In the Field

It's been time to get out and about, with balmy days and time enough to scout locations.  Yesterday Randall Tipton and I drove out to the gorge to paint near Herman Creek at a quiet little spot I discovered last year, but the Columbia River was so high that we couldn't get to the location I had in mind without wading through water covering the trail, so we found a little spot of shade and made do.  Here is a shot of Randall painting in one direction while I painted in another:

A few days earlier we had been to a plein air demonstration by Leland John on the campus of Clackamas Community College.  It was interesting to hear the stories of someone who has painted outdoors for much of his long life.

I'm glad to see that more and more people are discovering the pleasure of painting outdoors, but it's still a rarity to run across a painter in the wild; golfers and fishermen still outnumber us by far!

While not every painting is a success, it seems that frequently enough there is something to notice in these works, either an idea to be developed, color to be recognized, or even a glimpse of the feeling one had on site.  

Grisaille Method

Virginia Wolf 11x14

I am investigating the classic method of underpainting the tones in raw umber and white, reserving all other color for glazes once the underpainting has dried, and I can see merit in the system, though it takes a lot longer than the alla prima method.  It does focus me on the form, learning how to turn through gradual blending, rather than being distracted with involving change in color temperature as well.  I will see how this turns out once the color phase goes on.

The thing about painting, whether outdoors or not, is that it is guaranteed that there will be duds along the way, and I have run into a series of them lately.  Sometimes the original idea is exciting, but somewhere along the process it begins to fade, and the result, while bearing the fruit of some aspect of the idea, like color or mood, is not a finished painting.

Suffocating in Green

While walking the dog this morning, I paused in the midst of the forest and looked around at the sea of green: everything was nearly the same green, the ground had a green cast from the reflected light, the light itself bounced around green, and though it was as delicious as a Kurasawa film, and the richness of the color was as stunning as a club to the head, there was no way to paint it.  I might as well just use a house brush and cover the canvas with the one color.  There were slight variations in tone, and little details everywhere the eye moved, but it was too, too much.  Spring has arrived and suddenly the world is a green jungle; the trails are overgrown, the ferns are as thick as herds of sheep, and I find myself walking with one arm raised in front of me to ward off the spider webs that are now suddenly crisscrossing the path.  Life asserts itself and I have to take a step back to reconsider my approach to this dance I have been dancing, where Life shows something wonderful and noteworthy and I try to find a way to translate that into paint, all the while trying to learn the language necessary to talk with a brush.

I have been trying to get out more, paint from life, and work up speed while doing it.  One of the readiest subjects is down at the lake, where I can at least lounge in a chair while painting familiar subjects like Phantom Bluff.  I'd say it was taking the lazy way out, except for those 290 steps on the climb back up to the house.  Some of the work I have done outside seems like a failure until I look at it under proper light, and then I see a little something in it of value, something about the quality of the color and the light effect, but in the end, many of these fall short because they are a little brutish and roughly painted.  Painting is a pasttime that is constantly humbling (much like golf) and it takes real dedication to a goal not to become discouraged.

Pseudo Plein Air

11x14 oil

In preparation for the upcoming plein air season, and with rainy weather interfering, I take what little painting time I have had to try to quickly lay in impressions of a landscape.  It is not ideal, but it is dry in the studio.

5x7 oil

Also in preparation for painting outdoors, I decided to prepare a stack of panels on which to paint.  I started with some 2 foot by 4 foot sheets of 3/16" plywood I picked up at Home Depot.  They are a lot easier to handle and haul than 4x8 sheets.  I first painted them with house primer on both sides to seal out moisture and keep them from warping.  I had some old house paint with a primer in it in a rich burnt sienna tone, and I suppose I could use that as an underpainting, but I preferred to let that dry and then apply a coat of white gesso on top of that. 

The primer was applied with a regular roller, but I spread the gesso with a six inch hot dog roller, with a finer nap leaving a smoother finish.  Once dry, I sanded all the sheets with a finish sander, then cut them up on the table saw into various sizes I will want.  Out of ten 2x4 sheets (cost $70) I ended up with two 18x24 pieces, nine 16x20, twenty 11x14, twelve 12x16, six 8x10 and ten 5x7.  Those probably would have cost $400 had I bought them from an art store, and I do love a bargain.