Preparation is Most of the Work

I have been making a concerted effort to make thumbnail sketches, value studies, color studies, detailed drawings, and work out problems before I paint. Doing this really does not take anymore time than just jumping right in and painting (even jumping right in and starting painting, I still have to understand my values, get an accurate drawing, and work out problems).

The big difference between the two approaches is I make most of my mistakes on the studies, and when it comes time for me to do the actual painting, I can paint it in one session, and be more direct and vibrant. The other big difference is I can study lots of compositional and value combinations with the thumbnails that I could not if I went directly to painting.

Also if I go directly to the painting, and it is not working, I spend lots of time trying to save it, and if it is a bad composition, or essentially a re-do to correct painting wide values, I often end up with a mediocre product because I am loath to start over.

I feel a great freedom doing the studies. They are all quick (except for the detailed drawing, and that is usually a keeper anyway), and so I do not feel bad if I reject one for another idea. I also have the freedom to check out lots of ideas, and see which one I like best. Sometimes the best idea comes from a mistake in the studies, but the resultant value changes or compositional changes can really enhance the final painting.

I believe that when I am doing the studies, not only am I experimenting with different approaches and ideas, but I am training my hand and mind for the final drawing. I also get more and more familiar with the subject so my final drawing feels more correct.

Painting to me is solving the visual problems of creating art. The more problems I can solve during the study phases, the more sophisticated the problems I can deal with during the actual painting phase. It is like my boss used to say -- "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time." By doing studies I have basically reduced the "elephant" (my painting) into lots of "bites" (my studies).

When I first started doing art, all I wanted to do was get in there, and get painting. I wanted to create masterpieces, not practice. As a beginner, I did not know that the only way to create masterpieces was through practice. Now I have gone back to what I wish I had done in the first place. Practice, practice, and more practice. I make my mistakes in the studies, and deal with the sophisticated problems of paintings when I produce my finished project.

The old adage, practice makes perfect, was never truer than in art.

Draw Often, Relax and Enjoy!

When I teach art, I learn from my students. This is one of the biggest rewards for being a teacher. I am teaching a beginners drawing class at the local college, and I have a very good class, very enthusiastic, an interested bunch of adult learners. We have been together for four weeks now, and I am happy with their progress. They are all doing quite well.

I am beginning to realize from seeing them draw in class, that one of the hardest lessons for them to learn is to draw often, relax and have fun. I put that on the blackboard, I tell them several times in class, and yet when I give them an in-class drawing assignment to do what do I see? They hunch over their paper, they grip their pencil like they are going to write, they get deadly serious, and start drawing. When I approach them to look at their work, they start apologizing, or try to hide it. Their work is good, but I can see the tension in their lines, in their shading.

This has been a great lesson I have been given by my students. Up until a few years ago, this would have been me as well. I had been drawing for decades, but still had not learned how to relax and enjoy.

I am not sure where this approach to drawing comes from, but it seems to be ingrained into us all. I wonder if it was not built into us in our early formative years learning to write. As a child, we had to develop small muscle control for writing. We started with big pencils and big letters, and as we gained control, our letters and pencils got smaller. It was all about learning control, and we had to concentrate hard because we were getting graded, and it was important to Mom and Dad. We took it very serious, even for young children.

Somehow, this same grip on the pencil, and this same attitude of serious, hard effort seems to transfer to our early efforts at art. Maybe because by now this approach feels natural and familiar. Any way, this whole complex of feelings, and motor skills move immediately into our art.

I can remember as an early student of art, how I noticed the relaxed, sure and big motions with which the art teachers drew. I wanted to draw like them, so I redoubled my serious attitude, hunched more over my paper, and gripped my pencil tighter. Isn't this the way I learned to write better? The problem was that doing that did not achieve what I wanted to in my drawing.

The second contributor toward this get serious and draw attitude was that I did not draw enough. Whenever I would sit down to draw, I was bound and determined that the drawings I did were going to be the best drawings I had done yet in my life, and definitely something to frame and put up in the local art gallery. After all, if I only drew for five hours a month, I had to make the most of the time didn't I? No time to waste playing, doing drawings to learn from, or worse, drawings that would not make Mom's refrigerator door.

Thank God, I have reached a stage in my drawing where most of what I do is play or for learning. I realize now that eight or nine out of ten drawings are not going to be my best, and that the vast majority are needed to learn the skills to produce the really good ones I do. Do I still do "serious" drawings? Yes, I do, but some of my very best are play ones that spontaneously appeared on the paper, and these often have more feeling and energy than my "serious" ones. These spontaneous ones are a real joy and surprise. They are the true gift of lots and lots of practice drawings. The "serious" ones are more carefully planned, carefully executed, and appeal to my organized brain and are very satisfying in their own way. I need both to feel fulfilled as an artist.

Now, I draw at least once, and some days, several times a day. I draw to work out problems, to learn, to play, to experiment, to create, and sometimes just to draw. With all this drawing, I have time to copy masters and learn what they have to teach through their drawings, I have time to make mistakes and learn how to do better, I have time to draw a thumbnail, a value study, experiment with composition, and then take a shot at the final finished drawing.

There is no substitute for drawing, relaxing and enjoying the process.

This is the hardest lesson for me to teach my students -- draw as much as you can, relax and enjoy. The more you draw, the faster you become better. Draw enough, and it becomes part of your life.

What Is My Objective?

I have missed blogging in the last two weeks. I was very sick with a flu, and had lots of work related things come together and a visit from my children. Insanity, and with it reflection.

Being sick gave me time to think, and think I did. This is the first time all year that I did not draw every day. I was very disappointed, because I even managed to draw during the last flu in the spring, but I just fell asleep and woke up the next day, so that was that. It was these events that upset me, and got me to thinking about what is my objective in art, and how am I doing.

Thank heavens for the visit from my children right after the flu. I restarted my drawing, I relaxed as I toured them around, and when I showed them my art, I got reconnected to it. Now that I am restarting, I get a chance to re-evaluate what I was doing, what worked and what didn't, what's most important and what is not, and most importantly, that I have to scale back because I didn't have any flex time to handle overloads, sickness and emergencies. So, I need to re-evaluate my art goals and give up my believe that I can do everything.

Before I got sick, I was growing rapidly in my art, and was very confused, and reaching out all over trying to find what direction to head in. Now that I am re-starting, I need to re-focus on where I want to grow with my art. My art goals are never clear to me. What I want I can't define. I feel it more than I can conceptualize it.

For instance, I love realism, but I want an artistic twist to it. I can look at abstract art now, and feel it, but can I get that feeling in a realistic piece? How real is real? How loose can I get? I guess I want to be loose, and real, and look artsy all at once.

I want to improve my techniques. I want to be able to draw anything from my mind's eye, and have it look very real. I want to draw people from any angle or position, move the light around, and get it right. Add a background of trees, or a room, or furniture, and get it all right.

I want to paint more, and study composition. Use what I learn in drawing to create my paintings. Get looser, look more real, and more like art than photography.

I want to understand why I seem to draw a lot and paint a whole lot less. I want to paint more. I want to feel the subject in my being, then transfer this to my art. What does "feel" mean? To me "feel" means feel the physical being, then feel my emotions towards that being, and instill both in my work. If it is a living being, I want to feel its feelings too, and bring that into the mix.

My prime goal is to improve my art and keep improving it. That is my prime directive and has not changed. But art is more that creating art. To me it is also trying to earn a living at it, showing it and giving something back to the community with it. These are my secondary goals. I still believe that without the prime objective, these other objectives become meaningless.

When I think about these, I feel I am on the right track, but I have trouble figuring out what I need to do to work on these objectives. This is where the confusion sets in, the impossible balancing act begins, and if I am not careful, where I lose my way.

I know I need to eat and pay my bills, but to stop all art to do it, makes my life meaningless. So to become a better artist, to keep first things first, I need to re-evaluate how I manage my life, what I need to do to exist, and truly make my art and my lifestyle one in the same, or I will get lost again.

I don't think this confusion, and struggle to work on my art objectives will ever disappear. I think this struggle is as much a part of life, as it is a part of art. I wonder if the great artists who have died, died in the struggle. I think so. Only after our death, does the success of our struggle become clear, for while we are alive, we constantly strive to improve, balance and manage. Life is art, art is life. The struggle gives meaning to life.

Growth in Art, Growth in Life

I find that my life and my art mirror each other. A recent reminder is my current situation. I have been trying to become more flexible in how I live, less rigid, and this is creating distress. The way I view life, the way I live life is changing, and this is disturbing. It is hard to be consistent, and always follow my new more flexible way of living. I still flip back and forth between the more rigid and the more flexible me.

What is so amazing is this same struggle is occurring in my art. I have a wonderful teacher who is stretching me to be more loose in my art and to see my art in a different way. It is working. I am seeing more in art than I ever did. I am doing new and different things, and trying my best to grow. However, this growth is causing me great confusion. I love realism, but am starting to look at more "artsy" artwork, and thinking I want to grow to do that. Yet, I don't want to stop doing realism. What I want to do is make my realism more "artsy" somehow, but I don't know how.

Just like my life outside of art, I feel uncomfortable with my art. I don't know where it is going, or where it will end up. I have to have faith that my art teacher will guide me along my journey while I am lost. I struggle to do what I don't understand, but can see, and now feel. I can not think my way to the next level of art, I must feel my way.

Most of the art classes I have taken were classes I could understand with the thinking part of my brain. The lessons on mark making, using color and brushes, and techniques are all good and have all moved my skill set forward to where I am today, but like my life, it is no longer enough to think my way forward. I need to start feeling my way forward.

I am confused about what feeling my way means. Does it mean feeling my emotions toward the subject, feeling the shape in three dimensions (like feeling the shape with my finger), or feeling the effect of the art that is being created, and learning from that, or all of the above and more I still can not understand.

I look at my art lately, and it does not look like my art. I see similar approaches to various masters, but I am missing from my own artwork. This adds to my confusion.

I work hard at being loose, and my teacher reminds me I must not get too loose. It is finding balance between feeling and thinking. Up to now, I have only existed on the thinking side of the continuum. Finding this balance is a difficult task at best.

My eyes are opening in my life outside of art, and my life in art. The journey is full of uncertainty as I fluctuate between how I always acted in the past and how I am learning to act in the future.

The only solution is fearlessly moving into the unknown, being honest with myself about my art, and not letting discouragement take over as my art goes through the same confusion as I am. In the end, I will see myself in my art again, and my art will grow with me. My art can only grow, if I grow in my life outside of art. I can not separate the two, nor would I want to.

As one of my favorite philosophers (Singhe) said "The only way out is through."
My mission is to get through and not give up along the way. This is my artist's path.

The Pitfalls of Plein Air Painting

I was humbled and learned a lot this weekend when I traveled to a Salt Spring Island to paint with my sketching group. There was a mix up, so I ended up driving myself out to the island. I was suppose to meet some of the sketchers in a Ganges, but as it happened, there was another mix up and the group that was suppose to come to Ganges, missed the ferry, and went to Ruckles Park where others of us were sketching. This left me to my own resources in Ganges.

I thought I had spare time, so I took one small side trip to Burgoyne Park, to take some pictures. I then went to Ganges, which had a fair, and a fall festival. No parking in the village, so I had to park on the outskirts and walk into the village. The first foray into the village was a scouting trip to see if I could find a place to paint. This is when I made my first mistake. I took my painting gear on the scouting trip, thinking I would save a trip back to the car. I had my gear in a shopping cart, except for the canvas, and a platform board that attaches to my easel. These items I had in a bag that swung around and generally got in the way.

The gear slowed me down in the crowd at the fair, and getting to the information center. At the information center, I got great information about where to go to paint. The closest spot was on a dead end street on the other side of the village. It was too far to walk to, so I needed to go back to the car anyway.

The next mistake I made was to get a wonderful lunch, but it took me too long to get the check, so valuable time was wasted waiting for the bill. To use the time, I sketched during and after lunch, which helped me pass the time, but it may have given the waiter the impression that I was not in a rush. I loved doing the sketch, but should have reserved the time for the painting I wanted to do.

The third mistake I made was taking too long to scout out my painting spot. I checked out the market and walked the whole village before I decided on the spot the information center had suggested. I spent too much time scouting. I should have been very decisive and moved out quickly for the painting spot.

I drove down the dead end street the information people suggested and found a beautiful little beach at the bottom of the street. I think this spot is only used by local people (like neighbours). I got my gear down to the beach, and set up to paint. I set up about a foot from the water, thinking that should be fine, and started painting. About two or two and a half hours later, I had moved the easel out of the water three times, and my paints and brushes back twice. I almost lost one of the brushes in the water. I just caught it in time. The lesson I learned from this is set up to paint as near to the high water line as I can. If the tide is coming in, valuable time will not have to be spent moving myself up the beach.

This quiet, private beach was all mine for about the first hour. Then one of the neighbours came down from his house to the beach, and I startled him and his child. They walked by quietly, trying not to disturb me. That was very nice of them. Next, a family came down the public access, and I could see they were disconcerted when they saw me, but shuttle by, with kind comments about my painting. Then I met Alan.

Alan is the local homeless person who sleeps on the beach. He stopped and we talked for quite a while. He liked art, and had had friends who painted. I felt as if I was painting on his front lawn, and thought he had a great place to live. I had to stop the conversation though so I could finish the painting. Getting into long conversations while painting can eat up the painting time fast. Another lesson learned.

The last mistake I made was setting up a time to meet with the rest of the club for a critique. I had a deadline, and that caused me to stop painting before I felt finished. I did join them for the critique, but another hour would have made a big difference. Painting would have been more satisfying than sitting for critique and coffee with my friends. I could have brought the painting to the next meeting, and got my critique then as well as my chance to chat with my friends.

Plein air painting is interesting and fun, but it does have its unique challenges. Wind, rain, insects, heat, cold, people, and now I have discovered tides and time. Still the colors are lush, and working from life, inspiring. The mistakes of the past become the wisdom of the future.

Too Busy Means Too Busy

I have been too busy to blog, and am days late in getting this one out. I have been too busy to spend more than 15 minutes each day drawing (though I do break loose a couple of times a week for a few hours of drawing). Too busy to paint (just touch-ups and adjustments to my mostly finished paintings). Too busy to live life, and enjoy being an artist. Yuck!

I have been working hard at trying to increase my art business. I am venturing forth to teach art, as well as increasing the number of shows and competitions, I am trying to increase the number of drawing and painting drop-ins and classes. The business side of art is pressing the bounds of reason in terms of the time I am spending doing it. The business side of art is starting to eat its young (creating art), and I am not happy with that.

I know we are all busy, but I have always seemed to be exceptional busy, and I do not know how I create this problem, but I have a gut feeling that I do. I am struggling with balance. I need money to live, and I need time to create art. There is never enough of either. And then their are friends and family that I really want to see and be with. And what about me time? Time to heal and time to rest?

I am feeling tremendous pressure to do everything, as I keep having to shed activities. I know this is a big transition period for me time-wise. With September, all my usual fall, winter and spring activities are starting up again and this plus show schedules and contests are all coming alive again after summer.

I presume that this is a challenge we all face as artists. It is hard to balance life, and art. Right now I feel I am not doing enough art, and art is the reason I do the other things. I just have to put first things first, arrange my life around creating art, and then arrange the rest of my time to do the things I need to support my creating art. I have to get into my artist mindset, and out of my everyday mindset. What is life without art? Empty.

Using Drop-in Sessions to the Best Advantage

I had an active week this week, and soon the Fall will arrive, and with it I go back to my non-summer schedule. This includes drop-in drawing starting in October, and continued sketching outdoors, and continuation of a portrait drop-in drawing session I found this summer. I will also start going to the university when the weather gets too cold to draw outside, and go to their drop-in drawing as well.

I find the drop-in sessions to be lots of fun, and in many respects more productive than workshops. I love drawing and painting people, so the drop-in sessions are perfect for me. I find there are several types of drop-in sessions, and each has its own special value and things I can learn.

The life drawing drop-in session is what I would call a traditional drop-in session. It lasts about two hours, and we have a model. We begin with 30 second poses, which force us to draw quickly and just get the gesture of the figure. Then we go to 10 minute poses, then 20 minutes, and finally in the end we get about two 30 minute poses. This kind of session I find good to focus on fundamentals, getting the basics right, and observing the model for tricky areas to draw. There is not enough time to paint, and no time really to finish the drawing during the session. Sometimes if a drawing is really good, I might go home and finish it, but I really prefer to complete the drawing with the model there for reference. These sessions are great for honing drawing skills, creating masses, placement of the figure on the page, and learning to work fast.

The second type of drop-in I had a chance to do in the beginning of the summer was a long pose drop-in. Here the model took one pose and after each break she resumed it. These poses are usually sitting or reclining, because of the time the model spends in the pose. This session lasted about 3 hours, and there was plenty of time to paint, which I did. I still did not finish the painting, but I completed enough that I just had minor touch ups (artistic touches, not drawing or model related touch ups) to do in my studio. This kind of session lets the artist reach the finishing stages of the painting, and yet the time limit is still short enough that you have to work fast, and accurately the whole time. No photos are allowed at any of the drop-in sessions, so I have to get it right while I am at the session. It forces me to work directly from the model for the whole painting.

The third type of drop-in I have participated in this summer was what is called a portrait drop-in. This lasts two hours, and the model maintains the same pose for the whole time. This is less time than the long pose, but because there is only one pose for the two hours, I found the time adequate to draw a head and shoulders portrait, but not paint or do the whole figure. Others did paint or do the whole figure or both, but I do not think any of them were able to complete their piece in the time allotted. I was lucky, I got into the zone, and finished a little early. I had to resist the temptation to fiddle with the finished drawing in order to fill up the time and I did. I just started to cleanup quietly during the last ten minutes so as not to disturb the others. In this session, when we have a professional model, the model is nude, so it is like the life drawing sessions in that sense. Alternate weeks, one of the participants models, so we get a draped model, which I would like to do more of. I find clothing difficult to do, and drawing clothing needs lots of practice too.

I am sure that there are many other types of drop-in drawing sessions that I have not had a chance to experience yet, but I found these three provided a rich mix of opportunity that exercised unique skills with each type of drop-in. This kind of practice is a must for artists interested in drawing people or portraits.

In Awe

I did not post a blog last week, and I regret that. I wanted to, and sat down to several times, but got interrupted and never did so I made this week's blog a top priority. Having done that, it is amazing that I just had one of those artistic experiences that puts me in awe.

My neighbor came over and asked if I wanted to go to coffee. We went to the local coffee shop and got our coffees, but I could see my neighbor was restless. Excess energy, something. We decided to take our coffee out to a local park to walk and enjoy the views.

My neighbor and I are very close friends, and were walking in companionable silence. The park is Whiffen Spit in the village of Sooke, British Columbia, Canada. The spit is between the harbor and the Straits of Juan De Fuca. This morning there was a dense fog over the water-the spit was engulfed in it. I felt as if I was in my own little world, safe and sound. It was very beautiful - mystical, as you made out the shape of some boats through the fog, and could see the seabirds clearly. I have done this walk many times before by myself, but having a friend with me made it more companionable and relaxing.

What I found as I walked along in silence was that I felt in awe of what I was seeing and feeling. I could smell the salt water, feel the cool ocean breeze, hear the crunch of gravel under my feet, and see the sea grass waving in the wind. Each step revealed a new and beautiful vista that just begged to be painted.

Then the revelation came. I could paint for the rest of my life, and paint with my utmost skill for each and every painting, and never even start to reach the beauty of what I was seeing and smelling and feeling. I felt in awe of all the beauty that surrounds me and that I take for granted each and every day. I often laugh at myself when I go to sketch a very beautiful bay, and say to myself disgustedly "not another wonderful scene with sailboats, mountains and beautiful water." I have become jaded to the beauty that surrounds me and overlook so much of it in search of that perfect scene to paint.

My awe gave me great comfort. I can paint and draw for the rest of my life, and my efforts will be no more than a drop of water in the ocean of beauty surrounding me. The real gift of my art is that it is teaching me to see that beauty, to appreciate it, and to incorporate it into my being by painting my feelings towards it.

I find that I often get frustrated at my lack of ability no matter how good I get. I am learning a lot and very quickly, but what is left of my life is just not enough time to even come close to what I want to achieve. This is the curse, and the blessing of art. I will never run out of challenges, or beauty, but I will never even approach capturing in my paintings the beauty and feelings that have so awed me.

The solace I get from all this is that somewhere, somehow, my paintings will convey what I saw and loved to another human who did not have my experience, and in that way I can convey the marvels of my world to others. Words could never begin to convey my feelings the way painting can.

This gives my life purpose and my endless practice at drawing and painting purpose. Art will challenge me for the rest of my life, and help me appreciate the world around me. Sharing my art with others will pay back to some small degree the joy I have gotten from the sharing of other artists throughout the centuries with me.

Copying is Good for Learning

For the last week, I have been copying drawings by Kate Kollwitz. I really like the feeling and strength of her images. I was hoping if I copied her images, I would get a clue as to how she created so much feeling in her drawings.

Copying master drawings is a traditional art training activity and can lead to some powerful learning. Once I copied a Van gogh and felt really angry. It was the marks I was making that brought up the feelings. Another time I was copying a Holbein the Younger drawing, and realized the drawing just was not looking right. Then I put in a mark so faint I could not really see it, but once done, my copy looked right. (I was copying Holbein the Younger because of his mastery of the deft marks he made.) I copied a Tintoretto drawing of a figure, and I was amazed the next time I went to life drawing. I could only see the figure and its outline in the way that I discovered copying the Tintoretto.

I was surprised with what I have learned so far copying the Kollwitz drawings. As I did the copying, I was highly impressed with the free movement of the marks, and the limited use of lines. The drawing is quite elegant and minimal, but very strong. I got the feeling that the broad marks used to create mass were the main marks I was making. Light was left as white paper, and the darks created the shape. Less is more. The darks were just enough, and the lights said so much without additional marks. The few lines drawn were perfect, and again just enough to finish the drawing.

I think copying these drawings taught me a lot about how to see light and dark, to use mass as the main element of my drawings, and to limit my lines to only those necessary, and draw them so accurately that they say all they need to.

As for the feeling, I get the sense that the drawings were done pretty quickly and directly. I find in my own work that if I can work quickly and directly it is easier to get the feelings down then when I polish the work, and slowly lose the feeling in myself and the work as well. To work this quickly and accurately, the drawer needs very strong skills in making the marks he or she wants, and needs to draw very accurately.

There are very powerful lessons to be learned by copying master's work. Of course, the artist should never claim the work as their own. If I show my Kollwitz copies I will indicate "After Kollwitz" to give credit where credit is due. The value in copying for me is the learning, not the drawing.

Note that the Holbein copy I referenced in this blog is displayed with the blog entry "Going Back to Move Forward".

Progress is Measured in Many Ways

I was pleasantly surprised when I thought I finished my last painting. I let it sit in my studio a day, and then looked at it again. I found what I thought was small correction, made that, and I became aware of two other small corrections that I did not see the first time. I made those, and was surprised to see three other small corrections that needed to be adjusted. Then two more, then one more, than two more, and so it went for some time.

Why did I not see all these corrections the first time? Why do I keep discovering new corrections after I make the ones I did see? It suddenly dawned on me, that I kept discovering new corrections because the earlier set of corrections created the need for the new corrections. In other words, my painting is a whole. If I change any one part of it, I change the dynamic of the whole painting. Doing this creates new deficiencies that I need to correct, or that become obvious after I have made the first ones. This is a wonderful, but annoying process. I think I am done, only to fix the problem and find it created new ones, and that this goes on for sometime. The wonderful thing about this is if I am making my corrections properly, the process eventually converges on a solution where I am happy with all of them and the painting is done.

The hard part of this process is to keep going. I find I try hard to convince myself at different points that everything is okay. That I have finally got all the changes I need, but then there is that nagging in my gut that is telling me I am not really happy yet. I think not having the perseverance to keep going until the painting truly feels done is what defeats a lot of novice painters. It is easy to feel tired of the painting, nervous that if I make the change I need to, it will destroy my painting, or that making the needed change will destroy a beautiful passage I have fell in love with. The answer though, is the painting as a whole is what I must be happy with, and a beautiful passage in the wrong painting is not a beautiful passage because it does not fit.

Now that we have talked about the hard part, let's talk about the really hard part. This is when I go to bed at night after checking the painting numerous times, and I liked the way it looked every time. Then in the morning, I get up and put the painting in the kitchen so I can look at it during breakfast, and it still looks good to me. And the same for bedtime, and any time I look at the painting for the next week. I declare the painting done. I put the painting in a frame, and maybe I hang it temporarily in my bedroom until the next big show.

The really hard part comes when I have done another painting or two, and then glance at the painting in the bedroom and think maybe its not done. In the last painting I did this or that, and perhaps this painting needs some of that treatment. This self-doubt is really hard to deal with. I think it springs from a growth in painting technique over time and several paintings. Yes, maybe what I can do now is better than what I could do when I did the painting in the bedroom, but as a whole the painting in the bedroom satisfied me at that time, and as a whole, it is consistent skill-wise. If I start monkeying with it at this point, because of learning I have done since I finished the painting in the bedroom, stylistically any changes I make will look just a bit out of place, and to get it right I really should repaint the whole thing.

At this point, I may no longer be as happy as I was when I first thought the painting was done, but it is history, so don't change it. This is a mistake that plagues novices as well. They have to keep fiddling with a painting until it is destroyed or loses all of its life. It become so polished that it looks dead. This is something every artist struggles with all the time and with every painting or drawing -- when to stop.

Not giving up too soon, or not fixing something that does not need fixing is a very important lesson to learn. If others say a painting is done, carefully consider their opinion. It may be that I have just gotten into the habit of making changes, and need to stop before it is too late. In the end, though, only I can determine when my painting is done, and that is a skill that requires constant honing.

Art is Feeling

I had a profound art experience the other night. I have always had troubles connecting with my feelings. I have trouble expressing them, and even feeling them. Art is a visual way of communicating on an emotional level. And how can I do this, if I can not even connect with my feelings?

About half a week ago I was visiting with my art teacher (she challenges me a lot and to the core). I was fixing a computer problem. In return for this favor, she took me down to a hollow on her property were we could draw trees. I hate drawing trees. I only want to do people, but I understood this was a gift in return for my help, and important to her. So off I trucked to draw trees, again being challenged to expand myself by this wonderful teacher.

As we walked down into the hollow, she told me this is where she had had her daughter's funeral. Now, the thought of one of my daughters dying before me is unbearable. To know someone else I highly respect had gone through this was heart rending.

As we drew, she mused about coming to the hollow again, and drawing to work through her grief. This got me to thinking about another artist I knew, who disappeared from all art functions for about a year, who drew hundreds of drawings of children playing, to work through her grief. I always admired artists who could deal with emotions by drawing or painting, but I never could and this troubled me.

Two days later, I was at home, and previously had been copying Kathie Kollwitz drawings. The power, the emotion, and the simplicity of line really captivated me, and I wanted to feel what she felt when she made her drawings. This night, I decided that I was going to try to draw like Kathie Kollwitz from a picture of my deceased mother.

My mother had senility for years before she died, and at times could not remember who I was. This hurt. Hurting was not rational, but it still hurt any way. To me, it was like my mother was already dead, but I kept visiting each time hoping she would remember me, at least for some of the time.

I sat down and started to quickly draw my mother. I wanted to tap directly into my emotions, and not fuss with composition, etc. I never intended this to be a showcase drawing, but a primitive attempt at displaying my sorrow for the loss of my mother. The picture I chose was one that had that empty stare you see in the eyes of the senile. I remember the day of the picture well. There was a party at the nursing home, and Mom was having fun, eating ice cream, but the stare was there for the first time.

As I finished drawing the party hat, and started to draw the eyes, I remember hoping that I could capture the blank stare, so sad, yet so indicative of her state. As I started to draw the eyes, my emotional dam broke. I was overwhelmed with grief. I was crying so hard, I couldn't see to draw. I kept having to wipe my eyes so I could see, and could only make one mark, then I had to wipe them again. And my sobs made it impossible to draw any kind of steady line. I was torn apart, but was driven to get those eyes right. Then I realized I had, because they were what broke my dam. I finished off the mouth and chin, and they are not very good, but that wasn't important any more.

I was surprised when I was done. I was very angry. I pushed a coffee table across the room, threw my pencils around, and just caused havoc until I could get a little control. I ended with lemon tea, and pacing around the house for over an hour. I carefully covered the drawing with my Kathie Kollwitz book, because I was afraid to look at it again. It was too painful.

Two days later I have looked and the feelings are not there any more. There is a healthy regret and sadness, but not the overwhelming emotions of grief and anger I first felt. This was a first for me, and a big step towards getting my feelings into my art. The really nice part, was the healing that comes with art for those of us blessed with the gift.

Art and Art Shows

I went to a large art show last Saturday. There was 124 artists, and thousands and thousands of visitors. It was quite well attended. I stayed the whole time, and walked the many blocks from one end to the other of the show. There were all types of artists, and all levels of skills.

I was struck by one observation I made -- of all the artists and visitors there, I only saw about three pieces of art sold. There probably were other sales as well, but I would be willing to bet there were not many sales made.

Given the economic climate I am sure that art sales are down just like sales in lot of other areas.

This made me think. In all the years I have been in art, I have been in many shows -- juried shows, outdoor fairs, small shows, big shows, and public art displays. I have donated art to charity auctions and one thing that seems to be consistent among all the shows, is that a good show may sell about 11% of the art represented, and that is not much.

Yet, at most art shows, there are lots of people looking at the art, talking to the artists, talking to each other about the art, and in general there is a festive atmosphere.

At first I was upset for the artists. Some were my friends, and I know some made a big effort. One even hired an model for the show, and was doing a painting demonstration of her. It seemed so unfair that they were putting out so much effort, and the visitors just came to look and enjoy, but certainly the vast majority had no intention of buying.

Reflecting upon this situation further, I started to reconsider my thinking. Yes, people come to enjoy themselves, and yes, most did not come to buy, but they did come to see the art. The visitors appreciate art. Perhaps for some visitors, they could not afford art, and this is one of the ways they can enjoy art, even if they can't own it.

Like public art, these shows bring art to the public as well. I think these shows are really more than just opportunities to sell art. These shows are a way to give lots of people a way to enjoy art, to see art, to promote art in the community, and for the artist, a chance to become known, and to get positive feedback that we all crave and need.

I guess what I am trying to say is that these shows, and public art displays, are important events in an artistic lifestyle. It is a chance to share our creativity, our vision, and bring our work to those who really appreciate art. It may be hard to earn a living at art, but it can still be very rewarding.

Art is Healing

I am a very driven person. I think on the Myer's Briggs I once scored in the Driver, Driver range - Type AAA personality. I have done a lot since that time to become more balanced, and I have, but when you start from where I did, you have a long way to go. I struggle constantly for peace in my life. I really have to work for it. Recently I have had a lot of art shows, and lots of opportunities to promote my art. This also creates a need for me to make more art. Need to fill all the requirements for all the shows. A lot of pressure.

To maintain my peace of mind at this stressful time, I meditate every morning, and do yoga several times during the week. This all helps a lot towards keeping me peaceful. Nothing is a complete solution, but everything helps. And so does my drawing and painting.

I draw and paint everyday. I have been drawing everyday since the New Year began, and painting everyday for the last two weeks. When I draw or paint, I get "in the zone" like athletes, and it is a wonderful feeling. Time seems to be suspended, nothing bothers me, I focus on the drawing or painting, and when it is done, I feel refreshed and relaxed, no matter what the outcome of the effort was. Lately though, after the drawing or painting session, the zone seems to stay around. It is like I am meditating while walking around, or like I am still drawing or painting, when in fact, I am going about my daily business.

I think the real reward of being an artist is starting to materialize. Beside the zone continuing after I finish doing the art, I am finding that I search for more and more excuses to do more art each day. I don't feel I am avoiding doing my daily chores, but rather moving towards something that is enhancing my life and increasing in frequency. The great side effect of this is that I am really satisfied with my ever increasing art skills. I am reaching my goals quicker as well. The improved skills don't seem as important as they did before though. What seems the most important now is this sense of peace, this being in the zone from art extending beyond itself into my daily life. I always wanted the artist lifestyle, but I did not realize it would expand way beyond my concept of art and make my life so serene. What a great calling!

At The Show

I just completed my day at the art show I mentioned in my last blog. The setup and tear down really was not as bad as I expected. Both went quickly, and while I could not find my tent, I had perfect weather - warm, sunny, cool breeze and I was facing the Gorge Waterway in Victoria, and could sketch the Canadian geese, rowers, and kayakers so my tent was not really missed.

I find one of the best and most appreciated ways to pass my time at these shows is by drawing, sketching and painting. The convener of the show stopped by and thanked me for demonstrating (and there I thought I was just doing my thing and having fun). I had a number of people stop and ask me if they could look closer at what I was doing. I know doing art at shows can have drawbacks. I am not greeting and making contact with people as they walk by. People may be afraid to interrupt me while I am working, and it was hard for me to work on the small surface that was left after I set up my display. The show was six hours, and I used the time to sketch, did one watercolour painting/sketch, and did a drawing to prepare for another watercolour painting.

The demonstrating paid off in big dividends this time. I was concentrating on what I was doing, and became aware of a man with a large video camera circling me. I thought he might be one of the show staff recording the show for their website. Instead, I discovered he was from the local TV news, CHEK. We talked for a little while, then he was gone to interview the convener of the show. I waited with baited breath for the evening news, and I was not disappointed. One of my watercolours was chosen from the hundreds of paints at the show to be put on the news at 11 p.m. I was thrilled. It made me feel really good, and recently I have been a little depressed about my art. The image with today's blog is the one that was highlighted in the news last night. I am lucky too, because this is the image I put on my business cards.

Lots of other good things happened at the show as well. I met a lot of my artist friends, who I did not know were in the show, and I always enjoy socializing with them. I was next to a man who I want to study bronze sculpture with, and we had a chance to talk after the show, and that was nice. I really enjoyed looking at his work during the show as well. He set up his bronzes (a cat, a rabbit, and some other works) under a tree in the grass, and the setting was one of the best for sculpture I have seen.

I also had some surprises. I have two images in my car windows with my name and contact information. One image is of a women in a red dress and blue shawl, and the other is of a boy. One lady saw my images, then hunted me down at my booth. She wanted a mini art lesson in the difference in facial features between men and women. Apparently, she paints faces on ceramic cups, and could get the women correctly, but was not successful with the men. So I gave her a rundown of some of the major differences, then to my surprise, she pushed a blank part of the program at me and asked me to draw the differences for her. I quickly sketched up a generic male and female face for her, and she was extremely pleased. I have to say that is the first art lesson I have given at an art exhibit. I really did enjoy helping another artist. I do believe it is important that we help each other as much as possible, and I have a lot of help I need to give to pay back for all the wonderful help I have received and still do receive.

My ego enjoyed the peoples' comments the most at the show. So many people had praise and appreciation for my art. One of my favorite conversations was with a man who amazed me with his knowledge of lighthouses. He could tell by looking at my lighthouse paintings which were American, Canadian, and from which coast they came from. I discovered he had worked in lighthouses all over North America, and could tell by the architecture what region they were from. Obviously, I am very outgoing and love to talk to strangers. There is so much of interest they can tell me, and most people I meet I find I like.

Overall, I have to say the preparation and work were well worth the experience I had. I believe that showing my art is an integral part of my life as an artist, and even though it is work to show my art, if I can inspire people, connect with people, and help people through my art, then its value increases well beyond the pleasure I had in creating it. I like selling my art, but I get the most validation from connecting with people through my art

Preparing for Shows

I guess one of the problems that all artists face is preparing for shows. I love painting and drawing, but I hate getting ready for shows. A lot of that is my art storage problems. Tons of art, and it is hard to find the art I want for a show, and to make sure I have a photo of the art, that I haven't scheduled the art for more than one show, that I have enough marketing materials (and holders) for the show, that everything is framed and ready to go, etc.

I am not the most organized artist, but I am not the worst either. I find the preparing for a show, and getting ready to go is discouraging. This week I have to hang a solo show on Wednesday, and then I am going to a fair type show on Saturday. The solo show requires more work to set up the marketing for the month, but the day show is so intense it will be hard.

I find when I have two shows like this, I only do what is necessary in my personal life. I cancel out my visits with friends, and just focus on the art shows.

I like the shows and get excited about the potential, but also dread the work. I guess I am like most people, I hate doing the work. I like the artist life, but there are some jobs I really could pass on.

I am still working very hard to draw and paint everyday, despite the strain the shows put on me. Besides making me happy, all the drawing and painting is appreciated when I need lots of art for all these shows.

I guess the other thing I really hate about the shows is trying to come up with prices. Prices are hard to set, and I don't know of any formula that is used by a majority of artists. I do my pricing based on my experience, and what I expect a particular market is willing to pay. I do price my art consistently, but if I think a market is not capable of paying for my larger art, I bring smaller works to the show. I never produce inferior or rushed work. The quality of my work is a direct reflection of who I am. I just change the size of the work to change the cost of the piece.

I guess I am just getting discouraged by all the marketing, and shows. I dream of the day when I will have a group of collectors, and not have to worry about galleries, shows, and marketing.

Balancing the Business of Art with Creating Art

I am going a bit crazy now and will be crazy for the next two weeks. I have four shows to get ready for, and a major competition to bring paintings for the judging. I don't know about other artists, but I find this a bit daunting. I am going to create a set of lists for each show, and what art I am putting into each, to make sure that I don't put something into one show, that really should have been put in another. As well, one of these shows is a solo show, so I have to hang it, and prepare the area, and that is even more work.

The main point of all this, is it is tough balancing the demands of life, the demands of the business side of my art, and doing the art itself (which is why I got into the business of art). I draw everyday, and I paint several times a week, and this is going to change soon to painting and drawing everyday. The creating of art is my most important part of my life as an artist. I must never let the day to day demands of the business side, start to push away my time to draw and paint. Like tonight, I will be starting to paint at midnight, and I am not at my creative best at that time.

I know there are business emergencies that must be handled, but in all honesty, I feel that if drawing and painting are really important, they must come first and the emergencies need to come second.

Since I have been drawing everyday since January 1 of this year, drawing each day seems to come naturally to me now. I draw when I take a coffee break, from TV or just to relieve stress. I find that painting has not reached this level in my life yet. I feel that with painting, I need to prepare surfaces, get water to clean brushes, and put acrylics out on the palette, then I can begin. So what? I guess I am angry with myself for not putting first things first.

My sketching club is disbanding for the summer, and I am going to use this time to paint plein air, and alla prima. If you are following these blogs, you know that I have also been painting alla prima at long pose life drawing sessions as well. I can see a lot of room for improvement, but I have also been surprised at how well the paintings have gone.

So has the business side of art for me. I am working very hard at Internet marketing, and that is taking up a huge amount of time, as I build the market I need, but I have to have patience, and look at it as if it is a multi-year project, which it is, and not let it drive me. Creating art is what I want as my driver, and good art to boot, and not the demands of business. Having been a businessman most of my life, I can easily get trapped in the business demands, so I must stay alert to my past habits taking control of me.

Well, off I go to paint. I haven't had time to create digital images of my work in the last couple of weeks, so I will post an image with this blog entry that I do have an image of, but hopefully soon, I will get to the business side of photographing my new art. Certainly, before the work goes into the next show.

Opportunity Knocks

Okay, so I was feeling sorry for myself. It was of my own doing. I decided not to continue with my sketching group this summer. They all decided to pay our old teacher to lead us around sketching over the summer. With the economy as it is, and money being so tight, I decided that I could go it alone, and use the money for drop in drawing sessions instead. I was feeling sorry for myself, because I know I will miss the comradery, and insights of my fellow sketchers. I draw everyday, and many of those times I go sketching by myself. What I don't do is sketch with friends except for my sketching group.

My grandfather used to say "Never a door closes, than another one opens." Well, I have been pleasantly surprised to find that artists from some drawing classes I go to are all now inviting me to draw or paint with them. Some are groups, some are just one friend, but it is like once the others knew I was not going regularly with a group, they felt more at ease to invite me on their outings and I am thrilled.

I originally joined the sketching group to find places to go draw at a later time by myself. Instead, what I received was much more. Friendship and fellowship of other artists. And now I am finding that fellowship is much broader than I had ever imagined. I always thought of art as a lonely creative process. I have trouble talking and drawing or painting at the same time, and I have seen demonstrators having the same problem. I have heard that art is a lonely vocation, but I believe that as an artist, I need fellow artists as much as I need to breath.

It can be tough being an artist. We create, and often do not know where or when we may be able to show our work, or if anyone will like it. We display our souls to the public for all to see, and criticism, or poor reviews wound us to the quick. Eventually, we develop leathery skin that helps us withstand the negativity some people show us, and we are still able to move forward and create, but that does not mean it does not hurt.

This is where other artists come in. We share a common bond in our drive to create art, and our need for recognition. Other artists I know who critique my work have always done so in a constructive way, and never mean. They are honest because they know how important honesty is to each and everyone of our development, but they do it knowing that it can be very wounding, and really want to help.

Also, I find discussions with some of my artist friends to be mind expanding. For instance, I always believed that an artist develops a "style" and then enhances and continues to develop it. I was amazed when two of my artist friends said they believed they had several styles, and used different ones at different times. This was a completely foreign to me. I was struggling because I thought my multiple styles to be unnatural, and now I can accept them as just what I do.

Artists supporting artists is one of the keystones to the joy I feel living an artist's life.

The above image is the last sketch I did with my sketching club. I did it in charcoal because it seemed right. I wanted to depict the mass and roughness of the boulders, and I focused on feeling the shapes. At times I felt more like I was carving out the boulders, than drawing them on paper. A powerful experience, surrounded by my fellow artists, sharing a common bond.

Long Pose Life Drawing

It is not always easy being an artist. I had signed myself up for a long pose life drawing special sitting at the model's studio (she is an artist herself). It was advertised as a master artist session, and I can tell you I felt far from a master artist. I had been working Friday on a big canvas painting of my older daughter, and this painting has been nothing but a struggle since I began it several years ago. It started out all wrong, and then I tried to change it, but I found that my goal for that particular piece of art kept changing as well.

Finally, I got settled down, and repainted it in consistent colours and it has come up very well. Now, everyone is telling me it is pretty much done (my follow artists at a drop in painting session, but I was still struggling with the painting. I wanted it to be very realistic, but is really is pretty nice in its more painterly condition. I struggle with this, because I have changed my goals for this painting so much, am I copping out?

Well, this being said, I was facing this long pose modeling session and feeling pretty down on my skills with acrylics. I was again struggling with painting or drawing ( which I would feel more comfortable with), or just not going at all. I felt I had to go, as this was a limited seating session, and others had been closed out so I should go. The model was expecting a certain number of people and it wouldn't be right not to go.

So now I was faced with the dilemma of painting or drawing. Since this was a long pose, it was one of the few opportunities available to paint the model from life. Usually, the life drawing sessions are short poses, good for drawing practice but not long enough for painting. I had decided that if I were going to paint, I would try open acrylics, because I was really annoyed with the rapid drying times of acrylics, and the lack of blending times. (I have been seriously thinking about switching to water based oils, because of this.) My last experiment was a small kit of open acrylics (about six tubes - the Classical set by Golden).

So I went to the session, anxious about finding parking, anxious about finding the studio, never mind parking, and anxious about making a fool of myself in master session with a type of paint I had never used before, but I screwed up my courage and went. I felt that perhaps I was feeling less confident about my abilities than I should have because of being mad with myself over not having a clear goal for this large painting I was working on, and mad at myself for not trying the open acrylics before the modeling session, but time just wasn't there.

I got there about 45 minutes early, found parking easily, and was still somewhat anxious when the session began. Then we started with some one minute poses to warm up, and I found these comforting, as the drawing and the short poses where what I was used to.

This is why art is wonderful. Once I got more relaxed, I was able to get into the zone. I really liked the drying time of the open acrylics, and I could blend the way I wanted to. As well, so of the people at the masters session were friends of mine, so I didn't feel so intimated, and I meet a really nice artist there and hope to see him again at other sessions.

The painting, which I did not have any lofty hopes for, but for which I did make sure I had a clear goal in mind, really pleased me. It followed, and finished on time, and it represents the way I love to paint the most. We had great lighting,and I used it to my best advantage to make the painting more dynamic, and to bring out the mass of the figure.

I was thrilled with my new paints, my new painting, and my new friend. The lighting was great, and this happens to be my favorite model. She is very professional and easy to work with.

I found that by facing my fears, and pushing past my feelings of inadequacy I was able to have a marvelous experience, and learn the lessons I needed so I could overcome my inadequacies.

I haven't finished the studio touch ups on this painting yet, so I am going to post a painting from my archives instead.

Trip to Prince George

Sketching on the road is more challenging than I thought. I was traveling to see my daughter's convocation at the University of Northern BC, in British Columbia. I just got home yesterday, and it was a wonderful trip. I had clear, warm weather for the whole trip, and it was a great family event. One of my frustrations was that there was so much beautiful scenery. The trip was 14 hours each direction, so I really didn't have much time for stopping and drawing. I also had to teach a course on-line the first travel day, so I did not get out until after dark. The first day I sketched while waiting to get on the ferry. I did not have much time, but I did get a quick sketch in of the terminal market. It was challenging with the time frame, but I managed to get a likeness of the market. It was then that I found that I had forgotten my pencils. I had brought pen, ink and wash, but for the short time I had, I decided to sketch with the ballpoint pen I had. It was not as satisfying as using my sketch pen, but it was all I could find. I had it in my head, I would be able to erase and correct my work, but I could not do it. That increased the challenge. It is strange, because a few years ago I did most of my sketching with a ballpoint pen, and then switched and got hooked on a sketching pen. It just has a different feel, and as an artist, I really enjoy the feel of my tools as well as the drawing itself.

The next sketch I did was of a flower vase in the restaurant where I ate. It was a really nice steakhouse, and the decor matched. I was faced with a problem there too. I only had the ballpoint pen and small paper, as I did not want to bring my fancy pen sketching. I was tired, and hungry, and close to my final destination. I just wanted to get to my daughter's house. I am glad that I took the time to do the drawing. It really was an exercise in simplification first. I had to find a reasonable set of symbols for the little flowers of the lilac, and then in the end, I added a leaf in the lower left to put the leaves around the flowers. I also had to subtly widened the vase base without making it look changed. I was able to do this because of the shading lines.

Next, I found that I did a sketch while waiting for the convocation ceremony. I tried to draw the stage, but that did not work out as well as planned. The lighting made it hard to identify the images, and they were complicated. Oh well, not every sketch is a winner, but I had taken photos of the same image so I can revisit it in the future.

The next images I got to draw were really fun. My daughter and her husband have three cats. and this gave me a chance to work on cat sketches from life. I always thought that cats just sat around and for the most part didn't move. Boy was I surprised. They are constantly moving around, but small movements. That just goes to show, that I have some fundamental misconceptions about life, that my sketching corrected. Everything that I need to know, I learned from sketching. I like that expression. I think I will put that in my slogans memory.

These sketches were not as good as some, but I captured the action, and they look like the cats, even if they are not the best poses. I considered them a success, because I learned a lot about the subject, and captured the moving cats by drawing from memory a bit.

My final sketch was done the night I was driving home. I finished supper, and went out with my sketchbook as it was getting dark. I found a spot around the corner from the main street, and was standing on a deserted street, sketching in peace. Suddenly, this guy comes up to me, and tries to hit me up for money. I was fine, but it made me realize that in a strange town, after dark, I was standing on a deserted street because I chose my location based on what I wanted to sketch. I should have been more cognizant of my security.

There were a lot of lessons I learned on this trip. First, I need to carefully pack my materials, and make sure the tools match my hopes. Second, I need to leave more time to sketch. Third, I need to make sure that I am more careful about my personal security when I am in a place that is new to me. I learned that I need to sketch a lot more subjects that I usually ignore, to learn more about their habits (like the cats). Life is wonderful, with new discoveries all the time, and sketching is a great way to make those discoveries.

Sketching Outdoors

This past weekend I had a great time sketching outdoors with my sketching club. The Swiftsure Yacht Race was on and our club started on the top of a hill. From the top of the hill, we got an expansive landscape view, and all the yachts waiting to start. I normally don't do landscapes, but this view was just too good to pass up. The shoreline, the water with the yachts, and the mountains in the background. There is just something about a perfectly clear day, fresh air, and the colours of nature that make sketching outdoors so wonderful.

After I completed my first sketch, I moved down the hill to the shoreline. There were still yatchs waiting to start, and people to draw as well. The real challenge with people at events is that they move alot and often get up and walk away. I love this challenge though, and try to rough in the sketch first, so if the people leave, I still can fill in the details from my imagination.

The second sketch I did was of a cluster of three people with a dog. I just got it roughed in when they decided to leave. As they passed me by, they commented on how nice the sketch was, especially with the dog. I guess they appreciated that I didn't leave their dog out of the drawing!

The third sketch I did was of about five people who arrived right after the first group left. I know I would have probably at least 10 minutes before they would leave, and roughed the sketch in quickly, as they still do wiggle about. In all these sketches I put the yachts and water and mountain in last, since these will still be there after the people go.

I really had fun with this as I did the first sketch in graphite, the second in charcoal, and the third was pen and ink. I use these sketching sessions as learning experiences. I used to create drawings that I could sell, but the learning experience is more important. Where I used to complete one drawing, now I am up to three sketches, and can try multiple medium. If my production drawings and paintings ever get caught up, I plan to try to create finished paintings from some of these sketches. I probably should have brought my camera to get reference photos as well, for color and details, but alas I didn't. I left it behind on the prior sketching weekend, and was nervous about bringing it along this time. I will next time.

I am hoping now that the weather is getting better to do some painting outdoors as well. Alla prima. Direct and complete.

I find that combining the beautiful weather with the wonders of drawing to be one of the most pleasurable things I can do. Hurray, Spring!

The image I am posting with this blog was done on another day out on my own. I drew this one, then painted it in. It was an alla prima painting in watercolour. Not a sketch, but it was fun anyway, and that is what art is really all about isn't it?

For more information please visit my website.

What Makes Good Art?

I was pondering in the shower today on what makes good art. I came to the conclusion that one way of looking at good art is looking at the audience that is deciding whether it is good art or not.

I could identify four audiences that I tend to refer to when I am trying to determine what is "good" art. These are the public, art buyers, the art community, and the artist himself or herself. Let's look at each one individually.

• The Public - I am a firm believer in public art, and try to participate in many public art programs. I believe most people really do enjoy art, and many do not have the means to purchase art for themselves. I know that artists in different cultures are treated differently. In Europe, artists are treated a bit like celebrities. In the United States and Canada, I think they are though of as a bit eccentric, and not main stream. I remember when I was a kid I told my Dad I wanted to be an artist when I graduated high school, and he said that is nice, but what was I going to do for a living? I think this was the same thing his father had said to him.
  
  I draw a lot in coffee shops, and do a lot of outdoor sketching and I am always amazed at the percentage of people in the public who feel compelled to look at my work and discuss it with me. I see true appreciation of the art in their eyes, and I get many ego inflating compliments about my work. The public seems to react directly to a piece of art, either they like it or they don't. This is the kindest audience when it comes to deciding if art is "good" or not.
  
  
• The Buyer or Collector - The second audience for art is the buyer or collector. If someone is willing to pay for your art, then they have definitely given you a "good" grade. The art buyer as far as I can tell, usually buys art for themselves (to hang in their home) or as an investment (they believe in the artist, and think his or her work will increase in value over time). This audience is most easily reached by works of art that fit the current trend in designers colours, and florals and peaceful landscapes for the most part. Art that makes people comfortable and beautifies the home. Many art buyers are women, so things that interest them are often good subjects.
  
  Goodness for this audience is easy to calibrate. The more money you earn, the better your art is. The nice part about this audience is they help with the mundane, but necessary need of earning a living.
  
  
• The Art Community - The third audience is the art community. By this, I am referring to the critics and judges. This community has certain criteria it uses to determine what is "good" art. Art history, the masters, the critic's or judge's personal taste in art, are all criteria used with a multitude of other things like technique, composition, creativity, originality and many, many others. This is a very difficult audience to receive a good rating from. Remember, though, that this audience, like the others above, are strongly effected by their culture and era. For example, Van Gough was not accepted in the art community of his time, his work was not popular with the public, and he was not successful at selling his work during his lifetime, yet failing in all te above markets, he is recognized today as a great master. Sometimes the art community audience is slow to accept someone as good, and as times and tastes change, work previously not accepted as "good" becomes "good". Like everything in art, there is no hard and fast rules.
  
  
• The Artist - The final audience that determines whether art is "good" or not is the artist himself or herself. I believe this is the most important audience of all. Art is an interaction between the artist and the subject. What the artist believes is "good" will drive the development of his or her work, create the artist's personal style, and give cohesiveness to their lifetime of work.
  
  It is the artist himself or herself that strives for perfection (what the artist believes to be "good") in each work, and is always disappointed and resolving to do better in the next work.
  
  And who is better at determining whether the artist achieved his or her creative goal than the artist?

What is "good" art? I think it depends on who is the audience and what factors are effecting them, such as culture, and the world they exist in. I think for myself as an artist, the only measure of "good" I am comfortable with in judging my art is my satisfaction with the artwork I created and has it progressed from prior works in a way that I want to go in.

The image in this post was done on an artist's weekend getaway to Quadra Island near Vancouver Island. The drawing was done between rain showers and depicts Cape Mudge lighthouse, a working lighthouse near the resort.

This week I went on an artists trip with a group of artists. I was part of the group that traveled together in one large vehicle. It was a very pleasant drive. I really enjoy the company of artists. I learned a lot about art classes in the area, shows, and how others approach the business of art. We also talked about art in general, and there was a buzz of anticipation in the vehicle as we were headed for the resort.

The first night there I had to teach on-line, so I could not join the others for dinner, and could not explore the area. What I did, since it was late after I ate dinner, was some contour drawings. I didn't want to stress myself, and contour drawing is an important exercise that I have to admit I don't do often enough.

I was worried because it rained the whole way to the resort, and it was raining that night with a 60% chance of rain in the morning. I had been really excited about this trip, because there was a lighthouse within a short hike from the resort. I love lighthouses, and this was my primary target for the trip.

As it turned out, there was about a three and half hour break in the rain, and I used that time to draw the lighthouse. I never seem to understand the limits of my time. I packed way too many supplies. Watercolours, pen and ink, brushes for ink, charcoal, and graphite. I actually only had time for one graphite drawing of the lighthouse that morning. In the afternoon it rained and I toured a local museum with a number of our group. At night we saw an art movie about the life of an artist. The movie was very good. I was just surprised about how little time there was to draw. Before breakfast that day, I did try a quick watercolour of the resort, but the moisture in the air made it impossible to dry, and the watercolours stayed so wet they ran into each other. Not a great experience, but the result was better than I thought they would be with the moisture conditions.

Some of the attendees only took photos. I wondered why, but I guess that some prefer to work from photos, and they only took references. I also wondered if they were afraid to work from life. I know I was a bit intimated, in case others wanted to see my work. As it worked out I used some of my photos of the lighthouse to add details I didn't get when I was sitting outside drawing the lighthouse. I got cold and was late for lunch, so I did not quite finish. Reference photos can be invaluable for finishing off a direct drawing if weather and time cause you to quit early.

I was proud of my experience with working directly outside. I set myself up by the edge of a woods, so if it rained, I could stomp down some of the underbrush and get protection from the rain in the trees. Luckily, I didn't need to do that.

One hazard I encountered that I did not expect, was the lighthouse keepers dog. The dog was really friendly, and layed down by me, like he was mine. What I didn't realize was that the dog had snuck into my pack, and stealthily removed my bottle of brown ink. Lucky for me the lighthouse keeper caught the dog with my ink, and luckily for me the ink bottle, though plastic, only had tooth marks, but the dog hadn't punctured the bottle.

The joys of working outdoors.

I was really surprised when I came back and went sketching with my sketch club. I did a sketch of a little harbor and I was really disappointed with the results. I realized some of it was due to an experiment with brown paper and graphite (they didn't go together) and more importantly, I just didn't get excited about the subject. I spent alot of time chatting with a woman who was on the beach with her dog. I understand now what a difference real interest in the topic can make to the success of a drawing.

I can not post the drawing with this post, because I left my camera behind at lunch with the sketching club, and I have to pick it up to photo my sketch. I am including another sketch from the work I do with my sketching club.

Going Back to Move Forward

Sometimes to move forward, I have to go back. I am trying very hard to improve my drawing. Drawing has been my focus for the last six months. I believe art is a journey not a destination, and learning is how we move along the path.

Recently, I did a copy of a Tintoretto, and it had a profound effect on my thinking and my art. At first, I just copied this master work because it looked easy to me, and I wanted something to draw. It was mostly line, and the human figure of a man, and I like drawing people. So I went about copying this master's work, and I started to feel different. I had had this experience before when I copied a Van Gough. When I copied the Van Gough, I got angry. I couldn't believe it, but the strokes I had to make with my charcoal were bringing up anger in me. This seemed amazing. Since that time I have been studying the mind/body connection, and physical memory, and don't find the idea of the body/mind interaction all that strange any more. But this time I was copying the Tintoretto, and I found a real flow going on in my drawing. It felt almost like ice skating. The most amazing thing was when I went to life drawing. I found I suddenly started to see the model in curved line, just like the Tintoretto I had copied earlier in the week. I still can't get this mind shift out of my mind. Whenever I go to life drawing, I still see the curves in the model in a way to mimics Tintoretto's work.

I have been studying master works and have not had time to copy them, but even reading analysis of them (Drawing Lessons from the Great Masters by Robert Beverly Hale) has effected the way I approach a lot of subjects, and how I see them, and approach them to draw. I would not see the master strokes without a guide, but seeing the analysis, I can apply the techniques using the right side of my brain. By copying the masters, I think I must be engaging the left side of my brain, because the feelings I get when I am drawing or seeing changes based on these experiences.

A third way I have benefitted from studying the masters is that I carry these lessons to my painting and well as my drawing. Drawing is a great way to learning value, composition, and structure, and then painting adds the complexity of color. For me, painting is just drawing with a brush and color. They are not separate art elements, but rather just different stops on a single continuum.

Each human starts out in art in the beginning, and must learn himself or herself all he or she can during his or her lifetime. Studying the masters and what they have learned just speeds up my trip down the path of art.

Measuring Progress

I once was walking down a street with the vice president of sales and marketing of my company. He said to me that if his sales people where closing 100% of all their sales calls he was not happy. Why? He said that his people were not trying hard enough. His criteria for success was 50% closing rate. Then he knew his people were trying hard and doing their best.

I think this philosophy works for art as well. Except I think the percentage of art I am satisfied with is more like 10%. Art is something that is very skill oriented. I find that most of the art I produce is practice. I draw sketches, I try new materials, I draw preliminary drawings for ideas and for paintings, I try some images multiple times to improve my ability to get the result I want, and I am learning all the time.

I have heard about artists who paint the same elements in every painting, just move where they are. They get the paintings done, and charge the same as a new design, so commercially they are doing quite well, but they are not growing.

I have also found artists who have developed a "method" for creating their art, and use the same formula over and over again. Again, where is the experimentation and growth? I struggle with this because it is important to learn new solutions, and then to use these solutions over and over again, but when does the inclusion of past solutions become the "method" that stops growth and learning.

I guess for me, art is continous learning and exploring. I am very eclectic, so my exploration brings me to try new materials, new techniques, and new subjects. I always go back to people, and they are by far my biggest interest, but I have other interests too, and like to explore them and do.

I find my study of art goes in two general directions - breadth and depth. I am constantly testing new materials, and techniques in the hope of finding a material or technique that I will want to use in the future. I study subjects like people and anatomy in depth, since I need a vast knowlege to correctly draw and paint people.

My biggest struggle is with my ego. I want all my drawings, and paintings to be good. I get very disappointed when I create some art, and I see obvious problems. When I do, I have to remember that failures are the signposts of progress. If I am constantly producing work I like, I am not progressing and growing. I believe all the great masters worked on growth and improvement right up until their death. Afterall, art is a path that has no end in this life.

My Own Backyard

It is really quite amazing to me. I go out with my sketching club to the city all the time to seek out new and different places to paint or draw. Yesterday, as I started out for my walk around the Sooke Basin, how beautiful the place I live in really is. It was getting close to sunset, and the light was just perfect. I noted a sunk fishing boat, by some pilings probably no more than 40 feet off shore. The boat had been sunk out there for I can't remember how long. Yesterday was different. The marine works next store had move their crane barge out along side the boat. I realized that the scene was going to be gone before today was out. So, after my walk, I went inside and got my camera, and returned to the shoreline (about 40 steps from my front door) and snapped an number of photos of the barge and the sunken ship.

How many times had I said to myself, what a picturesque scene that would be to paint. I really must get out and paint it. Now, all that I have is a photo of the real thing to paint. And so it goes. The marine works is right across the parking lot from my condo. I can see the giant shed where they pull the boats out of the water to work on them. I can see the area where the boats are docked. It is a very old and run down marina. It has more charm and character than any other marina I have visited to paint and draw.

I think I finally have gotten it. Last night I finally realized that some of the best marine landscapes where right outside my door. And with the weather getting a little warmer, I am going to make a promise to myself to do some alla prima painting in the next couple of weeks and become intimate with that quaint marina right next door, before it too is swept away in the modern rush to build condos, and boardwalks along the water.

The painting I have posted with this entry is one I did of Sooke Basin. It was early in the morning in the winter, and the moon was still visible high in the sky while the sun was starting to light the sky. The lone sailboat anchored out in the basin added just the touch I wanted for the painting. An interesting story about the painting's sailboat. I met the owner's father on the beach during one of my walks. I told him how I liked looking at the sailboat. The man then told me that his son had to bring the sailboat in and couldn't moor it any more, because the sea lions were climbing in to sunbath, and they were heavy enough that they almost sunk the boat! Growing up in New York City, that was a hazard I never considered before.

Curating an Art Show

Yesterday, I hung the first art show I curated. It was month's in the preparation, and I was scared stiff yesterday as the process began. I started month's ago with the idea of having an art show for our sketching club so we could exhibit our sketches. Once the club decided to go forward, I was excited and ready to run with it. I got lots of interest and moral support, and so I started to try to find venues for the show. There were about four I compiled into a list, and started contacting each to see if any would have our show. Two were enthusiastic, one was in the process of a move, and unsure how ready they would be, and I actually never succeeded in contacting the fourth. I slowed down when suddenly as the show started to become more of a reality than a concept, I was suddenly getting people pulling their support (not wanting to participate) which made me very nervous. After all it was my name in the requests for space for the show.

The sketching club is approaching its first anniversary, and many of the sketchers had never entered art in a show, or had a bad experience with another show prior, and didn't want to get involved again in showing their art.

Once a venue was acquired, I really got worried. The area was 8 feet x 8 feet x 8 feet approximately, and presented us with a lot of space to display art in. Two months before the show, I got support from two other really ardent members, that if we had too, the three of us would each produce twenty sketches for the show, so we could make it happen if everyone backed out on us.

It was the winter months, and the club had moved inside at the local university for life drawing, and we were down to about 4 active members who still continued to come even though we were indoors. The president and I started to email the other members and really talk up the show. Slowly more and more sketchers took an interest, and we were able to belay the fears of the many. We pointed out this was not a juried show, these were sketches and not finished works of art, and it could be great fun if this was a person's first show.

Until I put together the first draft list of paintings, we really had no idea of how many we were going to have. We wound up with over 70 and there was still potential for more. We went from not having enough to having too many! So, some of us who were willing to work extra hard to get extra sketches done, again filled the gap by removing several of the sketches we originally intended to show. That is how we got the number to 68.

My next worry was how was I going to hang so many sketches in three and a half hours (the time frame the municipality requested). I put out a call for help to the sketching club, and again I was amazed at the support. In the end there was five of us there to hang the show, and we got finished with 15 minutes to spare!

I have to say I am really proud of the show. All the club members except for one displayed in the show. A photographic artist in the club (who sketches with us) provide high quality photos of club activities, and the president did up beautiful brochures, flyers, and information sheets which we have at the show as well. What makes me so proud though, is the quality and diversity of the sketches, and the wide range of materials and styles. The show has great interest and is tons of fun for the club.

We are planning a night together to see the show as a club, and then socialize over finger foods and coffee. What a cool way to into our first anniversary together. Bravo to the bit sKetchy sketching club!

I am posting a photo of the exhibit and a sketch I did with the club. The sketch is probably too much of a drawing, and it still needs work, but I will wait until the club returns this coming summer to that location, and finish the sketch/drawing then.

I really enjoyed curating this show, and all my fears and anxiety proved to be unfounded. And it gave me the knowledge to curate my next show, which is going to be my people drawings! I guess the best way to help yourself is to help others.