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Why I teach

Main Street, Owl’s Head, oil on archival canvasboard, $1623 includes shipping and handling in continental US. This is one of the places we go during our July workshop.

With some trepidation, I handed Monday’s Words and Pictures class over to my student Rebecca Bense. She led us in an impromptu neurographic art exercise. I know, love and trust Becky, but Iā€™ve had enough therapy to be guarded about diving into my subconscious. By the end of the exercise, I thought it was a good way to dig deeper into the meaning of art. And, since I seemed to have drawn a hag-ridden self-portrait (below) I was startled by the result.

My first essay into neurographic art. I know it’s a self-portrait because of the corkscrew curl. Yikes.

Mondayā€™s class is a very small group, and Iā€™m teaching it because the content is important to me. If I used the customary pedagogical method and chased around questioning and critiquing, nobody would have a momentā€™s peace. Instead, Iā€™m developing ideas with, rather than for, the class. Itā€™s fantastic fun for me, and I think Iā€™ll probably learn something new about teaching.

A teacher is first a learner

I didnā€™t really have mastery of my craft until I learned to break it down in discrete steps and describe it to others. After all, that is what school is all about: repeating what one has learned. Not every artist is a good teacher; I know some very fine painters who are inarticulate. But when teaching is going well, itā€™s a two-way street. Iā€™m constantly surprised and amazed by what I learn from my students, as Mondayā€™s class demonstrated.

Early Spring on Beech Hill, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, 12X16, $1449 framed includes shipping in continental US. This is a favorite place to teach and paint.

 Why does anyone teach?

The obvious answer is that teaching provides a steadier income than just selling paintings, which can be a ā€˜canary in a coalmineā€™ careerā€”great when the market is up, dismal when itā€™s down. But nobody survives teaching if their motivations donā€™t run deeper. ā€œBecause you like telling people what to do,ā€ my smart-aleck daughter suggested. Thatā€™s probably partly true.

Good teaching is akin to preaching. They both require a belief in and passion for the subject. Building on that, you harness communication skills, technical ability, and human connection, but theyā€™re all secondary to that passion.

Blueberry barrens, Clary Hill, oil on canvas, 24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

True relationships

After a few decades of teaching and writing about painting, Iā€™ve shared a lot about my life. My students have done the same. If a painter takes one of my online classes, theyā€™re signing up for 18 hours of ensemble learning. If they take one of my workshops, itā€™s a full week. No, weā€™re not gossiping or chattering idly. We concentrate on painting, but that is a highly personal subject. We canā€™t help but make connections.

Although I once considered myself a private person, Iā€™m now comfortable with this. For one thing, these days thereā€™s very little anyone can blackmail me with.

Teaching has a long reach

I have students who have gone on to professional art careers. Some now teach, and some, like Cassie Sano, are successful writer-illustrators. Student Mark Gale works in an art program with homeless people in Austin, TX. Some, like architect Kamillah Ramos, will outlive me.

Like most artists, I went into art thinking I would make objects of lasting beauty. What if the actual product turned out to be future artists?

(I realize with a start that weā€™re within a month of my July workshop here in Rockport. If youā€™re considering it, you want to register soon, since itā€™s both close and nearly filled up. My other workshops are listed below.)

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Iā€™m learning a new art form

I’m slowly learning to act naturally in front of the camera. It’s been a difficult process.

The ancient Greeks used Ļ€ĪæĪÆĪ·Ī¼Ī± (poiēma) to describe workmanship. It comes down to English as poem and poetry. Poesis, which means bringing something into being that did not exist before, is another derivative.

It’s no surprise that ancient Greeks thought of creativity in poetic terms; they were masters of verse. We do the same thing today, letting language romp across various art forms willy-nilly. Composition and dissonance, for example, mean the same thing to a musician as to a painter.

That’s because the structure of art is oddly consistent across genres. My bass player husband can pick up any string instrument and coax decent sound from it, because the principles are universal.

There are exceptions, of course. “What is the equivalent of a sketch in photography?” Ron Andrews mused in response to this post. Ron’s right about static photography not needing sketches, but storyboards are just sketches for moving pictures.

The two classes I have finished so far; number three should join them shortly.

You don’t know what you don’t know

At the beginning of this year, I set out to make a series of online classes about painting. I want to get through the seven steps of a painting by the end of this year. I’m almost done with step three, composition. It’s been a doozy. The lesson is long and complex, but so is the subject of composition.

Just the brain dump would be challenging enough. On top of that, I’m still learning the medium. I have no director, so I’m learning to speak slowly and naturally to a camera in an empty room. I’m learning to do voice-overs and tinkering with ways to demonstrate technique. I’ve learned to edit audio and video on three different platforms.

Then there are the exercises and quizzes. To write them is easy; to make them work interactively online is more difficult. Thank goodness for Laura Boucher. She’s my operations manager, daughter, and software guru.

Then there’s Monday Morning Art School, which is free, of course.

Look to the experts

I don’t watch television or movies and I’m too old for Tik-Tok. To overcome this, Laura has me studying YouTube videos. Sandi Brock is a middle-aged sheep farmer from Ontario with close to a million subscribers. She’s an improbable influencer. I learn a lot from her.

The most liberating lesson is that people really don’t care about my flat Buffalo accent or wrinkles. To some extent, the artifice of perfection is irrelevant in contemporary social media. People find their own tribe and ignore the rest.

Painters today have incredible resources compared to the last century. My father taught me to paint, but for most people, learning opportunities were limited to what the local art gallery had on offer. If, like Bob Ross, you were interested in realism in a town where abstraction was king, tough. You were out of luck.

Today you can go online and study with just about anyone, including me. You’re the captain of your own ship, for good or ill.

I have already made a few hundred ‘resources’ for this online class. I’m getting better at it as I go along.

I’m a convert

When I was young, I took voice lessons. I still love to sing, but my voice is a mess. Right now, I’m looking for a place to take voice lessons online. The beauty of this scheme is that I don’t need to show up at 6 PM on Tuesdays; I can do the lessons whenever I want.

Three years ago, at the start of COVID, I fought the idea of teaching online. Today I’m a convert. The proof is in the pudding, and my Zoom classes have proven more effective than ‘real life’ classes in creating professional artists, and almost as effective as intensive workshops.

And that’s why I’m, at age 64, learning a whole new form of Ļ€ĪæĪÆĪ·ĻƒĪ¹Ļ‚. The medium may change, but the impulses of creation are universal.

So tell me in the comments, what new skill are you working on?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

The value of value

Cypresses and Sunlight, 11X14, Carol L. Douglas, $1087 includes shipping in continental US.

Early this year, I set out to create a seven-step online training class to teaching the fundamentals of oil painting. This morning I’m releasing Step 2: the Value Drawing. Making these interactive classes is a tremendous learning experience for me, and I hope the net result is helpful for you, too.

Value (lightness to darkness) is just one component of color, but it’s the most important. Establishing a hierarchy of values before you ever pick up a brush will save you hours of flailing around in the field. I know this from personal experience. Before I became disciplined about value, I wasted tons of time (and much paint) dithering, repainting, and generally making a mess of more paintings than I saved.

The value sketch is the oil painter’s secret weapon. It’s an opportunity to plan your painting before you ever pick up a brush. And it’s critical; if the value structure is compelling, your painting will be compelling. If not, your painting is doomed from the start. Nothing in painting is more important than value.

Birches, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 includes shipping in continental US.

Value is the basis of good composition

“But why waste time on a sketch when I can just paint?” you ask. For the same reason that contractors need blueprints before they start building: great ideas require planning.

Investigating value in advance is the key to compositional fluency. In value sketches, we quickly experiment with different arrangements of lights and darks. This helps us make intelligent choices about focal points, line, and the weight of individual elements in the painting.

By breaking complex scenes down into restricted value planes, we create blueprints for our paintings. This not only helps us simplify ideas, it guides us through later decisions about color, texture, and detail.

Value sketching starts with just a few simple, inexpensive tools: a sketchbook and a mechanical pencil. Working in a sketchbook is a lot faster and easier than working out questions of light and dark in paint. In return for a small investment of time at the beginning of your painting, you’ll reap tremendous dividends as you go forward.

Dropping Tide, 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard, $1087 framed includes shipping in continental US.

Amplifying contrast

Value drawing helps us simplify and amplify (when necessary) the contrast between darks and lights in our composition. Contrast is the visual tool that creates interest and drama in a painting. Too many paintings fail because they’re stuck in the boring midtones.

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

Understanding Form

Value drawing helps us understand how light interacts with different forms and objects in a composition. It’s what gives objects volume. You may never paint the nuances of three-dimensional modeling, but you should understand them.

Value is particularly important in realism. It’s how we create convincing illusions of light and shadow, depth and dimensionality.

Who is this course designed for?

It’s comprehensive, so it’s tailored to both a beginner’s understanding and an experienced artist’s continued development. You can go back to it repeatedly and take it at your own speed, so you’ll benefit from it no matter what your starting point.

Step 1: the Perfect Palette

Step 2: the Value Drawing

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025: