Painting New Mexico's High Desert

Find the Painter!
At La Ventana Natural Arch

Jack strapped on his backpack, eager to paint.  This 76-year-old rheumatologist, though he continues to practice medicine full-time, has a passion for painting, and he freed up a week to join me for last week's Private Painting Intensive.  On this day, under crystal blue skies, we made our way from the parking lot and down a single-track gravel road to a view of my favorite lake and its unique, candy-striped cliffs.  We stopped at the first scenic spot we came across and set down our packs.  Red willow and poplar edged the water, gently riffled by a breeze.  Coots croaked and squawked among the islands of pickerel weed.  A couple of mallards sounded the alarm, erupting into the air.  But otherwise, we were alone in that beautiful spot.

Later in the week, we visited other special places.  We painted the white cliffs of Inscription Rock; the butterscotch-colored outcrops near La Ventana Natural Arch; and on a private ranch nestled against the foot of the Zuni Mountains with a broad view of grassland and ponderosa-studded mesas.  Painting doesn't get any better.

Each week of the Private Painting Intensive has a different focus, depending on the student.  After a consultation, I create a plan tailored to the student's needs.  ("Needs" combines what the student thinks he needs with what I think he needs. These "needs" may be different or overlap.)  My job this week was to help Jack, who has a terrific color sense, get a better handle on values and to show him how to gather good field references so he could continue work later in his studio.  One day, we started off with a quick, grey-scale sketch (using Gamblin's Portland Greys) to help us understand what was happening with values, followed by a full-color sketch.  Another day, we did what I call "center of interest" painting, where we avoid the common practice of working the canvas all over but focus instead on the subject, placing color note against color note, striving to get the relationships correct right from the start.  In this post, I've shared some photos as well as images of my paintings from the week.

If you're an experienced painter and would like help in reaching the next level, I still have weeks available next spring.  In this customized program, you'll be working side-by-side with me and getting lots of attention.  I'll also be sharing my world, which sits among the piñons and ponderosa pines of New Mexico's high desert.  The program takes two forms—a tuition-only version ($700) and a version in which you lodge and eat with us ($1400.)  If you'd like more information, please visit http://paintthesouthwest.com/sched_int.html

And please don't forget my April 7-10, 2020, plein air painting workshop in Sedona, Arizona.  This is for any painter who has some experience in the studio but who is a beginner at painting outdoors, and also for experienced outdoor painters who'd like to fine-tune their skills.  Details are at http://paintthesouthwest.com/sched_reg.html

The grey study (top) and color study (bottom)
12x9 Oil

Charlie's Ranch - 6x12 Oil - Available

Near Los Gigantes - 9x12 Oil - Available

Raven Cliffs - 12x9 Oil - Available

Southern Cliffs - 9x12 Oil - Available

Etiquette for Painting Workshop Instructors

Workshop in St Andrews, New Brunswick, Canada
Learn more about my plein air painting workshops at www.MChesleyJohnson.com/workshops/

Having laid out rules of etiquette for students, it's only fair that I give equal time to instructors. Instructors are also sometimes at fault for bad manners. Lack of manners is sometimes just a lack of awareness. With that in mind, here are some tips for those of you who teach. 

• Give students what they paid for, and then some. I've heard stories of teachers wandering off for a couple of hours to let students paint on their own, or of only painting a demonstration and then giving no further instruction for the day.  If the students are expecting this, fine. But do deliver what you advertise. It's a good idea before a workshop to review the workshop description so you know what your students expect. 
• Work with, not against, the workshop volunteers. They may have never worked with you before and may not know what to expect. Discuss with them before the workshop exactly what your needs are (tables, easels, lunches, plein air location list, etc.) but also what their expectations are.  Recognize them publicly for their efforts.
• Start promptly and finish promptly. If you're still waiting for a student to arrive before beginning the session, don't. Get started right on time. Also, students may have a life outside the workshop, so don't run late. If they traveled for the workshop, they may have come with family or friends who may be expecting them for dinner or a hike. 
• Don't drag students around all morning looking for the perfect painting spot. Do your homework by getting to the workshop a day early to preview locations. You don't want to be surprised on your first day to discover parking is limited, that there are no restrooms or that the location is too far to drive to. Preview all locations, and make sure you have a couple of alternates. 
• Give frequent breaks. You may be a marathon painter, but not everyone is. A short break every hour or so will refresh them so they can absorb more. You might use a break yourself. (I know I am guilty of this, and I invite students to stop me!)
• Respect where your students are coming from skill-wise. Don't forget that you, too, were once a raw beginner. Try to remember what it was like when you were struggling to learn. Teach with patience and understanding. Also, students have different backgrounds, so try to use this variety to enrich the experience for everyone. 
• Listen to your students. Give them time to ask questions. Treat every question, however basic, as one deserving serious attention. But watch out for the needy student; give equal time to everyone. If someone asks a question that is off-topic, offer to answer it during lunch or a break. Don't be afraid to suggest that the topic is better answered in a different workshop. 
• Don't paint on student paintings without permission. There's no faster way, of course, to show what you mean than by painting directly on top of a student's work. But some students prefer that you don't touch their paintings. Ask before grabbing a brush. 
• Be kind, but be also fair and honest. You aren't doing your students any favors by giving nothing but praise. If a painting can be improved in some way, say it. Some students do better with blunt criticism than others; proceed cautiously until you know how much they can take. 
• Finally, stay upbeat. You may be exhausted after having traveled two solid days to get to the workshop. You may be unhappy with the workshop facilities.  You may be in the middle of some life crisis. Whatever, keep it to yourself. Students don't need to be burdened with any of it. Save your grumpiness for your hotel room. 

And above all, be encouraging!  Not matter how a student may struggle, respect that student's efforts and encourage them where you can.

Etiquette for Painting Workshop Students

Teaching a workshop in Springfield, Illinois.  Every student was perfect!

Who hasn't been in a painting workshop where one student talks constantly without giving the others a chance to speak?

I think we've all been there.  I've been both student and instructor, and I've experienced workshops from each end.  In my view, students will have a more rewarding experience if they remember a few simple rules of etiquette.  And I'm not talking about just first-time students.  This goes for everyone, even workshop junkies, who should know better.

I will say that most of my workshops have had very well-behaved students, and it has been a pleasure to teach every one of you!  I've made some wonderful friends.  But for a very few, and especially for first-timers, I offer the following.  I know it's a lot of "don'ts," but in your mind, you can easily translate that to a lot of "dos."

• Be on time.  It's distracting to show up late and cause a commotion.
• Bring what's on the supply list.  If I am teaching a wet underpainting technique in pastel and ask you to bring a certain kind of paper, bring it.  If you don't, you won't be able to practice the technique.
• Respect the instructor.  Assume he knows more than you about the workshop topic.  If it turns out he doesn't, then disagree politely.  If the instructor argues with you and you know you're right, let it go.  It's only a workshop, and it'll all be over soon.
• Follow the curriculum.  You're there to learn from the instructor; going your own way is just treading over old ground.   Make an effort to at least try what the instructor is teaching; if it works for you, great, but if not, you can abandon it after the workshop.
• Follow the rules.  Instructors will often set ground rules for the workshop, such as what time the workshop begins, distance limits for a plein air workshop, and so on.  The rules were set to maximize your experience and to make for a successful workshop.
• Keep your questions relevant.  Especially during painting demonstrations!  Nothing throws the instructor off-track like questions from left field.  Questions such as "Where'd you study?" are out of place when he is showing you how to mix a neutral grey.  Save that question for a coffee break. Stay on-topic.
• Respect your fellow students.  Most workshops will have students coming from a variety of backgrounds and skill levels.  If you are more advanced, grit your teeth and bear it; you will still probably learn something.  If you are behind the others, don't be too needy; the others paid as much for attention as you did. 
• Here are some corollaries to this last rule.  Don't block the view of another student during a demo.  Don't grab space.  Sometimes workshops, especially studio ones, can be crowded, so respect the space of others.  Share!  Also, don't gab while others are trying to concentrate during the painting session.  Don't play with your electronic devices.  Turn them off or, if you must receive a call or text, set them to "vibrate".  Go outside the classroom if you need to check your email or stock prices.  And finally, if in the studio, don't ask to put on some music. No one can ever agree on a playlist.  If you must have music during the painting session, bring earbuds.  But make sure you don't mistakenly send an "I'm not available" signal to the instructor when he makes his rounds.
• Don't monopolize the critiques.  Everyone, like you, is paying paying for the instructor's feedback, not yours.  Ask questions that are relevant to the topic at hand.
• Don't critique other student's work during critique sessions unless the instructor has invited you to do so.  Conflicting or additional comments may confuse the student whose work is being critiqued.  (This happens a lot, because those offering critiques think they are being helpful; unfortunately, they aren't.)
• Ask before photographing or recording.  Most instructors are fine with this, but it's good to ask first.
• Respect break time for the instructor.  Teaching is very tiring, and we instructors prize our time to recharge.  If you have more questions that the class period permits, try to arrange a suitable time. 
• Don't ask for a critique on work you didn't do during the workshop, unless the instructor has asked you specifically to do that.  "I brought a dozen paintings I did this past year--can you take a look at them and tell me what you think?"  The instructor can't take class time out to do this, and chances are, cutting into the instructor's personal time outside of class...well, read the above tip about respecting break time.

I think these are all easy rules to follow.  Most times, bad manners are an accident, with the person at fault simply not paying attention.  Being aware of others is the best way to make sure everyone has a happy workshop experience.

Painting in Public Places and the Dangers Thereof

A Quiet Painting Spot
("Kindred Spirits" by Asher Durand, depicting Thomas Cole and William Cullen Bryant))

A reader writes:  "I am shy about painting outside such as at the public park because of people stopping and asking questions on what I am doing. How do you remain focused when you have an audience?"

When I teach workshops, many of my students are beginners at plein air painting.  They are happiest when we go to some remote, godforsaken yet beautiful corner of the world where no one will find them.  Sensitive to their need to focus, I take them to quiet places where an audience is unlikely.  Sometimes, though, we do get a few visitors.  When this happens, I  intercept them, politely let them know we are having a class, and then, usually, they leave.

When I'm painting alone, though, it's a different matter.   I, too, prefer to paint in a quiet spot, but sometimes I can't, such as at a plein air painting event, where it is expected for artists to be available.  (The idea is both to educate the public and also engage them for the sales event.)  When this happens, I try to keep the chat on-topic.  That is, I talk about my process and what my brush is doing at that moment.  I may stop and hand them a business card - I always carry them - and give an invitation to visit my website and gallery; if it's a painting event, I invite them to the exhibition and sale.  Most folks are polite and will watch a little longer but then wander off.

But sometimes you get the Talker.  This person is legendary among plein air painters.  I'll tolerate this for a few minutes, but I have no problem saying, "I'm sorry, but I have to get back to work."  Being blunt is important, since Talkers are so narcissistic they don't read body language or understand the subtle hints.

There are times, especially when I am painting for myself, when I don't want an encounter.  In this case, I'll find that remote, godforsaken spot of incredible beauty.   But even though the chance of an encounter is small, it still can happen.  To prevent this, here are a few tips:

• Paint off the trail where you can't be seen (if you're on public land, make sure off-trail hiking is permitted)
• Back yourself into a corner so you are difficult to approach
• Scatter your gear around your easel in such a way as to create an obstacle
• Take along a non-painting friend who is happy to hang out with you (quietly) and who can "run interference"

Some painters suggest listening to music and simply ignoring people, but I find that I like hearing if someone approaches.  I don't want to be surprised.

Oh, I could tell you stories - but I'll wait until you have that brush loaded and ready to go.

When is a Painting Finished?

Tree 12x9 Oil
Is this painting finished?  Yes, because it met my goal.
The intention was to paint a tree demonstration on a rainy
day for my students, and that is exactly what I did.

How do you know when a painting is finished?  This is a question students often ask me.  To be honest, even painters who've been working at the craft all their lives still ask themselves this question.  The standard answer is:  When you've accomplished your goal (or achieved your vision), the painting is finished.

That doesn't help us much, as quite often, especially for beginners, the goal or vision is ill-defined at the start.  Sometimes it becomes clearer as you get further into the painting.  But sometimes not.

In my workshops, I teach about capturing the moment.  For me, the moment has much to do with the quality of light in a scene.  To take it further, it has to do with establishing an accurate relationship of the color temperature between light and shadow.   I can establish this early on in a painting, though - quite often right at the end of the block-in and adjustment stages.  (If you've taken one of my workshops, you'll have heard me speak of making your "best guess" in the block-in and then going on to adjusting that "best guess" in the next phase.)

At the end of this adjustment phase, I may stop, if I wish.  Or keep on going.  Basically, at this point  I have a very simplified - yet hopefully very accurate - representation of the scene.  If I want to take it beyond this, I will be moving from the simplified toward the more detailed, like this:

Where a painter stops on this line is completely up to him.  It's a personal choice, usually defined by one's comfort level with the agony of creating detail and the point at which one gets totally bored with the process.

An example of someone working at the more simplified end is Wolf Kahn; at the more detailed end, we have Rackstraw Downes.  You can pick your spot anywhere between them.  My own zone is somewhere along the middle.

Wolf Kahn · "Heavy Haze of a Hot Summer's Day."
1979. Oil, 27.50 x 37.5 inches.

Rackstraw Downes, “Under an Off-Ramp from the George Washington Bridge”
2011. Oil, 26 x 56 inches

Choosing the Right Dimensions for your Painting

Some Common Painting Sizes and Their Proportions
(Please excuse the hand-crafted artisanal chart; I realized that neither my Photoshop nor Excel skills are good enough to create the chart through software.  Sometimes the low-tech way is more efficient.)

As a plein air painter with an always-ready-to-go painting kit, I sometimes get locked into a particular size for my paintings.  Usually, I keep my kit packed with 9x12s.    But this isn't necessarily the best dimensions for a landscape.  It's great if I want to get a quick sketch or color reference but often, some other size might make for a stronger design.

For a broad landscape, such as ocean vistas, deserts or canyons, a panoramic format will do a better job of conveying the breadth.  These landscapes are packed with horizontal elements, and  emphasizing the horizontal will enhance the feeling of "being there."  A double square (12x24) or even a triple square (6x18) can be much more appropriate than the 9x12 or the more squarish 8x10.

If I'm in a landscape that doesn't offer a vista, such as densely-wooded interior Maine where you have to fight the trees for a view, I look for a closer, more intimate scene such as a cluster of dead snags gathered at the edge of a swamp.  In this, verticals and horizontals seem to have equal weight, just as they do in a square.  Choosing a squarish format will help you convey the same sense of intimacy (or perhaps claustrophobia.)  But I do think a square is the most difficult format because you are already at a disadvantage at having all the sides boringly equal.   Still, you can get some very exciting results with the square.

Moving beyond the square, there is the vertical.  Just as a more horizontal format conveys breadth, the vertical conveys height.  Anytime I want to show the magnificence of a tree or the depth of a canyon, I aim for the vertical.   Looking down into the landscape - as with a canyon - can be dizzying, though.  Looking up, I feel a little more sure of my footing.

When I have a choice, I will make several thumbnail sketches and try out different possibilities.  Why get trapped in the same old 9x12?  Of course, I don't always have anything other than the 9x12 with me.  But I do always have a roll of masking tape, and I'll take a piece of tape and mark off a more appropriate section.  I may, for example, mark off part of the 9x12 to give myself a slightly broader 6x9 or even a much broader 6x12.

Once I'm done painting, I have cut down both pastel paper (with scissors) and painting panels (with a utility knife) to get the dimensions that best fit my idea.  To be sure, you may end up with a custom framing job, but you are more likely to recoup your expenses, since the best fit will be more attractive to your buyer.

At the top of this post is a chart.  I thought it would be interesting to show the more commonly-used dimensions and their width-to-height ratio in a graph.  This will give you a better idea of where they sit with respect to the square.  I have calculated out the ratio by dividing width by height; that is, a 9x12 is 12/9 or 1.33.

Below are a few of the different dimensions I use regularly.

SQUARE: Duck Pond Fog, 6x6 oil/panel

DOUBLE-SQUARE: End of the Road, 12x24 oil/panel

TRIPLE-SQUARE: Head Island, 6x18, oil/canvas

VERTICAL: Water Street, 12x9, oil/panel

Master Class: Color Palettes and Color Gamut

Left: "Mitten Ridge Reds" 12x16 oil/canvas.  Made with the three-color palette consisting of burnt sienna,
yellow ochre and Prussian blue. Right: Color gamut of my three-color palette used in the  painting.

Much basic knowledge is given to children at an early age.  I don't remember when I first learned about the three primaries—red, yellow and blue—so it must have been a very long time ago indeed.  The concept, as we all know, is that you can mix any color you see with these three colors (plus white.)

Or so the theory goes.  Once I started seriously getting into color-mixing with my first painting course, I learned the limitations of red, yellow and blue and of pigments in general.  For example, if I didn't have the right red and blue, I couldn't mix an intense violet.  I'd be better off buying the intense violet I needed, like quinacridone violet.

One might think that maybe one should just buy all the exact colors needed.  Pastelists usually end up doing this, and as a pastelist myself, I've done the same, but I will add that it is an expensive addiction.  Some painters of liquid media do this, too.   Unfortunately, acquiring a virtual candy store of color can lead to color chaos, especially if the artist doesn't understand color harmony or how to properly adjust color mixtures.  I would argue that much of the truly garish, carnival-like work we see in "contemporary art" galleries today is not the result of artistic vision but from a lack of fundamental color-mixing skills.

By the way, this essay isn't just for painters of liquid media.  It does apply to pastel painters, too.  Although pastel painters won't necessarily be mixing colors as much, they can still plot out color options as noted below.

An easy path to color harmony is to use a limited palette.   The fewer the colors, the less trouble you'll get into.  A one-color palette, as boring as it may be, is the safest.  A two-color palette is safe, too.  Having just one warm color and one cool color is enough to create an effect of brilliant sunshine.  In fact, years ago, when color printing was in its infancy, illustrators did stunning work  with just orange (warm) and black (cool.)  Stepping to a three-color palette gives you a broader range, but it still is relatively safe.  Beyond that, though, and you really need to know how to handle color.

I've used a limited oil for some time.  My "go-to" palette consists of seven colors, plus white.  Basically, it's a split-primary palette with a warm and a cool version of each of the primaries, plus one more:  Hansa yellow light, Hansa yellow deep, napthol scarlet, permanent alizarin crimson, ultramarine blue, cerulean blue and -- here is the addition-- sap green.  I'm thinking of ditching the sap green.  More about that later.

But that's not the only palette I use.  I often simplify my life by returning to a three-color palette.  Mine consists of burnt sienna, yellow ochre and Prussian blue.  (See the illustration at the top of this post.)  The two earth colors are already naturally muted, and the Prussian blue, though a strong color, greys down nicely with burnt sienna and yellow ochre, yielding some beautiful neutrals.

Really, though, you can pick any three versions of the primaries you wish.  Anders Zorn (Swedish, 1860-1920) is reputed to have used a variation on this, but without any blue.  The "Zorn palette," as it is called, consists of vermilion, yellow ochre and ivory black.  The black functions as a blue.  Putting warm colors beside it, especially blue's complement, orange, will make the black seem even bluer.

But a limited palette can't do everything.  It restricts the gamut (or range) of possible color mixtures.  Understanding the gamut of your palette is important.  It'll keep you from being frustrated when you can't mix a certain hue.  It'll also give you an idea of what colors you can mix.

Lately, I have been plotting my color choices against a color wheel to help see the gamut of possible mixtures.  I won't go into the mechanics of a color wheel here, but the idea is simple.  If you plot your colors on the wheel and connect them with lines, the resulting polygon contains all the possible color mixtures.  (And how do I know where to plot my colors?  Check out this color wheel from HandPrint.com.)

Let me show you how this works.  Let's start with a very simple palette, the three-color palette.

Three-color palette:  Prussian blue, burnt sienna, yellow ochre.

This is my favorite three-color palette.  It consists of mostly earth pigments, which create beautifully muted, harmonious mixtures. You'll note what a narrow wedge of possibilities this represents. Weighted toward yellow and orange, this palette doesn't allow for a proper violet mixture, or for many greens, either.

"Zorn" palette: Ivory black, vermilion, yellow ochre.

Now here is the "Zorn Palette," which contains just earth pigments and also creates beautiful muted tones.  Covering just a little more area than my three-color palette, it's heavily weighted toward red and orange. Green is a possibility, but it's a very greyed-down green. Violets? Nope.

Three-color palette of mineral colors:  ultramarine blue, cadmium red, cadmium yellow.

This three-color palette, which uses richer mineral pigments rather than dull earth pigments, offers a larger wedge of possibilities and is weighted to blues, violets, red and orange. But it's weak in the greens. More intense color mixtures are possible with this one.

A split-primary palette: ultramarine blue, phthalo green, hansa yellow light, hansa yellow deep, cadmium red, permanent alizarin crimson.

This is the split-primary palette I used up until recently.  This offers many more possibilities—and more trouble!—than the three-color palettes. High-chroma mixtures are possible. It's weighted toward the yellow, orange and red. Yet although violets and greens are possible, but they won't have much variety and will be somewhat dull. Instead of two blues, I have just one; I replaced the second blue with phthalo green.  This opens up more possibilities for greens more than a palette with just two blues. 

My "go-to" split-primary palette of today:  ultramarine blue, cerulean blue, sap green, hansa yellow light, hansa yellow deep, naphthol scarlet, permanent alizarin crimson.

Here's what I'm using today.  I gave up the phthalo green and replaced it with sap green.  Why?  Phthalo was such a strong color I just got tired of it; it was like eating garlic in every meal.  Sap green, being duller with a low tinting strength, is easier to digest.  I also added cerulean blue.  Why?  I had been using the phthalo green to create a cerulean blue, and I need that color for both the Maritimes and the Southwest.  You'll note that this palette offers fewer green possibilities than my earlier palette.

Another observation: sap green sits on the line connecting cerulean blue and Hansa yellow light. This tells me I can mix sap green with these two colors and dispense with tubed sap green.  But sap green is a convenient color to have, so maybe I'll keep it.

A more-balanced split-primary palette:  ultramarine blue, cobalt teal, permanent green light, hansa yellow light, naphthol scarlet, cobalt violet.

And finally, here's a more balanced palette.  While writing this blog post, I looked at the HandPrint color wheel and tried to pick out six pigments that would give me the most balanced gamut.  There were several choices for my six pigments, so this is just one configuration.  The palette I've chosen is slightly weak in the violets and a little strong in the reds.  But overall,  it offers many possibilities of less-intense to more-intense mixtures for each of the six color families.

So here's your winter project, and mine.  While waiting for the snow to stop falling and for pleasant outdoor painting weather to return, reconfigure your palette so it yields the largest gamut and the most color possibilities—and at the same time, practice with it so mixing becomes a joyful, intuitive process.

Another Private Painting Intensive Week - Wrap-Up

"Early Spring Day" 11x14 Oil/Canvas
Available - $800, unframed

Another week of the Private Plein Air Painting Intensive program ends, this time with a student from California.  Each student gets a completely customized program, and for this week, we focused on a number of issues.  After the end of the session, she said, "The skills I refined and the new ones I picked up have taken me to the next level...I am looking forward to a lifetime of friendship and painting together."  Thank you, Tracy!

Painting at El Morro National Monument
(You'll notice the coat - yes, we had one cool morning)

Painting at the north end of the lake

We had great weather this week--warm sunshine and only one afternoon of our springtime winds, and for that, we headed to Zuni and indoors for a cultural talk by the chief archaeologist at the pueblo.  We also had lunch at the Village Bistro, which serves authentic Zuni cuisine.  I recommend it.

I thought I'd share a few paintings and some photos from our time together:

"North End of the Lake" 9x12 Oil
Available - $600, unframed

One of our sessions included experimenting with color palettes.  I'll post my results here, and in a future post, I'll talk about what the goal was.

"My Color Experiment" 12x16 Oil - NFS, for now
(More on this in a future post.)

Now I am off to Sedona, Arizona, to teach an all-level plein air painting workshop.  It looks like we'll have great weather there, too!

More Snow Painting

Path to the Shed
9x12 oil - $600 unframed - available

Perhaps I was inspired by my own article on painting snow in the recent (February 2019) issue of PleinAir.  Or maybe it was the fact that the Southwest has had record-breaking moisture this winter, and the snow was piled up a foot deep at times between Christmas and Valentine's Day.  Whatever the cause, I've found myself going out to paint snow this winter.

I've included three of the paintings here, but you can see all of the recent ones, both oil and pastel, here:  http://www.mchesleyjohnson.com/southwest-snow-paintings/

While painting these, a few thoughts occurred to me that might be helpful to other painters. (That is, if you're not tired of the snow already!)

• To help with getting the values right when painting a large expanse of snow, first paint the cast shadows.  Assume that the white of your canvas or paper is the lightest value.  Key everything down from this white or maybe go just a little darker.   Save painting the darks for the end.
• Paint distant, sunlit snow cooler, such as a tint of red-violet.  Paint closer, sunlit snow warmer, such as a tint of yellow. Save pure white for the lightest highlights, which are often cool.
• On a clear, sunny day, the nearer cast shadows on snow tend to be blue-violet. These cast shadows get lighter and warmer in distance.  On an overcast day or a day with clouds, the shadows tend to be warmer because light bounces off the clouds and into the shadows.
• Find variations in the topography of the snow field and use subtle shifts in temperature and value to indicate changes in this topography.  Use cast shadows to help define it further.  Look for edges in snow, both hard, soft and lost.

Looks like spring is almost here, but I bet we're not done with the snow yet.

Snow and Rocks II
9x12 oil - $600 unframed - available

Still Standing
12x6.5 Oil on 2" cradled birch panel
(no frame needed)
$600 - available

Judging a Show: Pastel Society of New Mexico National Exhibition

Part of the exhibition at Sorrel Sky, before the judging.
You can see how the organizers have covered up signatures and wall labels
to keep the judge "blind."

I always love going to Santa Fe—good art, good vibes, good food—but this time was extra special.  This past week I spent a couple of days in "The City Different" serving as Judge of Awards for the Pastel Society of New Mexico's annual National Exhibition.  I enjoyed spending some real "quality time" with over a hundred pastel paintings.  Nowhere in town could I see so many pastels in one place.

The exhibition, which runs through March 31, occupies the entire second floor of Sorrel Sky Gallery on Palace Avenue, a very short walk from the plaza.  The paintings range from landscapes to portraits and figures to still life and abstracts, and the quality of the work is very high.  (Jurors were Alan Flattman, Brian Cobble and Sally Strand, and they did a great job in selecting.)  Conditions for judging were ideal, as all the paintings are hung under excellent lighting.  Still, I had a very tough time narrowing down the 133 paintings to just 22 winners—and an even tougher time picking the top four for the major awards.  Everyone who made it into the show should feel proud.  I congratulate the winners on their success.

I've written before about how I judge a show, but I'll summarize it again.  Armed with a stack of yellow Post-It notes, I go through the gallery quickly, putting a note next to every painting that appeals to me.  This is my first pass, and I'm looking for work that strikes me immediately in some way.  I'm not thinking of design, color or mark-making at this point but visual and emotional impact.  Then I go through the gallery again, looking more carefully at the ones I skipped.  Did I miss a quiet, shy piece that appeals to me if I look longer?  If so, I give it a Post-It note.  Then I go through yet again, looking at everything—noted or not—with an eye to design, color and mark-making.  Next, I count the number of Post-It notes and compare that to the number of awards.  The difference is what I have to remove.  So, I go through several more times, re-evaluating my choices and removing—or, in some cases, moving—the notes until I have the same number of notes on the wall as I have awards.  Now the painful part begins, and I have to decide on the top awards.  This involves double-checking my work (thinking again of design, color, mark-making plus emotional appeal and how well the artist conveyed the message) until I've made my selections.  Believe me, although the process sounds logical and simple, it's a lot of work, and sometimes I wish I'd worn roller skates to make the going back-and-forth easier!  I go through these multiple passes to make sure I've made my selections with honesty and integrity.

The Society has invited me to do a demonstration for them at their monthly meeting next Saturday (March 9, 10 a.m. at the Albuquerque Museum.)  I'm looking forward to showing how I paint "glare" on water with Blue Earth Pastels.  If you can't make it to the meeting, at least try to see the show in Santa Fe.  You won't be sorry.

Me at Sorrel Sky in front of my painting.
Judge and jurors were asked to bring a sample pastel
painting to hang.

Self-Portrait, Part II

Mr Hyde
16x12 Oil - NFS

In a previous post, I wrote about a self-portrait I've been working on.  At the time, the "first draft" of the self-portrait was complete; I'd spent about an hour in the studio, channeling Lucien Freud and, perhaps, Van Gogh.  I was looking to achieve an intuitive but accurate representation in a short time.  Liking the result, I posted it on Facebook and Instagram.

Well, turning a self-portrait into a group effort is always risky, as you never know what the responses will be—especially if you like what you've done and think the work is complete.  Predictably, most responses (from close friends, family and fans) were favorable, but a few included suggestions.  The most important suggestion, I thought, had to do with background color.  The original background was a fiery red, and the red collar of my shirt got lost in it.  What if, it was suggested, I remove the red background?  The red collar would then "sing."

I wasn't sure if I wanted the red collar to "sing," but the suggestion planted the idea of playing with background color.  So, I digitally changed the color to first green and then a bluish green and took a poll.  First, here are the three images:

and here is the result of the poll:

Blue led with 47%, followed by red with 36%, and trailed by green, at 17%.

I was a little surprised that green didn't get a larger slice of the pie.  Green tends to enhance the warmth of the face as well as that red collar.  ("Now it really 'sings'!")  And as much as some viewers didn't like the red—saying it made my expression feel even angrier—nearly as many people voted for red as for blue.

I also asked respondents to comment on their choices.  These comments were interesting, too.  Here are a few of them:

The Argument for Blue

• The contrast of cool and warm is more pleasing with the blue background.
• Blue...or red if you are after a very disturbing image.  But I prefer the more peaceful bluish background. 
• Although I do like the red one, the bluish background allows the red highlights to stand out in a very nice way. The red one makes me feel like you are standing near the Gates of Hades.
• They all create different moods, and they are all effective in their own way. So it depends on what kind of mood  YOU want to create. I chose blue because the other two are too intense for my taste.
• Brings balance to the whole.
• The blue is cool enough to drop more into the background than the green and it picks up the colour in your eye. I was really okay with the red, too, but when you started to talk about the nice pop of red at your collar, I realized the sense in that. 
• The intensity of the expression is exaggerated by the overall heat of the red background.  I like the blue-green better.
• The red and green are to harsh (severe). They both compete with the portrait. The blue is more neutral, more sedate and doesn't compete with the portrait. 
• The blue reads as neutral and calms the angry, intense red. 

The Argument for Green

• The red is harsh and the scarf looks better with the green or blue background.
• More on the complementary side than red.

The Argument for Red

• Green makes you look sickly; red makes you look wise! 
• Red is more unique and suits the warmth in your personality. 
• The original red has a fabulous intensity. I always believe in creative 'gut reactions.' The original was painted that for a reason. The subconscious sees it as a more cohesive whole and focuses on the subject rather than the background. 
• Red best suits the "aggressive" look of the face.
• The red is much more graphic and exciting.  Yes, more grumpy, but more powerful. 
• Red is an "energy" color..and a "passionate" color. 
• The red seems to better suit the nature of the picture, and I like how it emphasizes the red collar/scarf. 

The Argument for Something Else 

(Yes, there's always someone who wants a choice outside the ones offered.)

• If you are questioning either red or green, why not mix them to create a neutral that picks up both in the portrait? Better harmony, and a bit more highlight/shadow would have your likeness leap off the canvas.

I actually began to modify the background in the portrait before I got so many votes and began to read the comments.  As much as a fiery red background seemed appropriate at the time—I'd started with a burnt sienna background to give the canvas some initial life and warmth—it felt a little too much as I sat looking at it with a cup of tea during a relaxed moment.  Green, I decided would make it too jazzy and, as someone else pointed out, invoked Van Gogh in a heavy-handed way.  I decided to try blue.  Blue calms, and I felt that's what the thing needed.

So, that one-hour self-portrait ended up having another few hours added to it in the way of background changes and tweaks.  I initially started with a light blue scumble, but it gave the sense of floating through the sky.  I darkened it, greyed it, and finally ended up with something that seemed to give the overall painting more weight.  I also adjusted the contours of the head, getting it closer to the actual thing.  (Yes, I had to pull out my antique 50-pound wall mirror a few more times.)  I tweaked the facial hair, losing the lower lip and then regaining the lower lip.  That "mystery eye," as someone called it—my right eye—needed more definition despite being in the shadows, so I played with that some until it read right.  (Oh, and I ended up darkening that red collar.  Too much "sing.")

The result of all this is the painting at the top of the post.

Am I as satisfied with the portrait as I was after that initial single hour of inspired bravura?  I do like it, but it's going to sit on the easel for awhile longer.  It is said:

A work of art is never finished, only abandoned.

and I think this is more true of a self-portrait than of any other type of painting.

Mr Hyde (framed)
16x12 Oil - NFS

A Scottish Burn

"A Scottish Burn" 12x16 Pastel - Available

We've been having a good deal of snow here in northern New Mexico.  It seems like we get one warm, sunny day, and then we get another snowstorm blowing through.  I'll gladly paint snow, but not when it's snowing!  So, I've been spending some time in the studio working on painting projects.  It's fun to poke through old plein air sketches to see what strikes one's fancy.  This week, I'm thinking of Scotland.  As you may recall, I've made two trips to Scotland, so I have quite a bit of material to review.

I decided I wanted to paint a scene of a burn.  We don't call it a "burn" here in America, but rather a "stream" or "creek."  I also wanted to play some more with my set of Blue Earth pastels.  With that in mind, I set up some reference photos on my tablet, pulled out some color studies, and got to work.  "A Scottish Burn" is the result.  Although I started with harder Cretacolor pastels for the block in, I quickly moved to the softer Blue Earth pastels.  As I mentioned in a previous blog, I like Blue Earth pastels because of the logical color and value arrangement, which is very similar to how I arrange my palette.  (You can read all about that here.)   I painted it on a sheet of burgundy Art Spectrum Colourfix, a brand I prefer because of its coarser texture, which gives a more "painterly" look to the finished piece.

One guiding thought I had as I worked was to use as many greens as I could, but to incorporate touches of red and orange here and there to keep the green from being overwhelming.  I found that, even in Scotland, where you see so much green, there is still an undertone of red and orange in the landscape.  Also, I chose the burgundy paper for the same reason.

I've included some details photos as well as two shots of the studio (thank you, Trina!) to show you how I have it set up.   By the way, the painting is available for sale.  Click here for details.

Blue Earth pastels used for the painting.  I like taking a photo
of this box at the end because of the little "jumble" I create
as I work.