Drying Sails, 9X12, oil on canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
I have paintings in Camden for the first time in several years. Theyāre at Lone Pine Real Estate at 19 Elm Street, which is a very good location indeed. Rachael Umstead, the owner, is one of my church buddies and the mother of two very entertaining boys. She and her staff have made a great success of the office. Itās downright swank, something I could never manage in a million years.
Camden harbor is a terrific place to paint boats, and I love bringing students there. You can get a hot dog (or something fishy) and a soda at Harbor Dogs, which has been there for more than 50 years. Ambience? None, if what youāre looking for is fine dining. Iām more inclined to sit in the sun and watch the schooners, the little kids fishing, and the ducks.
That painting under way.
Itās always fun to paint at the harbor after a stiff rain. Sailors will be busy bailing out their dinghies and raising sails to dry. That creates a lovely geometry of docks, sail and other boats.
I painted Drying Sails with my pal Bjƶrn Runquist. We were practicing our chip shots for Camden on Canvas, although I no longer remember why we felt that was necessary. I do remember that I encouraged Bjƶrn to paint one of the schooners, who waited until he was well underway and then dropped her frills. Sorry, Bjƶrn.
Another day, another iteration of the same subject. (Private collection.)
Camden harbor is one of the must-paint places for my students at my July workshop, which is right around the corner. If youāre considering it, you want to register soon, since itās both close and nearly filled up. My other workshops are listed below.) And if youāre coming from out of town, email me and Iāll give you some suggestions about where to stayāthe Maine coast fills up fast during the summer months.
Main Street, Owl’s Head, oil on archival canvasboard, $1623 includes shipping and handling in continental US. This is one of the places we go during our July workshop.
With some trepidation, I handed Monday’s Words and Pictures class over to my student Rebecca Bense. She led us in an impromptu neurographic art exercise. I know, love and trust Becky, but Iāve had enough therapy to be guarded about diving into my subconscious. By the end of the exercise, I thought it was a good way to dig deeper into the meaning of art. And, since I seemed to have drawn a hag-ridden self-portrait (below) I was startled by the result.
My first essay into neurographic art. I know it’s a self-portrait because of the corkscrew curl. Yikes.
Mondayās class is a very small group, and Iām teaching it because the content is important to me. If I used the customary pedagogical method and chased around questioning and critiquing, nobody would have a momentās peace. Instead, Iām developing ideas with, rather than for, the class. Itās fantastic fun for me, and I think Iāll probably learn something new about teaching.
A teacher is first a learner
I didnāt really have mastery of my craft until I learned to break it down in discrete steps and describe it to others. After all, that is what school is all about: repeating what one has learned. Not every artist is a good teacher; I know some very fine painters who are inarticulate. But when teaching is going well, itās a two-way street. Iām constantly surprised and amazed by what I learn from my students, as Mondayās class demonstrated.
Early Spring on Beech Hill, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, 12X16, $1449 framed includes shipping in continental US. This is a favorite place to teach and paint.
Why does anyone teach?
The obvious answer is that teaching provides a steadier income than just selling paintings, which can be a ācanary in a coalmineā careerāgreat when the market is up, dismal when itās down. But nobody survives teaching if their motivations donāt run deeper. āBecause you like telling people what to do,ā my smart-aleck daughter suggested. Thatās probably partly true.
Good teaching is akin to preaching. They both require a belief in and passion for the subject. Building on that, you harness communication skills, technical ability, and human connection, but theyāre all secondary to that passion.
Blueberry barrens, Clary Hill, oil on canvas, 24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
True relationships
After a few decades of teaching and writing about painting, Iāve shared a lot about my life. My students have done the same. If a painter takes one of my online classes, theyāre signing up for 18 hours of ensemble learning. If they take one of my workshops, itās a full week. No, weāre not gossiping or chattering idly. We concentrate on painting, but that is a highly personal subject. We canāt help but make connections.
Although I once considered myself a private person, Iām now comfortable with this. For one thing, these days thereās very little anyone can blackmail me with.
Teaching has a long reach
I have students who have gone on to professional art careers. Some now teach, and some, like Cassie Sano, are successful writer-illustrators. Student Mark Gale works in an art program with homeless people in Austin, TX. Some, like architect Kamillah Ramos, will outlive me.
Like most artists, I went into art thinking I would make objects of lasting beauty. What if the actual product turned out to be future artists?
(I realize with a start that weāre within a month of my July workshop here in Rockport. If youāre considering it, you want to register soon, since itās both close and nearly filled up. My other workshops are listed below.)
Spring Greens, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $652 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Knowing why we do something helps us figure out how to do something. Today, I want to get down to the low-level programming of the art calling.
Why art?
I sometimes tell people that if I wasnāt a painter, Iād be a greeter at Wal-Mart. I no longer have conventional marketable skills. Iāve focused on painting for so long that everything else has fallen by the wayside.
That skirts around the real issue of what holds me here. Iām a visual thinker and a maker, and more than a bit didactic. The confluence of these can only be art.
Why are you compelled to create art? Your reasons will be different from mine, but are no less valid.
Apple Tree with Swing, 16X20, oil on archival canvasboard, $2029 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Has what youāre doing ever been done before?
Not only has what I do been done repeatedly, it continues to be done by many painters who are just as competent as me.
On the other hand, nobody is doing exactly what Iām doing, because nobody has the same combination of brushwork and worldview.
As much as we prize novelty, AI points out the danger of putting all our efforts into style. Style can be easily copied. Content canāt.
I could drill down and tell you how my painting varies from my peersā in terms of focus, worldview, color, drafting and brushwork. Thatās a helpful exercise, especially when Iām feeling low.
How is your work unique? If you canāt answer this, is it because youāre drafting in a mentorās or a movementās slipstream? If so, what are you going to do about that?
Fog over Whiteface Mountain, 11X14, $1087 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
How do you work?
Iām a big believer in routine. It frees me up to concentrate on work, and I believe the human brain settles down into productivity fastest when it works at the same time every day. Others have told me this is stultifying.
What is the work style that works best for you? Do you go on painting tears, or do you work methodically? Why does your system work for you?
Whatās your ideal working environment?
Spaces like Francis Baconās studio make me agitated almost to the point of being physically ill. I need order to think. Tidying is, to me, a time when I let my subconscious mind resolve its confusions while my conscious mind does the important work of putting things away.
For others, this is unnecessarily proscriptive, and I know painters who never get past cleaning to do any work at all. Whatās your ideal working environment?
Owl’s Head, 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard, $1087 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
What is your creative process?
For plein air, I look, do a value sketch, and then transfer that to my canvas. For studio work, I start with an idea in my sketchbook and repeatedly refine it. Only then come reference photos and the business on the canvas.
Iāve occasionally tried to mix this up by copying my palsā work system, but that has never worked for me. (Nobody ever called me a good student, just a good teacher.)
Do you have a rock-solid process? Are you willing to change it up? Is your answer a function of how long youāve been painting?
What do you want to think about next?
I think Iāll be perfectly content to paint landscapes until I die, but nobody can say that for sure. Right now, Iām interested in the nexus between words and pictures. If nothing comes of that, itās no loss. Iāve tried a lot of things that havenāt panned out, and I always learn from them.
If you were going to expand your media or subject matter, what would you add?
Home Port, 18X24,, $2318 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
I arrived at home, finally, at 5:43 yesterday evening. Iāve been gone for a long time and been to a lot of placesāto Manchester, Liverpool, Lancashire, Yorkshire, Edinburgh, Fife, and then home through Reykjavik and Boston. From there I went to Albany, NY, where I saw my family and collected my dog.
āWhy donāt you move to Vermont?ā my daughter asked me. (She knows I wonāt return to New York.) Iām extremely touched that my kids want me nearby, but I love my life here in Rockport.
When I was in Fife, I could feel my sinuses open with the sea air; I felt as if I were home again, for at least a few hours.
It was unbearably hot and humid on Wednesday in the Hudson Valley, reminding me powerfully of one reason I left New York. Itās just as cold in upstate New York as in Maine in the winter, but summers here are so much nicer. Itās that sea air, which moderates temperatures.
Yesterday morning, however, I hiked to a waterfall along Hannacroix Creek, where I let the dogs romp in the stream while I swatted mosquitoes. That reminded me of just how beautiful New York is. Itās a study in contrasts and always leaves me feeling conflicted.
Waterfall on Hannacroix Creek in Greene County, NY.
I arrived home to a beautiful thick fog and mizzle. It was 59Ā° F. and I could feel my dry skin relax and ease back into its usual healthy state. If you want to escape the heat of summer, I recommend Maine. (And if you paint, you can take one of my workshops.) If you have allergies, sea air is a balm.
I like Home Port for its view, but I also like its neighbor, a lovely lady whose house has figured in several of my paintings, including Forsythia at Three Chimneys. Sheās what I aspire to be at her age: self-reliant and forthright.
Benefits: This challenge forces us to focus on color mixing, understand color relationships, and create harmony in our paintings. It also helps improve our ability to convey light and atmosphere with a simplified color range.
Regrowth and regeneration (Borrow Pit #4), 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
2. Time Constraint Challenge
Objective: Complete a painting in under an hour. Then do the same subject again in under thirty minutes.
Benefits: Working quickly encourages decisive decisions and helps us capture the essence of the scene without overworking.
3. Different Times of Day Challenge
Objective: Paint the same scene at different times of the day (morning, midday, evening).
Benefits: This challenge enhances our observation skills and understanding of how light changes throughout the day. It teaches us to depict different lighting conditions, shadows, and atmospheric effects.
Brooding Skies, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522
4. Weather Conditions Challenge
Objective: Paint the same scene in sunny, rainy, and/or cloudy conditions. (As they say, if you donāt like the weather, wait fifteen minutes.)
Benefits: Painting under different weather conditions pushes us to adapt to the changing environment and learn to represent different atmospheres and moods.
“Thunder Bay Freighter,” Thunder Bay, Ontario
5. Same scene, different subjects
Objective: After choosing your view, paint two different studies focusing on two different subjects within that view. If thereās something in the view that youād typically shy away from, try making it a focal point. (Except trash; nobody wants to look at trash.)
Benefits: This discourages us from trying to cram everything into a painting. It forces us to spend more time on composition.
Some quick tips for success
If you havenāt already done so, itās time to set up your kit for summer. One of my resolutions for this year is to repack my kit every time I get home from a session, rather than fussing with it in the morning when I should be painting.
Spend time sitting with your scene before you start painting. The more you look, the better youāll paint.
Consistency is key. The more you paint, the easier it gets. Don’t get discouraged; think of every painting, good or bad, as a learning opportunity.
Assuming all went well, I got back to Boston last night from my lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. Laura should still be running the office. Just email me as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)
Two of my most visited posts are Sandy demonstrating how to fold a plastic bag and my Youtube video on how to clean your brushes. With the advent of plastic bag bans you may have other ways to deal with your plein air trash, but we all still need to clean our brushes.
Itās especially hard to keep oil painting brushes nice when youāre on the road. Thereās seldom a utility sink available, and itās not nice to repay your hosts by washing brushes in their kitchen sink. In a pinch, I shower with mine, since theyāre usually no dirtier than I am. Sometimes I wrap them in plastic and hope for the best. And that best, after a week in a hot car, usually isnāt very good.
Leaving dirty brushes in a hot car is a crime against art.
A cardinal rule of brush care is to never let brushes stand on their bristlesāin mineral spirits or water. That includes during painting. Thatās one reason why a small, swinging solvent holder is a great ideaāit tips over if you leave a brush in it.
Watercolor brushes
In general, watercolor brushes need to be rinsed when youāre done painting, shaped back into their proper form, then allowed to dry flat. They will dry just fine in a brush roll, but not in a sealed plastic container.
Pay particular attention to rinsing them if you paint with saltwater or use alcohol to prevent freezing.
Unless youāve done something very silly, thereās never any reason to use soap; in fact, itās not good for fine hair brushes.
One of the nicest gifts I’ve ever received was this set of Rosemary & Co. oil brushes.
Oil and acrylic brushes
For oils (and to a lesser degree, acrylics) brush care is serious business. Itās possible to clean acrylic paint out with running water alone, but soap wonāt hurt hog bristle or synthetic brushes and it will save water.
Synthetic brushes are generally easier to clean than hog bristle brushes. This is the upside of synthetic brushesā downside; they carry less pigment, so thereās less pigment to clean out.
Soap is not detergent.
Soap starts with a natural fat to which an alkali (like lye) is added. Detergents are synthetic cleaning compounds. They often have additional surfactants added to increase their oil-stripping qualities. Both allow oil to be lifted out with water, but soaps are gentler. Thatās also why we donāt use detergent to wash our hair; itās too good at removing oils.
Donāt leave brushes standing around dirty
The secret of brush-cleaning is to get to them fast. Get as many solids as you can out with mineral spirits; that will prevent clogging your sink. Thoroughly coat them with soap, inside and out, and wash them with a rag, not your bare hand. (Even the least-toxic of pigments shouldnāt be ground into your skin.) The brush is clean when the water runs clear, and not before.
If you left your brushes standing and theyāve started to harden up, detergent wonāt work any better than soap at softening the mess. I sometimes pre-treat them with coconut oil when I canāt get the paint out.
Donāt expect heavily-used brushes to last forever. Theyāre made of hair and they wear out. In fact, most of my filberts started life as flats. But by cleaning your brushes regularly, youāll ensure that they will last as long as is possible.
Mary’s soap.
A plug for my daughterās soap
My daughter Mary makes my brush soap. I offer it (in small batches) to my readers. Maryās been offline as she prepped and sold her house, but sheās got her soap lab up and running again. You can order her soap here. āYour brush soap is seriously great. Better than Murphyās or the pink stuff from Jerryās. I can always āget a little more outā with yours,ā said my student, Mark Gale.
Iām in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. Iāve turned my phone off and while Iām gone, Laura will be running the office. Just email me as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)
Downtown Rockport, 14X18, oil on archival canvasboard, framed, $1594 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
I treasure the time I get to spend with my friend Martha. Since she moved to Scotland it takes planning and effort to see her. And although we have great hiking trails in the US, there arenāt little pubs and hostelries along the way. Iām too old to carry my world on my back. Until I get a burro, my long hikes are going to be in other countries.
As much fun as this trip has been, however, Iām starting to feel a little homesick. This is the downtown block of my home village on the Maine coast.
I painted this with Ken DeWaard. Like everyone else, I can sometimes convince myself I can buy my way into better brushwork (or color, or texture, or whatever). This is, of course, a snare and a delusion.
I admire Kenās brushwork, so I decided I decided Iād see what he was using for brushes. Sadly, it was the same composite of new and old, pristine and slightly-sticky that was in my own kit. There are no silver bullets. (And nor is my brushwork so terrible; we just want what the other guy has.)
āWhat is that arc in the water?ā my husband asked. Itās the rooster-tail of a lobster boat coming in fast. That pegs the time as early afternoon.
Iāve been in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. Iāve turned my phone off and while Iām gone, Laura will be running the office. Just email me as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)
Hiking, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 includes shipping in continental US.
One of the nicest things about being an artist is avoiding the world of business-speak. Still, even artists must network.
Networking is sometimes described in negative terms: cronyism, the old boy network, or nepotism. But we human beings network constantly and naturally; weāre very much pack animals at heart.
The Wreck of the SS Ethie, oil on canvas, 18X24, $2318 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Itās not what you know, itās who you know
Like most people, my network starts with my family. Beyond that, I have three circles of friends: my art-world friends, my church buddies, and my trail buddies. Any overlap evolves naturally. Iāll invite all my friends to openings, for example, but I donāt expect any of them to buy from me. However, some of my best opportunities have come from non-artist friends.
Our networks change over time depending on our interests. I no longer run a community garden or live in a neighborhood, so those circles have quietly faded away.
What is your network? Is there overlap between your circles of friends? How much of your social interactions happen in the real world vs. on social media?
Why is networking important for artists?
From a business standpoint, the value of networking is obvious: it exposes you to opportunities like gallery representation, exhibitions, residencies, grants, and sales.
Networking also exposes you to different ideas about art, including feedback and critique on your own work. In addition to helping you make concrete changes, this can give you insights into how your work is perceived by others. Iām always keen to see how my work looks in natural settings rather than the artificial environment of a studio or gallery.
I took classes and workshops for decades. As a young mother, they were my best route to meeting other artists. As I struggled to create a professional practice for myself, those friends provided support and encouragement. (And of course I learned a lot.)
Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
It can go wrongā¦ or right
I once belonged to a womenās art critique group. In theory it was a safe space where we could discuss ways to overcome the art-world bias against women. In practice, it devolved into a bitch session. Groups like that poison your attitude, so theyāre worse than useless.
My most helpful critics are my family. Most of them have some art background, but more importantly, they have no ego in the art world. If they tell me, āThat doesnāt look right,ā I listen.
Visibility
Iām always enthusiastic about attending openings (or any other public events) until the time comes to put my pants on. Then I feel a sudden, pressing need to stay home. Like many artists, Iām a recluse at heart. But supporting your peers is important. Itās also one of the best ways you can increase your own visibility within the art community.
The Late Bus, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Then thereās social media
There are people I first met through social media whoāve morphed into real world friends. There are other friends with whom I can only stay connected through my computer or phone. Quit kvetching about social media and use it to grow your following, showcase your work, connect with other artists, and engage with the public.
Show your work
Iron sharpens iron. I loathe rejection as much as the next guy, but the process of submitting work to juried shows and events expands our reach and connectionsā¦ and makes us better painters.
Reach out
Remember when we used to contact each other IRL? Itās so alien to me now that I sometimes forget that walking in to a gallery or studio and engaging with the human being I find there is the first and best way to forge genuine relationships.
Iām in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. Iāve turned my phone off and while Iām gone, Laura will be running the office. Just email me as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)
For those of you playing along at home, I recorded the video for step seven (about final finishes and flourishes) before I left for Britain. Laura is editing it right now. When itās done, youāll be able to learn to paint step-by-step at your own pace and youāll no longer need me.
I plan to edit this material into book form when Iām done. No āhow to paintā book can possibly be as complete as these interactive courses, but a book is easier to curl up with.
Victoria Street, 16X20, oil on linen in a hard maple frame, $2029 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
So, how long does oil paint take to dry?
New painters want to know if they must let their paint dry between layers. Itās not necessary if you adhere scrupulously to the āfat over leanā rule. Keep those bottom layers thin and you can paint right into them.
Paint is a simple material, just pigment particles suspended in a binder. So why do some paintings break down? Much of that is down to experimenting with additives. Laying new materials in a pool of drying oils is a recipe for long-term decay. Our museums are full of 20th century paintings with premature cracking. In oil painting, conservative skepticism is sensible.
Ignoring the āfat over leanā rule is another cause of failed, cracking paintings. The most common solvent today is odorless mineral spirits (OMS) which breaks down the oil and then evaporates. In the bottom layer, that can leave a touch-hard finish in as little as half an hour. That surface can easily be broken if you need to edit. However, in the squishy top layers, OMS can wreck your painting.
I wish someone had told me this when I was younger. I struggled with paintings that looked great when wet but grey when dry, and which aged terribly even in the short time I knew them.
Oil paints donāt dry, they absorb oxygen from the air to harden. Whatās oxidizing isnāt the pigment but the oil between the pigment particles. Different pigments have different particle sizes, so some colors dry faster than others. Iāve outlined the dry times in the video, but the most important one to remember is titanium white, which is a slow dryer. Thatās one reason it doesnāt belong in your grisaille.
The āfatā in paint is siccative oil, which in most cases is linseed oil. Itās so harmless itās edible. The downside of linseed oil is its tendency to yellow over time, so other oils, like walnut or safflower, have been substituted. They, sadly, are more prone to cracking. Itās an imperfect world, isnāt it?
Alkyd paints and mediums are made from oil-modified resin treated with alcohol and acid. Their main advantage is their dry time. They can give you a touch-dry surface in 24 hours. You can use an alkyd medium with traditional oil paint. The granddaddy of these was Winsor & Newtonās Liquin, developed in the 1960s. In general, alkyd resin doesnāt hold as much pigment as traditional oils do. I donāt use them because I generally seek a slower dry time, and Iām put off by the smell.
Stone Wall, Salt Marshes, 14×18, $1594 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
How long does oil paint take to dry? It depends on many factors, but as long as you follow the āfat over leanā rule, itās not important.
Iām in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. Iāve turned my phone off and while Iām gone, Laura will be running the office. Just email me as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)
A walk in an English woods, oil on linen, 16X20, private collection.
Iāve never starred in one of my own paintings before, and if I were to choose my pose, I probably wouldnāt choose to paint my backside, but there was something magical about this moment. My husband posted a photo of this scene on Facebook, from our hike along Hadrianās Wall in 2022.
āI should paint that,ā I mused.
āDo it,ā my friend Kenny said, and a commission was born.
There are some painters whoāve specialized in painting the deep woods: the Barbizon painters and John Carlson come immediately to mind. The trouble is in sorting the screen of trees into a coherent pattern. One can vignette the subject into the deep woods, as Colin Page did in this lovely painting of his daughters. One can use the trees as a vertical screen, as Gustav Klimt did in his birch forest paintings. Or one can group them in masses, as Carlson did here.
Stiles have gone the way of the dodo in the US, but in Britain theyāre very common. Theyāre steps or gates that allow people to pass a fence or wall while keeping the sheep or cows neatly in their enclosures. Some are nothing more than flat stone footholds; nicer ones have a swing gate within a frame box, as here. I think we crossed about 20,000 of these on our 84-mile hike.
Wooden stiles have all the visual charm of a hayrack. Theyāre of unfinished dimensional lumber and squared off to the path. While the stile is the subject of this painting, it couldnāt be the main focus. Nor should I be; even if I am the largest figure in the painting. Instead, itās the couple in the distance with their little dog, Poppy.
A walk in the woods
It was a moment I remembered well, because I was sure that Kenny and Martha had chosen the wrong path. I was certain that we should veer to the right. Part of my goal in the painting was to portray that sense of Robert Frostās The Road Not Taken:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and Iā I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
Sometimes it isnāt by choice.
The challenge in this painting was finding the right color temperature and brushwork without overriding the peace and solitude of these ancient woods. Iām quite happy with the results, and I donāt often say that.
Iām in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. Iāve turned my phone off and while Iām gone, Laura will be running the office. Just email me as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)
