Painting Light & Shadow: Part 1, Light

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*Never AI, always human. Any errors are my own.*

Here's the first part of my two-part series on painting light and shadow: https://mchesleyjohnson.substack.com/p/painting-light-and-shadow-part-1

Revising a Plein Air Painting

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*Never AI, always human. Any errors are my own.*

Here's how I revised a recent plein air painting in the studio! https://mchesleyjohnson.substack.com/p/revising-a-plein-air-painting

The Color of Snow

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*Never AI, always human. Any errors are my own.*

How many colors does snow have? https://mchesleyjohnson.substack.com/p/the-color-of-snow

Demonstration: Snow Slide, 8x10 Oil

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*Never AI, always human. Any errors are my own.*

Here's a snow painting demonstration! https://mchesleyjohnson.substack.com/p/demonstration-snow-slide-8x10-oil

Tips for Winter Painting

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*Never AI, always human. Any errors are my own.*

Winter painting. Some tips! https://mchesleyjohnson.substack.com/p/winter-painting-22e

Did You Choose the Right Format?

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*Never AI, always human. Any errors are my own.*

Did you choose the right format?  Sometimes the size we take into the field isn't the right one... https://mchesleyjohnson.substack.com/p/did-you-choose-the-right-format

Painting Lupines

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*Never AI, always human. Any errors are my own.*

Painting lupines! https://mchesleyjohnson.substack.com/p/painting-lupines-f44

The Continuing Adventures of Gouache

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**Authentically Human! Not Written by AI**

Gouache or not to gouache? https://mchesleyjohnson.substack.com/p/the-continuing-adventures-of-gouache

Primer for Plein Air / Part 6 / Value Sketches

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**Authentically Human! Not Written by AI**

Here's Part 6 of my Primer for Plein Air series

Primer for Plein Air: Part 5 / Location and Picking a Subject

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**Authentically Human! Not Written by AI**

Location, location, location -- it's true, especially in the world of plein air painting.  Check it out here.

Primer for Plein Air, Part 4: Setting a Goal

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**Authentically Human! Not Written by AI**

Here's part 4 of my Primer for Plein Air: https://mchesleyjohnson.substack.com/p/primer-for-plein-air-part-4-setting

New Plein Air Painting Workshop: Amarillo, Texas

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**Authentically Human! Not Written by AI**

Georgia O'Keeffe and friends at the Palo Duro Club, at the head of Palo Duro Canyon,
perhaps between 1912 and 1913, when she first went to Texas, or between 1916 and 1918.
(Courtesy Georgia O'Keeffe Museum)

Did you know that Georgia O'Keeffe once taught school in Canyon, Texas, and painted in nearby Palo Duro Canyon?  I invite you to follow in her footsteps in a three-day plein air painting workshop with me this October.  Sponsored by the Amarillo Art Institute in conjunction with its plein air festival, the workshop will be based at the canyon, where we'll explore all of its geological wonders in paint.

Palo Duro Canyon, which has been likened to Grand Canyon, is known for its vibrant red rock formations and rugged cliffs.  As the second-largest canyon in the United States, it offers stunning panoramic views, diverse terrain and a rich palette of earthy colors. Home to much wildlife and native flora, the canyon provides a serene atmosphere for visitors.  Accessible trails wind through the canyon, offering opportunities for hiking and exploration.  The ever-changing landscape, from spring blooms to winter tranquility, make it an ideal destination for nature enthusiasts, hikers and artists seeking inspiration in its natural beauty. 

The workshop, which takes place October 17-19, 2024, from 9-4 each day, will be held at Palo Duro Canyon State Park.  Although we will have a studio available to us in Amarillo at the Art Institute, we will be in the field as much as possible.  I welcome every level of painter, from beginner to advanced, and all media.  Each day I'll start by introducing you to the fundamentals of plein air painting, followed by a full demonstration, after which you will have plenty of time to paint.  As you paint, I'll go from easel to easel, offering help.  Then, if time permits, I'll give a second demonstration in the afternoon.

I hope you'll join me for three days of artistic inspiration amid the vibrant hues and majestic landscapes of Palo Duro Canyon, as we paint together, capturing the beauty of nature on canvas.  To sign up, please visit the Amarillo Art Institute web site at this link.  

Location, Location, Location: Picking a Subject

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**Authentically Human! Not Written by AI**

Where to start?

"There's so much here—I don't know what to pick."

These are words I frequently hear from students when we get to the field.  But believe me, even as an experienced plein air painter, I sometimes hear these in my head, too.  Some locations can be so rich that they offer a wealth of possibilities.  As frustrating as it may be to have to pick just one thing, if I want to get anything done, that's what I have to do.

This is where the camera on my smartphone comes into play.  Used as a cropping tool, it allows me to focus on what interests me, eliminating everything else around it.  (A ViewCatcher or homemade tool also works.)  I'll first zoom in so that the subject fills the screen, and then I'll zoom out a bit, taking in more and more of the scene until I get an assembly of elements that pleases me.  Next, I turn to my sketchbook—mine is only 3.5"x5"–and work out a few thumbnail value designs as I described elsewhere in my blog.

What do I look for in a scene?  It's helpful if the subject attracts me in some way, either through an arrangement of light and dark shapes or color play.  (In a workshop, depending on where the instructor takes me, I may not find an attractive subject, in which case I try to select something that relates to the lesson at hand.)  Also, what I pick depends on my goal for the day.  Maybe I'm just looking at color relationships, so I'll worry less about a pleasing assembly of elements.  If want to paint a vista, I might zoom out quite a bit to take in a wider view, and aim for responding to the feeling of a place.

I do all of this before even setting up my easel.  That's because I may not yet have settled on my subject and might choose to go on down the trail a bit more.

But once I do settle, I consider where to place my easel.  Sometimes, I can get a better angle on my subject by moving a few feet left or right.  This is especially true when painting architecture, when I want a viewpoint that will present the angles of roofs and walls in a way that won't confuse my viewer.  Complicated architecture, like Victorian mansions, which have lots of odd roof angles and bric-a-brac, can be confusing. 

I also consider lighting and personal comfort.  The best lighting on your palette and painting surface is even lighting; I like everything in shade, whereas some painters like direct sunlight (which I find blinding.)  I also want to make sure I'm on even ground.  I don't want any rocks to trip me up when I'm "in the zone" and not paying attention to my footing.  In addition, I try to anticipate what's going to happen with my environment, taking into account sun movement. I want my easel to stay in shade—I refuse to take the extra weight of an umbrella on my outings—and I don't want to have to move it in mid-stroke.  And if there's wind, I try to find a tree or rock outcrop to serve as a windscreen.

Finally, I think about the possibility of human interaction.  If I want a quiet, relaxing experience, I don't set up by a shuttle stop.  I mistakenly did that once, while painting at the Grand Canyon, and a busload of tourists suddenly flooded around me.  (In my defense, I will state that the stop was hidden behind several large junipers, and since I had come up the trail from a different direction, I never saw it.)

How Not to Fail: Going Out with One of Four Goals

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**Authentically Human! Not Written by AI**

No, I'm not homeless.  I'm working on Goal #2, gathering reference material

Which type of outdoor painter are you?  Once you're at your painting location, do you take a long time deciding what to paint?  Or do you arrive on the scene with a specific goal in mind?  If you're the first type, you may have a satisfying experience, but your success rate will be much better if you have a specific goal.  You'll become a better painter faster.

I always try to have one of four goals when I head out.  They're simple:

1. Explore an area
2. Gather reference material
3. Work on a skill or problem
4. Create a finished painting

Exploring an area is what I do if I'm in unfamiliar territory.  For example, my first time in Scotland I didn't know what to paint.  So, rather than doing something complicated (like a finished painting), I decided to focus on just sketching the things that were new to me:  craggy parts of castle ruins, bald hilltops carpeted with bright green grasses, expanses of yellow gorse.  This is a relaxing way of painting, and it increases your knowledge of a strange land.

Gathering reference material is a bit like exploring, but with more of a focus.  On a later trip to Scotland, I became enamored of a beautiful, ancient stone bridge in the Cuillins.  I wanted to make a big painting of it, but I didn't have the time or materials.  Instead, I spent the morning gathering references for the studio.  Besides sketching the bridge in gouache, I also made some pencil sketches and took a bunch of photos.  (Thank goodness for digital film!)  The idea here is that, once back in the studio, in a controlled environment where you have all the tools and materials at your diposal, you can create a more considered work.

Working on a skill or problem is usually a workshop goal.  But I also do this on my own.  Observing color temperature relationships—how cool or warm a note appears next to an adjacent patch of color—fascinates me, and I can't seem to get enough of this.  (Sunlit canyons with deep shadows are a particular favorite.)  But sometimes I have a question I want to solve.  For example, we've all heard that white in shadow is darker than black in light.  Is this true?  You might want to go out to see for yourself by observing and painting it.

Creating a finished painting outdoors is a Herculean task compared to the other three goals.  I usually reserve this goal for plein air painting competitions—although it's also a good skill to practice if you're heading for a painting competition.   To create a finished painting, you have to be at the top of your game:  good design, good color use and good edge treatment.  And, I might add, it helps first to have had a good night's sleep and a good cup of coffee.

Yet, after all I've said, sometimes it's just nice to let serendipity be your guide—and this is probably the most relaxing goal of all.

(And speaking of Scotland, did you know you can help me get back to Scotland for my next project?  Details are here.)

The Value of Value Sketches

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**Authentically Human! Not Written by AI**

Value sketches based on the below photo
Sketches are about 3" on the longest side.
Notice how these are not DRAWINGS but simple
shapes fully blocked in with 4 values.

Value sketches: Many of us plein air painters skip this step.  I'm guilty of this, too.  Like you, I'm eager to get right to the fun part, the painting. But in doing so, I'm missing out on a practice that will bring my painting closer to my initial vision.  If I make a value sketch first, I'll end up with a more satisfying result.

What's the point in doing a value sketch?  Well, a lot!

First, it helps me analyze the scene, simplifying it into a few simple shapes of a few values.  This creates a map for the placement of shapes.  Sure, I could try doing this right on the canvas, but most likely I'll end up having to rework the underpainting until I get the shapes and values right.  The result is usually either a palimpsest of overlaid and confused intentions—or mud.  I can't tell you how many times I've had to wipe the whole canvas.

Second, by making more than one value sketch, I can experiment with alternatives and find the best design.  Perhaps a vertical orientation would be better than a horizontal one.  Maybe a 1:3 ratio would suit a broad vista better than a 3:4.  And what about shifting or compressing the value scale?  Possibly I could end up with a stronger statement by making some of the lighter, shadowed areas just as dark as the darkest areas.

Finally, the value sketch acts as a warm-up exercise for the final painting.  Going through the motions of working out shape and value gets my hand, eye and brain all working together, smoothing the effort I'll make later.

How do I make a value sketch?  Here's how:

1. I keep it small.  This helps me focus on simplicity.  I like a 3x5" sketchbook.  Anything bigger, and I'm tempted to draw in detail.
2. I keep it "blocky."  That is, I don't draw with lines but block in shapes that I then fill in solidly with three or four values.
3. I start with the mid-values, preserving for my lights the white of the paper.  Then I punch in the darks.
4. I use a medium that allows me to "sneak up on" the darks.  Why?  It's easy to make the darks way too dark at the start.  So, I go cautiously, darkening only as needed after establishing the mid-values.  (I still keep in mind using just 3 or 4 values.) A 6B pencil is great for this, as it can handle a wide range of value from very light to very dark.  You can also use other sketching tools, such as watercolor or gouache, or even felt-tip markers, the grey ones of which come in different percentages of grey.  Personally, I don't like the markers, as it's hard to alter the value scheme.

Some day, I'd like to teach a workshop that has students doing nothing more than value sketches.  It would be a "value-added" experience!

Painting What I See v. Painting What I FEEL I See

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Painting What I Saw...

...Painting What I FELT I Saw
(both 5x8 gouache)

Do you paint what you see?  Or what you feel you see?

I learned recently the distinction.  I was in Taos at my painting retreat, sketching in gouache.  I was seated on my three-legged stool before the Rio Grande Gorge, observing the scene, adjusting color mixtures to match what I saw before me.  Now, the Gorge is awesome enough on its own—an 800-foot-deep ragged slash through an endless plate of black lava, with the river a mere spider-silk thread far below—but on this day, dramatic storm clouds flew, and brooms of grey rain and yellow sun-rays swept the land.  I wanted to capture the drama.

But when I stepped back from my 5x8 sketch, it wasn't there.  The colors and shapes were right and, yes, I'd painted what I saw, but I hadn't painted what I felt.  

I sat back down on my stool and tried again.  This time, I didn't worry about accuracy of fact.  Instead, I tried to pay attention to feeling as I mixed color and placed shape next to shape.  I can't quite put this into words, but here it goes:  I felt like an untrained singer trying to hit the right notes in a choir by listening to the other singers around me, and then by modulating my voice until it slid into perfect harmony.  If you've ever sung with a group, you know when you hit the right note.  For me, this is painting what you feel you see versus simply painting what you see.

Paintings, Interrupted

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Hanging On / 8x10 Oil / Available

Rattlesnake Cliff / 9x12 oil  Available

You've all heard the joke.  How many people does it take to paint a painting?  Two—one to paint it, and another to say when to stop.

I've been painting long enough that I've developed an internal monitor that stops me before I overwork a painting.  (Well, not always—sometimes, apparently, he's nodded off.)  Once in awhile, though, external factors stop me, and often prematurely.  Case in point is the active monsoon season we've had in New Mexico this year.

If you're not familiar with monsoon season, it's characterized by daily afternoon thunderstorm activity, followed by clearing and cool evenings.  Although we're thankful for these storms because they slake the thirst of our high desert, dangerous lightning often accompanies them.  They make hiking—and outdoor painting—risky outings.

Why?  Because the storms rise up quickly.  You can start your hike on a perfectly clear, blue-sky morning, and by noon, the first thunderheads are already billowing up.  Moments later you'll hear the first crack of thunder.  The clouds then swell into a black wall and unleash a cannonade of blinding flashes, earsplitting cracks and the occasional deep, rolling boom that lasts almost forever and occupies such a low spot on the auditory register that you can feel it deep in your gut.  These storms are not to be toyed with.

So, I offer to you two paintings that I began on a beautiful morning that became victim to monsoon season.  In each case, I painted about 30 or 45 minutes before that first crack of thunder.  As I tend to favor cliff tops and other high perches, which are the worst places to be in a storm, I quickly retreated before becoming a statistic.  (Check out this link on lightning fatalities.)  The good news, though, is that I was able to go out the very next day and finish—but only moments before the next round of storms started up.

Plein Air Purist—Or Plein Air Snob?

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I made these three 6x8 oil studies in the field
in preparation for creating a large studio painting.
Scroll down to the bottom of this post to see the 
finished painting.

I admit, the lure of plein air painting is powerful.  The smells, the sounds and, of course, the sights, draw us landscape painters like pheromones do a moth.  I'd rather be painting outdoors than in the studio any day.

The moth may enjoy the momentary effects of a pheromone for its own sake, but ultimately, the pheromone has a higher reason for being:  the perpetuation of the species.  What about plein air painting?  I enjoy the moment—a two-hour tussle with the landscape that lights up all the pleasure centers of my brain—but is there something more?

Some painters seem to think not.  For them, plein air painting is an end in itself.  If they can't paint outdoors, they don't paint. It's all about the sex and not about begetting the next generation.  That is, it's all about the momentary satisfaction of “capturing the moment” but not about taking the art to a higher level.

I don't have a problem with this.  We all have different goals.  But what I do have a problem with is the swagger and brag of some of these plein air purists.  They become plein air snobs.  I want to pull them aside and say, “You know, if you spent some time in the studio addressing the issues that are difficult or impossible to deal with in the field, you'd be a better painter.” But they won't want to hear it.  

I said I prefer to paint outdoors, and this is true.  But I do value my studio time:  Outdoors, we can only receive and respond; in the studio, we can also reflect and refine.  Under the steady, unfailing light of my studio—a benefit you don't get in the field—and with the assortment of tools I have stored there, I can work out design and color issues and fine-tune these to better fit the idea behind my painting.  

It's easy to get addicted to painting on-location, especially if you make it easy on yourself by having  lightweight goals.  Constant work within a certain set of restrictions—such as limiting your painting practice exclusively to the outdoors—will only help you reach the limits possible within those restrictions, but no further.  For that, you need to move into the studio, where everything is possible.

By the way, do collectors care if a painting was done en plein air?  Not really.  They just want a good painting.  They may enjoy the story behind a painting—perhaps you had to fend off wild wolverines while perched precariously on a cliff overlooking your scene—but that won't sell the painting if it's not good.  

"Waterfall" 36x36 oil/canvas
You can read the full story about this painting in my 
book, Outdoor Study to Studio, available
from Amazon here.

Studio C Gallery in Los Angeles

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This week, Studio C Gallery in Los Angeles put out a wonderful blog post about me and my work with lots of images.  You can read the post here:

https://www.studiocgalleryla.com/post/michael-chesley-johnson-an-artist-whose-work-responds-to-the-landscape-in-a-personal-way

Peggy Nichols, who runs Studio C, took a workshop from me years ago.  It's nice to be remembered!

Cleaning Brushes

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Granted, cleaning up is a lot less fun than painting.  All that said, it's hard to start a new painting when your studio is a mess—especially your brushes.

Recently, a reader asked me about brush cleaning:  How do you clean brushes while painting, especially when switching from one color to another?  Also, she has become very ill, and her doctor, who has made many tests, believes that mineral spirits are the cause.  What other option, she asked, does she have for cleaning brushes?

First, let me address the cleaning of brushes while painting.  I generally have two of each size of brush.  This lets me keep one for light (or warm) colors and the other for dark (or cool) colors.  With my light brush, so long as the colors are on the same side of the color wheel, I don't clean my brush between colors.  I can go from one tint to another without making mud.  Likewise, with my dark brush, I can go from one shade to another without trouble.  The only time I rinse my brush is if I am going from one color to its complement or near-complement.  For example, if I need my brush to go from dark blue to a dark orange, I may first wipe it with a paper towel and then give it a swish or two in the Gamsol to rinse out some of the “loose” color.

That's the theory, anyway.  Sometimes I just paint with one or two brushes.  I'm pretty good at not making mud, even with such a limited number. 

As for cleaning brushes when done, I first wipe off as much paint as I can with a paper towel, and then I swish it in the Gamsol until it is reasonably clean.  I rarely go beyond this step to clean my brushes.  If I'm painting all week, every day, as at a competition, I will more thoroughly clean the brushes mid-way through the week with Murphy Oil Soap.

If you're sensitive to mineral spirits, you might try rinsing the brushes in a non-drying oil, such as baby oil.  But you must get as much of the oil out as you can before painting again—a non-drying oil will affect the drying time of the linseed or safflower oil in your paint. Another option is walnut oil.  It's a drying oil, but it will, if not removed from the brushes, gum up the hairs.  So you must wash out as much of that as you can, too.

One final option:  move to either acrylics or water-miscible oils.   I have been using the Cobra water-miscible oils, and I like them.  You do need to use the Cobra medium when you want to thin them, however, otherwise they clump.