Gallery Portfolio

One of my New Year's goals is to get into more and better galleries. To make this task a little easier, I decided to create a small, professional-looking portfolio that I could publish and then mail out to prospective galleries. I wanted to self-publish with a "publish on demand" printer so I would have both total control over the content and layout but without a big initial layout of cash. I am quite pleased with the result. So pleased, in fact, that I've decided to make my gallery portfolio available to collectors and others for a very reasonable price. (Click on the thumbnail above to see a bigger image.)

If you're interested in my little project, please click here to go to my website for more information, as well as for how to order. (In case the link doesn't work for you, go to my web site, www.MichaelChesleyJohnson.com, and click on the "Paintings for Sale" menu item. On the Paintings page, you'll see a link for the portfolio.)

Roller Coaster Weather

We've had a few days of rollercoaster weather -- one day with two inches of snow; followed by a day of sleet, freezing rain and then just rain, which melted all the snow; next, a day of howling winds and whitecaps on our normally placid bay; and today, near-50 degree weather. What's a plein air painter to do?

Roll with the punches, and be prepared for anything!

The day we had the rain, I stayed in the studio. I decided to do another in my series of self-portraits with hats. Here is "Big Red Hat (Self-Portrait)." This 8x10 oil-on-panel was a lot of fun to do. Not strictly plein air, of course, but certainly done from life by natural light in front of my big picture window. I still have a few hats waiting in the wings for future self-portraits.

Today, I couldn't resist going out. However, because of some house renovations we're involved with and the fickleness of contractors, I couldn't go out for long. I was given one hour and 15 minutes -- which included walking from the car, setting up, breaking down and walking back again. I think my actual painting time on this 8x10 was about 45 minutes. It was done so fast I don't even have a title for it yet! I'm very pleased with it. Sometimes, being under the gun can make you paint better. In this case, I had to follow the rules I give my students: Paint big shapes with a big brush and exaggerate the value contrast. (I do try to follow these basic rules of plein air painting, but sometimes other issues present themselves, and one is forced to compromise.)

Winter Fire

One great thing about my second-floor studio is that I have several windows with interesting views of different subjects. For an artist who paints primarily outdoors, winter weather can be an obstacle, and having windows offers a way to paint without having to be in the wind. (After last night's snow and with today's wind, the windchill is 14 degrees.)

"Winter Fire" (8x10, oil/panel) is just one of my views, and I painted it today. It's the old horse chestnut, standing toe-deep in snow beside a hedge of fireweed. In summer, the fireweed bursts with colourful spikes of red-violet. Now that we've moved into winter, the fireweed bursts with colour again -- deep maroon and russset in the shadows, but flaming orange and yellow in the low, late afternoon sunshine. It's a festive view for New Year's Eve. Happy New Year!

What IS Plein Air Painting?

Winter Beret 8x10, oil/panel click thumb for big pic

What constitutes plein air painting? I think most painters would consider this to be painting outdoors.* However, back before it became Fine Art Connoisseur, Plein Air Magazine enlarged the definition to include "painting from life." This included the still life, portraits and figures. Great controversy erupted over this new definition.

But the magazine was, in a sense, right. With the right circumstances, a studio experience can very much be like a plein air experience. For example, in my studio, I recently painted a self-portrait that was made 1) from life, 2) in natural light, and 3) by a huge window that makes you feel like you're sitting outdoors. This was done in the winter, and if it weren't for the electric heat and the lack of wind, I might as well have been painting outside.

Who's to say it's not a plein air painting?

Let's try an experiment. Let's paint in our car. Is this plein air?

Sure. Some very well-known plein air painters paint from inside their automobiles or specially-designed "paintmobiles." Clearly, a sheet of glass is not in itself enough to disqualify a painting from being a plein air piece.

Let's take it a step further. Stick a model in the car. Is this plein air?

It depends. The painting is made from life, under natural light and with both artist and model in the landscape. But are you painting just the model, the model in the car, or the model with the landscape behind him? The painting will undoubtedly be classified "plein air" if the landscape occupies sufficient real estate behind the model, as would any "landscape with figure" piece done from life. However, if you make the landscape insignificant or don't include it at all, then what? Let's say it's just the door and the car seat with the model. Is this plein air? Now we're getting into uncertain territory.

Based on this experiment, I'd say that the phrases "plein air" and "landscape" are so linked that you can't separate them. A still life, even if it's a pile of burgers on a picnic table, is not a plein air piece unless that picnic table has a generous portion of landscape around it and is subjugated to the landscape. The same with a portrait and a figure. Unless the landscape is first, it's not plein air.

Of course, to eliminate any disagreement, perhaps we should just call plein air painting what it really is, which is simply "outdoor painting."

Even though we've evaluated my self-portrait and have decided it is not a "plein air" piece, I've posted it here for your amusement.

*Plein air does not necessarily mean alla prima. Alla prima can be done either outdoors or in. The phrase simply means a technique of painting in which the artist completes a painting in one session. Plein air can certainly be done this way. However, there are some plein air artists -- Monet was a notorious one -- who work on a single painting over several days, returning to the same outdoor location to do so.

Why I Paint Small

I remember reading one of Emile Gruppé's incredible books recently, and in it, he recommended that the beginning painter paint no smaller than 16x20. This bit of advice blew me away. I was painting 8x10s, 9x12s and, very occasionally, an 11x14. Even a 9x12 was a stretch for me.

His point was that a large canvas gives the artist room to swing his arm in. Your strokes become more rhythmic, and they have more of a feeling of continuity and smoothness. Small canvases restrict the arm, and strokes become choppy, and if you're painting a tree, you're apt to stop short of the edge of the canvas and break the rhythm that makes a tree.

Good points.

However, there's a certain economy that comes with painting small. You use smaller -- and thus, cheaper -- brushes and a heck of a lot less paint. When a 8x10 goes for only a few hundred bucks (with an expensive frame on it), you're already squeezing your profit margin so tight it squeaks. But there's more to it. I can paint an 8x10 in one hour and a 9x12 in two hours. A 9x12 wipes me out, and I have barely enough energy left to pack up the tripod and drive home. Anything bigger, and I'd have to call a cab. (Good luck, where I paint!)

But you know, if old Emile could do it, then so could I. Bigger brushes, more paint -- got 'em. Raise my prices if I have to. Take a Thermos of coffee and half a chocolate cake to keep me going.

I lugged my French easel out with a 12x16 with my #12 flats and extra paint and thinner. And I made a painting.

Here's an interesting observation. Time compresses when you are "in the zone," as we say. You can paint for one hour, two hours -- even three hours, which is what that 12x16 took me -- and for the painter, the time seems the same. Maybe thirty minutes. Of course, you're beat more at the end of three hours than at the end of two, so there is some sort of objective measure of the energy spent. But while you're painting, it sure seems effortless, and especially if you've got big brushes, a big palette and lots of paint laid out.

Here's one more observation. After doing a few of these larger canvases (which still aren't as large as old Emile wanted me to paint), doing the 8x10s and 9x12s again took about as much effort as putting on your shoes. They came so naturally to me, and I really was painting better thanks to the exercise of painting large.

So, I still paint small. But now and then I'll make a big one, just to keep the muscles stretched.