Revelation in the Desert

With my confidence at full throttle thanks to Dan Young's workshop, I stopped at the side of the road in the Superstitions and immediately made a drawing of this scene. My pulse actually quickened. When I got home expanded it into an 11x14.

Again, confidence can make things happen. Moving elements to enhance composition is liberating. After the workshop I fell into a virtual painting frenzy. Inspiration was in plain view. Painting became exhilarating again.

Painting with confidence was always one of those impossible goals to which I paid lip service but seemed too difficult to achieve. Ever since I started slapping paint on a canvas I struggled with the same fundamentals every time. My drawing was poor, my values needed constant adjustment and my colors looked like they should be in a cartoon. If I got something right I was scared to touch it. I painted tight. I painted light. I was always so tentative. I had teachers who would come to my easel, watch me gingerly dab some paint and they would all say the same thing. Put some paint up there. A strong brush stroke is a powerful message. Tentative swabs with thinned out color was not.

Dan Young summed it all up on Day 1 of our Arizona workshop.

“Let’s be clear today,” he admonished, “this is a painting workshop, not a staining workshop.”

As I write this, some weeks later, I am a changed painter . . . at least for now. Some very powerful messages came forward out in the Arizona desert. These were not totally new concepts. In fact, I had heard it all many times before. Maybe I never really listened. Maybe I never really understood. Maybe it was the fact that Dan is not only a master painter, he's a master teacher.

I remember back in my first days of oil painting around 2005 when Karl Dempwolf would stress that a painting without a thumbnail is like a building without a blueprint. Being a terrible draftsman, I tried to do these thumbnails but became increasingly frustrated. Besides, I had such a lack of knowledge about composition and value that I’m not sure I could execute a proper drawing. I would constantly get bogged down, stuck in the weeds with too many lines and too many indefinite shapes. I understood perspective but couldn’t execute properly. I was hung up drawing form not shape.

In many other workshops the instructors swore off thumbnails and advised doing an oil sketch directly on the canvas. As I look back on that period, which may have lasted until a few weeks ago, I think of how many busted paintings I made because I had no roadmap. One teacher, Jim Wodark, was a thumbnail guy. But he had a sixth sense about the simplicity of a scene. He could easily reduce any scene to 5 lines and 3 values without blinking. That kind of drawing intimidated me. Jim helped me to see but I needed a more strict taskmaster to get me to the next level.

So I stumbled down this path realizing quite often that my lack of design was killing my paintings. Ray Roberts always stressed design. Ray taught me to paint. To really paint. He taught me  much about composition, design, value and color. But with Ray I often felt that he was teaching Calculus while I struggled with Algebra. And he left all options open. Thumbnail . . . cool. Oil sketch on canvas . . . cool. Too much freedom for me. 

Dan Young had a different approach. Basically, if you didn’t do a simple and coherent thumbnail, you couldn’t paint that scene! Now, he’s too humble a guy to actually dictate those terms but I believed he meant business. The workshop began unlike any workshop I had ever attended. He wanted 10 or 15 sketches in 30 minutes. I don’t know what happened but that simple exercise opened me up. After 10 or 12 sketches I felt a little confident. I was starting to distill a scene to its essence.

Then he evaluated those sketches and “corrected” some elements even simplifying some elements.

For years I’ve been listening to my painter buddies constantly blabber on about finding shapes. It got to the point where I felt inadequate. "Damn, I don’t really see those shapes." Then the painter would come over to my easel and show me. It was like magic. “Oh, yeah” I’d say, feeling like a dimwit.

Well suddenly out in a parking lot in Peralta Canyon, Arizona I began to really see. This was a huge step. Confidence started to ooze out of me. Then Dan hopped over and offered another liberating concept. Make the rock wall in a shape that works for you. Change the shape. Move the road.  Leave out that big cactus. Make your thumbnail work. Move the little cactus. It’s a painting. Make your thumbnail a true roadmap.

OK, OK. I have heard this all before. But I never believed it. I was stuck in the old school thought that I must render the scene as it appeared before me. Now it was an entirely new idea. Painting from life you can capture the essence of a Palo Verde. You can play with the shadows and sunlight on a rock wall. You can put arms anywhere you want on a Saguaro. You can make foreground and shadows work for you. It's not a photograph. I started to really get in touch with my feelings about the scene. Many times in the past I was too worried about making an exact rendition.

Dan said if the composition isn’t strong enough, change the large shapes. Suddenly I was free. This was the path to the impressionism I sought. This workshop was a game-changer for me.  Now if I can only work on my brushwork . . . .!!!!!!!!

Creating a painting, not making a photograph on canvas is a different perspective for me. This  "On the Spotter" wasn't an exact rendition.

Going Bolder

Bigger shapes, stronger color and better design are my keywords for the new year. I've made some strides in 2015. The most important is embracing the flat brush over the round. After a few years of screwing around with Rounds, I decided that Flats were my new direction. The first success happened this past October on the June Lake Loop. The Aspen trees were done with real Flat brush strokes.

Shapes are crucial too. It is essential for me to not get caught up the details. On that same trip I fought strong winds and tried to capture the sage and Rabbit Brush.

Light and shadow are now essential elements in any painting I start. In the old days I might ignore shadows. I guess it was easier that way. I always have to remember how Ray Roberts makes the shadows the chief elements of his design. My cabins in Bodie seem to be a step in the right direction.

OK . . . what about color? After so many workshops where the stress was on gray I felt like I was falling into a trap. I needed bolder colors. Cathy came to the rescue on this one from the Dominican Republic. "More color," she admonished, "Don't be afraid . . . more color!"

It's a Funny Thing

One of the more amusing situations for an artist center on comments from the "peanut gallery" about your work. Nearly everyone starts with the same question: "How long did it take to paint that?" That one is funny because the answer for me, at this point in my journey is: "Oh, about 12 years!" After that the line of questioning usually goes toward subject matter. Some of my non-painter friends love to point out a scene and exclaim, "wow, now THERE'S a painting." I usually agree and that's the end of it.

However, last summer my friend Todd Harris was captivated by a wheat field in France. He especially loved the one tree in the distance which looked like a lollipop. To a painter, a lollipop tree is a big no-no. We are always trying to vary the shape of any tree. But this damn tree was a lollipop and Todd loved it. When we arrived at the wheat field that morning he told me that I needed to paint that field with the lollipop tree. I nodded politely.

We were parked there as it was the finish line for that day's stage of the Tour de France which were televising. We were there for 7 hours. Todd must have asked me 5 times if I was going to paint that scene. "That's really an impressionist painting" he exclaimed, "and we are in France."

I told him that the lollipop tree bothered me and that if I painted it I would change the shape. He urged me not to change it. That's what he loved about it. So here it is, in all it's lollipop glory.



Another comment from the Peanut Gallery which usually gets me stirred up is, "wow, that looks like a photograph." I find that particularly perplexing because it assumes that the photograph is the standard. But part of my problem is that I try too hard to make the painting "realistic." Often, I will start an impressionistic painting only to find that I have over-rendered the subject. This is my biggest struggle these days. I want to, as my friend Ray Roberts says, "paint form, not objects." Ray, a true impressionist often jokes that people say his paintings "lie." I want to lie! I did do a big painting a while back which almost walks that line. It's a little "photographic" but it heads in the right direction.



But no matter how hard I try, my "realistic" nature jumps back in. Back in August I saw these trees in Barracks Canyon, Utah and loved the play of light. I almost got it . . . The beat goes on!

Photos Lie

What is it about photos which make them difficult as sources for paintings? It seems like everything is flattened, the shadows are lifeless and the drama falls short. Lately I've been trying to work from photographs if I have done a study on site. The true values and color notes provide accurate guidelines for a proper painting. Photographs lie and distort, but not in a good way.

Last summer I was painting in Capitol Reef National Park when this mesa was suddenly lit up in a magical way. I snapped away for a few minutes with my Canon but the rendition wasn't what I was feeling. There wasn't time to set up my rig and paint as I had just scraped my palette clean and packed up.

Ray saw me standing there with my mouth open. He stopped and said, "Just make sure that big shadow isn't a black hole in your painting. Remember that blue on the horizon just above the mesas and keep it simple."

Several months went by before I finally got to the painting. As I looked at the photo the memory of that moment came back to me. For the first time I ignored much of the color and value information in the photo and painted from a different mental place.

Batting Practice with the New York Yankees

Sometimes I find myself painting in a dream. I'm in the wilds of Utah and my ultimate Painting Heroes are within earshot. This is no workshop, these are true masters at work. And there I am, taking batting practice with the Yankees. Only this is no dream. It's real. I'm a lucky man as somehow I get to paint with the masters on occasion.

I learned a few years back not to get intimidated. When these people are seriously working, my easel is seldom worth more than a cursory glance. It's a magical time punctuated with relaxed conversations, bad jokes and great old stories of past sessions. This is not a session for a "Study." They are making finished work for the Wet Paint Sale at Maynard Dixon Country. It's pretty serious business.

I do have to pinch myself .... Jeremy Lipking is on my right and Randy Sexton is on my left. Charles Muench is next to Randy talking to himself as his brush races over a 6x9. Up on the hill behind us, Glenn Dean is seeing something no else is. He looks like one of those old photos of Edgar Payne.....white hat, perfect posture holding his brush as far from the ferrule as possible. Ray Roberts is over in the trees going for the rich morning shadows in Barracks Canyon. John Budicin was here first and he paints atop a virtual throne overlooking the creek. John paints like he's in trance. My regular painting buddy Mark Fehlman is down in the canyon below.

This truly is a dream. I lay out my design and nod to myself. At my level this painting will be a victory. Charles offers a critique . . . "Nice little painting," he says. Now I'm Walking on Air. This has been a long journey for me. I never thought I would be here!

I feel like by just being there I was a better painter. The conversation takes odd turns. The talk is not about Art. Jeremy starts chatting about real estate in our neighborhood back in California while he sketches out a simple, yet elegant composition. Charles stops talking to himself long enough to give Randy some ribbing.

"Hey Sexton, how can you paint here when there isn't a broken down vehicle or a cabin falling apart?"

Randy laughs. He's working 11x14 with giant brushes in his hand.

Glenn and Ray have painted pair of gems. John is still intense under his umbrella. His painting is spectacular. I had to buy it. It now hangs next to my desk as I write this.

After a few hours the palettes are scraped clean and the paintings disappear into panel carriers. The cars and trucks are loaded and the caravan heads back to Mt Carmel. Each artist kicks up a dust cloud in the late morning as they race down the dirt road.

Going Big at Malibu Creek State Park

It always seems daunting with oils to go big. The initial block-in (16x20) is fun and and provides a special element of freedom which doesn't happen in my 9x12 world. This one at Malibu Creek State Park was done from a small study which was drawn from a funky iPhone photo. These bigger studio paintings demand time. This took 5 solid days of work.

In Search of Impressionism

Had a strong growth spurt in Sedona at the Jim Wodark workshop. Jim is a true impressionist and somewhat of a colorist. I learned a lot about color mixing and its relationship to proper values. This workshop was truly hard work. The group was an advanced bunch. Everyone helped each other up their game. Jim was truly honest and an extremely good teacher.

Inspiration from Jake - Part 2

Continuing to channel Hopper, Jake keeps coming up with the lonely men of the 21st Century. This one struck a cord with the stark shadows and reflected sunlight. These scenes are so natural to dive in and starting pushing paint.

Inspiration from Jake

Sometimes inspiration comes from the strangest corners. After the very taxing and difficult workshop with Camille Przewodek in Scottsdale, I wanted to move forward with geometric shapes, transposing them to urban landscapes. I had to show what was in sunlight and what was in shade. This was truly a case of searching for the right color. This was not about values.

Jake had been taking many amazing photos of people. This one from Nashville of a guy checking his text messages struck a big chord. Six months ago I would not have even attempted such a thing. And if I did, I wouldn't have put the man in the painting. But Camille told me that I could paint anything. "Don't be afraid" she said. Jake's photo was so lyrical that I simply had to try.

Ray Roberts La Jolla Workshop

Just painting with Ray Roberts raises your game infinitely. He's the mad professor of dark and light . . . the crazy maker of mud which is transformed into incredible color . . . the King of Ocean Composition. The workshop came at the end of one of my great growth spurts. The perfect time to work with the Master. He helps you see the extraordinary from the ordinary. He teaches you to see.

 Study Number 2 from Day 2 was a major victory in composition and brushwork.

 The finished "studio" painting . . . 12x16. Truly "felt" this one as it emerged.

My first effort on the beach on Day 1. Ray liked my colors.

Slapped the Paint on - Pushed it Around

Funny thing here. We all know the moment when things change. The momentum in the studio is at a low ebb . . . . you waste time making silly daub marks on a painting which needs real help, not silly band-aids with a Number 2 flat. Do I make tea and check out some art books or do I scrape my palette clean to get ready for tomorrow? Quitting time? . . .hmmmm . . .painting time? . . . hmmmmm. Indecision and insecurity time . . . absolutely. I laid out a lot of color this morning, good juicy squeezes from my big-ass Utrecht tubes. The paint sits there taunting me with possibilities. I feel tired, but, hey, not THAT tired. Am I cooking dinner tonight? Do I need to clean up? What have I got left in me. My last playlist has expired on my iPod. I couldn't find inspiration at that moment if it hit me over the head. Is this procrastination or am I being realistic. One thing is clear. I'm thinking too much.

My old buddy Brad Faegre knew what to do at this moment. Load a brush and start a new one! Great in concept but I'm turning into toast. It's 4:15. It's gonna get dark soon. Cathy's coming back from Yoga and she's gonna check the easel to see if I actually accomplished anything today. I tweaked this and tweaked that . . . but for what?

OK Plan "B" . . . tea and the photo/field study file. The loose leaf tea thing is very helpful. The warm liquid is relaxing. Flip pic 1, nah too complicated. Flip another, nah, Flip again, NO!, Flip one more.... hmmm no, Flip a pic again . . hey, wait I remember that morning. On my way to have coffee with Kate Starling in Springdale. The memory of the smell of the impending heat sending sage perfume through the gigantic silence of that remote valley. I did a quick oil sketch study on site. Just a grissalle I knew I would get back to that. But now? In my garage studio?

Hell yes. Open the Gamsol pot, clean that stupid No 2 flat. Don't think . . . . just paint. Don't be a prisoner to the photo of the same scene which I took when I left to meet Kate. Just get free. Remember back as your eyes drifted and feasted on the desert elements. 3 hours later I "went back" to Utah and finished this. This stuff ain't gonna sell in some gallery, I'm doing the work because I have to . . . for my soul. One day my hand will catch up with my brain. The process is painful yet exhilarating. This day was a victory to boot. Actually got some thick paint up there. Didn't wuss out. I just love art!

Dancing in the Dark

It was time to go to the dark side. After checking out some Ray Roberts and Russell Case luminous darks, it was time. I've always been afraid of darks. Flat, muddy, wrong hue, mushy blob . . . . a mistake waiting to happen. Went back to my sweet spot above the Channel Islands to try again. A real goal here . . . that super luminous "shadow light" which comes at dusk always paints the land in a magical way. If you try, you can stop and smell the color, you can hear the low rumbling roar of waning afternoon energy as the earth turns away from the sun. It's the moment I always feel the most alive when I'm out in the wilds. A fleeting moment which is gone in a whisper.

Well, OK . . . a bit pretentious as a goal, but damn, I started to feel connected. I wasn't just recording the scene, I was trying to convey the moment. Shot it with my iPhone on the easel. So happy with it that I actually posted it on Facebook. Cathy thought I was nuts to do that for many reasons. Nevertheless I feel energized. I feel like I'm getting somewhere

Red Rocks Park

This is an amazing place which makes going to Las Vegas a completely different experience.   OK, so what's it gonna be. Abstract . . . realistic . . .  or (yikes) . . . . cartoon. A funny thing happens out there in the wilds painting outdoors. When I paint "out of my head" and make it totally visceral, I have a 50/50 chance of the painting being coherent. It's almost like design by accident. I find a composition. I start to set the values. I find what appears to be decent local color. But then what? Is it an impression? Is it an emotional response to the scene? Am I conveying any ideas? What about the brush strokes? What the hell am I doing? Can I even remember how I made that perfect passage?

Holy cow . . . just reading the preceding paragraph was a little scary. My alter ego says "What difference does it make?" Just PAINT!

It was a cold morning out there. Wildman Fehlman made me turn the easel around so that I painted with direct sunlight hitting the board. Love "breaking the rule."

A Veritable Frenzy

Trying to get to a place where I can crank out a painting a day . . . Trying different things. . . well, sort of. Those mountains seem to magically appear. I need to try and paint a cucumber.

Graphical Graphical

Ah, the great debate outside Orderville. How graphic is too graphic? Simple shapes, exaggerated values and what do you get? Mark Fehlman is really developing as painter. His success, at least at this point, stems from his ability to simplify. He always laughs at me 'cause I get detailed and complicated way too early (Maybe I'm like that in real life too!). I'm trying to control myself. I found this old griselle in my bone pile. I thought of Mark. I went for max crazy value contrast. It looks unfinished but it's finished for now.

Forward to the Past

Oil doodling is what it is. The music was playing, I had just cleaned my palette and brushes. Another day of pushing paint. I sat down in the big brown chair and drank a water. Had a few pictures in a stack. Pulled this one out . . . . hmmmm . . . . I think it would be fun to mess with Payne's Gray. Maybe some gold ochre. Value sketch. It proves I'm not a draftsman, but what the hell?

Inyo Sunset

It's a funny thing. Sometimes I just think that I'll just push some paint around and make it a visceral experience. Don't think-Squeeze out the paint. Don't think -Choose a color. Don't think-Block in the shapes. Don't think . . . . well something always happens as any painting evolves. "Hey, not bad," that silly voice in my head interrupts the reverie. "Uh, oh," I think, "I better get serious."

Ah, there's the problem . . . thinking again. This was just an experiment in composition and value, not some "piece" I'm doing for an art show. But I can't help myself. My simple paint pushing turns into trying to "make" something. I tried to quit before I got carried away.

Possessed by Sugar Knoll

   First Home Effort from MDC 2012

Possessed by Sugar Knoll and those cottonwoods, I continue to paint the classic scene regularly. I painted this scene very quickly, rushing headlong into shapes and values with a large brush. The composition is about right although I'm not sure that cabin is in the right place. But this was a lesson in shape and value. Good fun after an amazing time in Utah

The Wedding Site

Now this one drove me crazy. It was the site of Megan and Clay's wedding this past Saturday. I started about a month ago . . . hmmmm . . . what do I do? They were to be married in the meadow behind the house. I tried painting that but it was just another mountainscape. Of course my muse, Miss Cathy saw the meadow and immediately told me to make my next stroke a huge pass with a turpenoid soaked rag. "Get rid of that," she admonished, "wipe the canvas clean . . . paint the farmhouse."

OK then. (Shades of Ray Roberts)
Well, it was all for good fortune. The outdoor wedding was rained out and the wedding happened in the farmhouse. And now the subject matter is perfect. This painting was hard. The drafting and detail work made me crazy. The sun and shadows were fun. The Bride and Groom loved it. In the end that's all that matters.

Eeegads . . . A Commission!

I always thought our dear friends, the Newmans were too kind to me about my painting. Dave is a hugely successful Hollywood movie score composer and Krys is a talented violinist. They are totally in my Art Fan Club. They actually have my very first oil painting hanging in their dining room. I always wondered if they were simply indulging me. But 3 weeks ago at their retreat in Carmel they made a demand . . . . a big painting for their Living Room. Uh Oh! This was real. Taking a break from the painstaking work on the wedding site painting I used a huge brush to whack out this 20x24 griselle in about an hour. If I don't screw it up, it might be decent. But isn't that the whole problem. Some people fear the blank canvas. I fear the free splattered griselle. How many great underpaintings lie beneath my canvasses? Cathy would say probably none. Just paint Dave! This will be fun. Great gobs of paint and giant brushes. I think I can . . . . .