Expanding Horizons

 

February, 2010

I often mention in my workshops that I believe it's good for artists to push out of their comfort zones. If you always paint in a horizontal format, try a vertical now and then. If you usually paint very large, try something very small. And if you always paint landscapes—well, maybe it's time to change the subject.

In the spirit of practicing what I preach, I've been trying some new subjects. I moved from the outdoor landscape to indoors to paint Shadowplay, 18x24, left. It's lit by outdoor light coming through the window, and the potted plants move it more towards the still life than the landscape. In spite of those elements, it did not feel entirely foreign to me as I worked on it, and I'm now planning several more paintings of objects just inside windows or doorways.

The next painting, Anna & Zoe, 24x18, left, pushed me even farther. While there are certainly landscape elements in the path and the woods, the figures of child and dog are not my normal subjects. But I had been intrigued by the photograph, keeping it in my “to be painted” file for several months, and sometimes the desire to paint a subject can overcome the fear of trying something new.

As I often do, I began with an underpainting. Unlike my usual fast and loose application of big shapes of color, I drew the figures carefully and underpainted with great care. I had discovered when I did a similar careful underpainting for Shadowplay that the new Richeson Square pastels gave me the ability to block in small shapes very lightly and still get rich color when I washed them with Turpenoid. I used softer pastels and a loose application of color for the foliage and path, turped it, let it dry, and then carefully blocked in color and shapes on the figures. Once I turped those, I felt confident I had a solid road map and was ready to move to building layers of pastel. (Underpainting for Anna & Zoe, left.) Like Shadowplay, this is on white Richeson Premium Pastel Surface on Gatorfoam, an extremely toothy surface which alllows many layers of pastel.

I worked from the most distant plane forward, building the distant trees, foliage and dappled light before I touched the figures. Then I painted my grand-daughter Anna, working in around her figure to paint the path at the same time so that things worked together. Finally, I painted Zoe. I've been around Great Danes enough to think I knew something of their anatomy, but I discovered I actually knew very little about the bottoms of a dog's feet. I had to simply not think about what I was painting, and concentrate on shapes, value and color.

I'm pleased with both of these paintings, and am determined to try new subjects and approaches more often in the future.

 

Step-by-Step Demo of Painting "Foothills Snow"

 

February, 2010

We haven't had as much snow here in New Mexico this winter as many parts of the country have, but I always love the snow on the mountains. The view of the Sandia and Manzano mountain ranges from in front of our house is wonderful, ever-changing from one hour to the next as well as one day to the next. In the early morning and late afternoon, I find myself going to check the mountain from the front window every few minutes, especially when it looks like we might have a "pink mountain" night. Pink mountain nights happen when the setting sun, behind our house, casts a warm glow over the whole range of the mountain. They tend to happen more often during the winter, and can be quite spectacular.

But when it comes to painting snow, I like to get closer. The subject of this painting is in the foothills of the Sandias, across the valley and up a winding road from where we live. I like the interplay of the high desert foliage against the snow, and in this scene I particularly liked the arroyo, where the snow had already melted and the darker value of the dirt provided a nice warm contrast to the light snow colors. Most of all, my eye was caught by the shadow, which is a major focal point for the painting.

I started this on a white Richeson Premium Pastel Surface on gatorfoam, and began with a loose block-in of color. I often begin with an underpainting, and this is one of several underpainting methods I teach in my indoor technique workshops.

After all the color shapes were lightly blocked in, I brushed each section of color with a brush lightly dipped in Turpenoid, being careful to keep the colors separate. When the painting was dry, I began blocking in more realistic color. I like to begin with the sky, since the color, value and temperature of the sky sets the tone for the whole painting. Then I make notes of dark areas, draw where I need to, and proceed to work from back to front to complete the painting.

As I worked, I generally followed the "road map" created by the underpainting, but I always give myself permission to depart from it if a change will improve the final painting: Foothills Snow, pastel, 16x20, ©Maggie Price 2010.

The Benefits of Studio Painting

 

October, 2009

In the fall and winter, when I'm not teaching workshops, I get time to paint in my studio.

Plein air painting has become so popular over the last few years that some artists seem a bit apologetic about painting in their studios and working from photographs. I'm not only not apologetic, I think it's a great thing.

I'm not knocking plein air painting. It's valuable and I think it makes me a better painter, and I go for it every chance I get. I just don't think it's enough, by itself.

Painting outdoors is a matter of reacting to the landscape, working fast before the light changes, and the associated hardships of being outdoors, such as traffic, wind, sun, bugs, and so on. (Of course there are the associated pleasures of gentle breezes, sun, fresh air and the beauty of the landscape, as well.)

Indoors, though, there's time to think. Time to experiment, try new things. Time to plan in advance and carry through the plan--or change it, if that's better for the painting. Time to study the painting as it develops and work through problems, learn how to achieve more.

I love my studio time. This fall, I've been trying something new, which is small, daily (or almost daily) paintings. My husband, artist Bill Canright, has joined me in this venture, and we're documenting our experience in a new blog, which we call Painting Partners. We're working in both pastel and oils, and trying to post a painting every day or two. It's a more traditional blog, with the option of commenting, following and even purchasing the paintings.

The new blog won't replace this one; it's an addition. I'll try to keep up with regular posts here, but hope you'll take a look at the Painting Partners blog as well.

The paintings above are from the new blog: Cloud Magic, 5x8, pastel, by Bill Canright; and Aspen Glow, 5x7, oil, by Maggie Price.

 

Creating a Creative Space

September, 2009

I haven’t always had a studio. I’ve been painting since I was 14, so early on I painted in any space I could find: my bedroom, a corner of the kitchen table, or outdoors. Later, when I was raising a family, the painting space was usually whatever corner I could find, and my set-up had to be taken down and put away after every painting session.

I remember my first “studio.” It was a converted pantry, about 5 feet wide and not much deeper. But it had a door, and I had the luxury of leaving everything out as I wished. Later, once my children left home, there was always a spare bedroom to be used as a studio. Even when it had carpeting, it was still an improvement.

When we bought the house we now live in, a portion of the patio was covered. It had three walls, where rooms had been added on in the front and in the back. The roof wasn’t much of a roof, and it seemed the only thing that space did was gather dust and leaves. We decided to close it in and make it a studio. A new roof with two skylights, a new exterior wall with five good-sized windows, and an exterior door to the patio made it a room. We had a new concrete floor poured, and left the old exterior walls as they were.

Some years later, with two of us (my husband, Bill Canright, is also a pastel artist) using the studio, the clutter had begun to be overwhelming. (I have to admit that much of the clutter was mine; Bill is a very tidy person.) The linoleum we’d originally put down on the concrete floor was stained and unattractive. We decided to take everything out and begin again. We’re painting the walls white, and a new tile floor (coordinating with the tile floors throughout most of the house) installed. Open shelving will be replaced by cabinets with doors to keep the dust, which is so prevalent here in New Mexico, from covering everything. I believe the newly renovated studio will recharge my creativity, and give both of us a calm and peaceful place to paint. Will it make my work any better? Probably not, but I think it will make me happier while I’m in the process.

 

Plein Air 101

August 30, 2009

The first lesson of plein air painting is: it’s not like in the studio.

There’s always something.

We’ve had rain and wind, off an on, all week here in Kenmore. We’ve had overcast and sun, sometimes alternating every two or three minutes. We learned to lay in a shadow shape fast, because it might be gone in thirty seconds. We painted fast in case of rain, and painted indoors when it happened.

Today, we were scheduled to go to Glamis Castle (pronounced “Glams” and home of the late Queen Mum) to paint on the beautiful grounds. Tomorrow, we were scheduled to go to Sma’ Glen, one of my favorite spots in all of Scotland. But last night, the weather forecast indicated it would not rain today, but would rain tomorrow, so we switched our schedule to reverse the days.

True to the forecast, it didn’t rain. Well, it rained a bit just as we were arriving, just a wee Highland mist, but then the sun came out and we had a few glorious moments of photographing one of the most beautiful landscapes imaginable: steep hillsides covered in heather, plunging down to the River Almond and the obligatory picturesque bridge.

So it didn’t rain. But there’s always something, and today it was midges.

The Scottish midge is somewhere between a no-see-um and a mosquito, and swarms of them are no more pleasant that either of the former. We painted til they were unbearable, and packed it in almost an hour early when we couldn’t stand them any more.

Still, all in all it was a lovely day, and if not everyone had finished paintings, they have good color studies and references and tons of photos to work on in the studio this winter. They’ll have their fond memories of Scotland and the Sma’ Glen, but they won’t have midges.

Check out the Richeson family business blog for more interesting stories and photos about the workshop.

 

Paintings: far left, Heather Hillside, 16x12, by Maggie Price; Left, Sma' Glen, 12x16, by Bill Canright.

Painting, Rain or Shine

 

August 207, 209

We’ve had an exciting few days in the workshop here in Kenmore, Perthshire, Scotland.

On Tuesday, we went to the Falls of Dochart to paint. The weather was a bit iffy, but was sunny when we arrived, and we scurried about taking photos and been overawed by the beauty of the falls. There has been a lot of rain in the area this summer, so the water was much higher than usual, creating many more spectacular small torrents than usual. What’s amazing about these falls is not the height, but the width—the entire wide river rushes and cascades over dramatically placed rocks and then through a double-arched bridge.

Painting moving water is a lot different from painting even the semi-still river behind our hotel, so I did as fast a demonstration as I could manage, shouting explanations over the rushing of the falls. I could not even imagine painting the whole thing; I singled out what I thought was a small section of falls and rock, but even that was challenging in the short time I had.

Unfortunately the rain did not hold off long, and soon after everyone got set up and began sketching, they had to pack up and move indoors. We enjoyed lunch, waited for it to stop, shopped a bit in a nearby store, waited for it to stop, and finally headed back to the hotel. Although there were a few scattered minutes of sunshine, it did indeed continue to rain; we watched the far end of the loch vanish into clouds as we returned to the hotel. There’s always a Plan B, and in this case it was to move indoors. Our workroom in the hotel had recently been recarpeted, so we covered the floor with plastic and painted indoors the rest of the day. I put the final touches on my demo painting, Falls of Dochart, 12x16, far left.

The rain continued sporadically all through the following day. We finished our falls paintings from memory, sketches and photos viewed on camera viewfinders or laptops, or from postcards purchased at the gift store. In the afternoon, a few hardy souls ventured out to sketch under the overhang in front of the hotel. The fog rolled in, and I couldn’t help but admire the mist-covered hills from my window, even if I couldn’t go out to paint.

 

Today we went to paint on the grounds of Blair Castle. It’s one of my favorite spots. It was overcast but dry, and I painted some wonderful trees and an old stone bridge. I struggled to get the feeling of the deep dark woods but still catch the bits of light that described the bridge. The tall trees on the left are larches, and one is the tallest larch tree in Britain. Just as I finished the sun came out, and the light totally changed everything, so it was good I was quitting. I may make a few changes yet, but left is the painting, Larches, 16x12.

As we neared time to finish and pack up, the clouds rolled back in, and as the bus rolled down the long driveway to the road, the rain began. Perfect timing, and a perfectly wonderful day. 

Painting in Kenmore

 

August 24, 2009

 

Today was the first full day of the workshop here in Kenmore, Perthshire, Scotland. The group arrived yesterday and settled into the hotel, and a few people picked up and went through their supplied materials in the afternoon. After a night’s rest, the rest of the artists picked up their supplies, and were ready to paint.

Although I’ve painted the bridge at Kenmore before, it’s never quite the same. The water level is higher because of heavy rains recently, and the sky was quite clear so the light was good, and it was a challenging subject.

When I work outdoors, I try to remember I’m creating a field study, not necessarily a completed painting. The drawing on the bridge may not be quite perfect, as architectural details are difficult when you’re working quickly before the light changes. My goal is always to get accurate color and value, and if I later decide to paint a larger piece, I’ll have better color reference in my field study than in a photograph.

Working on the Richeson pastel surface means lots of layers of color are possible, and you can develop a richness of color that wouldn’t be possible on a less toothy surface. The river was moving fairly briskly so there was barely a hint of reflections, but I liked the color of the water, especially since I didn’t include any sky in the composition.

I spent barely an hour on this piece, and explained what I was doing and answered questions while I worked, so with all that in account, I’m not unhappy with the result. Someday I will work on a larger interpretation of this subject, and this will be very valuable reference.

 

After I finished my demo, quite a few artists chose to set up their easels in the same area and paint the bridge themselves. It was fascinating when we put them all out for our afternoon review to see the many different interpretations of the same subject.

Tomorrow we’ll paint moving water at the Falls of Dochart, which will be challenging in an entirely different way.

Behind the Scenes

 

August, 2009

 

We are preparing for the workshop in Kenmore, Perthshire, Scotland. For me, preparing for a workshop usually means preparing demonstration subjects, packing my personal bag of pastels, and finalizing painting locations if it’s an outdoor workshop, or working on the schedule of technique exercises if it’s to be indoors.

But workshops sponsored by Richeson & Co. are a little different. The supplies have all been shipped here to the hotel in Scotland (above left, the boxes as they were stacked in the hotel), and we (Colleen Richeson Maxey, our organizer par excellence, my husband Bill Canright and myself) have spent some hours today unpacking and assembling supplies for the group of artists who will arrive on Sunday.

First, Bill opened every box containing a half-size French easel, and set it up to test it. Meanwhile, Colleen and I assembled information in folders for the class, and then began opening boxes of supplies. Each artist’s supplies were stacked up, marked off the check-list, and then packed in bags or stacked beside them. Easel bags, tote bags and many other items were labeled with the artist’s name. Finally, the easels were folded back up and put in their carry-bags. After some hours, we had finished assembling materials for almost half the artists.

Now that we have a system and a plan, the rest of them should go fairly quickly tomorrow. After it’s all done, we have an evening to rest up, and then on Sunday we ride in on the hired coach to Edinburgh to meet the group and escort them back here to Kenmore.

 

We’ll begin painting outdoors here in Kenmore on Monday. I’ll begin posting photos of paintings and workshop in progress soon!

Workshop Demonstrations

 

 

August, 2009

One of my students in a recent workshop (in Marshfield Hills, Massachusetts) took photos of some of my demonstrations as I worked on them, and then kindly shared the images with me. I thought others might like to see these two sequences as well.

Underpainting: "Brilliant Color"

Working on a white Richeson Premium Pastel Surface (gatorfoam, 16x20), I began by blocking in brilliant colors in large shapes. I blocked in the distant tree mass in yellow because it is in strong light, and blocked in the general colors and shapes elsewhere. In the area where the water will become blue, I blocked it in close to the actual color, while in other areas I laid in colors that would be useful if revealed in subsequent layers.

Once the block-in was completed, I washed each area carefully with Turpenoid, being careful not to let areas of color mix. I dried the surface with a hair dryer, and then went back with charcoal to redefine some of the rock shapes. Working from back to front, I laid in more realistic color, keeping the distant yellowish trees muted and the more distant rocks shadowed and somewhat subdued.

As the painting progressed, I worked to define the foliage of the trees, the rocks, and of course the reflection. Once all the shapes of the reflection were laid in, I dragged my finger across to very slightly blend the colors together in the areas next to the blue, then redefined the blue water to keep it clean and clear.

The final image above: Rocks & Reflections, 16x20, © 2009 Maggie Price.

Underpainting: Value study in a single hue

When I have a complex drawing to do, or when I'm revising or combinging photographs, I like to do a value study in one hue. I also do this sometimes when I want to emphasize an overall color for harmony in the final painting.

On the Richeson white gatorfoam, I blocked in the study in several values of purple, turped and dried.

 

Beginning to lay in realistic color, I tried to keep some of the lovely purple color showing, and when I covered it too much I flicked off pastel with a dry foam brush. I wanted the light at the distant end of the stream to stand out, but was careful to keep the greens muted and the shapes of the trees somewhat soft so that they would read as distant.

 

The final photo, left, is at the stage of about 90% completion. There are still some undefined areas, and some foliage and branches need work. I'm also not entirely pleased with the shape of the light on the water, and actually prefer the shape in the original underpainting. It will be easy to get back to that by simply removing pastel with my foam brush.

Left, Untitled, 16x20, © 2009 Maggie Price

Packing Art Supplies for Airplane Travel

July 15, 2008

 

Keep it light and compact

Weight matters, whether it’s in your suitcase, carry-on bag or when you’re carrying your materials out to the painting location. Keep your supplies to the minimum necessary, but keep in mind you may not have access to art supply stores while traveling. I organize my supplies between what I take in the carry-on bag and what goes in my checked suitcase.

Carry-on bag

I always put my pastel box in my carry-on bag. TSA often does not recognize what pastels are, and they will open the box—if they don’t close it properly, you’ll end up with broken pastels and multi-colored clothing. Just as I arrive at the X-ray machine I take the Heilman box out and put it in a separate bin. As it goes through the X-ray machine, I catch the operator’s attention and say clearly, “Those are drawing chalks.” (It’s the only time I refer to pastels as chalk, but it’s a term any TSA operator can understand.) If they want to open the box, I always ask if I can open it, or if not, “can I tell you how to open it so my expensive supplies don’t get damaged?” (Smile!) Then I direct them, step by step, as to how to open the box. Usually they’ll let me close it back up and repack it.

There are many options for a carry-on bag. It needs to be small enough to fit comfortably in the overhead compartment, or under the seat in a pinch. I’ve found a laptop bag with wheels works best for me. I bought mine at an office supply store a couple years ago, and I think it was around $50. My Heilman pastel box fits neatly in the compartment meant for a laptop. Behind it I put a 9x12 pad of Wallis paper, and in the back (file) section I put another pad of Wallis paper, my 11x14 backing board (gessoboard), and an 11x14 tracing paper pad, which I’ll use to store finished paintings for transport home. I tuck my viewfinder, a roll of masking tape and some folded-up paper towels in this compartment. I also include my file with all my travel documents (airline schedule and confirmation numbers, copy of passport, emergency contact numbers at destination, etc.).

In the small front zipper pocket I put extra-soft vine charcoal (in a toothbrush container to keep the sticks from breaking) and a kneaded eraser in a small zip-lock bag If it fits, I put my camera in this bag, but if not it goes in my purse. I also include necessities for on board the airplane: medications, a book to read, eyeshades, earplugs, snacks.

Checked bag

I take my easel set up (the Sun-Eden tripod, easel adapter and shelf) in my checked bag. It’s just too large for a carry-on, and in a pinch I could paint with the board on my lap if they lose my bag. I put the easel between a couple of layers of clothing, and protect the head of the tripod by wrapping it in bubble wrap and taping it closed with masking tape.

Since we can’t carry liquids on board, I put my bottle of Gloves in a Bottle in a baggie and pack it with cosmetics, shampoo, etc. in a big zip-lock bag. If I think I might need more paper than I have in the carry-on, I put another pack in the suitcase. If I’m carrying my small watercolor box, I put it and a watercolor sketchbook in a zip-lock bag (if the suitcase sits out on the tarmac in the rain, I don’t want the book to get wet), along with a regular sketchbook, pencils, pencil sharpener, pens, erasers. A small pack of baby wipes goes in another zip-lock bag.

Also in the checked bag is my hat to wear while painting, a white oversized shirt to protect from sunburn, and my painting umbrella. I take a small “day pack” backpack, packed empty in my checked suitcase, to use each day when we go out painting to hold my sunglasses, sunblock, hat, bottled water, etc. I also take an empty canvas tote bag, into which I can pack my easel set-up for transportation on day trips.

If they lose my bag, I can live without these things until they find it. Of course, every bag has a copy of my itinerary, telephone number of the hotel and my cell phone number in it.

How many pastels do you need?

It’s always tempting to take all the pastels you have, but it just won’t work on an airplane. Here’s the minimum you’ll need:

5-10 values of each of the primary colors (red, yellow, blue)
5-10 values of each of the secondary colors (orange, green, violet)
5-10 values of each of the tertiary colors (red-orange, yellow-orange, yellow-green, blue-green, red-violet, blue-violet)
5-10 values of earth colors (browns, both warm and cool, and sand or beige colors)
5-10 values of neutrals, both warm and cool (gray-blue, gray-violet, gray-green, etc.)
1 soft white (I prefer Schmincke)
1 black (Nu-Pastel or Girault or other semi-hard pastel)

I take half-sticks or even thirds of each color, and arrange them by value in my Heilman box. (Article on arranging pastels by value is included in my e-book, available here.) I take a couple pieces each of very important colors. I can get over 200 pieces in the box, and this is enough to last for over a month of plein-air painting. I take a few pastel pencils; a black, a white, a dark brown and a sky-blue.

In the end, part of the plein-air experience is making do—you’ll never have all the colors you want, so you’ll make what you have work. And painting outdoors is never as comfortable as your studio—but you’ll learn a lot from the experience, and you’ll bring home wonderful memories of your trip.

Dreaming of Scotland

 

March, 2009

 

I’ve just heard from the organizers (Jack Richeson & Co.) of the Scotland workshop scheduled for August/September of 2009 that we’ve reached the minimum required to make the trip go forward.

When new workshops are scheduled, I never let myself get too excited about visiting the location until the minimum number of participants have signed up. There’s always a chance that a workshop won’t fill, though it doesn’t happen often. Still, since Scotland is one of my very favorite places in the world, I didn’t allow myself to get my hopes up.

Now that I know we’ll be going, I’ve been dreaming of painting there again. I’ve often mentioned how beneficial it is for an artist to travel to a new location to paint. When you’re surrounded with things that are unfamiliar, you’re forced to observe more carefully and accurately. It pushes you to new levels.

It’s also true that returning to a place you’ve already visited a time or two can be beneficial. I’ve painted New Mexico hundreds of times, so I feel very comfortable with this landscape, and think I know it. That’s dangerous for an artist—I need to force myself to paint what I see, not what I think I know.

Four trips to Scotland have not resulted in thinking I know anything. The landscape there is somewhat more familiar than the first time I painted it, but it is by no means a comfortable, old-shoe kind of feeling. While I might think I have some idea what pastel to pick up for the color of the hillside covered in blooming heather, I’ll be there a little earlier in the year than last time, and it might not quite be the same. I’ll have to observe carefully to see what’s there, and pay attention to differences created by different light, perhaps a different amount of rain in the year, or other conditions that can affect the landscape.

Each time I return to a location to paint, I learn a little more. I can hardly wait for this wonderful opportunity to explore the Highland landscape and paint it once again. And while the minimum number of participants have signed up, there’s still room for more, so if you’d like to join us, we’d love to have you do so. You can download a brochure on the workshops page of my web site.

Paintings from the 2007 trip: top, Bridge at Sma' Glen , 11x14; bottom, Heather, 11x14 (both painted in Sma’ Glen, in the Perthshire highlands). 

Change is Good

 

February, 2009

 

Returning to working in pastels after a stint in oils was easier than I thought it might be. It was like coming home after a trip—exploring new places is always fun, but then it’s good to be home.

I’ve always felt it was a good idea to switch back and forth between sizes, so that I don’t get too comfortable or too accustomed to a particular size. So, in addition to returning to pastels after working in oil, I went from working in a 8x10 size to an 18x24 Richeson board.

The result, shown here, is Passage Between Titans. The location was Arches National Monument in Utah, and the reference photos were taken in late afternoon. I was intrigued by the shadows and by the atmospheric perspective. Making red rocks (or red anything) appear distant is a challenge! My new Ludwig gray set got quite a workout on this painting.

While it’s too soon to reach conclusions about the long-term benefit of changing mediums, I can say that it was fun, and I will no doubt return to oils again, and then back to pastels, and so on. I still feel that pastel will be my primary medium, but that it may be beneficial to take side trips into the world of oil painting.