What I Did on my Summer (Painting) Vacation

Toward the Mountains, 9" x 12", pastel, Canson paper

I had very high expectations for my 3 weeks in northern New Mexico. We were renting a house in a beautiful spot and assuming the cottonwoods would be turning in September. We were bringing the dogs with us to soak up the environment with us on long walks. Thirty minutes from Taos, I knew I would have great food and glory in that rounded, understated architecture whenever I wanted. I never have a greater feeling of well being than when in NM, and I expected that to be the case once again. Most of all, I wanted to spend three weeks in my right brain, gazing at the world with greedy, arty eyes. Focusing on naturally perfect compositions and capturing them in pastel. Spending entire days of plein air bent over my Heilman box with a big floppy hat on. Oh, I had plans, big plans.

Things I learned on my summer painting vacation:

1. This art stuff is hard enough. Plein air is way harder. It engages a highly undeveloped part of the brain and gives it an Indian rope burn.

2. I thought to be a real artist you had to be good at plein air, but now I'm okay about going inside to paint. You don't sweat or get sunburned or bitten by ants. You always have access to a bathroom and Diet Coke and Fig Newtons, and you can play MOG.com real loud.

3. Photographing a prospective landscape doesn't really cut it. The camera flattens even the mightiest of mountains. Real life sketching in pencil or pastel to capture essential information is a very good thing. THEN go inside and put the MOG on.

4. For extreme mental health/artsy fartsiness, do not read newspapers, listen to the radio or watch TV. Therein lies the real therapy to vacation. Add art immersion to that, and you got yourself a life changing event.

5. It is good to periodically take the time to do absolutely nothing but what YOU want to do. It will feel weird and somehow not right (if you are a recovering Catholic as well), but by the end of three weeks you will feel you deserve nothing less.

6. Do not return home if you want to hang on to No. 5.

The Blue Bench, 9" x 12", pastel, Canson paper

7. I wish I could say I learned what makes New Mexican Mexican food so good, but it will require more research. Much more.

8. I learned that the feeling of complete relaxation and control over my time AND the illusion that I had all the time in the world made my painting better.

9. If there was ever any question, I would be very good at early retirement.

10. I'd go back in a New Mexico minute.

Hair on Fire and No Pond in Sight

Unless you seek art as a man whose hair is on fire seeks a pond, don't pursue it. - Joseph Campbell

I posted the above on my Facebook wall and asked other artists if they thought it was an imperative. Full-time artists said absolutely, and I understand the drive and discipline, courage and inspiration it must require to thrive as an artist. Indeed, you would be frantic for a pond most of the time, I would think. However, for those of us doing other things to pay the rent, it's a point of frustration. When I do have time to paint, I am always thinking, God, I love this. I don't ever want to stop." Even if my painting is crummy, I feel more myself in every way just in the act of painting it. Should I continue to pursue art if my hair is not on fire? What if my passion consists only in thinking of painting much of the time, collecting photo and ideas for art, mentally tracing outlines of interesting chins or trunks of trees, spending all expendable income on workshops and supplies, and painting whenever possible. If I do all that but without the urgency of a head inferno, does it still count as passion? Can one have a part-time passion, or are those of us disqualified for not risking all?

The Blue Door, 12" x 12", pastel

Pure Pig-Ment

For a change of pace from painting dogs in these dog days of summer, I decided pigs might be fun. As you can see, I wrestled quite a bit in the foreground/background issue. Couldn't decide what the center of interest was, got way too fixated on the fun of painting grass, lost control of the background because that damn Pastelmat takes so many layers it never screams, "Enough!" when it should. So if it's overworked, I blame my paper completely.

Taos Pueblo Doors in Pastel

The Green Door, 12" x 12", pastel

I took some dynamite photos (if I do say so myself) at Taos Pueblo in May on my visit there, and as usual my favorites involve doors and windows and dogs. I've decided to give in and just paint what pleases me and catches my fancy. So for the first time ever, I'm embarking on a series, and this is the first finished painting.

Pastel is especially suited to adobe walls. On this one, I blended parts with my finger for a softer look and for more textured areas simply layered differents shades of ochre and raw umber. The support is a buttery yellow Pastelmat, my new paper of choice, and it adds a definite glow behind the walls, despite the fact that most of it has been covered. I also completely smoothed out that famous New Mexican sky. The bits of yellow showing through the sky were distracting and brought the sky forward too much.

I was happy with the structure and the dirt and stones (these shapes are what attracted me to begin with), but felt it needed something breathing to complete it. And really, what's sweeter than doggie breath?

Pastel Pet Parts

I've come to a momentous decision. From now on, I will only paint dog body parts. These gave me great joy to paint, so sue me, I'm creating a new artistic genre. And I'm going to be the best darn dog body parts painter alive!

Pastel Painting Progression

From a photograph I took of the front entrance to the santuario at Chimayo, New Mexico. This painting had special challenges because I used a support I made with with pumice on gatorboard. Extremely irregular tooth and ate pastel sticks whole. I abandoned it at this point for a couple of months.

I decided to give it the old college and went in darkening darks. I also combined two photos from two different visits to Chimayo which also made it interesting. The latter picture made me realize everything was too pink.

Pinkening up the sidewalk to connect with the mountains. Darkening the area around the gravestone.

I wish I had left it as it was at this point because the tooth was full and most of what I did after simply blurred the color underneath.

I'm liking it, but there's no value change in the top of the gate and the mountains, and I don't know what to do about the foreground.

Blended some darker tones into the adobe plaster and some yellow to make it come forward. Defining the climbing vine a bit more. Added blue and white to the sidewalk to connect with the sky.

Redrew shadows, brought the foreground foliage up higher, extended one vine into the space of the gravestone shadow to connect them. Still feel funny about the foreground.

Added highlights on the gravestone, punched up the light greens and made a break in the foreground to provide entry into the painting. Will lighten the blue of the sidewalk and call it a day for Sanctuary. Interesting experiment but will stick to commercial paper from now on, I think.

"Field Studies" By Any Other Name

One of the most useful things I've learned from plein air workshops is to call work done on location your "field studies." Even though most instructors warn you that you're not going to emerge from a workshop with a good, completed piece, we all still keep hoping, don't we? And trying and straining and imposing pressure on ourselves to impress teacher and our peers, even during what is supposed to be a learning experience. So to sabotage those tendencies to perform, try calling your pieces from the field: field studies. Feel the relief in that? They're simply studies. They might be good, but probably are not. And that's okay. They might turn into a painting on a second try. They might turn into a painting with a little more work at home. And they're from the field for God's sake, where the air is cool and the sun is high and all's right with the world. You're out in nature and you're studying ~ you can't go wrong with a field study! Ahhhh, there, that's better.