Showing posts sorted by date for query plein air. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query plein air. Sort by relevance Show all posts

Thursday, January 11, 2018

342: The Power of Newsletters

–MY original article about defeating a creative block was condensed and included in a newsletter for Plein Air Magazine (read it here). I've already received several emails regarding the paintings and regard such exposure as critical to expanding one's art career. Most requested links to the original article or to relevant posts regarding painting in my style. If you want more articles, type the subject matter into the search field to the right. I have found it to be extremely effective. I use it myself when I need to find older posts. If you want to subscribe to the blog there is a sign-up field further down in the right column.

If new readers would like to follow my painting journey on Instagram my feed is here. Instagram is my preferred social media and I use it to simultaneously post to Twitter and Facebook (although I'm rarely if ever on those feeds).

Many thanks to editor Steve Doherty of Plein Air Magazine for selecting my article for inclusion in their newsletter.

Brad Teare –January 2018

Above: Golden Hills, 48" x 48", oil on canvas.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

338: Triggering a Transformation

–IN a previous post, I mentioned that I avoided plein air painting for three years. When I returned to the practice last summer, I was able to paint without inhibition at a much higher level of expertise. The transformation intrigued me because according to books like Outliers progress is achieved only with years of deliberate practice.

Due to the positive leap forward, which included two years painting abstractions, I wanted to understand and replicate the process. In my search for answers, I found the book Reductionism in Art and Brain Science. The author, Nobel Prize-winning neuroscientist Eric Kandel, explores how reductionism—the distillation of large concepts into smaller, more tractable ideas—is used by scientists and artists to pursue their respective truths. He explores explicitly how abstract art can stimulate the brain causing unexpected creative connections. Although I have yet to finish the book, it promises to explain my unexpected improvement.

After mounting two shows with a total of 38 landscape paintings, I found I not only needed a break, I also had a strong urge to trigger a similar transformation. Due to a recent and serendipitous encounter with graffiti art, I settled on painting with acrylic markers as the focus of my experimentation. The technique resembles my scratchboard work as well as my woodcuts, only much larger. I showed preliminary efforts to one of my galleries and we scheduled a show for May 2018.

 Although I'm pleased with my recent landscape progress, it isn't enough. In today's competitive environment it isn't sufficient to be one of the best painters in your genre–you have to be the ONLY painter in your genre. In other words, you have to be the only practitioner of an inimitable style. Explorations with marker painting might provide the final transformation. Do I intend to paint this way from now on? Like my foray into abstraction, I plan to use the process to transform my landscape painting. How it will do so is anyone's guess. But I look forward to the results.

I will give a full review of Reductionism in Art and Brain Science as soon as I finish it. If you want to follow my marker painting progress, please follow my Instagram account here.

Brad Teare –December 2017

Above: Cryptographica, 24" x 48", available from Alpine Art.

Monday, November 20, 2017

337: Smashing a Creative Block

–ALTHOUGH I always loved painting outdoors, my plein air work lagged far behind the authenticity of my studio work. On a good day, I could achieve an imitation of a good painting. But an absence of genuineness dogged my efforts. Even if others overlooked my plein air inadequacies, I knew I was faking it. I was using studio techniques in the field without fully immersing myself in the observational and recording process necessary to discovering nature's subtleties. I was capturing the form of the landscape but not the essence. I wondered if I could ever paint with full confidence in the field.

Over a decade ago I attended a prestigious artists residency where at the end of the day my host asked to see my field paintings. I was embarrassed they weren't better and said, "plein air painting is like fishing–sometimes you don't return with a fish." It was a sentiment I read somewhere (and it is often true), but I knew it was an excuse. I should have said, "I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm here hoping that by some path I don't understand one day I will paint successfully in the field". At the time outdoor painting seemed so complicated, I despaired that my plein air work would ever have the same vitality as my studio paintings.

After a particularly humbling effort at a well-known plein air festival in 2014, I stowed my Gloucester easel and retired my plein air credentials. Three years later I was interviewed on a podcast about my painting career and asked if I painted outdoors like the early impressionists. I explained that I had tried my hand at the art but had been frustrated by its complexity and the lack of satisfaction my efforts gave me.

I prematurely assumed it wasn't possible to paint in the field with the same confidence as in the studio–especially since my intention was to paint with thick strokes of vibrating color, exactly as I did in the studio. I consoled myself with the probability that there was a reason most painters avoided painting impasto in the field. But the desire persisted–Pissarro painted with heavy paint. So did Van Gogh. I always knew I would return to plein air painting and the interviewer's question rekindled the spark of earlier enthusiasm. 

Coincidental to these realizations, I made a breakthrough in the studio by sidestepping the issue of excellence and allowing myself to embrace mediocrity. I even taped a sign on the wall that read, "Just Be Mediocre." Paradoxically, the relaxation encouraged by such a humorously blasé attitude allowed me to paint at a higher level. Performance anxiety was apparently playing a larger role in my painting than I thought. With nearly twenty years of deliberate practice behind me, I was able to relax into a routine. Being mediocre, or performing at a routine level, was exactly what I needed to do–provided that the routine produced a satisfying painting. I shifted my focus from trying for excellence to creating paintings that allowed a sense of exploration and achieved a satisfying aesthetic effect. I also had recently read that if I displaced negative internal dialog such as "I'm really nervous" with a more positive phrase like "I'm so excited" I subverted self-destructive negativity and would achieve the emotional balance necessary to produce more satisfying work.

In the interview mentioned above, I stated that although I wasn't currently painting en plein air, it felt inevitable that someday I would. That day arrived sooner than expected. Within a few days and armed with the counterintuitive notion of just being mediocre, I ventured into the field, palette in hand and easel on my back. I found a suitable motif in a canyon within walking distance of my studio in Salt Lake City. As I set up my gear, I could feel the familiar anxiety rise. I told myself all I had to do was be mediocre–nothing more than performing at a routine level. I also told myself that I was excited, not nervous, to be in the field painting again.

The painting went well. There were moments when I felt the familiar specter of anxiety arise. I entered unknown territory and risked losing control of the painting. But I told myself that anxiety arose not from being in unknown territory but from the fear the unknown induced. I tamped down the fear with my clichéd affirmations and pressed forward. Eventually, I found the verbal part of my consciousness strangely silent as I effortlessly mixed and applied color. In that internal silence, I calmly pushed forward to a state of flow–a state I recognized accompanied my work in the studio. I had misunderstood why I painted in the field. I thought it was to record interesting and beautiful visual information for future paintings. Actually, it was to achieve the state of flow essential to producing unique expressions in paint.

I subsequently painted a half dozen large, saleable paintings within a few weeks. I wasn't faking it. Nor was I discouraged by any momentarily perceived failures. I had successfully smashed the mental block that kept me from successful plein air painting.

What is the formula for achieving plein air success? Certainly the fact I trained myself to see value was a contributing factor. Although I no longer use a value finder I used one for years in the studio and the field. Simplifying my process certainly helped. I recently started using palette knives exclusively, which in the field meant no more solvents. But above all taming the demons of fear and anxiety allowed me to move forward and harness all the techniques I use in the studio.

The irony is that my breakthrough came at the end of a three-year avoidance of plein air painting. From books I've read on achievement, this isn't the way it's supposed to work. But that is one of the hallmarks of the artist's journey–every journey is profoundly different.
(This article originally appeared in Plein Air Magazine online.)

Brad Teare –November 2017

Above: Summer Fields, 16" x 20" oil on canvas, available at Anthony's Fine Art

Saturday, June 3, 2017

328: The Mystery of Plein Air Painting

–"YOU can't till you can" sounds like a quip from baseball's low-brow philosopher Yogi Bera. But it's actually a quote from über-intellectual and color theorist Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe. What he meant is that there is often an inexplicable alchemy that, after a long duration, allows you to do what you previously couldn't.

I recently crossed into that territory with my plein air paintings after a long dry spell. People were kind to me, telling me that my plein air paintings were fine. But in my gut, I knew the paintings lacked some essential ingredient. So how did I close the gap between my studio and my plein air paintings? Did I dive intently into painting in the field creating painting after painting without regard to success? Did I study everything I could find about the subject until I couldn't cram anything else into my brain?

I took none of those reasonable steps. I basically failed at a plein air event in the summer of 2014 and didn't do another plein air painting until a week ago. I didn't practice, study, or think about plein air painting in any way. Until waking up one day last week and walking up a nearby canyon with my plein air gear I had experienced zero success with plein air painting–because I made no attempt to succeed. But that evening I set up my easel and with effort as easy as breathing I knocked out a passable painting, large for a field painting, as if I had been painting en plein air for a decade.

I mention this transformation because I haven't read of any parallels in the success literature I tend to peruse. Plus, I like narratives that contravene convention. Plus, I'm thrilled, if mystified, by my transformation. In the end, art is more magic than science, more alchemy than chemistry. I'm thankful for that.

In the following video, I make a few corrections to my plein air painting. Here is a link to the clips I use to transport my paintings.

Brad Teare –June 2017

View from City Creek, plein air, 24" x 24", oil on canvas, available at Anthony's Fine Art


Tuesday, March 14, 2017

316: James Gurney's Living Sketchbook

–IMAGINE being invited to your favorite artist's studio and getting a chance to thumb through his or her sketchbook. That's how I felt when I previewed James Gurney's new sketchbook app Boyhood Home.

I'm super busy right now–I'm preparing for a major landscape show–and I initially thought I would quickly thumb through the images, perhaps delve into a few I found intriguing and get back to work. However, after experiencing a couple pages of Boyhood Home, I was hooked and retired to my overstuffed chair to linger over each page. 

Surprisingly, the digital sketchbook experience actually was as intriguing as thumbing through a favorite artist's sketchbook. It's a different experience, of course, but has unique advantages.

The book is divided into three modes: the sketches, which you can zoom into, a video with voice over, and often an additional video feature, like a digital sidebar. The videos are about one to two minutes long and for my taste about right, allowing Gurney to share tips while not slowing down the experience. As you can see in the screen grab above you tap the icons in the upper right depending on which feature you want. Tap the image and the interface fades away. The "i" button gives you information regarding the medium and subject matter–which in one case informed me about a sketching devise known as a white gel pen–which I immediately noted for addition to my plein air kit.

The sketchbook is 25 pages long and includes a page showing Gurney's tools and media (primarily gouache and casein). Be sure to use the pinch and zoom feature on all the images as it allows you to see incredibly close detail. The zoom feature alone makes this well worth the $5 price, but the fusion of video, voice over, and images makes this as close to actually being in a cafe with Gurney, discussing how he created each sketch. The first volume of the Living Sketchbook app will be available March 20 for $4.99 for both iOS and Android phones and tablets (go here for updates).

For the tips and inspiration alone I eagerly look forward to more sketchbooks.

Brad Teare –March 2017


Monday, August 8, 2016

297: Finding Your Style

–AT A CRITICAL moment in my plein air development I attended a prestigious art festival. My studio painting was in a precarious evolutionary phase–I was slathering on massive amounts of highly textured oils–and I opted to replicate the technique in my plein air routine.

Although I painted a few satisfying paintings at the festival overall, the experiment failed, and I left feeling the need to develop an alternative technique. I was disappointed because I enjoyed the festival and looked forward to a return visit.

But more importantly, I felt an obligation to develop my style further–to push my technique further. On the upside the disappointment made me rethink many ideas about painting both in the studio as well as in the field. Much of my current success is attributable to that public failure.

I began to wonder why the thick paint of the oils didn't translate well into plein air oil painting. In contrast, I wondered why my sketches of the event were so strong. How did I lose something so critical between the sketch and the final painting? The answer was that adding heavy texture caused me to focus on surface texture rather than overall design. 
The more verisimilitude I included, the less the abstract design could carry the composition. This discovery answered the question why my woodcuts achieved a higher aesthetic appeal than my paintings generally did.

In an intuitive leap, I began doing acrylic abstracts. Painting abstractly I was able to explore design while using texture untethered from the real world. This further reinforced the idea that recreating realistic surface texture is irrelevant to my artistic project. It simultaneously demonstrated that realistic values shifts were equally irrelevant–my concern was with value relationships and using value to create focal points. I also started using palette knives exclusively which helped maintain sharp lines and sharp linear detail–a strength also seen in my woodcuts.

During this process, I discovered that my artistic concerns were very different from many painter's concerns with verisimilitude. Any attempt to imitate such success by painting images dependent on highly nuanced value fluctuations and realistic surface textures were bound to fail. Those virtues, as beautiful as they are in other people's paintings, were not relevant to my artistic journey.

I needed to focus on broad patterns, heightened and invented value shifts that reinforced design, and pleasing but arbitrary surface texture. Tellingly these were all aspects I accidentally incorporated into my woodcuts. I succeeded as a woodcut artist because woodcut effortlessly fused all my natural strengths.

These insights have clarified the path forward–I need to focus on broad, puzzle-like design, invent or interpret value contrasts to reinforce design, and add surface texture for aesthetic effect rather than verisimilitude. Following these guidelines yielded the painting seen above, which was painted in acrylics in the field. The results satisfy my expectations for a properly painted motif while tapping into all my strengths yet eliminating aesthetic elements that require strengths I don't have.

The above painting is not an exact portrait of the observed motif but, more importantly, it captures the essence and energy of the scene. It also has thick texture and exists not only as a painting but as an artifact of that particular moment. It is also a style that is uniquely my own and essentially inimitable. For these reasons, I find the painting deeply satisfying.

I wish you the best in finding a style that is a unique expression of your unique view of the world.

Brad Teare –August 2016

Thursday, June 30, 2016

292: Painting with Markers


–AFTER my abstract painting reception (tonight at 8pm) I will be starting a new project. A few weeks ago I went on a plein air trip and experimented with painting with acrylic markers. Although I lacked a full palette of colors I had good results and decided to combine daily painting with plein air painting using markers–a combination that employs drawing skills with the discipline of daily painting.

I use the term daily loosely as I intend to paint an average of four small paintings a week. Most daily painters are not dogmatic about numbers–the idea is to create good paintings on a regular basis. It is the kind of discipline I need to push my plein air work forward.

Below is a video showing how I prepared empty acrylic markers for work in the field using Golden High Flow Acrylics. Let me know what you think.



Brad Teare –June 2016

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

289: Daily Painting

–I RECENTLY received an advanced copy of Daily Painting by Carol Marine. As I opened the packaging I read the title on the back page–Do you want to bring the joy back to your art?  I answered inwardly with a resounding YES!

Since taking a plein air trip two weeks ago, I'd been ruminating on how to get my plein air mojo back. I lost aforementioned mojo in the summer of 2014 at a prestigious plein air event where due to a variety of factors like large prizes and famous participants I performed far beneath my ability. Since then, try as I might, I couldn’t return to the previous joy I experienced painting out-of-doors.

I experimented with James Gurney’s methods outlined in Gouache in the Wild. If you haven’t seen it I highly recommend it. If you are experiencing a plein air funk there is surely something in Gurney’s video to help you evolve your own plein air process. From the novel ideas I learned about gouache I began experimenting with acrylic markers in plein air. I had some success on my last trip and ordered 12 more empty acrylic markers to expand my previous collection of 6 pigments.

Although Daily Painting is not specifically about plein air painting it provided me with the last component to what I hope will be new found joy of painting in the field. Not only was the book good inspiration–I found Marine’s paintings fresh and energetic–but she also included some great tips (like using Murphy Oil Soap to clean brushes). There are also a variety of paintings by other artists along with their experiences with daily painting (which appears to have evolved into a cottage industry for many artists).

My interest in daily painting is to find an entry point where my plein air work is authentic and easy–that is, to use daily painting as a way to improve faster. With my full schedule of gallery shows and projects I need something to carry me forward with as little friction as possible–and something that will lead me to a more successful plein air experience. I feel at some point I will transition back to oils but will lean on acrylic markers and my drawing ability to get to a more confident state.

At this stage I’m still formulating my theory and assembling a plein air kit but here are my specific needs:

Keep the equipment light and easy to transport (my former approach with oils was too complex).
Keep the process easy (focus on my strengths like basic drawing skills).
Make the process challenging enough that I routinely employ essential plein air skills.
Keep the process less time consuming than previous plein air sessions (the entire experience, finding a motif and painting, should take less than two hours).
Get the joy factor up so you want to paint every day.

The last item is the most important for me and I think I can do it by changing mediums and painting small–two factors that will help keep my ego out of the way and allow me to relax and enjoy the process.

If you’ve had success with daily painting I hope you will share your experience below.


Brad Teare –June 2016

Thursday, March 24, 2016

277: Understanding Woodcuts

Long Valley Morning, 12 block woodcut
COLLECTORS need to understand why you create your art. Additionally if no one understands how you create your art it is unlikely collectors will connect with your artistic project. I'm having a woodcut exhibit featuring all of my color woodcuts from the last twenty years at Alpine Art on April 15, 2016. Lost Key woodcuts are nearly a lost art. With the idea of expanding the understanding of this little known art form I wrote the following explanation:


The Technique of Color Woodcut Printing

Multi-color woodcuts using the Lost Key method are uncommon because they are extremely difficult to do. They require a lot of planning and patience. It is a very different creative experience than drawing or painting. To make ten woodcuts of one of my portfolios, for example, I carved eighty-three wood blocks. I then inked each block with different colors and printed each color of the series by hand for a total of 2490 impressions (not including artist's proofs which are experimental impressions taken to evaluate color and registration which include an additional 250 passes through the press).

For each impression I mixed the exact color of ink (which often takes hours), applied the ink to the block with a roller, registered the paper to the block, and hand cranked the block through an antique Challenge proof press. With the woodcut "Long Valley Morning" I passed each woodcut through the press twelve times which means that the thirty sheets of that edition passed through the press 360 times.

But before I can print I have to carve the blocks. I start by drawing a linear drawing, usually from a plein air sketch or painting, directly onto a block of wood. If the scene has a cloudy sky, for example, I make the transferred drawing define every outline of every cloud. I then carve away the wood that has no lines on it. I ink the carved block with black ink and print it onto a piece of vellum (which won't absorb the ink). I then place a new, uncut block into my press, register the vellum and run it through the press. This presses the wet ink outline from the vellum onto each block in a process known as counter-printing.

In the clouds I may want to fill each shape with a light blue. Using an uncut block with the dried counter-printed image as a guide I carve away everything except where I want the light blue to appear. I then go back to the original black block and carve away the outline of the clouds. This technique is called "lost key" printing because the original linear woodcut, or key, is carved away. Some of the key block is usually retained as the deepest notes of the print (but rarely exposing total dark and few if any linear details). The linear aspects of the first block are obscured by subsequent layers. This laborious process was used by woodcut artists such as Gustave Baumann. It creates a less linear and more painterly looking woodcut without the black outline of more common techniques. It takes a lot of fine tuning between the various blocks to get them to harmonize together and every additional block makes it exponentially more difficult. When the ink is dry I hand emboss and hand deckle each print.

I prefer to call the art created by this method "woodcuts" rather that "prints" because the process has nothing to do with modern photographic or computer printing. Each woodcut is handmade and unique. I carefully deliberate over each color of every impression. I carefully adjust each impression to give maximum aesthetic value. Slight variations are made into strengths by adjusting the following impressions which give the woodcut texture and vibrancy. Only the very best are selected for the final editions. These are then hand signed, named, and numbered, usually in a limited edition of 20 to 40. I resurface my blocks to cancel the editions.

I hope this description will foster greater appreciation for the art of the woodcut.

Brad Teare –March 2016

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

262: You Can't Until You Can

OVER the last year I've written an unprecedented amount of posts about artistic improvement. Recently I've been reflecting on the idea that artists have to develop excess ability and then relax into an optimal yet comfortable working stride.

One particularly memorable concept was the improvement cycle where an artist evolves through four stages finally arriving at conscious competence–having a realization of how you do what you do and doing it in a relaxed state. The alternative is thrashing your way forward clueless as to why things are working–or more likely–not working.

As I was reflecting on the various observations about improvement I recalled a phenomenon I experienced in my development that I've never stumbled across in books on the subject–where I struggled to master a technique only to finally give up–only to discover a short time later I possessed the hoped-for skills.

My first experience was in High School. I was struggling to draw with charcoal. All my charcoal attempts were dissatisfying. I finally gave up and pushed the supplies under my bed. A few months later I inadvertently tried charcoal again in art class and had an unexpected success–enjoying a proficiency I hadn't previously possessed.

Later I tried my hand at the animation business doing layouts for The Incredible Hulk and The Amazing Spiderman TV shows. It involved drawing layouts in a unique method unfamiliar to me and not intuitive at all. I struggled through four seasons trying my best but never really knowing what I was doing. A sense of inadequacy persisted.

Later, living in New York and illustrating a children's book, I realized I had absorbed the previously unmastered concepts and was drawing effortlessly from imagination.

Later during that same era I began painting book covers in acrylic after a frustrating period trying to master acrylics. The tipping point this time was attending the World Fantasy Convention in Boston and viewing book covers by fellow illustrators. In that case seeing the art crystallized my thinking and allowed me to begin painting book covers at a professional level.

In all three cases I cannot articulate the missing ingredient that, when embraced, allowed me to work at a higher level. All I can say is that I struggled and struggled–usually giving up in despair or disgust–only to discover later I had absorbed the necessary skills afterall.

In the case of animation layout it seemed as if I would never learn the required skills and I had truly given up trying to master the art. It was over a year after abandoning the attempt that I discovered I had mastered the concepts.

I have never mastered the art of plein air painting. I would say that I'm at the stage of conscious incompetence. With studio painting I'm somewhere between conscious incompetence and conscious competence (which is a great feeling–I feel more in control and the work shows it).

I wish I could give more advice on how to shorten this process, or how to eliminate some of the pain. All I know is that there is a lot of mystery in the artistic process. We can describe some of it. But mostly we observe, and hope, and wait.

Brad Teare –December 2015

Book Cover for Green Millennium, acrylic 24" x 16"

Monday, November 23, 2015

257: Art and Introversion

EVERY once in awhile I read a book that clarifies my thinking with such astonishing force I shudder to think of my future in the absence of such information. I found Introvert Power: Why Your Inner Life Is Your Hidden Strength by Laurie Helgoe PhD to be such a book.

I've read other books on introversion, some highly touted, but this is the best and clearly defines the parallels between the creative and the introverted personality. Of special note was the chapter on Time Poverty (I love the term) which outlines why artists tend to be indifferent to schedules and the obsessive hyper-activity of American culture.

Modern society says that time is money–an expression that celebrates money, making money more important than time. The introvert mode of thinking first is not valued, because time engaged in thinking is not a tangible product. Current American culture is so addicted to frenetic motion that the productivity of introverts–crafting a thoughtful way forward–is completely disavowed. In Introvert Power the author writes that "for an introvert, ample time provides a cushion around activity—the mental space we need to reflect, to make meaning, to find inspiration. [If] there were lots of 'time between time,' introverts would thrive."

The author continues: "…excessive doing leaves the mind vacant, clueless, and increasingly dependent on, well, 'doing.' We sit down to think, we become anxious, we pop up again and get busy to restore the feeling that we’re going somewhere. We have no idea where, but at least we’re going there."
This painting was painted at a plein air festival where I was
 under extreme pressure to create salable paintings. During such
events introverts feel they have to behave like extroverts. Such
strategies rarely work. I will explain how introverts can succeed
under such foreign environments in a future blog.

The book explains how the futility of misspent activity drains the productivity of introverts. For extroverts activity might spur thinking and solutions might occasionally spring from the work. But for the rest of us that is rarely the case. Yet we live in a world almost entirely designed for the proper functioning of extroverts.

The author suggests that the creative process from the introvert perspective is more akin to desire with birth as metaphor, rather than death-like terms such as deadline, and killing time.  The author says, "The paradox is, when we use the desire model instead of the death model, everything is easier. Desire, when properly nourished, works like pregnancy and birth: once it gets going, there’s no stopping it. But birthing requires the capacity to hold, to tolerate the growing pressure of what’s inside and to patiently wait until it’s ready. This holding capacity is the hallmark of introversion."

I recently read the biography of Lucien Freud (Lucien Freud: Eyes Wide Open) and was surprised he painted only two to four paintings a year (although some of them were quite large). Freud toiled insistently, resisted the pressure from galleries to crank out best sellers, thereby slowly building a completely unique body of work. The biography clearly demonstrates that Freud was an extreme case of introversion.

Reading the two books in close succession proved the necessity to slow my creative pace until it matches inner  rhythms–without reference to outward demands of galleries or painting events.

I know that is where the best work will emerge.

Brad Teare –November 2015

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

240: Painting with Gouache

I HAVE never experimented much with gouache–probably from bad experiences using the chalkier, less versatile version known as designers gouache back in art school. I was therefore surprised and intrigued with James Gurney's new video Gouache in the Wild.

This new offering is a perfect companion to Watercolor in the Wild which I thoroughly enjoyed for its innovative approach to painting in the field (read my review here). 

This new video further explores Gurney's approach to plein air painting using professional grade gouache. Most painters would profit from watching the watercolor video first as I felt it covers in more detail Gurney's kit–although there is ample detail in the gouache video to make it enjoyable in its own right.

The video records six painting sessions. A favorite was the Liquor Sign session. Watching Gurney layer on the gouache and gradually building up detail using both transparent and opaque pigments was an eye-opener. For those who have already watched the video note the early haphazard overlapping of color that belies the later impression of exactitude.

Another favorite was the Convenience Mart painting where Gurney uses a quick value/color thumbnail to lock down color and value relationships before starting to paint. It's a brilliant idea I hope to try soon (I suspect the underlying black bars were painted in acryli-gouache, a water insoluble variation of gouache).

The painting of a still life of antique toys was intriguing as Gurney used a venerable yet arcane technique using a transparent grid (borrowed from Durer) to transfer the image. In typical fashion Gurney expands on the technique with an ingenious plastic sheet transfer method making the session invaluable for that tip alone.

Gouache in the Wild simultaneously respects traditional techniques while infusing them with a spirit of invention. I've already ordered a handful of gouache pigments to add to my watercolor kit and will soon try the innovations Gurney suggests. If you need new ideas to expand your techniques and a reminder of how fun painting in the field should be don't miss this video.

Brad Teare –July 2015



ABOUT:
Kunaki
Gumroad

Friday, March 27, 2015

221: Creative Bucket List

Swallow's Nest Rock, Pen and Ink, 14" x 12"
I was intrigued by a recent blog entry by Lori Woodward expressing frustration with the current art market. In the article she describes a radical shift in her career. She suggested that rather than pursue the usual path for artists–find galleries and hope they believe in your work and promote you–she will be pursuing a different path; a less aggressive strategy of pursuing a creative bucket list.

I like the idea. To cease striving to get into galleries, shows, and events is a refreshing idea. Is it possible that the minutiae of art marketing actually distracts artists? Would a more project oriented model serve artists better? In her article Woodward reflects on the oft-heard but depressing suggestion that artists spend 50% of their time with business promotion. Is it possible that such advice becomes a self-defeating burden for many artists?

In my approach to my career I’ve always been more project oriented. Plus I have an eclectic skill set that is hard to sell following traditional business models. Devising projects to accomplish seems a more productive path than the interminable and seemingly trivial detail of typical business solutions. Now that the idea of a project oriented career occurs to me it seems obvious that artists need to pursue a radically different business model than typically suggested.

As a way to shift from the typical business model to project oriented promotion I’m starting a Creative Project Bucket List. Here’s my list so far:

Get a large acrylic into the Salmagundi Club Acrylic show.

Visit museums in England with J. M. W. Turner paintings.

Visit Scotland with the express purpose of collecting sketches and photos to create an exhibit of large acrylic realist paintings. Have a one man show on return.

Be a guest artist at the Golden Colors artist residency.

Have a one man show at my Alma Mater, The University of Idaho, covering all facets of my artistic journey.

Get a return invitation to The Door County Plein Air Festival. But this time do plein air pen and ink drawings in addition to paintings, and possibly a woodcut or two.

Do a Thick Paint workshop in Dubai, United Arab Emirates.

Participate in the Florence Abstract Biennial.

Get a return invitation to The Maynard Dixon Studio for another week long artist residency.

Go to Antarctica for two weeks. In the tradition of 19th century exploration create a series of sketches, woodcuts, landscape paintings, and abstracts while blogging and posting video accounts of the experience. Upon return mount an exhibit in conjunction with The Leonardo (a museum dedicated to the exploration of art and science).

Visit Iceland and paint a series of realist acrylics of rocks, ice, and sea and give a woodcut workshop while there.

Teach art at least one semester at Southern Virginia University

Will I accomplish all these goals? Possibly not. But I like the list because it energizes me to contemplate the possibilities. Conversely when I think about contacting galleries and buying ads in magazines and all the other ideas suggested by art marketing gurus I feel depleted.

As artists we need to be as creative in our careers as we are with our art. If a business approach seems out of harmony with who we are we need to find a more authentic solution.

Brad Teare–March 2015

Monday, March 9, 2015

218: The Challenge of color temperature

Study for Venetian Doors, 48" x 36"
I was reading past comments on this blog and came across the following from fellow painter Tom Waters:

I was at a plein air event recently in the lush green mountains of Vermont and watched a very good painter paint a dominantly green landscape. He was using lots of colors and not trying to match the greens at all. The result was great and I talked to him after. He advised me to look at the color temperature. Representing the changing temperature was what he focused on, not the hue.

Is color temperature like other art principles–easy to grasp superficially but difficult to understand profoundly?
While ruminating on the possibility I saw some paintings by Albert Bierstadt and noted a color scheme in many of his paintings that resembled the Kelvin Temperature chart–a scheme that used oppositional oranges and blues.

Temperature wheel from
Color and Light by James Gurney
With renewed curiosity I reviewed the chapter Warm and Cool in the book Color and Light  by James Gurney (page 112). Gurney observed that the oranges (warmest colors) and blues (coolest colors) are opposite on the temperature spectrum. That might seem obvious but Gurney tellingly adds that "the greens and violets seem to have divided loyalties". Note that there are no greens or violets on the Kelvin Temperature scale. Such observations suggest there might be more to temperature than I previously thought and that my struggle with greens might reflect an incomplete notion of color temperature. Could I find a remedy by thinking of temperature as primarily an opposition between orange and blue?
Kelvin Temperature Chart

I'm gearing up to do a major acrylic painting–see rough above–and have resolved to more fully explore the interplay of warm and cool colors. The exploration is ongoing. Please add your observations below.


Brad Teare–March 2015

Saturday, October 11, 2014

193 Abstract plein air

This afternoon I painted en plein air using acrylic paints. My intent was to abstract the scene to get a more patterned and design oriented composition.

If I had to do it over again I would have made a more comprehensive sketch. But the sky was in transition and I wanted to quickly record the movement of the high clouds before they changed. Plein air painting often includes the paradox of compromising process in order to get the best results.

I was surprised that painting outside with acrylics was as easy as it was. It was a nice day around 70°F and my paint remained wet on the palette throughout the entire painting process. I painted fast covering the entire 20" x 20" surface using palette knives.

I look forward to trying it again soon.

Brad Teare – October 2014

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

191: Interview with Dale Roberts


(UPDATE: click here to see the latest video of Roberts' recent work.)

I first became acquainted with the encaustic paintings of Dale Roberts at the Marshall Gallery in Scottsdale, Arizona. His work has a textural, luminous quality using layers of rich, vibrating color. His paintings are characterized by a contemporary quality rather than subject matter and the light in his painting varies from mid-day veils of fog to the glow of twilight. Due to the translucent nature of encaustic his work is nearly impossible to photograph (the best way to perceive the luminosity is via video which gives a more comprehensive glimpse of the refracted light). By fusing a distinctive compositional sensibility with a novel painting style Roberts has created a uniquely beautiful body of work.

BRAD TEARE In my experience encaustic is a very demanding medium. Did you embrace encaustic because of the innate beauty of the luminous pigment or were there other aspects–either technical or aesthetic–that drew you to the medium?

DALE ROBERTS The intrinsic beauty of the paint was and is very attractive. I was drawn to the vast range of application possibilities, everything from smooth and flowing to thick and encrusted. The quality of light passing through translucent layers and unlimited open working time were both aspects particularly suited to my temperament.

BRAD The freshness and spontaneity of your work suggests you are an excellent draughtsman but having never seen your sketches until recently I was surprised at the accuracy of your sketches since the corresponding paintings are more loosely rendered. How do you decide how to abbreviate form as you work from your sketches to the final painting?

DALE After analyzing forms and compositional elements through careful studies and preparatory drawings I discover the salient qualities that serve the aim of each encaustic that follows. Deeply understanding my subject allows for freedom when honing in on what is important visually. Successful painting is often the product of intelligent and even visceral editing.




BRAD Your urban scenes, especially the paintings of bridgeswhich nearly constitutes a sub-genre of your workhave an abstract quality to them. Most artists concede that abstraction is the basis of composition yet not all artists express such a contemporary sensibility. Did you study abstraction? Have you ever painted purely abstract images?

DALE During my years at art school, Rochester institute of technology and Tyler School of Art, I availed myself of a full range of study. I dove headlong into a deep immersion of figurative painting and the importance of craft as well as exposure and practice of the most contemporary abstraction. Both streams find their way into my present work.

BRAD Is your compositional method a conscious one or purely intuitive? What formed your compositional methods? Were there specific theories or teachers that helped form those ideas?

DALE Composition for me involves a kind of flirting with the boundaries- boundaries of forms, panel edges, divisions and compositional conventions. I will often make multiple preparatory sketches using a variety of mediums–editing, reworking, and sometimes reassembling them to arrive at the most effective result. The process is a combination of intuition and study. The main impulse is to keep the processincluding work on the final panelas fluid as possible allowing for changes from minor to cataclysmic whenever necessary. I’ve studied dynamic symmetry, episode and cinematic strategies, as well as compositional solutions throughout the history of art. Roger Anliker and Charles Schmidt both from Tyler advocated a wide range of compositional solutions with the salient principals being internalized for an intuitive response.

BRAD How do you discover your motifs? Is sketching always a part of that process?

DALE Since compulsive sketching, plein air Watercolor, Gouache and Pastel studies are my practice the motifs I paint are an outcome of that discipline. I also do a lot of mental composing when I’m not in the presence of the subject as well.

BRAD Did the technical skills necessary to paint in encaustic come intuitively or did you struggle to become proficient? I've heard artists say they could never do woodcuts because their mind doesn't work that way–removing the negative space to reveal the positive. Are there certain gifts or traits that facilitate working in encaustic?



DALE When I started working in Encaustic some 35 years ago, the training I had available was a brief discussion in the Ralph Mayer technical manual, my own stubborn ingenuity, and years of more or less successful attempts. It seemed that through that experience my own sensibilities began to fuse with the revealed character of the encaustic process. It’s come to the point where I think in those terms as I address a potential theme and subject. Early on the skills required were rather utilitarian, while later they assumed much more sophistication and specificity. I’m still in the practice of adding new approaches sometimes out of the pure joy of discovery. Encaustic does lend itself to a physical approach, and as the son of a carpenter, the building process of the medium was sympathetic to my aptitudes.

BRAD From your videos I see you work from black and white sketches. Do you ever do a color study or do you rely on memory to paint color? Do you have a guiding theory of color that allows you get such beautiful color harmony in your work?

DALE I do color studies from the subject in gouache, watercolor or pastel. Often I will paint several variations experimenting with the color intensity, value range and potential layers I might use. This practice has resulted in a trove of small versions of many of my larger encaustic compositions. In spite of all that planning, the painting ultimately has it’s own internal color character as it develops allowing the color studies and other notes to serve as a scaffold to launch from. 

BRAD Encaustics seem like a medium typically practiced in the studio. I was surprised you paint in the field on occasion. Is plein air painting an integral part of your process? How does your plein air process contrast with your studio methods?

DALE Whenever the opportunity presents itself, the right combination of subject, electrical availability (for heating paints) and a sensible stretch of time, the prospect of plein air encaustic is wonderful. Working outside from life tends to elicit a decisive approach as I deal with the transient nature of light, weather or other unforeseen constraints.

BRAD Is texture a conscious concern or do you let texture build as the layers require? Do you ever add anything to your paint, like chalk, to build up texture?

DALE I suppose I can characterize my use of texture as a responsive one, both to the subject and to the paint film as it develops. I will use inert elements such as string, acid free paper, and occasionally marble dust to build texture and interest. My tools are a combination of studio and shop items which help me achieve the ends I have in mind.

BRAD One of the surprising aspects of encaustic is that the paint can be reworked at any stage. How does this effect your process? Do you tend to work on one painting at a time or do you rotate each painting through multiple stages? How long does it take to paint one of your larger paintings?

DALE Whenever I teach about a medium I will often begin with its application and then how to remove it. Understanding the medium/solvent aspect of any medium is crucial to working with a level of expertise and even abandon. The thermoplastic nature of encaustic is particularly freeing to me in that context. I am in the practice of working on as many as 11 paintings during a given studio season and even reworking something years later. My larger paintings, up to 6’ x 4’ might take a couple of years to come to fruition.

BRAD I understand it is important to have good ventilation while painting with encaustics. Can you share what ventilation system you use or what might be adequate for the beginning encaustic painter?

DALE I use two Honeywell HEPA units as well as fans and open windows. I’m careful not to burn the paint using a cooking thermometer to monitor the temperature at 205 degrees. Also there is no turpentine in my mixture, which I make by hand using beeswax and dry pigments.



BRAD After watching one of your videos I bought a set of encaustics and found I really enjoyed the medium. One thing I was unsure about was the idea of fusing the layers, that is, applying heat to fuse the new layer into the lower layer. It seems that such a method blurs all of the hard won detail that might be in that layer. Any tips on how to fuse without losing detail?

DALE I suppose working from general to specific has its merits when faced with a necessary step that can obliterate details accomplished in early stages. I’ve made and lost countless such moments on the way to figuring this process out. A tip for fusing without losing detail would be to heat it ONLY until the area begins to exhibit a shine, and then move the heat source away.

BRAD If an artist wants to paint urban scenes it's necessary to paint chain link fences effectively. But painting chain link drives me crazy. Any hints how to paint such detail in encaustic?

DALE   One method is to paint the area behind the fence, and then score the lines for the fence into the film. Fill the void with the colors you want and then scrape away the excess using a razor blade. You might also invert that method, painting the fence first and then painting the background over it…scrape the film down to reveal the fence embedded in the image.

BRAD You are an amazingly prolific artist especially since you worked a demanding day job for many years. How were you able to advance your painting career and hold down a 9-to-5 job? Are there any words of advice you might give artists pursuing a similar path?

DALE In the inspirational words of a former professor The first MILLION are practice, and If you have 20 minutes you can do something wonderful. I will also add that to balance such a life an artist needs to understand that it’s about doing the good hard work, with discipline and consistency over time. Painting is all about the long haul, certainly not an easy road.

BRAD I love your work and appreciate you taking time from painting to share your ideas and methods with the readers of Thick Paint. Many thanks!

Brad Teare–September, 2014

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