The other day I did a Google image search of Constable's paintings, found a photograph of Flatford Mill, and copied it in my drawing book.
What I took away from my half hour with Constable was that in a large painting, there are no accidents. Everything has its place, and the pieces interlock and work together like clockwork. And this apparent lack of spontaneity and freewheeling improvisation is something we could do with more of. Because planning and rehearsal makes great paintings.
Is anyone doing this kind of painting now? I hope so. More to the point, is anyone teaching it? The skill set required should be kept intact and passed down.
What I took away from my half hour with Constable was that in a large painting, there are no accidents. Everything has its place, and the pieces interlock and work together like clockwork. And this apparent lack of spontaneity and freewheeling improvisation is something we could do with more of. Because planning and rehearsal makes great paintings.
Is anyone doing this kind of painting now? I hope so. More to the point, is anyone teaching it? The skill set required should be kept intact and passed down.
This week I started a new small painting of Pleasley vale and did some work on one done nearby that's almost finished. Starting a painting is effortless, but finishing them to a standard and quality I can live with is a trial. You run the risk of fiddling until you ruin it if you do too much, or of never finding a solution if you do too little. Repeated overpainting can be good in that you accidentally build up a beautiful paint surface.
So much of painting - or at least my painting - consists of putting right what I did wrong. While trying not to ruin something else in the process.
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| Field edge, Pleasley vale. |
