I just finished teaching aboard the lovely and gracious American Eagle, now in her third year under Captain Tyler King. It was a week filled with painting discovery, adventure and great food (did I mention lobster?) and my students all progressed by leaps and bounds. I had time to whip off these two fast watercolors …
Continue reading “Two quick watercolors from offshore”
Drawing clouds—like everything else—is all about measuring angles and distances. But the nifty thing about clouds is that in two minutes they’re totally different. Sneaky little devils.
Every landscape painter should understand two-point perspective, but don’t draw those rays in the field. Midsummer, by Carol L. Douglas. It’s important to understand perspective, but don’t use those vanishing points when drawing in the field. A door is commonplace, but it’s also a series of repeating shapes that can teach you a lot about …
Continue reading “Monday Morning Art School: Perspective”
Everyone has a door somewhere in their house, right? It’s a great subject to practice drawing. I’m sure you have a door almost exactly like this one somewhere in your house. It’s commonplace, but it’s also a series of repeating shapes that can teach you a lot about perspective. I left it slightly ajar, but …
Continue reading “Monday Morning Art School: Repeating shapes and perspective”
What painters have influenced you? Who did I miss on my list? Who would you have never included? And why?
The sun is shining and the soft ocean breezes are blowing, but too many of us are in our air-conditioned rooms experiencing life vicariously.
During last week’s workshop, Beth, Sharon and I were looking at a house on Pearl Street in Camden. I’d given them a lesson on two-point perspective and then said, “That’s just so you understand the principle. In real life, you’re going to measure angles rather than draw to a vanishing point.” That’s harder to do, …
Continue reading “Monday Morning Art School: angle drawing”
Transformative use is judged on a case-by-case basis, which is why famous artists like Jeff Koons keep stealing from less-well-known ones. They can better afford protracted legal cases.
Formal critique of your own work allows you to disentangle yourself from your emotions and look at your painting’s strengths and weaknesses objectively
We read the story of our lives in buildings, cars and boats. Not only do they give us a sense of history, they’re changed in subtle ways by the people who live in or use them.
Midsummer was done from the edge of a cliff in Port Greville, Nova Scotia over two days. The topsoil being soft, I managed to slide over the edge with my easel, landing in a patch of alders about ten feet from the rim. Had nature not put that ledge near the top of the ridge, I’d have splatted on the road below me. The second day, I was more circumspect and I set up a few feet farther back.
Nova Scotia has a vernacular building style that’s peculiar to Canada and Britain. These are steep-roofed houses with twin gables. Sometimes they have matching window bays. They may be tarted up with gingerbread, or they may be very simple. They’re always proper, like a nice old lady in her best pantsuit. It’s not a common building style in most of the United States, but there are many examples in my part of Maine.
It was thinking about them that made me spend two full days painting these buildings from above. There is, in fact, something audacious about this kind of painting: it’s based on drawing.
“You must have taken mechanical drawing or drafting in school,” an artist said after she saw my sketch for Midsummer. Rather, I learned to draw when perspective and measurement were routine.