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How does a painting come to life? Artists throughout history have tried every formula to bring forth the masterpiece that would ensure them enduring fame. It has been said that"if you chase the masters, you'll only see their tails." In truth there is no set formula to creating good work. Having experimented for years with different approaches I can attest that some give better results than others. In this essay I will provide an abbreviated outline of my own process. For artists seeking a quick solution, I can only say that unless you are a genius, the process is laborious and time consuming. Quality takes time, that is my mantra.
As a young person I learned to paint from still life setups of driftwood and vases. I was not formally trained, and thus I had no notion of process. At the age of fourteen I would comb through pictures of National Geographic and copy exactly what I saw of someone else's vision. In time I became proficient at this, but eventually I lost interest. By thirty I had turned outdoors to find my inspiration, and since then have spent half of my painting life attempting to master the outdoor or plein-aire sketch. My trial and error painting education is a classic example of the need for all young artists to work with a competent master. A master can shave decades of untutored experimentation off a painter's life, taking the serious artist rapidly to a level of proficiency. Unfortunately, I did it the hard way, one painting at a time.
I always begin the painting process with a journey. Such was the case in 1988 when I discovered a slim expanse of interesting sand beach along the interior coast of Mexico. This is a place where the tides sweep in and out for miles, usually leaving just a thin layer of salt water. I called this place water-land because of the visual ambiguity brought forth by tidal surges. Here you could magically seem to walk on water, observing features just inches beneath the surface that were dry only hours before. One painting I did from here is a land/seascape I called Aguaterra, 1991. It was a precursor to The Spit painted three months later, a painting whose creation I will illustrate below.
On one outing along this beach three years earlier I noticed that the withdrawn tide had exposed a sharp, pointed sand feature that I recognized from earlier beach days as a sandspit. I also felt I had seen this place in a painting before, but where? It dawned upon me that it was beautifully portrayed in John Kensett's Eaton's Neck, Long Island, a painting that hangs at the Metropolitan Museum in New York.
I decided to give this scene a try and set up my paintbox to begin a two hour field sketch of the scene. The result was less that satisfactory, as many field paintings can be. I took some photos and returned home. After years of toying with this theme I decided to do a larger, more comprehensive studio painting of the spit. Inspired by Kensett, I began the process with a series of felt pen thumbnail sketches to explore the compositional possibilities. I knew that the strength of the painting would rely upon a carefully planned design, so I explored a number of design schemes based on golden section ratios. I was also concerned about other shapes or archetypal forms that might be employed in the design. A finished composition was selected and I moved on to study the mood I wanted to impart through the manipulation of the light, best visualized in black and white. To enhance the mood I picked a darker theme to work with than what I originally had experienced. Finally I settled on a choice of colors. Color is an entirely personal decision. It really cannot be taught, or all paintings would resonate with the same color scheme. There are, however, color clues that can be found throughout nature.
In the final painting the method I used has remained unchanged for years. All of the preliminary steps taken above dealt with a large portion of the challenges that a painting can present. There remained the actual work of stretching the canvas, preparing the painting ground, transferring the image to the canvas and commencing the first layer of color. Using layers by glazing is the old method employed by the masters. Glazes are thin, transparent sheets of color that interact with one another to create fantastically complex color combinations.To achieve these effects the artist needs the right kind of medium. To purchase this medium click here. To control the color, the masters would first paint a grisaille or grey layer. I used a grey layer in The Spit. After the grey layer dried and weeks passed I proceeded with the remaining layers and the final detail work, focusing on wave and water effects. The final painting surprised me, as it brought forth something that I could not have anticipated: an intangible essence that speaks with a language of its own.
In summation, what was achieved here? There is no way to know if something you have done will outlast you. Time tends to sort out which pieces were really important and which ones were the thrill of the moment. One thing is certain: like the sand flowing through an hourglass, the original vision I started out with on that lonely stretch of beach flowed into an iconic image that I never fully previsualized. What remained of the original thought that sparked the effort in the first place is long gone. Only The Spit remains. |
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