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I find myself wavering between abstract design and realism - and as is my nature, try to strike a balance between the two. In this piece, I knew I wanted to paint waxwings - the top bird is a bohemian waxwing, the bottom one is a cedar. In researching the birds, I found that they often intermingle in flocks. The background design is purposefully left very graphic. When I first started the painting, I painted in the lines to get a feel for how the eye would travel around the painting... but I liked the stark contrast to the birds, so I left the lines visible, and even accentuated them. I also purposefully left the two circular elements rather ambiguous - is that bright orb the sun or the moon? Is the shape on the right a bush or a planet? Does it really matter?
Lately I have been challenging myself to not overwork pieces - to leave some areas unfinished. Not everything in life has to be sewn up tight - in reality, nothing really is set in stone. We exist in a constantly changing and evolving universe - and that is what I want my paintings to embrace. The ebb and flow of life.
I am involved in two plein air events this summer, so thought I'd better practice my "on location" painting skills. One of the pitfalls of painting from life is that you are painting a constantly moving target. Oh sure, the lay of the land stays the same, the trees don't (usually!) jump up and move off...but the clouds move, the shadows move, the colors shift as the day progresses...and, of course, if you are painting animals in the scene, they DO move!
One of the biggest challenges in plein air painting is to rough in the "design" of the painting: where are the shadows and sunlight? What "story" are you trying to tell about the scene you are painting? I pretty much have to get everything down in about a half hour, and then force myself not to look at the scene again, except to define rock formations, trees, mountains - in other words, to refine the drawing part but NOT the colors and values. Those I refine only by what is working/not working as I tell my story.
For instance, in this painting, the focus in on that beautiful golden yellow field glowing in the afternoon sun. Everything else in the painting has to support that. As I was painting, the shadows shifted, the clouds built up and actually muted the yellow field. At one point the clouds were quite dynamic - and I almost "lost my head" and started painting them - but as I did so, I realized that I was taking the emphasis away from the field and putting it in the sky. So I had to refocus and remember not to change my story mid-painting!
For me, painting is like meditating. As I practice mindfulness, I find my mind starts to wander. Instead of just "being," I am making mental lists, thinking ahead to something I have to do later. When I find myself doing that, I gently refocus on my breathing, which brings me back into the present. When painting outdoors, the "present" is the painting itself, the emotion and mood I wish to evoke. Everything else is distraction - the things that change outside of the painting have to be let go, as I breath in the experience of being outdoors in nature: the warmth of the sun, the buzz of insects, the stillness...or perhaps the rush of the wind, the dance of trees, the swirl of clouds...and breath out, reaching further.
If you are interested in purchasing this painting, click here.
I was surprised at how hard it was to actually get in the studio and paint. I kept procrastinating all day - laundry, vacuuming, pulling weeds. Finally, at 8:00 last night, when I had the house to myself (hubby at a Blues Jam), the dogs and I went into the studio, turned on some Mozart, scraped the dried paints off my palette, added new paint, picked up a brush and...PAINTED! Oh, it felt so good! I was a little nervous about diving right back into The Heart of Salmon, but figured, what the heck. I can always wipe out if I don't like what I've done.
The first thing I did was fix a few drawing problems, just minor tweaks. Then I decided I wanted the background water to look like it had more depth, as if Salmon were rising up to the sunlight. I changed the placement of the words and added the word "rises". Then I added more saturated color to the belly and tail. All in all I'm pretty happy with last night's session. Not sure the water is reading correctly...any thoughts?
The Heart of Deer is the third painting in my Birth Totem Animal series. Deer is the birth totem animal for those born between May 20 and June 21. This original paintings in this series will not be available for sale until the series is complete; however, 8x8 gallery-wrapped canvas giclees are available for individual purchase. Contact me if you are interested.
I’m not talking about the song recorded by the Surfaris back in 1962. I’m not even referring to “fall badly and painfully.” Nope, I’m talking about the technique of using a rag to wipe out passages in a painting that aren’t working, to get back down to the texture of the canvas. It’s a technique I used last night during Session II of painting “The Heart of Deer.”
The session started well. I knew from looking at the photo I took of Deer after Session I that I needed to go back in and soften her ears, redefine her face, redraw her back leg, warm up the background and “carve” out her neck and chest. I was also bothered by the dark patch on her back and sides; the shape seemed too regular, too sharp-edged. I also noticed some areas where the color had gotten a bit muddy.
At some point in my learning process working in oils, I switched from using Viva paper towels to wipe my brushes with to soft cotton painter’s rags. My initial reason for doing that was to save money; it seemed like I went through an inordinate number of rolls of paper towels! But then, because of an “accident” where I had to wipe out a good portion of a painting, I discovered that the rags did a great job lifting the paint without leaving behind fibers like paper towel does. And, once I let the rags dry, I can wash them and reuse them, which appeals to both my penny-pinching side and my “green” side.
As I looked at Deer last night, I knew I would have to go backwards before going forward, and would have to wipe out some of the painting I’d done in Session I. This is always a scary thing to do – I want to leave what is working and wipe out what’s not, but sometimes it is difficult to determine which is which. In this case I knew that dark patch was calling way too much attention to itself, and it had to be take down a notch or two. I also needed to wipe out some areas on the neck that had gotten muddy looking. And I needed to do something about the legs. In my reference photo, the deer is standing in deep snow, so her feet are hidden. But I didn’t like the way they just faded out in the painting. As I was wiping, I decided to wipe out the legs, pulling them down off the bottom of the canvas, exaggerating their spindly nature and partially obscuring the words written on the bottom. As soon as I did that, I knew it was the right move. The painting felt more pulled together. I have to admit that sometimes I get attached to my reference photo and let it be more important than the actual painting. This was a case where I was able to subjugate the “reality” of the photo and paint the reality of the painting.
I finished this session feeling satisfied with the progress made. Deer is revealing herself slowly, cautiously – different than Wolf with her confidence and desire to impart knowledge. With Deer, the message is about containing nervous energy, holding the heart still long enough to let the mind assess the situation. And then taking appropriate action.
I wondered last night when I went down to my studio what inspiration I would find after over a week of not painting. So I went through my usual rituals: I put on my painting shirt, opened up the container of my “secret blend” painting medium, scraped away old, dried paint from my palette and added light cadmium red, cadmium orange, cadmium yellow, cadmium green, sap green, ultramarine blue, radiant blue, brown-pink, quinacridone violet, brown-pink and titanium white. Before my week of not painting, I had done the preliminary sketch for Deer on the 10x10 canvas using quinacridone violet. I kept my mind open to the possibility that I would not find inspiration in Deer, but as soon as I saw the drawing I could hardly get my palette set up fast enough! The paint seemed to flow off the brush with a mind of its own; my job was to let it be.
When I paint, I usually listen to music: my current favorite is Loreena McKennitt’s “An Ancient Muse.” But some nights, and last night was one of them, I’m treated to live music. My husband’s band, Trash Kings of the South, was practicing, and much of what they play could be considered “head” music, in that it is improvisational and full of interesting space. Perfect music to paint to! Listening to music seems to click off my fussy, analytical mind and let the intuitive side play.
In an earlier journal entry, I think I wrote about how important it is for me to get the eye of the animal correct, so that it has a personality on which I can focus. Sometimes I hear words in my head as I paint. These words also help me to focus on the essence of the painting, and reveal something about the nature of the Animal. Sometimes the words become the title. In this series I’ve been painting the words on the canvas.
“The heart of Deer shows its true colors.” As I was painting, I thought about the nature of Deer, and how that corresponds to people born between May 21 and June 20. Think of Deer as she moves quietly through the forest, ever alert for the subtlest of movements, the slightest of sounds that will warn her of impending danger, and yet her own flightiness often leads her straight into the sights of the Hunter. One who has Deer as her Birth Totem must learn to calm her restless nature and quiet her frantically beating heart which sometimes causes her to get into the very situation her nature wants to avoid. By first accepting herself, embracing her “true colors,” she can then spread this acceptance and begin the manifestation of an Integrated Universe.
I was almost able to finish this painting last night – and maybe I did. I’ll have to look again tonight with fresh eyes. I’ll let you know…
For the past week, I have not been in my studio to paint. Nor have I written in my Art Journal. A weeklong visit with my youngest daughter and my two-month old grandson kept me happily preoccupied. But that is not to say I haven’t been thinking of painting; I’ve snuck into my studio a few times and looked at the Wolf painting, which waits patiently for me to be ready. I don’t feel ready though. The work I need to do with Wolf requires limber creative muscles! So tonight, my first night back to brushes and paints, palette and canvas, I’ll start a new painting and wait until Wolf howls with clarity.
My plan is to continue with my Birth Totem paintings. Deer has been wandering through my dreams and emerging from the shadows of my peripheral vision. Perhaps Deer will materialize tonight on my canvas. As I write this, I have to chuckle a little, having just read Keith Bond’s latest article in Fine Art Views about being so focused on what you think you are inspired to paint that you miss the opportunity to paint what truly inspires you. So I’ll make a promise to myself to not have tunnel vision, and to let myself be open to possibilities.
I’ll let you know how it goes!
The painting depicted here is a bit of a hybrid - it is of a historic horse, Bucephalus (Alexander the Great's horse) but it is painted in a more realistic style.







