painting

Some days, painting is like ringing a bell. Other days, it's like pushing rocks uphill.

And some days - not too many, thankfully - painting is like trying to reverse an excitable bull out of a china shop without breaking anything, while keeping one eye peeled for whoopee cushions.

Seriously, do you ever have days at work when you just know that if you even think about making a single move something expensive will fall over, or catch fire, or probably both, for no good reason?

On those days you are the plaything of the fates, and the best thing you can do is sit on your hands and resist any and all urges to do something useful. Because if you attempt anything - anything - at all, you will not only fail, but fail in so spectacular and horrifying a fashion that people will ever afterwards speak in awed tones of your abject incompetence, and cross the road when they see you coming. Just in case it's catching.

It's one of life's hardest lessons: some days, you can't do a damned thing right.

On those days, I kick back, do a crossword puzzle, maybe catch up on the gardening and odd jobs around the house. The ironing gets done. I might cut some MDF to size, or think about ordering some paint or brushes.

What I don't do is go near whatever painting I'm working on. Because it would explode.

I also don't worry about it. Because I know those days never come two together, and tomorrow will be great because I had a break.

My advice? If you break a window trying to get the screw cap off a tube of paint, you should maybe take the day off and do something else.

six monthly painting review

Back in March I spent a couple of hours sorting through what I'd done since last September in my six monthly review. A quarterly review is a good way to keep track of productivity, progress, and problem solving. If you can put a name to what you need to change, it's easier to handle.

In the past year, I'd started 30 paintings, and finished 24 of them, nine of which I wouldn't be thoroughly ashamed to frame and exhibit. Add to that 8 quarter imperial (11" x 15") drawings and about 120 drawing book pages.

In looking back through a year's worth of work I made a list of twelve points that need fixing in future paintings, which was the whole point of the exercise. When you spot your mistakes, you can give them the attention that will mend them. 

This year, I'm going to produce more. The aim is to produce enough viable paintings to stock several commercial galleries. That's going to be my main focus now I have my areas of competence mapped out, and systems in place to expand on those.

Does this sound too coldly mercenary? Well, with no other saleable skills*, and having developed an unfortunate predilection for paying my bills, wearing shoes, and eating six or seven times a day, it's necessary.

* Unless you need an ornamental hermit.

painters I found online

When I'm not painting I like to trawl the internet and see what painters I can find.

I found Duffy Sheridan's videos on YouTube, and they're well worth a look. His somewhat distracted* commentary gives great insight into the thought processes of a painter at work.  I recommend doing an image search of his paintings, they're gorgeous.

I came across Ryan S.Brown's landscapes while looking for another painter's work, and I eventually Googled him and found his website. That links to this splendid article about his work process as applied to a large landscape painting he did, as part of a Hudson River School Fellowship award.

* It's hard switching between painting mode and talking mode when you're working, as anyone who has made a YouTube instructional video will verify.

palette

Lately, I've noticed that my wide ranging palette has shrunk, to ten go-to pigments that cover all my needs:

Titanium White
Cadmium Red
Spectrum Orange
Cadmium Lemon
Oxide of Chromium
French Ultramarine
Permanent Mauve
Yellow Ochre
Raw Sienna
Burnt Umber

I have a paint mixing ritual which suits almost every painting: French Ultramarine and Burnt Umber, mixed to make a black. White added to this to make a range of greys. The black added to Oxide of Chromium for a shadow tone green, then separate greens mixed with Oxide of Chromium and Yellow Ochre and Cadmium Lemon, for the light side. The greys end up in the clouds, while sky blue is mixed from Ultramarine and white.

When things get too green, the Cadmium Red and Spectrum Orange kill the bilious notes and liven things up. The basic colours can be turned warm or cold as needed - yellow greens for grass, blue greens for nettles, violet blue for evening skies, cool blue for cool days.

So, shrinking palette, good or bad thing? It could be the main reason for my samey colour chord, as noted in this post, but that could equally be taken as a sign that I'm getting it right - I've accurately caught the colour scheme of the small patch of land I paint.

Some colours I stopped using because I found them too difficult. Viridian, for example, gives me problems. Too cold on its own, odd and out of place in tints, too assertive in mixed greens. It makes a good black, and beautiful greys, when mixed with Alizarin Crimson, but I currently have no use for those colours.

I've just started a small painting using a restricted palette, and I went with Burnt Sienna, Golden Ochre and Indigo as my red, yellow, and blue. Three primaries and their mixtures should be enough to take you through most of your colour solid, but the compromised colours of these three pigments provided an extra challenge. 

As an exercise, a restricted palette is good because it makes you think hard about colour choices, and really work the pigments you've allowed yourself. So far, the painting doesn't seem particularly less colourful than previous paintings that used a wider range of colours.

Next week I'm going further afield, so we'll see if I find new solutions for a new landscape. Meanwhile, here's a drawing of a horse in which I mucked up the head.