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 . . . . .

It's a Frenzy

It took a major escape to Utah to get the paint flowing. Escaped to the Back of Beyond in late April. To raise the stakes, I slept in Maynard Dixon's bedroom in Maynard Dixon's cabin. This was no screwing around. Sounds silly, but I made myself paint. No procrastinating, no excuses. It was a frenzy. Four days in Southern Utah including one great morning painting with Kate Starling. This canyon is about 3 miles from her house. But this isn't what we painted together. That's another story. We yapped and yakked all morning about the latest gossip, the art market and the state of the world. Kate is not one for "instruction" on these outdoor sessions. She did have one piece of advice for me. "Orange" she said. "You need orange." Needless to say, this opened up a whole new world of value and tone.

And then there's the big ass butte. It actually looks like late afternoon. Another goal . . . harkening back to the sessions with Brad Faegre who remarked he never knew what time it was in my paintings. Well buster, I think it looks like 5:30 on Spring afternoon!

More frenzy postings coming.

Unfinished Victory

So, holy cow! A building has appeared in one of my paintings amid the sage. I feel like this is a big step ahead. Texture, shadow, geometric form . . . I might be on to something here. I can be abstract with trees, rocks and mountains . . . but a building needs to look like a building. Just exactly what is that green thing behind the red buildings? Still miles to go, but there is some exhilaration in all this. Deeper shadows, more drama . . . I think I can, I think I can, I think I can . . .

Simplicity

Thought Cape Cod might offer a more simple subject than my typical over-the-top grand scene. But, as many have found, simple is hard. Simple is, well . . . . complicated. I'm still battling the foreground. I've been studying Chris Morel's simple foregrounds and I marvel at his ability to condense a complex section to a singular brush stroke. I keep overworking my foregrounds. I just bought a new palette knife. I plan on scraping away my silly stuff in the future . . . . but I just don't know if I can replace my meanderings with something coherent.

Accidental Wall stains

The composition may be a bit forced, but the canyon walls gave me a little hope. Shadow and highlights are getting close to something decent. I just need to let go and let painting become more visceral and less intellectual. I had some great moments with this one making happy accidents. Someday I'll capture some of the emotion of Capitol Reef. I need to practice. I need to paint

Back at the Scene of the Crime

So it's been a year since my guest artist debut. And sadly the oils have sat idle for most of these past 12 months. But being back with the Landscape Painting All-Stars did get the juices flowing. Tried pushing a little paint around. Chasing those elusive blues and greens of sage and desert trees is quite a pursuit. Time to get serious

This is Crazy

My first Art Show was last week. I was a "Guest Painter" at the vaunted Maynard Dixon Country show in Utah. Because I was a lecturer at the event, the Binghams wanted me to exhibit. Needless to say this was a little intimidating to have my stuff hanging with 30 of the best contemporary landscape painters in America. I didn't bring any frames so I was running around the morning of the show hunting up anything I could find. Susan Bingham found me an 11x14 and them Chris Morel interrupted his breakfast to hook me up with another. Ray Roberts took time from hanging his stuff to wire the frames for me. Didn't sell either painting but it will be a life long memory.

At one point I wasn't going to do it. Matt Smith, Ray Roberts and Charles Muench told me I was crazy not to be in the show. Matt even commented on my sage brush painting, giving it a thumbs up.

Later I discovered that "Western Art Collector" magazine listed me in the August, 2009 issue as an "emerging" painter. Imagine . . . my stuff hanging in Maynard Dixon's cabin with the best in America!


Here is the view from Dixon's porch.

Late Afternoon

The pursuit of light is leading me into a different dimension. That Ray Roberts workshop keeps coming back, making me a better painter. Conversations with Ray in the heat of mid afternoon have made me question everything. Ray has indirectly given me a gift. I'm able to include about 5 per cent of what he was saying, but composition, values, shadows and above all, confidence, flows from those hazy days outside Idlewild.

In Search of Sage

The Outdoor Painting continues in a frenzy. For some reason I'm not so insecure this year. In the past I would pick a spot to paint, procrastinate, maybe pull out the Red Oxide and push it around the canvas with a little Turp. Now, I squeeze out a full palette and mush the colors. Who's knows if the work is better, but the process is sweet.

Back to Idyllwild

Returned to the scene of last year's artistic growth spurt in Idyllwild this week. Interesting oil workshop with Ray Roberts. One of those experiences where you learn unexpected lessons. Ray was tough, very tough. He was not your normal, kind workshop teacher building false confidence. He had a crazy "look" on his face of expecting that I would do better. . . . the old "you know better than that" look. A great painter and a true taskmaster. But the class was chock full of chatty ladies asking about which brand of varnish he uses or where he gets his canvas boards. Buzz Kill!!!!

Once again, outdoor painting became a giant hurdle where I had to learn to see. Took three days to get my art eyeballs functioning, but by then the workshop was over. But there were lessons . . . use paint, lots of paint. Don't fret over mixing, just make the damn color . . . find the right value. Use paint. Load the brush! Find the big shapes. Use paint . . .

Although amateurish, the first painting I did was a small victory.

The second day revealed the seminal moment. The mid afternoon doldrums are the enemy of outdoor painting, but perhaps my most important lesson came in 88 degree heat at about 2:05 pm. I was working on my second painting of the day when Ray dropped by my easel and seem mildly intrigued at the emerging composition. As he is wont to do, he picked up my brush and immediately went for the white to add values to my oxide red grisalle. With marked precision he carved out a section on a road I was fiddling with. Then he stopped and posed the big question. It was living proof of a very important Edgar Payne point made in his Composition book.

“David, is this worth painting” Ray queried, the sunlight has flattened all the values.”

He looked up from my chair that he had taken in the heat of the day. It was a genuine epiphany. Somewhere in my mind was the idea that any pleasing scene was worth painting. I was working on a little 9 x 12 with trees lining a forest path with the high mountains in the distance. But at mid day the shadows were hiding in difficult places. It was flat. I finally understood. Shadows Rule! Without good values composition sucks.

I grabbed a paper towel, drenched it with turpenoid and, while Ray say watching I performed my best feat of the workshop at that point. I wiped the canvas board clean.

“I think it was the best decision at this point,” Ray remarked. Come back in the morning. It will be great.

Grisaille Mania

I keep setting the same trap for myself with these oxide grisailles. They help me formulate the composition and values but when I finish the buggers I'm reluctant to slap the colors up there. They're just too damned detailed and I have fun looking at them. It's frustrating and fulfilling. It helps and it hurts. Art is hard.