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Tag: Monday Morning Art School

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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?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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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?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: how to clean your brushes

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.

It’s especially hard to keep oil painting brushes nice when you’re on the road. There’s seldom a utility sink available, and it’s not nice to repay your hosts by washing brushes in their kitchen sink. In a pinch, I shower with mine, since they’re 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 isn’t 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 bristles—in mineral spirits or water. That includes during painting. That’s one reason why a small, swinging solvent holder is a great idea—it tips over if you leave a brush in it.

Watercolor brushes

In general, watercolor brushes need to be rinsed when you’re 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 you’ve done something very silly, there’s never any reason to use soap; in fact, it’s 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. It’s possible to clean acrylic paint out with running water alone, but soap won’t 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 brushes’ downside; they carry less pigment, so there’s 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. That’s also why we don’t use detergent to wash our hair; it’s too good at removing oils.

Don’t 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 shouldn’t be ground into your skin.) The brush is clean when the water runs clear, and not before.

If you left your brushes standing and they’ve started to harden up, detergent won’t work any better than soap at softening the mess. I sometimes pre-treat them with coconut oil when I can’t get the paint out. 

Don’t expect heavily-used brushes to last forever. They’re made of hair and they wear out. In fact, most of my filberts started life as flats. But by cleaning your brushes regularly, you’ll ensure that they will last as long as is possible.

Mary’s soap.

A plug for my daughter’s soap

My daughter Mary makes my brush soap. I offer it (in small batches) to my readers. Mary’s been offline as she prepped and sold her house, but she’s got her soap lab up and running again. You can order her soap here. “Your brush soap is seriously great. Better than Murphy’s or the pink stuff from Jerry’s. I can always ‘get a little more out’ with yours,” said my student, Mark Gale.

I’m in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. I’ve turned my phone off and while I’m 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.)

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: This is a post about watching paint dry

Chemistry—which I took fifty years ago—was my worst subject, and now I spend much of my time thinking about it. Life always gets the last laugh.

“How long does oil paint take to dry?” is one of the most frequent questions I’m asked. I made this video to answer the question. It’s part of The Heart of the Painting, step six of Seven Protocols for Oil Painters.

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 it’s done, you’ll be able to learn to paint step-by-step at your own pace and you’ll no longer need me.

I plan to edit this material into book form when I’m done. No ‘how to paint’ 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. It’s not necessary if you adhere scrupulously to the ‘fat over lean’ 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.

https://www.watch-me-paint.com/product/midnight-at-the-wood-lot/Midnight at the Wood Lot, oil on archival canvasboard, $1449.00 framed includes shipping and handling within continental US.

Ignoring the ‘fat over lean’ 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 don’t dry, they absorb oxygen from the air to harden. What’s oxidizing isn’t the pigment but the oil between the pigment particles. Different pigments have different particle sizes, so some colors dry faster than others. I’ve outlined the dry times in the video, but the most important one to remember is titanium white, which is a slow dryer. That’s one reason it doesn’t belong in your grisaille.

The ‘fat’ in paint is siccative oil, which in most cases is linseed oil. It’s so harmless it’s 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. It’s an imperfect world, isn’t 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 & Newton’s Liquin, developed in the 1960s. In general, alkyd resin doesn’t hold as much pigment as traditional oils do. I don’t use them because I generally seek a slower dry time, and I’m 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 ‘fat over lean’ rule, it’s not important.

I’m in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. I’ve turned my phone off and while I’m 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.)

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: what’s the perfect travel watercolor kit?

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

It’s 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 Payne’s Grey—having 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.

That’s why I make a custom one for students of my watercolor workshop aboard the schooner American Eagle. Of course I have one of those boxes, too.

Then there’s 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 36” 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. What’s 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.

I’m hiking in Yorkshire this week, after which I will go up to Scotland. For painting, I’ve limited myself to what I can carry in what the British call a bumbag (because ‘fanny pack’ would be an obscenity over here). I wanted a kit for myself and for my pal Martha, who’s hiking with me.

I started with an Altoids box, because where I live it’s 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 didn’t want to leave a gap next to my mixing well.

I used three primary colors made by QoR. I’m a big fan of these paints, which are made by Golden Artist Colors in upstate New York. They’re bright, clear, and reasonably priced, and they’re 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.

There are some lovely folding brushes out there, including this nifty travel kit. That was a bit pricey for a gift, so I got each of us a set of Pentel water brushes. I added a Strathmore multimedia visual journal and a bound Strathmore watercolor pad, two mechanical pencils, a pill bottle (for water) and a small flannel rag. Now we each have a kit we can carry and use as the spirit moves us.

Have you ever made a travel watercolor kit for backpacking? If so, how did you do it?

I’m in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. I’ve turned my phone off and while I’m 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.)

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: What are you good at?

Home Farm, 20X24, oil on canvas, $2898 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Painting teachers can sometimes focus on the negative, because it’s part of our job to point out deficiencies. However, there is a lot we can learn by asking our students, “What are you good at?”

I’ll go first: I’m logical, good with numbers, and I’m disciplined. In art terms, I’m a good composer and draftsman and I’m intrepid. See, that wasn’t 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, it’s not bragging

I’m not asking you to talk about your awesomeness to everyone you know. We humans all perseverate on our weaknesses, and as an artist you’ve 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. It’s 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, “I can’t do anything right.” 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 we’re doing. What we focus on, we (to some degree) become. As King Solomon wrote some 3000 years ago, “for as he thinks within himself, so he is.”

If you’ve got the courage, answer the question “what are you good at in art and in life?” 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?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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.

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Monday Morning Art School: what are your artistic goals for the next twelve months?

Forsythia at Three Chimneys, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

As I ask you this series of Big Questions About Art (starting here), I’m trying to answer them myself. This one is hard, because for too long, my main goal has been to finish today’s work and get a start on tomorrow’s. I’m a kinesthetic thinker, meaning I figure things out by doing them. The more physical that is, the happier I am. That’s not bad for a painter, since our work is essentially tactile. However, it doesn’t always lend itself to advance planning.

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

My artistic goals (as of right now)

  1. To develop a broader range of surface-scribing skills. By that I mean more varied brushwork, with the ability to float between ambiguity and detail without overworking the surface. That includes scumbling, impasto and fine line work.
  2. Add more figure and contemporary structures into my landscape paintings. One of the things I most admire about Childe Hassam, George Bellows and other 19th century painters is that they didn’t shy away from their own times. I’m drawn to old things but not everything old is beautiful, and not everything beautiful is old.
  3. I want more time to paint. I love teaching, and I learn a great deal from it, but I need more time with my own brushes.
  4. I must finish building out my new gallery space. I’d hoped to get this done by Memorial Day, but it won’t happen until I get back from Britain in June. What does carpentry have to do with painting? Just about everything.
  5. It’s summer; can I have some time to recharge? I can’t blame this on anyone else; I’m my own worst taskmaster.
Spring Greens, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $652 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

How would you like to develop your artistic goals?

Here are some ideas:

  1. Continuously improve your technical abilities. That could be paint handling, drawing, or composition, to name just a few possibilities.
  2. Push the boundaries of your creativity by experimenting with new ideas, techniques, or mediums. (See last Wednesday’s post.)
  3. Focus on expressing your own values, ideals and emotions instead of producing merely-pleasant art.
  4. Spend some time in museums looking at art that moves you.
  5. Read about art and artists.
  6. Build a coherent portfolio: The best way to mount a cohesive body of work is to do a lot of it, and then look at it as a unit. Objective critique from trusted peers or a teacher sometimes points out themes you’ve never noticed in your own work.
  7. Show your work: Displaying your work in public not only gives you the potential for exposure, it pushes you to work very hard. This doesn’t have to be in a gallery; it could be a coffee shop, library, or a show in your own home.
  8. Take classes—iron sharpens iron.
  9. Enter competitive shows. I hate doing this too, especially when the entry fees are high. But set the goal of applying for a few each year. You might be pleasantly surprised!
  10. Fail gloriously. You aren’t really pushing your boundaries unless you occasionally muck up. Embrace that. Failure is a sign of growth; you were willing to take risks and try new things.
Spring Allee, oil on archival canvasboard, 14X18, $1594.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

These goals are just suggestions; none of us can do them all, at least not right away. What can you take from my brainstorming, and how can you make these ideas your own artistic goals for the coming year?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: What’s your why?

Fog over Whiteface Mountain, 11X14, $1087 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be asking you some big questions. They’re not rhetorical, I am genuinely interested in your answers. My first goal is to grow a community, instead of just an audience. My second is to know how I can better serve you as a teacher.

I recently listened to Start with why by the English motivational speaker Simon Sinek. I’m glad I did, despite my general skepticism about motivational speakers.

Simon Sinek’s Golden Circle, as rendered by me.

The simple image above is Sinek’s Golden Circle. The outer circle represents what a company does (its products or services). The middle circle represents how it does it (its unique selling proposition or process). The inner circle represents why it does it (its purpose, belief, or cause). Sinek argues that truly successful and influential organizations operate from the inside out, starting with why.

This is not a “because there’s a need” question. Rather, it starts with the passion of the founders, which filters down through its employers and ultimately its customers. He cites Apple as an example of a company built on why.

This is equally applicable to people. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. didn’t succeed because he was a southern black American preacher at the start of the civil rights movement; there were lots of fine southern black orators. But King held a deep personal belief about moral law, expressed in his 1963 I Have a Dream speech. It has since resonated with millions of people, black and white alike.

Winter lambing, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Purpose and Inspiration

Our why is our motivation, inspiration, and purpose for creating art. We all have them, deeply felt, but it’s hard to express them, especially when they’re amorphous ideas like beauty and emotion. (That’s why social justice artist statements are so much more accessible. They’re not from those non-verbal nuts in our souls.)

For teachers and arts organizations, there’s an impulse to jump to committee-driven mission statements, complete with buzz terms like diversity and inclusion, emerging artists, or cultural heritage. But the why must punch from the gut.

How does this apply to me?

I generally tell prospective students, “I am going to teach you X,” when I should start by telling them that the serious discipline of art is important to their minds and souls. Our motivation to paint comes not from knowing technique, but from the underlying, deep conviction that drives us.

Articulating my core values poses a unique difficulty, since they are faith-based. Like many modern Christians, I’m sadly leery of sharing them in the public marketplace. But I do believe, like Dr. King, in a moral and natural order created by God. The Bible documents and encourages the expression of this through art. Bezalel the artist was mentioned in Exodus (meaning very early in recorded history). In addition to being the chief artisan of the tabernacle, he was also the first person to be “filled with the Spirit of God.”

I paint because I am in awe of the glory of creation. My paintings are a pale imitation of nature, and they’re also imbued with my feelings. That makes them less a reflection of nature than a reflection on nature.

I teach because I believe creativity is our birthright. We need to get rid of the idea that making art is self-indulgent or the special province of a few lucky people. Adult learners need to shed the idea that it’s too late for them to make great, meaningful art.

I write as a loudspeaker for the above two points.

The Logging Truck, oil on archival canvasboard, 16X20, $2029.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

What’s your why?

Why do you make art? Think about art? Read about art? These aren’t simple questions; it took me a long time to define my reasons, above. Please comment below or on the social media channel of your choice, or both. And thank you.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: How do I get more out of social media?

Maynard Dixon Clouds, 11X14, oil on archival canvas board, $869 includes shipping in continental US.

“I’m a 73-year-old artist and I’m having trouble expanding my social media reach. Can you give me any ideas, not just to drive more traffic to my art website, but to make the process less miserable?”

I don’t think consistent social media posting is fun for anyone, but if we predate the internet, we don’t always appreciate the whole parasocial thing. I’m the person who told my kids not to talk to strangers on the internet, and now I do it all the time-and some of those people have become my besties.

Spring Allee, oil on archival canvasboard, 14X18, $1594.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

First, the basics:

Post consistently. Regularly share your artwork on platforms like Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Threads, and Pinterest. Consistency is the number one rule of social media. I blog three times a week for a reason.

Engage Interact with your followers by responding to comments, asking questions, and participating in others’ discussions. Build genuine connections.

Hashtags Relevant, trending hashtags make your posts more discoverable. How do you find them? Ask Google “best hashtags for __”

Share your process People like watching the creative process, so share photos or videos of your studio, work in progress, or what inspires you.

Collaborate Collaboration cross-pollinates lists. A great way to do that is to tag fellow artists at events. Or do something interesting together.

Early Light is 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 includes shipping and handling in the continental US.

Giveaways Your freebee doesn’t need to be expensive; it could be as simple as a ‘top ten color pathways for 2024’ handout. (Do I do this? Um, no.) The ‘price’? Their email address.

Guest blogs or interviews There is no such thing as bad publicity, so when someone asks you a question for their own blog or article, be sure to answer in an articulate manner. Or write for others. Just make sure the publisher links back to you; that strong network of links makes you attractive to Google.

SEO Ensure that your website is optimized for search engines by using relevant keywords in your content, image descriptions, and meta tags. If this means nothing to you, start here.

Give readers something meaningful. That’s why I write this blog; it’s my version of ‘exclusive content’ and it brings people to my website.

Cross-promote. Promote your social media profiles on your website and vice versa.

Don’t let AI generate your content If you really don’t have anything to say, say nothing at all. Google has tools to weed out the nonsensical fluff, so it’s a waste of time.

That sounds time-consuming, doesn’t it?

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

Let’s make it more fun:

Spill Don’t limit your social media presence solely to promoting your artwork. Share your hobbies, interests, and experiences. If you’re a regular reader of this blog and don’t know everything about me, I’m doing something wrong. (Or you’re not paying attention.)

Be funny Share anecdotes or witty commentary related to art or your daily life. Humor humanizes your brand and makes you more relatable.

Host live streams This is a lot of work, which is why I don’t do it often, but I’m happy to do online demos for art groups. It’s a great way to build a sense of community and connection.

Interactive content I don’t do this enough either, but interactive content like polls, quizzes, or challenges makes social media feed more dynamic and encourages engagement.

Showcase your students or the buyers of your work You can also feature artwork or photos shared by your social media followers. This acknowledges and appreciates their support and fosters a sense of community and collaboration.

Tell stories (I can’t seem to help doing this.) Storytelling engages your audience. Share the inspiration behind your artwork, memorable experiences from your artistic journey, or anecdotes from your daily life.

Celebrate yourself Yeah, that sounds a lot like bragging, but if you don’t tell them about your achievements, who will?

Be you Above all, be authentic and genuine in your interactions on social media. (If you’re never funny, I’m so sorry.) Openly share your thoughts, feelings, and experiences, no matter how introverted you are. Social media is all about bridging the barrier of the screen.

Of course I don’t do all those things; no one person can. Focus on a few that work for you.

That’s all I can think of. Fellow artists, can you add any tips? What works for you?

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Monday Morning Art School: framing your work

This is a simple moulding I buy from Omega Moulding, on a painting called Drying Sails.

In response to last week’s post, people asked me to write about framing your work. Even if you never plan to do it, you’ll understand why good framing is expensive.

Unless you are a skilled woodworker, don’t build your own frames. You need a miter saw, corner clamps, and a joiner of some kind. You’re unlikely to recoup the cost of your investment if you don’t already have those things, and you’ll waste time and materials learning. You can, however, buy precut kits from some moulding suppliers. That’s a good option if you don’t like the selection available in premade frames. (I do make my own frames at times, but I’d rather be painting.)

Cutting and assembling your own frames requires expertise and tools that most painters don’t have. I only do it when I can’t find the style I want in a premade frame.

Measuring

Premade canvases and archival painting boards come in standard sizes. These conveniently match up with premade frames. Years ago, I knew an artist who worked only in one size. Not only did it make framing a snap, she could tear down and pack a show in minutes. I can’t bring myself to do that, but I seldom deviate from what I can frame off-the-shelf.

In addition to the nominal height and width of a frame, there’s the rabbit depth. That’s the depth of the recess at the back of the frame into which the board or canvas slides. Most plein air frames have a shallow rabbit, which means if you’ve painted on canvas, you might need offset clips to install the painting. A canvas framed like this will stick out from the wall.

Offset clips come in various depths, and allow deep canvases to go into shallower frames.

Choosing a frame

Frame styles come in and out of fashion, and there are regional differences in what buyers want. I can’t tell you what will work for your painting, but it makes sense to go to local galleries to expand your thinking on the subject.

What do you need?

Watercolor painted, matted and framed by Pam Otis.

Acrylic or glass glazing is needed for watercolors, pencil, and pastel work. Watercolor and pastels are often framed with acid-free paper mats (although I prefer mine free-hanging). All works on paper need an acid-free backing board, to which the work is lightly adhered with acid-free tape.

Pastels need acid-free spacers, which are thin strips of mat board to keep the pastel from touching the glazing. (I make my own from scraps of matboard.) If you’re planning on shipping framed work, the glazing must be acrylic. In its museum-quality form, it’s more expensive than ordinary glass. There’s also non-reflective glass if you aren’t planning on shipping the work. For pastels, there’s one more expense: a static brush and/or anti-static acrylic cleaner.

I use this old hand drill for pilot holes because a power drill is likely to zip right through the front of the frame.

In addition, you’ll need the following tools:

  • A hand drill to start pilot holes. Using a power drill almost guarantees you’ll put your pilot hole right through the front of your frame, as you don’t have the fine control;
  • 3/32” drill bit for hardwood frames;
  • Wire nips;
  • A point driver (never carry this in your carry-on luggage);
Point driver in action.

And the following consumables:

D-ring with wire twisted and nipped.

Framing your work

After cleaning the frame and glazing (with ammonia-free glass cleaner), place the frame upside down on a soft towel to avoid scratches. If you are using glazing, place it in the frame next, carefully avoiding new fingerprints. If using a mat, that goes in next, to be followed by spacers if necessary. Next comes artwork. If there’s any flexibility in this ‘sandwich’, you may need to double the backing board.

Next, drive points in. It’s not necessary to go overboard. I put one in about a 1-2″ from each corner and space them about 6″ apart. I tuck a business card in the bottom right corner. Before there were point drivers, people put paintings in frames using tiny brads. It’s a pain in the neck, so if you plan to frame work often, a driver is an excellent investment.

Mending plate in lieu of offset clip.

Offset clips are installed with the same #6 x 1/2″ wood screws that you will use for D-rings. These can be driven directly into the back of the canvas stretcher if needed. I sometimes use mending plates if the rabbit is the same depth as the canvas.

The D-rings should be mounted one-third from the top of the frame. (In other words, if the frame is 15″ tall, the D-rings should be 5″ from the top.) If the frame is hardwood, you’ll need to drill pilot holes for the screws. It’s easy to slip and drill right through the front of the frame, which is why I use a hand drill. If you’ll only ever use the drill bit for this purpose, you can put a masking tape cuff on the bit as a guide.

There are different D-rings for different picture weights. Do not use sawtooth hangers for professional artwork; many galleries will not accept them.

If the wire is too loose, the painting will sag away from the wall.

Your wire should be a loose S-curve the width of the painting. Make sure the wire is not too loose or the painting will dangle away from the wall. Wind the wire ends tightly and trim with your wire nips.

Bumpers help frames hang straight.

Attach bumpers to the two bottom corners. This will prevent the sliding that causes paintings to go cattywampus every time you brush by.

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