...Is not a simple matter. Everything you choose to paint has to function as a design element, as a piece of a harmonious whole.
Some things are easy to incorporate in a composition. A house is a rectangle, a mountain is a triangle, a hill is a breast; all simple, pleasing forms. A mass of trees or a cloud share the happy facility of being pretty much any shape you choose.
But a horse has uncompromising facts of anatomy which must be accommodated without upsetting the balance of the picture. As a living thing, it will draw the eye no matter where you put it, even if it's only incidental to the main focal point of the painting.
And it is a collection of shapes: the truncated triangles of head, and neck, the sagging barrel of the body, and last, and most awkwardly, the legs. Many, many legs. Put those legs against a plain ground, like a grassy field, and they will divide it into beautiful, interesting paper cut outs, with nuanced straight lines, graceful curves, and odd little sharp angles. Which might be bad, because these shapes are too interesting, and could take attention away from where you want it to go.
One solution is to incorporate the horse into a tonal mass so that it doesn't stand out too much, blending into the background a little.
Paint the horses lying down, and you either have rounded boulders that fit in easily, or a sprawling mess with legs pointing everywhere. Painting is about as honest as stock photography, in that you're always looking for the best angle to show off your subject, and trying to avoid the awkward views.
If you want to see what to do with horses' legs, check out Uccello's 'The battle of San Romano'.
Just uploaded this recent painting to my Saatchi account:
Right now I'm working on a 12" x 30" 'Ramsons', for which I started painting studies and taking photographs a couple of years ago.
Actually I've painted everything but ramsons, as they haven't started flowering yet, but they're in bud, so all we need now is a warm, dry spell of sunny weather...
(Sits and twiddles thumbs.)
No matter. I've got a monthly 'Oak in a field' on the go, with only five more to do before I end up with a year's worth of 8" x 12" paintings of the same corner of a field in different lights and weathers. Standing in the same spot for a couple of days every month has probably set the farmer on edge, given the risk of travellers opting to squat on his land. But he's not come after me with a shotgun yet.
Painting the same subject in different lights and seasons is great practice. I've been forced to deal with painting things I'd usually avoid: snow, bare branches, open ground. But when you don't have to worry about drawing or composition, since they're the same from painting to painting, you're free to concentrate on the look of things.
I've also been forced to deal with passers by, given that it's beside a busy road. Most of them are lorry drivers, confused by the sudden countryside, and anxious in case they've taken a wrong turn.
The most memorable was an unusual couple who walked past. She, twenty something, pretty, brunette, talkative. He, same age, shirtless (on a cold autumn day) and raving while he literally wrestled with the air. I suspect chemicals were involved. But they were polite enough, and soon on their way, she chatting amiably, while he shouted at the trees and hedges.
I'm just about to draw out a 12" x 24" of an autumn hedgerow on its support, from drawings I did last year. Small paintings I'm happy to start on site, but bigger works need more rehearsal, and a preliminary drawing helps sort out problems of scale and composition before I take the painting to the subject. I will be working mostly on site, even on larger works, in future. I find both kinds of painting - plein air and studio - are necessary, for every painting.
I tried painting a large studio painting from studies, last year, and it pretty much died on the easel. Without the injection of a real response to the real subject, actually there in front of you, a painting has an uphill struggle before it gets within reach of success. I find myself using photographs less and less every year.
