Take the Broad View -- or the Close-up?

When I hunt for a subject, I look for broad views. Sky, horizon, flat water, field -- at least three of these elements usually appear together in my paintings. I like to create a sense of peace, and dominant horizontals do this very well. But sometimes they do it too well, especially if the elements themselves lack interest. A 'severe-clear' sky without clouds, water without a ripple, an unbroken horizon or a field with nary a bush in it can lead to monotony. When this happens, I zoom in and look for a close-up.

We artists know all about looking for the abstract in our subject. The abstract pattern, once sketched in, gives us a foundation to build reality upon. To see this underlying pattern, we squint. Squinting eliminates detail and lets the big shapes become more obvious.

Zooming in can show us the pattern, too. Although it actually increases the amount of detail, the object itself becomes less obvious. Zoom in enough, and the object disappears entirely, out of sight and out of mind. You know the game of 'What is it?," in which you're shown a picture of an item so magnified that you have trouble identifying it. The abstract pattern you see makes little sense because you can't see the object's key features, or they are distorted beyond recognition. The picture may show a beautiful pattern of folds and ridges, but you don't know it's a fingerprint until you're told.*

I don't zoom in quite this far, but I do zoom in enough that I see only parts of objects. There's still enough left to identify the objects, but as parts, they become less important. For example, if I zoom in on a tree trunk and the bit of ground around it, I see the pattern made by the light and dark shapes more easily because I'm not thinking of the trunk as a trunk. It's a reversal of "can't see the forest for the trees." In this case, it's a good thing. I don't think so much about what the object is as I do about how it fits in my composition.

Another benefit of zooming in is that it forces you to consider a dynamic design. Zooming in tends to eliminate horizontal elements. Flat horizons give way to vertical tree trunks, diagonal branches, streams of water that run kitty-corner. This kind of movement can give you a very energetic painting. As someone who usually paints restful scenes, I find close-ups an exciting and invigorating exercise. (And, if my goal is a restful painting, a sometimes-challenging one!)

Accompanying this essay are two of my recent close-ups. One of them ('Canes Beneath the Fir') is still quite restful, but it accomplishes this with colour harmony and not horizontal elements.

Canes Beneath the Fir
5x7, pastel, en plein air

Tidal Snowbank
5x7, pastel, en plein air - SOLD

*(By the way, another interesting game to play is to take an old, empty 35mm slide mount and use it to find small compositions within, say, a 9x12 painting. You'll be amazed at how many good compositions you can find lurking within the larger painting's frame.)

Snow Cloaks - Guerrilla Painter 9x12 Pastel Box

The last thaw made me hope that we'd leap-frogged winter right into spring. I knew it was a vain hope, though, and confirming it was the 5 inches of snow that fell yesterday. The storm came without a breath of wind, allowing the snow to pile up on branches and boughs in the most beautiful way.

On a walk among our apple trees, I admired the abstract patterns made by white snow clinging to dark branches. I kept thinking what a wonderful pen-and-ink drawing the apple trees would make. But I knew very well that, to truly capture the effect, I would have to work in a larger format and with more meticulousness than I was up for.

Instead, I went out with my NuPastels and a 5x7 piece of Wallis Sanded Paper (pro grade, Belgian Mist tone.) These days, I'm trying the 9x12 Guerrilla Painter Box in its pastel configuration. Usually, I take my French easel with a separate bag containing my pastel box. Some artists put their pastels in the French easel, but because of the way mine seems to lose things from its drawer, I've never quite trusted it with fragile pastels. The Guerrilla Painter Box, on the other hand, holds four, foam-lined pastel trays in its compartment. With two palette extension kits installed (one on the left, one on the right), I can have all four trays open and in use at once.

Also, since I like to have a separate container for my 'working palette' of pastels, I can borrow the covered palette tray from my 6x8 ThumBox, which sits right on top of the trays. When I'm done painting outdoors, I just put the lid on the palette tray and stuff it in my backpack. This allows me to keep my 'working palette' available if I choose to do more work on the painting back in the studio.


When I started looking for a spot to set up in, something other than the apple trees caught my eye. The firs were draped with yards of soft, luxurious white velvet, if there is such a thing. I ended up painting the firs instead. I guess I'll save the apple trees for another time.

'Snow Cloaks'
5x7, pastel

Christmas Thaw - Taking the Close View

Ever since winter arrived on the 22nd, the season has felt more like spring. We saw a high of near 40˚F (4˚C) on Christmas Day. Thanks to this unseasonable warmth, the snow is melting fast. Since I really love to paint snow, I decided to take my ThumBox out on its second adventure. (If you missed it, click here for its first adventure.)

This time, I drove down to the Herring Cove Provincial Park. Herring Cove is a broad expanse of sandy beach on the east side of Campobello Island. It's a popular spot in the summer with campers and picnickers. The beach is what they call a 'barrier beach,' and just behind it is Lake Glensevern, where Franklin D. Roosevelt used to go swimming. A small trail follows the lake edge and leads you to an area where beavers have been very busy. Just past this swampy area you'll find a beaver dam blocking one of the many streamlets that empty into the lake.

This dammed-up streamlet was my destination. I hiked about 10 minutes or so to get to it, negotiating the occasional icy boardwalk and the more frequent heaps of slush. These calf-deep piles had been snow drifts before the thaw, but now beneath every one lay a hidden trap filled with water. I learned quickly to not step into these 'slush drifts'!

The streamlet was high with water but still had plenty of snow banked up around it. What drew my eye immediately was the golden glow from the bottom -- thanks to the overcast light, the colour was very rich. (I've often noted how autumn foliage is at its best on overcast or drizzly days. Apparently, this holds true for streamlet bottoms, too.) I also saw another rich colour. On the far bank, melting snow revealed a carpet of bright green moss.

Although I might have painted the beach with its broad views of the Bay of Fundy, I went for the smaller view. I could have held my little snow-and-water scene in the palm of my hand. The close intimacy encouraged a supreme stillness in the world, something I don't think I would have experienced if I'd gone for the grand view. Other than the quiet trickle of water and the soft, barely audible settling of ice along the stream's edge, there was nothing.

"Christmas Thaw"
5x7, oil, en plein air

Guerrilla Painter 6x8 ThumBox

One neat Christmas gift this year is my 6x8 ThumBox from Guerrilla Painter. Since I paint so many small paintings, especially in winter when the cold shortens my sessions outdoors, I thought it was time to acquire a box specifically built for the task. Many of you know that I use the 9x12 Guerrilla Box. Although I can use it for small paintings, I really don't need such a large palette -- or the bulk. With the 5x7 adapter, however, the ThumBox is perfect for my 5x7 oils, and it fits easily in my small backpack.

Backpack with ThumBox inside and tripod strapped to outside

Here's the box, ready to go!

Even though the temperature yesterday soared to 45°F (or 7°C), I wanted to take the box out on a practice run. I slipped a pair of "Hot Hands" into my boots -- despite the unseasonable warmth, I still would be standing in a foot of snow -- and headed out with Saba, who likes to tunnel for field mice while I paint.

Just like the 9x12, the ThumBox was a cinch to set up. I was painting within a minute of settling on a spot.

Palette (after finishing painting)

The ThumBox's palette gave me plenty of room to mix in. It slides to the left, just like on the bigger box, revealing a compartment that holds not only my paint tubes but also my turps container. I even had space left for tucking in used paper towels. (I'd forgotten to bring a garbage bag.) The optional palette extension (on the right) has pre-drilled holes for brushes. For the painting below, I only used two brushes, but I still had room for three more. All in all, I had just as comfortable an experience as with my bigger box. The real plus is that the box is so small I feel I could hike some distance with it. But first I think I'll wait for the snow to melt off the trails!

Here's yesterday's painting. As with my previous one, I used no underpainting. I dove right in with opaque paint. I could have used just the #8 flat, but some of the wispiest-looking blackberry canes required the #4 flat.

'Eastport View with Blackberry Patch'
5x7, oil, en plein air

Merry Christmas!

Skipping the Underpainting

Back when I first started painting in oil, I was taught about creating an underpainting. An underpainting is typically done with thinned paint, although you can also just scrub in the color right from the tube thinly. The underpainting allows you to:

• Refine the composition that you lightly sketched in at the start;
• Establish the values of the masses; and
• Establish the general color of the masses.

To be sure, these are good goals. They make the process of applying thicker, perhaps more opaque paint as you "build" the painting easier. The benefits include:

• Giving you a compositional framework to place elements on without having to guess;
• Giving you already-determined values to match; and
• Giving you already-determined colors to match.

I've found some drawbacks, though. Any lines you may have drawn in your sketch usually have to be redrawn, otherwise they get covered up by later layers of paint. Sometimes the underpainting lightens as the paint soaks in, especially on an absorbent ground with transparent darks (e.g. Ultramarine Blue), and must be re-established. Finally, adding white to colors changes the quality of those colors, and what you lay down on earlier, more transparent passages may no longer match. Most times, I have the time to deal with these problems. But when I don't, I skip the underpainting altogether.

Skipping the underpainting requires a clear vision of what you want the final painting to look like.

When I bypass this step, I still make a rough sketch so I know where to place my key elements. But after that, I dive right in by mixing paint as close to what it needs to be. If I have a pale violet hill in the distance, I'll mix a tiny speck of Alizarin Crimson with a bit of blue into my white and try to match exactly what I see. Of course, all color and value is relative, so I try to fine-tune these relationships between areas as I go.

There are no transparent passages in this approach. I achieve my effects only with opaque paint.

I've found that, for small paintings in particular such as a 5x7, this is a more expeditious way to paint. I can complete a 5x7 in short order -- a great goal on a cold winter day! Here's an example I did this week.

"Old Orchard by the Sea" - SOLD
5x7, oil, en plein air

PS My 2008 calendar is still available! Click here for more.