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Tag: Monday Morning Art School

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Monday Morning Art School: what is alla prima painting?

Cinnamon Fern, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Occasionally, I’ll hear someone fumble for a description of a painting and come up with plein air style. Plein air isn’t a style or technique; it simply means painting outdoors instead of in a studio. Plein air allows an artist to capture natural light and colors from direct observation, and it’s a very important movement in art history, starting with John Constable and still popular today.

What these people are groping for is the term alla prima. The confusion lies in the fact that most (although not all) plein air painters also use alla prima technique.

American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

What is alla prima?

Alla prima (also called au premier coup, wet-on-wet, or direct painting) is a technique where the artist applies paint directly onto the canvas without letting earlier layers dry. This contrasts with indirect painting, which I describe below.

Alla prima is used mostly in oil painting, but it has its equivalent in wet-on-wet watercolor. In alla prima painting, the artist strives for fast, incisive brushwork. It requires skill to avoid making mud, and the artist must work with confidence and speed.

Alla prima has been in use since the Early Netherlandish painters. It became popularized with the rise of Impressionism, but painters as disparate as Frans Hals, Claude Monet, Vincent van Gogh, John Singer Sargent, Chaïm Soutine and Willem de Kooning have all painted directly. Rembrandt van Rijn painted indirectly for the most part, but pointed up his work with alla prima passages.

Skylarking, 24X36, oil on canvas, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Alla prima paintings are not necessarily completed in one session, although the goal is to not let the bottom layers dry before adding more paint. There is minimal layering, and the focus is on capturing the essence of the subject with bold, confident strokes. It prioritizes expression and immediacy over meticulous detail.

This lends itself to a more expressive, loose style, with visible brushstrokes and a sense of movement. In fact, when people tell me their goal is to ‘get looser,’ what they generally mean is that they want to master alla prima painting.

Indirect painting

Before we had oil painting, we had egg tempera, encaustic, fresco and distemper, none of which lend themselves to bravura brushwork. It’s no surprise, then, that meticulous, detailed painting was the first form oil painting took. Just as tempera is layered, so was early oil painting.  

In indirect painting, the artist builds up the image with transparent layers. Each layer dries completely before the next one is applied. Indirect painting allows for a high level of control and detail. Artists can build up subtle transitions of color and light, creating a realistic, highly polished finish. Indirect painting’s great virtue is that it creates luminosity that’s impossible to achieve with direct painting. That comes, however, at the expense of brilliant color and brushwork.

Belfast Harbor, oil on archival canvasboard, 14X18, $1,275 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Indirect paintings start with a monochromatic underpainting or grisaille: While most direct painters do this as well, the grisaille in an indirect painting is intended to show through subsequent layers. This establishes the composition and tonal values retained throughout the piece.

This base layer is allowed to dry and is followed with diluted, transparent layers of paint (called glazes). These are applied over the underpainting to modify the color. Each glaze layer dries before the next is added. White is lousy for glazing, so in a well-painted indirect painting, the light is reflecting through the paint from the grisaille layer.

Indirect painting was widely used during the Renaissance and Baroque periods. (It’s the only way to achieve true chiaroscuro.) There are artists using it today, but they’re doing so almost self-consciously, as a throwback to earlier periods in painting history.

Back in the last millennium, I learned indirect painting first, alla prima second. (Rembrandt’s style was undergoing a miniature renaissance then.) Today, there are far more modern painters pursuing alla prima than indirect painting, but one isn’t inherently better than the other. In fact, with new materials solving the age-old problems of chroma and cracking, who knows if indirect painting is due for a rebirth?   

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: the color of light

Is the light warm or cool in this painting? Two Peppers, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.00

Additive and subtractive light refer to two different color systems, each operating under different rules. The difference between the two is fundamental in color theory. They both affect painting, as one influences what we see, and the other influences what we put down on our paper or canvas.

Is the light warm or cool in this painting? Tricky Mary in a Pea-Soup Fog, oil on canvas, Carol L. Douglas, courtesy private collection.

Additive Light

Additive color mixing involves combining different colors of light to create new colors. The more colors you add, the closer you get to white light.

The primary colors of additive mixing are Red, Green, and Blue (RGB). When you mix these three primary colors of light at full intensity, you get white. By varying the intensity of these lights, you can produce a wide range of colors.

This is the light system of computer screens, televisions, and stage lighting. More importantly, it’s the light system of the world that surrounds us, thanks to our sun.

Subtractive Light

Subtractive color is what happens in printing, painting, and any medium that relies on reflected light. In them, mixing means absorbing (removing) certain wavelengths of light to produce color. Pigments, dyes, and inks all absorb certain colors and reflect others.

The primary colors of subtractive mixing are, more or less, those you learned in kindergarten: cyan (blue), magenta (red), and yellow. In printing, black is added, creating the CMYK model.

Is the light warm or cool in this painting? Michelle Reading, oil on linen, 24X30, $3,478.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Color temperature

Color temperature is a measure of the color of light, expressed in degrees Kelvin (K). It describes the appearance of light and how warm or cool it looks to the human eye. Understanding color temperature is essential in painting.

At lower temperatures, the light appears red or orange (warm colors). As the temperature rises, the light shifts to yellow, white, and eventually blue (cool colors). Yes, that’s counterintuitive, because what we call warm or cool is influenced culturally, not by science.

Now that lightbulbs are tunable for color temperature, we may change how we feel about this, but historically, we’ve said:

-Warm light appears yellow/orange, and creates a cozy or sunlit atmosphere.

-Cool light appears blue/white, and creates a crisp and focused atmosphere.

-Neutral light: doesn’t have a color… and neither does its shadow.

Manipulating these in painting gives paintings an overall mood, which is why photographers covet the golden hours of early morning and late afternoon.

Is the light warm or cool in this painting? View from Bald Mountain, 24X36, oil on canvas, Carol L. Douglas, private collection.

The color of shadows

Shadows being the absence of light, they are also the complement of the light source (what’s left when the light is blocked). However, they’re not the complement within the subtractive light system, but the additive light system. It’s not as simple as saying “it’s gold light, so the shadow is purple,” although most people wouldn’t quibble about that.

Every color of light has RGB values, which are a system for representing colors on digital displays. We could find the complement, or shadow color, by subtracting the RGB values of the light from 255, which would give us a blue-violet. However, that would be an absolutely insane solution to the question. Instead, use your eyes, which will tell you that the shadows of evening are blue or violet. Or, better yet, use your imagination along with your eyes.

Bouncy, bouncy light

There are some surroundings where reflected color is so strong that it blows out this kind of light structure. The greens of the deep forest are one, sitting under an awning is another, and my studio with its natural wood paneling is a third. In these instances, the dominant color influences everything.

Learn more

I got home to find that I only have one more seat left in Applied Color Theory, which starts tomorrow. But there are always my workshops, below.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: human vision and color theory

Rachel’s Garden, ~24×35, watercolor on Yupo, museum-grade plexiglass, $3985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Is human vision subjective? Absolutely; so are cameras (although they cheat less than our eyes). We don’t perceive things as they really are, and the gap between what we do perceive and what is ‘real’ is probably unmeasurable. It’s no surprise that witnesses often report wildly different events.

Bunker Hill overlook, watercolor on Yupo, approx. 24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

How our eyes work

No other organ is quite like our eyes; they’re really an extension of our brains. The retina and optic nerve develop from the same tissue as the brain and that direct connection is maintained through life. The eyes are not merely sensors; they’re processing information before sending it up to the brain. They use the same neurotransmitters and signalling mechanisms as the brain. No wonder they’re so good at fooling us!

The primary visual cortex processes and interprets the signals received from the retina. That gives us the interpretive part of vision, where we sort color, motion, and depth. It’s there that we integrate and interpret visual data into coherent images and meaningful information.

Clary Hill Blueberry Barrens, watercolor on Yupo, ~24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

How our eyes trick us

All humans have tunnel vision, some of us more than others. We focus on what’s in the center of our vision. What’s peripheral falls off, to various degrees depending on the person. One of the great lies of painting and photography is that they smooth out this tunnel vision.

There’s also wide variation in the distribution and density of rods and cones, which affect how we perceive color. Then there’s the condition of our lenses and corneas. (That’s why I keep hoping I’ll qualify for cataract surgery, but it never happens.)

Once the eyes send their signals to our brain, the relationship to ‘reality’ becomes even more tenuous. It appears that different individuals process various aspects of vision differently in their visual cortex. Our interpretation of what we see is also influenced by our experiences, our mood, and the degree to which we’re attending. And of course, lighting affects how we see (and how we fill in what’s missing).

Context affects how we see color

Certain visual patterns can trick our brains into seeing things that are not there or misinterpreting what we think we see. This is the basis of optical illusion, and it’s helpful for the painter to understand. Colors look different depending on what’s around them. Prolonged exposure to a particular color can create afterimages that affect how we see subsequent colors.

Most importantly, our expectations alter our color perception. For example, knowing that a distant roof is red can mislead painters into painting it brilliant scarlet, even when the atmospheric color shift has made it a far softer tone.

Path to the Lake, ~24X36, watercolor on Yupo, framed in museum-grade plexiglass, $2985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

How do we sort all this out?

If we could separate what we see from what we ‘know,’ we’d be left with simple patches of light and color, because that’s all vision is. It’s very hard to do that, but the more we strive for that, the better our representation is.

After all, in our field of vision, things are not inherently large or small, close or near; our brain sorts the data and makes these comparisons.

Why am I thinking about this stuff?

I’m swotting to teach a new class, Applied Color Theory, on Tuesday evenings, starting on August 20. And it all starts with the brain, so that’s what I’m thinking about first.

There are just a few seats left, so if you’re interested you should enroll as soon as possible.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Top ten questions for artists

A Woodlot of her own, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

I’ve written about why we do art and about the artists’ statements we all loathe. Targeted questions sometimes help us think through the bigger issues with greater clarity. I hope you can use these questions for artists as a jumping off point for your own thinking.

  1. What inspired you to create this piece?

    The answer for me is always:
  • The idea fascinated me;
  • It was a challenge; or,
  • I thought it was beautiful.

How would you answer that question about one of your paintings?

Best Buds, 11X14, oil on canvasboard, $1087 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

2. What is your creative process?

My painting process is outlined here and here. This is the same process I teach, so it’s straightforward.

For areas outside my discipline, I start by learning the technology. For me, this is hands-on and spatial; for example, I’d rather work with a printmaker than read a book or watch a movie about lithography.

What is your working process?

3. How do you come up with your ideas?

I have more ideas than I could ever execute, and when they’re still rattling around my head, I’m always convinced they’re the best ideas ever. Are you ever short of inspiration? If so, how do you deal with that?

4. What materials or techniques do you use?

I’m conversant with oils, watercolors, acrylics, pastel and gouache—in fact, with most two-dimensional art forms. Drawing is personal for me. I wish I knew more about 3D art, and particularly about building things.

What is your preferred medium? What medium would you like to spend more time with?

In Control (Grace and her Unicorn), 24X30, $3,478 framed, oil on canvas, includes shipping in continental United States.

5. What is the story behind this piece?

There’s sometimes a very simple answer, such as with In Control: Grace and her Unicorn. Sometimes there’s no story at all.

Can you articulate stories for your paintings, or are they less tangible?

6. How long does it take you to finish a painting?

This is the most-commonly asked of all questions for artists. The only proper answer is that made by James McNeill Whistler during court testimony in 1878. Whistler was asked by a lawyer about the stiff price he had set for a painting.

“Oh, two days! The labour of two days, then, is that for which you ask two hundred guineas!”

“No;—I ask it for the knowledge of a lifetime.”

The Servant, oil on linen, 36X40, $4042.50 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

7. What are you trying to convey?

I suppose if you must ask that, I’ve failed, but if it’s in an artist’s statement, I’d just say my work is a pale imitation of the glories of God’s creation.

What are you trying to say in your work? Can it be reduced to words?

8. Do you have any upcoming projects or exhibitions?

It’s good to have something in your future. I’ll be at an opening in Camden on Tuesday, and then there is Camden Art Walk for August-October. Meanwhile I have three workshops remaining this season. And I’ll be at Sedona Plein Air in October. There are also a few one-day plein air events scattered in there.

If your calendar is overbooked, you’ll burn yourself out, but if you aren’t working toward a goal, you may not be working hard enough. If you’re not yet advanced enough to be showing regularly, a class or workshop is a good way to hold yourself accountable.

9. Why are you an artist?

I’ve been an artist since I was old enough to sit up. I’ve been lucky enough to be a professional artist for the past 28 years. I tell people it’s either that or greeting at Walmart, but in fact I do it because I have a pressing need to communicate. How about you?

10. How do you handle criticism or feedback about your work?

In that it’s morally wrong to crush the skulls of your enemies, I’m forced to be philosophical about rejection. The more it happens the better I deal with it, but at times, I admit it’s painful.

Usually I just kvetch. How about you?

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Monday Morning Art School: angle drawing

Slightly more obtuse than 90°, almost exactly 90°, more acute than 90°. It’s far easier to see when you can compare it to accurate reference (and no, you don’t have to know those terms).

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, because angle drawing takes practice. However, all drawing rests on angles and measurement.

“That gable end looks like it’s at a 90° angle,” Sharon said. Beth and I immediately disagreed. Of course we were roughly twenty feet away from her, so what we were seeing wasn’t what she was seeing. I heaved myself up (it was a hot day) and looked at what she was doing. She was holding an L-shaped composition finder up to the sky. Immediately I grasped an important new idea.

The angles that matter, very roughly, because it’s hot as a pistol in my driveway.

If you hold something that you know to be a right angle up to the angle you’re measuring, you can see how it deviates.

We’re all carrying around something that’s got a right angle: our sketchbooks. Failing that, we always have our cell phones.

Sharon’s view was, in fact, exactly 90°, but the idea was also useful to Beth and me. From our location, the angle formed by the gable end was about 10° flatter than Sharon’s view. I experimented holding my sketchbook up to various angles in the landscape and was pleased at how easily I could see angles.

(By the way, a roof where the gable end is at 90° looking straight-on would be a 12/12 pitch, which is pretty steep. Most of the time, when you see a 90° angle, it’s because you’re looking at it from off to one side.)

What if it’s so far off 90° that it’s hard to make a comparison?

I was on a roll, so I estimated other angles using Sharon’s idea. That was fine until I was so far off 90° that making a comparison no longer worked.

Drawing a hashmark parallel to the top and bottom of the fence was easy. Taking a photograph of those marks was hard.

What if I held my sketchbook level with the ground and marked that angle as a hash mark in the corner, I asked myself. Then I can easily translate that line into a parallel one where it belongs in my sketch. And, yes, that worked too.

My neighbor’s fence. Three minutes, tops, because I was standing along Route 1.

Angle drawing is important

Angles are critical to representing perspective. They also create the illusion of depth and space. Being able to sight-draw them allows us to draw objects from different viewpoints.

But, wait, there’s more. Angle drawing is important for:

Measurement: it’s often easier to see spatial relationships through angles than with the thumb-and-pencil method of drawing. (Fast, loose  painting rests on a base of good drawing. If you haven’t been taught to measure with a pencil, start here, here and here.)

Anatomy: Angles are essential for capturing the relationships between different parts of the body. This is particularly important in drawing limbs, posture and facial features.

Shading: Angles influence how light falls on an object and how shadows are cast.

Dynamism: Angles contribute to a sense of movement and energy in a drawing.

Foreshortening: You can’t foreshorten an object if you can’t see the angles, period.

That means any trick that makes angle drawing easier, I’m going to use, and I hope you do, too. Thank you, Sharon.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: what is a fine art print?

Early Spring on Beech Hill, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, 12X16, $1449 framed includes shipping in continental US.

This past weekend, I sat down with a pencil and a template and signed and numbered 75 prints of Early Spring on Beech Hill for Coastal Mountains Land Trust. I’m happy to do this little thing; I’m on their properties almost daily. If I’m not up Beech Hill, I’m on Ragged or Bald Mountains. If you look at a list of their preserves, you realize how much they shape everyday life here in midcoast Maine.

Back in the day, I sold a lot of prints. They are a great way for people of modest means to start collecting art, and they can introduce young people to your work.

Signing work with a template. If you think you can’t misspell your own name, try writing it over and over again.

What is a fine art print?

A fine art print is a high-quality reproduction of an original artwork. There’s overlap between fine art prints and the art of printmaking. For example, until the turn of the last century, etching was both an artform and a way to reproduce other artwork for publication.

The gap between fine art prints and what you can get from your ink-jet printer has narrowed. Even the cheapest art book published in this century has better illustrations than an old Janson’s History of Art, which was once the preferred text for art history classes.

The goal being to handle the paper as little as possible, I used a paint stirrer to push the pieces in place inside their acrylic sleeve.

Fine art prints are made with an eye to durability, color accuracy, and aesthetic integrity. They are often produced in limited editions and signed and numbered by the artist. The main printing methods for fine art prints include:

  • GiclĂŠe Printing: This is the most common method of making small-run art prints. GiclĂŠe printers have higher resolution than standard inkjet printers, and use a 12-color printing system instead of the standard 4-color CMYK system. They use high-quality inks that can last a lifetime, and the prints are resistant to damage from smudging, sun, and humidity.
  • Commercial Lithography: That’s the traditional printing process used in bookmaking and periodicals, and is done on an offset press. It’s suitable for mass runs, so if you were to buy a print of, say, Constable’s The Hay Wain from the National Gallery it would be made in this manner.
  • Screen printing, where ink is pushed through a mesh screen onto paper or canvas. This is how you’d reproduce your paintings on textiles, pens, coffee mugs, or huge signs, if you were so inclined.
Seventy-five prints signed and ready to rumble.

Limited edition prints

Collectors often seek out limited edition prints due to their rarity and because they might appreciate in value. There is no difference in quality between the limited edition print and its open-run cousin; the value rests in the artist’s signature. For example, I can never make another limited-edition run of Early Spring on Beech Hill, because I’ve already done a set run of 75 copies.

The quality question

My color laser printer does a fine job of printing, and with the proper paper its output would be highly durable, but I wouldn’t use it for high-end prints; it’s too small and there are visible differences in quality. There are many sources online for archival-quality giclée prints at a reasonable price.

Most of the quality of your print rests in the photography, not the printing. In the past, I’ve had my paintings shot by a service, but I now have a high-end camera. If you go that route, however, you need to understand color correction, compression, and other issues that affect output.

Should you sell prints?

That’s a question only you can answer. Prints can increase your market reach and give you a more consistent revenue stream. If your print becomes popular, it can generate revenue over time.

However, there’s still the initial investment of time and money to consider. And you never get away from marketing. Prints are an already-saturated market, although a much larger one than the market for original paintings.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: how to learn painting (from the very beginning)

Heavy Weather (Ketch Angelique), 24X36, oil on canvas, framed, $3985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

“I’ve done a lot of drawing in pencil and charcoal, and anime and computer art, but I don’t know how to paint,” a young man told me. He wanted to know how to learn painting starting from the very beginning.

I checked his drawing portfolio (because if you can’t draw, you can’t paint) and he has good chops, including work from real life. He is ready to start working in color. But since he can’t break free to take one of my workshops this summer, what can he do?

Skylarking II, 18×24, oil on linen, $1855, includes shipping in the continental US.

First, I signed him up for Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters, my self-directed how-to-paint class. I’d rather people took the first section before they ever bought a single tube of paint, because Step 1: the Perfect Palette, explains in detail why I recommend paired primaries to my students. Then I gave him a mini-kit of QoR watercolors in quinacridone magenta, nickel azo yellow and ultramarine blue, a Pentel water brush, two bound Strathmore watercolor pads, a soft flannel rag and a small bottle to hold water. Even though he’s interested in oils, that is a cost-effective first introduction to color. (And, no, I can’t afford to send you all starter kits; he just caught me on a good day.)

But here’s a step-by-step guide on how to learn painting for the absolute beginner:

Gather Supplies

If you’re unsure whether you want to pursue painting, go with the kit I outlined above. If you know you want to paint, here are my supply lists for oils, watercolors, pastels and acrylics. These are based not only on my own usage, but on decades of students’ comments.

Breaking Storm, oil on linen, 30X48, $5579 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Learn the basics

You’ll need to understand color theory, how to mix colors, basic brush techniques and fundamental rules of composition. In addition, you need to understand the basic steps from drawing to value study to final painting. You can get that from my classes and workshops, or from the self-directed Seven Protocols, above. If you prefer to read, I recommend Kevin MacPherson’s Landscape Painting Inside and Out for oils and Gordon MacKenzie’s The Complete Watercolorist’s Essential Notebook for Watercolors. However, there are many good books out there. (And I’d love your recommendations in the comments if you have favorites. I’m not that ‘booky.’)

Find a group of fellow enthusiasts and practice regularly.

“Iron sharpens iron,” and you’ll learn from your fellows at least as much as you do from your teacher. Investigate plein air groups, figure painting groups and urban sketchers for opportunities to paint from life. Plein air painting with a group isn’t just about becoming a better painter; it changes how you see your home turf. I’ve learned about many great parks, museums and gardens from my fellow painters.

Study art

Read about art history and visit galleries and museums. There are many ways to put down paint, and art history gives you a capsule lesson in all of them. You will also start to understand why modern artists paint the way we do, and where you fit in on the great continuum of art.

Sunset sail, 14X18, oil on linen, $1594 framed includes shipping and handling in the continental US.

Seek intelligent feedback

I’m a little nervous about social media groups or local art clubs for critiques, because some feedback is worse than none. Sometimes people repeat untrue cliches about painting. Others have axes to grind.

However, there are some very smart people out there, and they’re worth cultivating. My best feedback comes from my students (who aren’t afraid to tell me when I go off the rails) and my family. And I apply the same rules of formal criticism to my own work that I teach.

Speaking of my students, this is Rachel Houlihan from Camden:

Keep plugging

Learning to paint takes time and practice. Don’t be discouraged by initial challenges. If you focus on the product, you’ll never be satisfied, but the process of learning is sublime.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: how to figure things out

Lobster pound, 14X18, oil on canvas, $1594 framed includes shipping and handling within the continental US. I drove by the place where this used to be on Friday; it’s so depressing to see a new building, now empty and for sale.

I like living in an old house. It’s small and worn, but it’s also charming and durable. It’s only when I want to fix or replace something that it annoys. Nothing is straight. Some walls and ceilings are plaster-and-lath, some are drywall, and some are board. Channels have been cannibalized for water or power lines, so you’re never sure what you’ll find inside a wall. For most of our remit here, we’ve been able to hire professionals to experience those “oh, no,” moments. But not for this project.

This house was a classic New England farmhouse: a barn was attached to the main structure through a series of sheds. In the 1940s, the barn burned and took out the sheds and the kitchen ell. Charring can still be seen in the main section’s rafters.

Evening in the Garden, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

The owners replaced the barn with a detached garage on the same foundation. Other than a new service panel and new doors, it stands as built 80 years ago. It’s no straighter or less quirky than the house; it’s large and has a plank floor. My friend Ken DeWaard suggested I use part of it for a gallery. This year, I dived in.

Most artists are good with their hands as a matter of necessity. That can be a rabbit hole at times; for example; I’ve wasted lots of time and money in making frames when it’s just cheaper and faster to buy them.

But there are jobs you can’t get done in a timely way, and small construction projects are high on that list. My recently-retired husband is my helper. When I’m done, I’ll have a 20X11 space with new lighting to showcase my work. That’s just about the size of my former tent gallery but it will be much nicer.

This is where I got to as of Friday afternoon.

Some of these jobs, like building window frames, I’ve done before. Some are new to me, like rough-framing and hanging a door. For those I turn to YouTube. Watch five videos and you’ll see five different techniques, but common sense helps you sort them out.

Then there are the jobs that you won’t find on YouTube because there’s no audience for them. The back wall of my new space is removable like a stage set. At the same time, it should be as solid as a real wall, as it will have paintings hanging from it. I won’t take it down often, so a lightweight false wall seemed, well, cheesy. The whole thing is held onto a beam with a lot of lag bolts, and a couple of strong guys should be able to tear it down in an hour.

Can you take this approach with learning to paint?

Well, yes and no. There are lots of good how-to paint videos out there about specific techniques, like brushwork. Longer videos tend to be demos, which are fun to watch but not great at developing skills. Videos that deal with something I already know about are more useful than ones that deal with new concepts. For example, I watched several videos about stretch ceilings, but I still won’t try putting one up.

Last light at Cobequid Bay, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Just as nobody would mistake me for a master carpenter because I’ve built some things after watching YouTube videos, nobody is going to learn to be a master painter from watching how-to paint videos.

When people tell me, “I’m gonna take one of your workshops someday,” I sometimes feel like asking them if they think I’ll live forever. I’ve filmed the seventh and last of my how-to-paint interactive classes this spring. Unlike Zoom classes or workshops, they have the potential to keep teaching long after I’m gone, unlike how-to paint videos.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: miscible oils

Ever-Changing Camden Harbor, 24X36, oil on canvas, $3188 includes shipping and handling in continental US. This is one of the places I’ll be teaching in next month’s workshop.

Last week in my Color of Light class, the conversation turned to water-miscible oils.  I haven’t used them in years, and only to test them to see if they were a reasonable alternative to conventional oils (yes, although I don’t like their hand-feel). It’s your turn to teach me, and answer the question raised by my students: do miscible oils hold up over time?

Several of my students described problems with cracking, inner layers that didn’t cure, paint surfaces sticking to other things, or paint softening after varnishing with Krylon Kamar Varnish. “But the color is so much better when the painting is varnished,” said the person who’d used the Kamar.

Seafoam, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Since I’m a novice on the subject, I’m hoping that those of you with extensive experience with water-miscible oils can share that, good or bad

Kamar is, according to its material safety data sheet (MSDS), full of solvent. At least two of these—heptane and acetone—can dissolve oil paint, so I’m not shocked that Kamar could loosen up the surface of a painting. I’m no chemist and I’m not interested in reading MSDS for every spray varnish, but it makes sense that spray varnish needs plenty of solvent to be sprayable. On the other hand, I’ve used spray damar varnish on conventional oil paintings with no softening of the surface.

Apple Blossom Time, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US. Or, go see it at the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde this month.

Winsor & Newton makes a line of brush-on varnishes for their water-miscible oils, in matte, satin and gloss. I recommend my student try one of those.

Miscible oils are oil paints that are engineered to allow them to be thinned and cleaned up with water. The idea is to avoid using volatile organic compounds like turpentine, which are harmful when inhaled. A disclaimer, however: we haven’t been using turpentine as a solvent in this country in this century; it’s been replaced with odorless mineral spirits, or OMS. In a sense, miscible oils are fixing an obsolete problem.

The typical way of making oil and water mix is to add a surfactant. That’s how detergent works to remove oils from your clothes and dishes. For water-miscible oils, the end of the oil medium molecule is rejiggered to help it bind loosely to water molecules. The key here is loosely; you want the water to evaporate.

Sea Fog, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $696 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

The top-tier oil paint manufacturers, such as Gamblin or Michael Harding, do not offer miscible oils. Rather, they have solvent-free systems for working with regular oils. To me that indicates that miscible oils cannot yet be made to the highest standards of oil paints. In fact, the biggest complaint I hear about miscible oils is that their pigment load is lower. I don’t have enough experience to answer this with authority. Do you?

The issue of paintings not setting up or cracking is far more serious. This may be a simple fat-over-lean question. (I think that’s why my Kamar-using student’s paintings were dull and lifeless in the first place.) Fat-over-lean is every bit as true for miscible oils as it is for conventional oils.

In addition, miscible oils can crack is too much water is used, for the same reason that acrylics degrade if excessively diluted. There must be enough medium present to form a bond.

That’s all I know about the subject, so I’d love to hear from you painters with experience with miscible oils: do you like them? What problems have you had with them? Do you have paintings a decade or more old, and if so, how is the finish holding up?

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Monday Morning Art School: why art?

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 wasn’t a painter, I’d be a greeter at Wal-Mart. I no longer have conventional marketable skills. I’ve 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. I’m 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 you’re 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 I’m 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 can’t.

I could drill down and tell you how my painting varies from my peers’ in terms of focus, worldview, color, drafting and brushwork. That’s a helpful exercise, especially when I’m feeling low.

How is your work unique? If you can’t answer this, is it because you’re drafting in a mentor’s or a movement’s 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?

I’m 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?

What’s your ideal working environment?

Spaces like Francis Bacon’s 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. What’s 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.

I’ve occasionally tried to mix this up by copying my pals’ 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 you’ve been painting?

What do you want to think about next?

I think I’ll be perfectly content to paint landscapes until I die, but nobody can say that for sure. Right now, I’m interested in the nexus between words and pictures. If nothing comes of that, it’s no loss. I’ve tried a lot of things that haven’t panned out, and I always learn from them.

If you were going to expand your media or subject matter, what would you add?

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