratched.)
My sketch doesn’t do him justice–he was just cleaning up on Saturday evening when I sketched him. Today he worked from about 8:00 a.m. until after 8:00 p.m. , with nothing securing him to the roof or protecting him from the sun, wind, cold.
I find it astonishing to see how hard some people work and it makes me grateful for my comfortable desk job (although it’s not without discomfort either, as all that sitting is quite hard on the back). I’m sure Matthew would have trouble sympathizing though.
Hayward Japanese Garden (revised), oil on panel, 12x9"
Despite the encouragement to leave this painting and “don’t touch a thing” I wasn’t satisfied with it and made some adjustments to the color. I’m much happier with it now, although I wish my photo was more accurate. In real life the color is less fluorescent than it is appearing on the screen, although the actual scene in person was so brilliant it nearly was fluorescent.
Lone Tree Park, a funky little waterfront spot in the funky little town of Rodeo, CA alongside the railroad tracks. Sunday I joined Benicia Plein Air Painters there for an afternoon of plein air painting. I was determined to simplify, find big shapes, get them down on my panel with bold color, and stop. It was so much fun, made even more so by painting alongside Leslie Wilson, an inspiring watercolor painter.
Today I finished the painting at home from memory (above). I had to work from memory because the photo didn’t even come close to capturing the colors from the setting sun.
Below is the painting on site, just before I filled the white spaces I’d left between shapes to avoid smearing as I worked.
Lone Tree Park, Rodeo, in progress
And here’s my easel set up at the park. Since we were painting in the afternoon the sun began to set and glow with wonderful hot colors the last half hour of painting.
Painting in Rodeo
It was good practice to finish the painting (at least I think it’s finished) but it also felt good to do what I set out to do on-site, simplifying down to big shapes and colors.
It also felt great to be out painting from real life instead of from a photo as I’ve been doing for the book. I got permission to share some of the steps in progress which I’ll do soon.
The little known Hayward Japanese Garden is a lovely and a very peaceful place. I set up my easel inside one of the little structures sprinkled throughout the gardens as it had a good view and nice shade on a very sunny day last week. It was also a popular spot for wedding and family photos, as two different wedding parties came to take photos at this spot while we painted.
There were a number of challenges with this painting. First was the complicated scene I chose. Also painting under a roof in a shaded area looking directly at a bright scene was tricky.
I was attracted by the rhythm of the crisscrossing diagonals of the bridge, the building, the tree and the reflections. While I was pleased that I met my goal for this session: to focus on composition, I only got as far as an underpainting on site (after starting with thumbnails, value study and a fairly careful drawing). I worked on it some more today from a photo on my computer screen.
Now I see a few things I’d like to adjust (toning down the bright yellow greens, shrinking the rocks under the tree that somehow grew while I was painting, and adding some dark accents). But that will have to wait because…
Book commission
Now it’s time to get to work on the first watercolor for a book commission that is due in two weeks. I’ll be making three paintings for another book about painting flowers in watercolor by my previous publisher. I love the first photo I was assigned to paint from and am excited about the project. It’s so cool getting paid to paint flowers! I’m supposed to photograph 6 stages of the painting and then ship it off to London for them to make the final photo, Then they’ll send me back the painting and the digital file.
I’m hoping I can post some of the steps here, but my guess is that since they get publishing rights, I probably can’t. Either way, first I have to get painting!
I have a theory about the paths we take in life, and how important it is to notice what I call “Angels Holding Up Signs” along the way. Sometimes those angels take the form of a person offering helpful information or silently pointing the way by example, an intuitive thought, or an unexpected turn of events that makes you pause. When I see or hear an angel holding up a sign, whether it’s “Yield”, “STOP,” or “Go This Way” with an arrow, I consider it a gift and give it serious consideration.
Disclaimer: I’m not a New-Age angels and crystals sort of girl. But I do believe there are angels all around us; good, kind, generous people, like Adam at Kragen Auto Parts today who helped me dispose of gallons of old motor oil and their containers that had been abandoned in my garage (long story; don’t get me started!). Thanks Adam!
…And like the angels who’ve held up signs in my art life lately, including Kathryn Law and Ed Terpening who’ve both helped me to a breakthrough in my understanding about why simplifying is important in oil painting, especially when painting plein air. I’m always attracted to details, and so I’ve fought against that principle, and then fought my paints trying to put those details into my paintings.
Then I saw these paintings (below) by Ed Terpening on his blog, Life Plein Air, made during a workshop in which the instructor, Peggi Kroll-Roberts, challenged the class to break the scene into as few large shapes as possible and paint those shapes with a large, fully loaded brush in one brush stroke.
Each study evoked in me a mood and my mind created a whole life story for each of these women. A mom at the beach trying to keep her kids in line; a sad, matron, wondering where her life had gone; a glamorous, young society lady at the country club watching a tennis game while sipping a martini….
How did so much come from such simple paintings? Leaving out the details left it to my mind to fill them in. This is something I so needed to learn: that simplifying and omitting detail doesn’t make a painting boring—it lets the viewer’s mind play and be creative, making for an exciting, rewarding experience. Thanks, Ed, for holding up that signpost!
Another sign-toting angel came via email this week: a request to purchase this plein air oil painting I made last summer at Lake Temescal. There I was at the crossroads, wondering whether to give up plein air oil painting, and this angel popped up with a sign saying, “You’re on the right path, don’t turn back.”
And now about my process with today’s painting. First I tried to simplify by painting large color shapes with the plan to create a color study for a work to be done in the studio. I also focused on the composition, picking a focal point, being careful not to divide the canvas in half as I have a tendency to do, making the subject (the water) the largest portion.
Here’s how it looked when I’d covered the whole panel:
Lake Temescal Reflections, Phase 1
I’d worked quickly, using a palette knife, going for big shapes of color. I should have stopped there and gone for a walk. But instead I messed around for another hour and muddied up the design and the colors:
Temescal Reflections (muddied), Phase 2
But the great thing about palette knife painting is that it’s easy to scrape off passages and repaint them. So later that evening I put the photo of Phase 1 on my computer monitor side-by-side with a photo of the scene and worked on the painting until I was satisfied with it (as posted at top).
And I’m very happy with another breakthrough: the way I was able to enjoy the plein air painting process without worrying about making a Painting with a capital P while I was out there.
When I brought home today’s plein air oil painting, I spent a few minutes messing with it, tried to fix it, and then just wiped it all off. Then I painted the scene in watercolor instead (above). I’m getting really frustrated with plein air oil painting and I’m starting to reconceptualize how I might approach plein air painting in the future.
I love being out in nature looking closely at it, and trying to capture it in paint. I also really like hiking in these beautiful parks. But when I paint with oils I focus on painting and then when I leave, I’m often envious of the people who hiked past me as I stood there in one spot.
My new idea is to bring my watercolors, sketchbook and my camera and spend half of the time walking and taking photos and the other half making watercolor sketches. Then I can use those studies, photos and my memory and experience of the place to either make larger watercolors or oil paintings in the studio.
I so admire people who can make beautiful oil paintings plein air. I know that there’s nothing that can compare to seeing color and light and painting it right in the midst of nature’s glory. But maybe it’s time to accept that it’s just not my forte and focus on the things that I both enjoy and can do with some modicum of success.
View from Stege Marsh, Richmond Bay Trail, oil 6x8"
This isn’t the painting I made at Sunday’s plein air location in a funky old marina in Crockett, beside the Carquinez Bridge. I was mad at that painting so I did this one to get even. I worked from a photo I took on the Bay Trail near my house to give myself a chance to paint in easier circumstances (no wasps buzzing around my hands, no trains going by every half an hour only 10 feet away, no cars rumbling overhead, no sweaty heat, and light that doesn’t move).
Feeling a little more confident after that, I tried to fix up the painting I’d done under the bridge (where the only shade could be found on that hot day). What made me mad about the painting was primarily that I didn’t come close to meeting the goal I’d set for myself that day: to SIMPLIFY and also that it is just a stupid composition. The view was tricky as everything was in direct afternoon sun except the foreground which was in shade.
Under Carquinez Bridge, Crocket, REVISED, oil 6x8"
I will keep working on the goal of simplifying in my oil paintings, as I’ve had a major breakthrough in my understanding about why it’s important, which I’ll write about in my next post.
I wanted to try to bring to life the image in my mind from painting last weekend at Albany Bulb because I didn’t feel I’d really captured it in the oil painting I did. Since I’m going to be teaching a watercolor class starting October 17, I thought I’d give it a go in watercolor.
There are so many different approaches one can take when working in watercolor, from very slowly and precisely painting every detail, to working in many layers of transparent glazes, to loose, free and juicy washes, and everything in between. I like all approaches, and especially enjoy the meditative experience of painting each petal of a flower separately, taking weeks to finish a painting. But tonight I just wanted to go for it, working quickly and completing the painting in one session. I started at the sky and worked my way down.
Albany bulb beach photo
For reference I used the image in my mind to Photoshop the photo I’d taken, moving things, deleting things, changing the colors to try to get it to look like I remember the day.
Perhaps the painting needs more or perhaps I should have stopped sooner? I won’t know for sure until I look at it for a few days (or until one of you kindly points out what I’ve missed!)
Meanwhile I have several posts just crying out to be written but this has been a very busy week, with day job overload and catching up on things so they will have to wait until tomorrow.
Albany Bulb Beach and Golden Gate Fields, 8x10", oil on Gessobord
Today I spent the afternoon painting in the bright windy sunshine at Albany Bulb across the way from the Golden Gate Fields racetrack. I could hear the announcer calling the races while I painted. And I was visited by numerous dogs and curious children and the occasional art critic.
It felt so good to be out painting again–it had been too long. The only downside was that I was painting in the bright sun because I was too lazy to walk back to my car to get my umbrella. And it was so windy the umbrella probably would have blown away anyway. When the canvas and/or palette are in the bright sun it’s really easy to mix all the colors too dark.
So of course when I got home and took the painting out of its box everything was too dark. Although I’d taken photos, they were pretty boring so I mostly worked from my memory this evening to to make some corrections and add a bit of artistic license.
At Tuesday night sketchcrawl last week we started at the top of Fairmount Avenue in El Cerrito. I went from sketching an empty storefront to a tree in a cemetery parking lot to a church facade as the sun went down. It was poignant being at the Sunset View Cemetery again, after attending a funeral there just a couple weeks ago.
For Lease, ink & watercolor
This is my sketchbuddy Cathy sketching from across the street on a hill in front of an empty storefront. On all of these I drew with a blue Copic Multi-liner and then added watercolor wash at home. I tried to mix a similar blue but got swayed by some purple.
The sun is setting so much earlier now; we’re going to have to move indoors soon for our after-work sketchcrawls. We’re making a list of places to sketch: a bowling alley, a bingo parlor, a new rock-climbing gym, Pastime Hardware and the library are at the top of my list.
St. Jeromes Church, Ink & Watercolor
It got too dark to finish drawing this church so we headed over to Fat Apples Restaurant for tea and Cathy shared her notes and images from an amazing workshop she took in Maine from Susan Abbott. I love Susan’s work and after seeing Cathy’s paintings from the week and hearing about Susan’s wisdom and generosity as a teacher, I am even more determined to get to New England and take a workshop from her next year!
Jana Bouc, Artist 