Second Edition: Paint Sedona - A Plein Air Painter's Field Guide to Sedona, Arizona

Breaking News!  Final Studio Sale Painting Posted!

We now return you to regularly scheduled programming, now in progress.

Over the last couple of years, I've found even more great spots in Sedona to paint.  So, I decided I needed to create a second edition of my guide for plein air painters.  The edition is now available, and it's available both as a spiral-bound paperback and as a PDF (Adobe Acrobat Reader) download.

The new edition has 43 pages plus 35 black-and-white photos.  Readers asked, Why black-and-white?  The reason is that it makes the book much more affordable - $10 for a hardcopy, $7 for a download - and as a painter, I'm more interested in design than color.  The photos give you a good idea of the subject matter and the layout of the land.  I find that's more important to me than knowing the red rocks are, well, red.

The book does include two versions of the map, full-color on the cover (which you also get with the PDF version) and black-and-white in the interior.  I've updated the map, too, to show all locations.

Each location has a photo of the terrain plus a description of the general subject matter, as well as information on parking, restrooms and when the lighting is best.

If you're coming to Sedona to paint, I hope you'll get the book.  It's a very handy reference.  Believe it or not, I actually use it myself to remind me of where to paint when I'm drawing a blank.

Here's a direct link to the hardcopy version of Paint Sedona:  A Plein Air Painter's Field Guide to Sedona, Arizona ($10).

Here's a directly link to the download version of Paint Sedona: A Plein Air Painter's Field Guide to Sedona, Arizona ($7.)

Final Pastel Study: Grand Canyon

Study:  "There Will Come Soft Rains", 18x9, pastel

This is the final version of the pastel study for my Grand Canyon oil painting.

Adjustments were few, but the cool blues, violets and red-violets in the distance were too saturated, so I greyed them down.  One can use a complement, of course, but sometimes the result is somewhat carnival-like, so I chose to use mostly greys to dull the color.  Also, to soften the viewer's fall from foreground cliff to the distant ones, I added a stepping stone - another cliff .  This intermediate cliff also gave me the chance to work a slightly cooler version of the foreground colors elsewhere into the painting; without it, those extremely warm colors would have been too isolated and given a disjointed feeling to the color harmony.  Below are a couple of detail shots.   (If you want to see a much larger version of any of these, right-click and select "open link in new tab".  Blogger's "lightbox" image viewer no longer lets you see the biggest image possible.)

By the way, I just saw a movie that should interest plein air painters, "Vincent and Theo."  Originally a mini-series shot in 1990 by Robert Altman for the BBC, it was re-edited for the big screen.  As much as I enjoyed it, one thing bugged me; every time a painter (actor) was shown painting, he held the palette incorrectly.   The palette wasn't supported by the forearm, but held out as if offering someone a plate of hors d'oeurves.  You can't hold a palette for several hours this way, not unless you pump iron regularly.  The movie is available from NetFlix (in the US) for instant viewing.

How Far Do You Walk - Poll Results

The other day, I took a poll both here and on the WetCanvas forum.  I asked plein air painters how far they typically walk for a painting.  It's an interesting question, and beset by all sorts of variables.  A painter's mobility is certainly an issue, but so also is motivation and, perhaps, common sense.

I had nearly 100 respondents.  Only 10% said they usually painted from the car or the parking lot.  Nearly 25% were willing to walk 100 yards.  Another 25% were willing to walk up to half a mile.  Surprisingly, 20% were willing to "walk as far as it takes"!

Here are some of the comments I received from the "as far as it takes" group:

It varies, but up to 15 miles - usually by accident.  I am lured on for too greater distance by the prospect of a better view 'round the corner, then realise I have gone too far to walk back comfortably, so I get back to the car footsore and dog tired. Coast paths and river paths are the most dangerous for this.

I voted "as far as it takes!" I lose track of how long I've walked sometimes - or how long I've snowshoed. My gear is heavy, but I get used to it after a while. Though I'm often sore when I get back home! 

My maximum in the mountains was 3 1/2 hours (& 3000 feet higher.)  The problem is - if you are going too fast you have to change your wet clothes (sweat) before painting.

If I have time, I've driven 3hrs (each way,) hiked 8 miles (each way,)  plus elevation gain. I love the places I've gone, but all that effort getting there really saps the energy levels to actually paint.

What puzzles me is that when you are going out further and further on a day looking for a subject and nothing seems to be good, but coming back when you have no time left and sore feet there are great pictures in every direction you look.

This made me count the times I've gone out only to sweat up hill and back down again for a painting spot. I've gotten bee-bitten, poison-oaked and nearly skunked in my efforts and they are the more memorable ones at that!

Frederic Church wouldn't have made those great paintings of the Andes if he hadn't travelled all the way there to make a few color sketches.

By the way, the latest issue of Plein Air Magazine has my picture in it.  Because you'll have to hunt for it, I've imaged the page below with my picture outlined in red.  It's the ad for the Plein Air Convention & Expo coming up in April 2012.  I'm honored to be one of the painters in the program.

And the studio sale continues!

Working Toward a Studio Painting

Rain Storm Study, 18x9, pastel

I can you hear saying, "But this is supposed to be a blog about plein air painting!"  And you're right.  But here's the connection:  I'm in the process of creating a studio painting for a plein air event, using plein air sketches and photographs.

As part of the Grand Canyon 2012 "Celebration of Art," I need to create a studio piece that will be hung in the exhibit alongside the plein air work created during the week.  Faithful readers of my blog know that I had some pretty dramatic weather this past year - hail, lightning, torrential downpours.  This made for some really great sketching and photography.  And as I was mulling over the studio piece, it occurred to me to do something other than the usual "sunlit rocks at dawn/dusk" painting.  Sure, there's nothing like the near-incandescent glow of the Canyon at the "golden hour" - but I like something a little moodier.

Although I plan on doing an oil painting that's 24x12, a tall vertical, I felt it'd be better to solve composition and color problems early on in a smaller format.  I chose an 18x9 format, which has the same proportions.  I also decided to do it in pastel.  Pastel is better because I have a harder time making mud with pastel, and thus the color choices will be clearer to me when I refer back to the study.

At the top of this post is the 18x9 study.  I'll let this sit for awhile on my "viewing mantle" before moving on to the oil version.

Oh, and the studio sale continues!  Only 12 days left till Christmas.

Walkabout - a Poll

I'm curious to know how far a plein air painter will usually walk from the car to the painting spot.  There's a poll in the right column for this, and I hope you'll take it.  (If you're reading this through your newsreader or via e-mail, you won't see the poll; click here to go directly to my blog.)

Some of us like to paint right out of the car; others of us may walk a mile or more to get the right scene.  The farthest I've hiked was a day hike in the San Juan range near Ouray, Colorado; I threw a box of pastels and some paper in my backpack and went up, up, up.   I don't remember exactly where I stopped - it was years ago, and I had more hiking stamina then - but it was at least a couple hours in.  Experience has shown me that I don't have to hike anywhere near as far to find a good scene.  Sometimes the best ones are right under our noses.

On the other hand, there's nothing like having a good story to tell about a painting.  As you can tell, I still like to tell the one about hiking into the San Juans to paint.