The first heat wave of the summer brought me out toting the plein air portable easel. Which is portable in much the same way that a steamer trunk full of brick samples is portable, if you have a fork lift to hand.
Actually, it's not so bad. Load up the backpack with camera and drawing book, load up the easel box with tubes of paint, brushes and turpentine, and you're good. The easel has a sturdy leather handle, and a substantial carrying strap. My subject is just a fifteen minute walk away, but it's as well to remember that you also have to haul the damned thing back when you've finished painting.
Starting to draw on a quiet rural road is an open invitation to the whole world. Last week, with no one in sight and not a sound but for bird song, within thirty seconds of putting pencil to paper I had company in the form of a kid on a motor scooter and an old guy driving a forty foot curtain sider who stopped to ask for directions. We put the lorry driver straight, then I waited out scooter boy's curiosity and he headed off after telling me I could draw. It's always nice to get an unsolicited testimonial. The best thing about spectators is that they quickly realize that watching someone paint is only marginally more interesting than watching paint dry, then make their excuses and leave.
I've got a morning painting and an afternoon painting on the go, which seems like a good way to handle it. Evenings I stroll back with a drawing book and take pictures too. There's a sweetness to the evening light at this time of year which is probably too saccharine to paint but is nonetheless very enjoyable. Everything looks to have been shot through warm up and soft focus filters. Golden light rakes across blossom and glowing green grass, and lights up trees that reflect in the stream. Far too pretty to paint.
Actually, it's not so bad. Load up the backpack with camera and drawing book, load up the easel box with tubes of paint, brushes and turpentine, and you're good. The easel has a sturdy leather handle, and a substantial carrying strap. My subject is just a fifteen minute walk away, but it's as well to remember that you also have to haul the damned thing back when you've finished painting.
Starting to draw on a quiet rural road is an open invitation to the whole world. Last week, with no one in sight and not a sound but for bird song, within thirty seconds of putting pencil to paper I had company in the form of a kid on a motor scooter and an old guy driving a forty foot curtain sider who stopped to ask for directions. We put the lorry driver straight, then I waited out scooter boy's curiosity and he headed off after telling me I could draw. It's always nice to get an unsolicited testimonial. The best thing about spectators is that they quickly realize that watching someone paint is only marginally more interesting than watching paint dry, then make their excuses and leave.
I've got a morning painting and an afternoon painting on the go, which seems like a good way to handle it. Evenings I stroll back with a drawing book and take pictures too. There's a sweetness to the evening light at this time of year which is probably too saccharine to paint but is nonetheless very enjoyable. Everything looks to have been shot through warm up and soft focus filters. Golden light rakes across blossom and glowing green grass, and lights up trees that reflect in the stream. Far too pretty to paint.
Hey, wait a minute... note to self: Pretty is good. Forget everything you picked up at art college. These days I walk around looking at stuff until I see something that makes me stop and say, 'Dang!' Then out comes the A5 drawing book for a biro drawing. Followed by the camera for reference shots. Followed by the big drawing book for a watercolour study, maybe, and then a full scale painting expedition at some point.
The paintings so far all pass through a stage I've come to call the heeby jeeby half hour, when it seems impossible that they could ever come good. You just keep painting, and at some point realize that it's turning out okay. If you learn to trust the process you've developed, it usually pays off. Look at your subject, draw it, judge tone and colour and mix your paint. Apply paint, working from dark to light. Cover up all the white ground and painting gets easier.
