Painting what you know, vs. whatâs actually there.
Yesterday I was visited by a filmmaker from Wisconsin. Patrick Walters is in Rockport for a workshop at Maine Media Workshops being taught by my pal Terri Lea Smith. I didnât catch his name when he texted, so I didnât look him up beforehand. That meant I had no preconceptions and did no prep.
I thought he was looking for background shots for a film, âb-rollâ as he called it. He would photograph a few things in my studio, ask me some cursory questions and move on. Instead, we talked for nearly an hour. What seems to fascinate him is the question of seeing, or re-seeing, the familiar, as he termed it.
The first thing that ought to go out the window in plein air is slavish fidelity to reality. Painters can aggressively edit subjects on the fly in a way that traditional photography (in contrast to Photoshop) canât. Walters asked me how we do that.
Sunset near Clark Island, by Carol L. Douglas |
The easiest way is through the discipline of drawing. Itâs where you can experiment without wasting hours on a painting that wonât work. Drawing saves time, and it helps you narrow your focus. All of the important design work in a painting is contained in the drawing. The better you know your subject, the better youâll paint it.
We spoke about seeing what you know, rather than what is actually there. Art students are told early on to stop drawing âan eyeâ or âa handâ and actually try to draw whatâs in front of them, but thatâs an easy lesson to forget. Walters told me about painter Bo Bartlettâs experiences with vision, chronicled in the movie SEE. As Bartlettâs vision ebbed temporarily, he substituted what he expected for what was actually there.
A lobster pound at Tenants Harbor, by Carol L. Douglas |
For years, Rockport harbor was home to a red lobster boat called Becca & Meagan. Many artists have painted or photographed it over the years, including me. One summer, I held my class at the harbor. A new watercolor student chose our red lobster boat as her subject. âYouâve got the hull wrong,â I told her, and corrected it. She, in her own turn, drew it back the way she saw it. We seesawed back and forth through most of the class, both of us getting frustrated. Finally, she interrupted me and insisted that I look again. I realized Becca & Meagan had been hauled and replaced by Kenny Dodgeâs new red lobster boat, Hemingway. What I âknewâ had overwritten what I was seeing.
Familiarity helps us telegraph our drawing, but it does have pitfalls. Still, I think it nets the best pictures. The value of my road trips is not necessarily in the high finish of the work, because it isnât finished at all. Rather itâs in learning new ways to see, to represent atmospherics, and to measure distances.
Anticipation, by Carol L. Douglas |
Paul CĂ©zanne painted Mont Sainte-Victoire more than 60 times. His familiarity with the mountain meant he didnât have to waste time exploring its contours. He was free to experiment with mark-making and composition instead.
His Mont Sainte-Victoire paintings also demonstrate the flexibility artists have to manipulate their subject. From his vantage point on Les Lauves, he could see the Croix de Provence, which stands 19 meters tall on the highest visible ridge. Itâs been there for a long time and is a notable landmark in the region. CĂ©zanne edited it out. Doing so allowed him to focus on the mass of the mountain itself.