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.)
Massif in Sedona, AZ in morning light. Private collection
As you know, Iām on vacation, pummeling the soles of my feet on the Yorkshire dales. That means Laura gets to handle the arrangements for my next series of classes, which is the only set of Zoom classes Iāll do before late autumn. There are limited seats in these classes and when theyāre gone, theyāre gone. Other than that, youāll be limited to taking one of my in-person workshops. (Of course, thereās nothing wrong with that.)
In addition to the more concrete examples of combining words and images, we’ll experiment using text as a graphic element.
Words+Pictures has been on my mind for a while. As a graphic designer, I did lots of illustration and as I transitioned to painting full time I wrote and illustrated two books. Despite my love of kids, Iām whimsy-impaired, so that wasnāt the career path for me. However, I love to write and I love to paint, and I spend lots of time at the intersection of the two.
Even if you never plan to illustrate anything, thinking about your paintings in words expands how you approach your visual art.
Sometimes a picture is really a narrative.
This will be an exploration weāll undertake together, as Iām as excited about it as anyone. Weāll cover:
Haiga
Storyboarding
Illustrationāstory
Illustrated poem
Designing type into a painting
The travelling sketch book. Iāll be working on this as I amble through the Yorkshire countryside!
This class will meet Mondays, June 10th, 17th, 24th, July 1st, 15th, 22nd, from 6-9pm ET.
The Color of Light is more tightly focused on painting. Lighting effects are intimately tied with composition and together these two elements can make a painting sink or swim. If youāve ever had a painting āgo dullā on you, itās because you havenāt properly integrated lighting effects from the beginning.
This class is designed for people who already know how to handle their material. Once one gets past getting the paint to properly stick to the surface, painting is less about how to paint and more about how to see. Weāll cover:
Global color and complements
The optics of light (and why a lightbox is a terrible idea)
Deep shade
Fragmented light: the lessons of Impressionism
Reflection
Indoor lighting schemes
This class will meet Tuesdays: June 11th, 18th, 25th, July 2nd, 16th, 23rd, from 6-9pm ET.
Although Iāll try to steal moments with my laptop, everything will fall in Lauraās lap while Iām gone. Iāve turned my cell phone off, so email me here instead. Laura has a toddler, so it might take a little longer than usual, but she will help you, I promise.
Bunker Hill overlook, watercolor on Yupo, approx. 24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Itās possible that I have too many travel watercolor kits. They include two Winsor & Newton field boxes (cute and cuter) as well as a beautiful antique box that was a gift from my friend Toby. The trouble with prefabricated kits is that they have unnecessary pigments and usually leave out the good stuff. Nobody needs convenience mixes like Sap Green or Payneās Greyāhaving them on your palette just results in duller colors.
My watercolor kits for the schooner workshop are a little more complex–more paints and a water pan that doesn’t slide.
Then thereās my kit for bigger watercolor paintings, which is what I recommend to my plein air students. I have used this 18-well palette successfully for field paintings of up to 36ā wide, although I do have to clean it off frequently. Again, it holds more paint than is strictly necessary, since nobody needs 18 different pigments. Whatās most useful is a bigger mixing well, and sometimes a disposable plate is just the answer.
My trimmed down box for this trip. Primary colors and white gouache just to use up the space.
Choosing the right travel watercolor kit is always a complicated dance between what is optimal and what I can pack or carry.
Iām hiking in Yorkshire this week, after which I will go up to Scotland. For painting, Iāve limited myself to what I can carry in what the British call a bumbag (because āfanny packā would be an obscenity over here). I wanted a kit for myself and for my pal Martha, whoās hiking with me.
I started with an Altoids box, because where I live itās cheaper to buy Altoids than an empty tin. I stuck down four half pans with double-sided tape. Why four, when limited palette in watercolor only needs three paints? I didnāt want to leave a gap next to my mixing well.
I used three primary colors made by QoR. Iām a big fan of these paints, which are made by Golden Artist Colors in upstate New York. Theyāre bright, clear, and reasonably priced, and theyāre tuned to the American palette. To get the broadest range of color, I used:
I filled the last pot with white gouache just for fun.
QoR makes nice field kits, including this one, which has the virtue of not including extraneous pigments. But in addition to wanting to carry as little as possible, I want Martha to have as little choice as possible. Too much choice can drive a new painter nuts.
Since the Strathmore Visual Journal is not negotiable, it determines the size of the final kit.
Have you ever made a travel watercolor kit for backpacking? If so, how did you do it?
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.)
Brigantine Swift in Camden Harbor, 24X30, oil on canvas, framed, $3478 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
This painting benefitted from a good long spell in drydock.
I started it a few years ago on the docks at Camden harbor, for Camden on Canvas. Thatās the brainchild of Colin Page, and itās become a great venue for marine art as well as a successful fundraiser for the Camden Library. (Iām happy to say Iām in again for 2024.)
It was hot, I was parched, and for once the creak of wood and water wasnāt moving me. I threw down my brushes in disgust.
āI hate it,ā I spat out as I scraped the canvas down. I almost never do that, but I was riled.
āWhat is the matter with you?ā asked Ken DeWaard, who never cuts me any slack.
Whatās the point of having friends if you never listen to them?
The only part I really liked was the filtered, haloed sun, but that wasnāt enough to hang a whole painting on. Still, I respect their opinions, so I didnāt use the canvas as a sail for my dinghy. Instead, it went into my giant pile of unfinished marine art. It was bigger than most of the others, so I was constantly catching it with my foot or in the corner of my eye. Gradually, it grew on me.
Its spars (the things the sails hang from) are so delicate that they look as if they couldnāt possibly survive the North Atlantic. Even worse, they looked cockeyed to me. āYouāre a better draftsman than that,ā I chided myself.
I almost never take reference photos, preferring to whine at my friends if I discover I need one. However, I did find a picture from the dock that day. Those spars looked just as cockeyed in the photo as they did in my painting. The only other square-rigger I know of at rest is Cutty Sark, in Greenwich, England. Her spars are perpendicular to the keel, but sheās not exactly docked; sheās more trapped, like an insect in amber.
Cutty Sark stuck in her permanent installation in Greenwich. Sheās going nowhere. Photo courtesy of Ethan Doyle White/
I called my resident expert on all matters maritime, Captain John Foss. He told me that, despite the name, a square-rigger can, in fact, turn its spars. They can be angled from running straight across the vessel (‘square’), to a beam reach or even a close reach.
I learn something new every day, darn it.
Marine art is complicted
Many years ago, I was wrapping up a painting on the Camden docks when two young salts stopped to look at it.
āShould we tell her?ā asked one, quietly enough that he thought I couldnāt hear.
āNah.ā
I might love painting boats, but I donāt think Iāve ever done a spot of marine art that didnāt include an error or omission. Sometimes theyāre intentional, for compositional purposes. Sometimes theyāre oversights, and sometimes theyāre mistakes. I think this one is fine, but if not, one of my friends is sure to tell me.
Iām in Britain onĀ another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. Iāve turned my phone off and while Iām gone, Laura will be running the office. JustĀ email meĀ as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)
The Wave, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869, includes shipping in continental US.
A creative block is a mental roadblock. You feel stuck, uninspired, and have difficulty concentrating. Your creativity is halted or hindered, and nothing you create meets your standards. We all hit these roadblocks in the creative process.
What creative block do you struggle with?
For me, the worst causes of creative block are overwork, breaks in my routine, and pressing problems crowding out my painting time. But my worst obstacle is clutter. (My engineer husband says he isnāt bothered by it. Go figure.)
Coast Guard Inspection, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Here are some other common causes of creative block:
Fear of failure, self-doubt and negative feedback (see Mondayās post for help);
Perfectionism, which is the enemy of good;
External stressors (including for some people, deadlines);
Monotony;
External distractions. From what many artists have told me, first among these are household chores.
I work at regularly-scheduled times (Monday-Friday). That quiets my squirrel brain, and helps me sink into the painting state more easily.
I also believe in rigorous daily exercise. Itās good for the psyche as well as the back. And for me, deadlines are energizing, at least until theyāre too close. Thereās a fine line between excitement and panic.
Others have found these ideas helpful:
Change up your environment. Thatās one of the beauties of plein air; itās never the same from day to day.
Take frequent breaks. Give your brain a chance to recharge. If nothing else, reading the news makes me eager to get back to my easel.
Do some creative work that isnāt directly related to your main discipline. Thatās why Iām teaching a session on words and art in June, but anything that you enjoy will help. That includes reading, which is a fantastic spur to the imagination.
If deadlines panic you, set benchmarks. āToday Iām going to finish the grisaille and then Iāll reward myself with a cappuccino.ā Recognizing your smaller accomplishments gives you a sense of momentum.
Put ten, and only ten, things away every morning. Five minutes of putting things away every morning stops me from sliding into a big housekeeping binge when I should be painting.
Peter Yesis and I both (coincidentally) spent a few years doing small warm-up exercises (fifteen or twenty minutes) before we painted. I no longer need them, but they helped me bridge the gap between real life and my studio during a long period in the creative desert.
Breaking Storm, oil on linen, 30X48, $5579 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Some distractions canāt be ignored
There have been phases in my life (parenting, illness, grief) when my work slowed or even stilled. Yes, I believed at those times that I could never regain my momentum. However, here I am, and if youāre in one of those phases, you will too. Itās helpful to remember that life comes first, no matter what your discipline.
Creative blocks and interruptions are a natural part of life. Be patient with yourself.
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.)
Home Farm, 20X24, oil on canvas, $2898 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Painting teachers can sometimes focus on the negative, because itās part of our job to point out deficiencies. However, there is a lot we can learn by asking our students, āWhat are you good at?ā
Iāll go first: Iām logical, good with numbers, and Iām disciplined. In art terms, Iām a good composer and draftsman and Iām intrepid. See, that wasnāt too hard.
Lobster pound, 14X18, oil on canvas, $1594 framed includes shipping and handling within the continental US.
Your turn: what are you good at?
Name three qualities that are general and three related to your art. I can easily see a relationship between my strengths on and off the canvas. What about you? Are your strengths as an artist related to your strengths as a person?
No, itās not bragging
Iām not asking you to talk about your awesomeness to everyone you know. We humans all perseverate on our weaknesses, and as an artist youāve chosen a career with lots of knocks to the ego. A realistic idea about your strengths is a good counterweight to the negativity of the art world.
Camden Harbor, Midsummer, oil on canvas, 24X36 $3188 includes shipping in continental US.
Why is this important?
Looking at our strengths is an effective learning tool. Reflecting on our strengths helps us understand ourselves better. It allows us to recognize where we excel and what comes naturally to us.
Knowing our strengths boosts our confidence. When we are aware of what we’re good at, we feel more capable and empowered to tackle daunting challenges. Confidence can be a driving force in achieving our goals.
Understanding our strengths also helps us set realistic and achievable goals. By leveraging our strengths, we embark on projects that align with our abilities. That increases our chances of success.
Focusing on our strengths enables us to further develop and refine them. Continuous improvement in areas where we excel can lead to greater mastery in those areas. That in turn enhances our overall competence.
It also allows us to collaborate more effectively with others. I have a show hanging at Lone Pine Real Estate this season. Itās a good symbiotic mesh between experienced brokers and an experienced painter. I recognize their strength at attracting a clientele, but I also understand that my strengths in painting houses and boats gives them subject matter that meshes with their mission.
Above all, recognizing our competence develops resilience. All of us sometimes get to a point where we think, āI canāt do anything right.ā Knowing our competence helps us navigate periods of self-doubt or rejection.
Main Street, Owl’s Head, oil on archival canvasboard, $1623 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Above all, it feels good
Not beating ourselves up all the time is such a relief. Art (and life) is just more fun when we feel good about what weāre doing. What we focus on, we (to some degree) become. As King Solomon wrote some 3000 years ago, āfor as he thinks within himself, so he is.ā
If youāve got the courage, answer the question āwhat are you good at in art and in life?ā below. (I promise to not tell anyone.) Can you see a relationship between the two? Can you see a way those strengths can be a building block to future success?
Footnote: the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde, ME, is looking for an artist to join for the 2024 season. It’s a cooperative gallery so you must be able and willing to work shifts there. Having done it myself, I can tell you there are few places more pleasant in which to spend a summer afternoon. The application is here.
Heavy Weather (Ketch Angelique), 24X36, oil on canvas, framed, $3985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
That red buoy on the left is a nun. Red marks the edge of the channel on the starboard side when a boat is heading in from the open sea. That tells us the ketch Angelique is heading into port, running through a very changeable sea.
Last winter I was asked to do an online demo of a marine painting by the North Weald Art Group in Surrey, England. They didnāt care whether I painted boats or the sea, so I gave them both. As you know, Iāll take any opportunity to paint a boat, paint on a boat, or look at paintings of a boat. But I also wanted to demonstrate painting waves, because they have the potential for great power in their design.
The problem with a split subject is in giving equal weight to each part. Thatās good for demonstrating two separate subjects, but not so great in composition. By adding the nun (the red buoy), I was able to tie together and energize the composition, echoing the red of the nun in Angeliqueās tanbark sails. If youāre interested in painting sails, Angeliqueās are fun because they create a bold dark shape against the sky.
My sketch for Heavy Weather. 5X8, graphite on Bristol-finish paper.
I could have painted a small oil painting in the allotted two hours, but that would have been difficult for the North Weald people to see on their small monitors. Working large meant I had no chance of finishing; I had to preload some of my demo.
I started with an idea board. Except for the nun, none of these photos were to be quoted verbatim (meaning there arenāt any copyright issues). I drew my composition and transferred it to the canvas. Then I made an educated guess about my palette and premixed my colors. All of that took just moments to describe, and that allowed me to get right to the heart of the painting.
My grisaille for Heavy Weather.
Up to that point, my interest was purely pedantic; I just wanted to demonstrate painting sails and painting waves. But once I had my brushes in my fat little hand, the painting grabbed me by the scruff of the neck. My time flew by. āAre you sure you must go?ā I asked them. āIām good for another few hours.ā
My problem in painting waves is that I enjoy it so much I can just keep painting the same ones over and over, in a sort of meditative state. Finally, it was time to say āenough is enoughā and declare them finished.
This painting is now hanging at Lone Pine Real Estateās new office at 17 Elm Street, Camden, ME. Broker Rachael Umstead invited me to hang paintings in their newly-decorated space so I brought her an assortment of 16 of my favorites. I shot some video hoping to put together a reel, but I was just too tired, and it flopped. No problem; Rachael shot a super-cute reel, which you can see here.
