Company

Purple Passion

Original oil painting  16x20"

by Susan Roux

Company. Isn't it part of the holidays? The best part, I'd say. I have to confess I love having people stay over. Whether loved ones arriving or casual acquaintances, it puts the house in an air of celebration.

Purple Passion developed quite differently than my previous still life. When I look at it, it reminds me of the feeling of holiday company. There's a big difference in hosting a holiday meal and having overnight guests. The meal has the house filled to capacity with a fancy table and wonderful smells wafting through the air. Overnight company, on the other hand, is filled with special quiet moments that can remain in your heart forever. 

Like early morning conversation when only two people in the house have awaken. It doesn't matter that your hair is a mess, nor that you're in your bathrobe. Some nice quality time emerges while sipping your first cup of coffee. Don Hatfield and I met like this every morning when he visited a few years ago. As you can imagine, conversations were always deep and about art. Priceless... The same is true with the evening. Cuddled up in front of the warm fire sipping whatever makes you feel cozy inside. This is what I see when I look at this painting. The fancy of company with warm hugs surrounding it all.

My middle son arrives today. I'm ecstatic. Yes I still have plenty to do before my house is company ready. It's exactly like what I read recently on Sally Rosenbaum's blog, the reason women have difficulty rising in their careers to the same capacity as men is: We don't have wives! Consequently, if we're devoted to our work, the house suffers. Let me tell you, I've been very devoted to my art! So after this post, I'll be busy with a plethora of household chores...

I know I'll miss my routine of painting. I always do in December. My classes will still run as usual for the most part. Students really need the break from holiday madness this time of year. They're so thankful for a reprieve and a bit of stress-free time with a brush in their hands. I too am happy to pick up my brushes. What I miss the most is time to paint on my own. 

Come January I'm usually ready to explode on canvas! (not a bad thing.)

So if I don't post again before Christmas or don't stop by as often as usual, know that I'm cozied up in front of the fire sipping something special with my very welcomed company.

Happy holidays to all of you. May you find time to enjoy those special quiet moments amidst the hustle. I also want to take time to thank all of you for stopping by throughout the year. Whether you leave a comment or not, I love that you take time to pop in. And for those of you who are so dedicated to leaving me a little note, know you're the ones who put a huge smile on my face... Blessings to all and have a safe and happy holiday.

How old are you?

Flamboyant

Original oil painting  12x30" gallery wrap

by Susan Roux

I remember having tea with John Morris while touring his studio in Ireland. John had lots to say about art and the business of art. He was so interesting to listen to. One of the things he described was how the artists community was like tiers of a cake. I didn't get what he was saying so I asked him to elaborate. This is what he told me.

The bottom tier is the largest. It's where an artist begins. There are lots and lots of people on this tier. Lots and lots of people proclaiming to be artists or creative. As an artist develops and improves they rise to a higher tier. The tiers, he said, quickly become quite small compared to the bottom one. He suggested that it was very easy to communicate with an artist on your own tier, but trying to have a great artistic relationship with someone on a different tier, was much harder. Especially, he noted, with someone on a tier or two beneath you. The very top tier is the smallest where only a few artists reside and he suspected they must all know each other.

It's an interesting concept and I thought about what he said many times. I have to agree that it's easier to relate and communicate artistically with someone on your own tier. I'm sure many of you can relate to loosing art friends as your ability developed. For one, as you do develop, your understanding of certain things deepen and it's difficult to have the same conversations with an artist who has not experienced or has not gained knowledge of these things. 

I remember telling my mother that my mind was opening to knowledge about color that I never even knew existed. She wanted to know what. But it was difficult to put into words. All I could do was give a glimpse, a suggestion of what I was talking about. I remember feeling so alone. I had acquired this amazing new knowledge and had no one to converse with about it.

Perhaps John is right about the tiers, but I see it a little differently. For me, the artists journey resembles that of a person growing. We first begin all excited, wow I can do this. Like the young child who wants to have all their work up on the refrigerator, you eagerly show others what you've achieved. You glow with their compliments. Then adolescence hits. You become shy about what you're doing because you feel it's inferior to others works that you admire. You push on however and soon like a late teen or early twenty, you feel it's so simple and rejoice that you know it all! Unfortunately your bubble is burst as you move into your mid twenties. Suddenly you realize you have a lot more to learn. As you continue through your adulthood, gaining information and honing your skills, you eventually come to a place where you realize you'll never know all there is to know or understand about art. The more you learn, the harder it becomes. With continued work and learning, I think we'll keep growing all the way to old age. 

I chuckle when I look back to a time when I thought all this was so easy...

I think perhaps I'm somewhere in my late thirties possibly early forties, as far as development. It's a little hard to judge. I do know I still have a long way to go. Unlike actual aging, I think it's possible to leap through several years, possibly decades at times. A great teacher can propel you forward. 

So how old do you think you are in your artist journey?

(And in case you didn't know, Don Hatfield is a great teacher and will be teaching 3 workshops here in Maine in August. Contact me for more information.)

Invitations

Old World Serenity

Original oil painting  18x24"

by Susan Roux

I don't know what it is about Europe, but for as long as I can remember it feels like it's been beckoning me. Perhaps it's the ancient. Perhaps it's my ancestry or perhaps it's works of art I've seen depicting it that pulls at me. I'm really not sure. All I know is the feeling has always been powerful.

For years, I never thought I'd get there. Sometimes life turns and suddenly you find yourself where you never thought possible. Who would have predicted an invitation to exhibit in Russia would get me there? But it did. I've been overseas twice now and I hope to return again. The lovely scene depicted is from Ireland. This wonderful place stole my heart though I'm not of Irish decent.

Sometimes new worlds can open up for you by means of a simple invitation.

Those words: Please Come or You Are Invited can open opportunities you might otherwise have thought impossible. Have you ever gone somewhere unexpected because of an invitation? Have you ever wished you had been invited to something you weren't? Sometimes invitations can trigger one to suddenly do something new and adventurous.

I've come to realize that many people are never invited to things. Especially people of prominence. Lets put this in terms of art. Is there a gallery you'd love to be represented by? What about the owner? How often do you think they get invited to art openings? Sure they host plenty of them, but do you really think they get invited outside their own gallery for something artistic? It's a bit unlikely.

I have to admit, I'm often spurred by impulse. I get a crazy idea that might be really out there and before I can talk myself out of it, I act upon it. I know it can be a mistake. Spontaneity isn't always your best friend. But most of the time it hasn't steered me wrong.

Invitations.

Surprises can happen with them.

Are you feeling in a rut? Are you feeling humdrum? Invite somebody unexpected and see what happens. Nora Kasten invited me several years ago to come visit when she found out I was going to Florida for a vacation. Such a simple gesture that led to our friendship/relationship. She's since come to Maine and we've had the pleasure of spending quite a bit of time together.

I invited Don Hatfield a few years back. Just like that. A simple invitation to come to Maine. Look at all that has led to! Looking back it seems completely impossible that that tiny little gesture would lead to him becoming my mentor.

What's the worse thing that can come from an invitation? They decline???

I could go on and on about people I've invited and the opportunities that arose from it.

Take this painting for instance. I came to this little town because I contacted Irish artist Owen Rohu before I traveled to Ireland. I invited him to paint with me. The invitation didn't lead to painting together, but it did lead to being invited to his home where I visited his studio, had stimulating conversation about the art world in his country and lunch with his lovely wife and children.

If you would like opportunities to open up for yourself, try beginning with an invitation. You might be very surprised who'll accept!

I would like to extend an invitation to  you. Please come to Maine in August. Don Hatfield will be teaching 3 wonderful workshops. (Did you know he doesn't teach a circuit of them? You'll need to come to Maine. This is sort of an exclusive!)

Here are the dates:

August 1 2 3: Portrait Workshop


August 6 7 8: Still life Workshop


August 10 11 12: Figurative Workshop (in costume)


Cost is $300. for one workshop, $500. for two and $700. for all three. A $100. deposit is required at signup with the balance due July 1, 2012.

Please contact me for further information. As mentioned in my last post, Don Hatfield focuses on the fundamentals. No matter how experienced you are, whether a beginner or seasoned artist, taking his workshop will improve your work. Don is funny, honest and won't teach you gimmicks. He'll give you the knowledge you personally need to move forward with your art. I highly recommend it and promise you won't regret taking it.

Plus you get to meet me!


-----------------------------------

Note: The above painting is exhibited and for sale at the Blue Heron Gallery, Wellfleet MA (Cape Cod) Please contact owner, Roy Thurston, if you're interested in purchasing it.

Don Hatfield Workshop 2012

Nature's Dance

Original oil painting  12x36"

by Susan Roux

Basic fundamentals. I can't say enough on the importance of them. I don't care how seasoned an artist you are or if you're just a beginner, those fundamentals are of utmost importance to the representational painter. Sure there's creativity and you may want to simplify things in your own way as part of your creative voice. But without a clear understanding of the fundamentals, your work will remain a hit or miss sort of thing. Some are good and other's ...not so much. 

The artist's journey is lifelong for most of us. In this journey we strive to find our unique voice and hope to see continued growth. We're usually our worse critics, often allowing that terrible voice inside to spook us.  Art is a very revealing thing. It's pouring yourself out on canvas, exposed to the masses. Criticism crushes often giving voice to that inner demon. The best way to arm yourself against it is having clear knowledge of the basic fundamentals.

How good is your foundation? Solid? Shifting? Crumbly? Wouldn't it be great to answer Solid with confidence?

I for one, would like more confidence in that department...

Don Hatfield. It's not uncommon for his name to pop up on this blog. (By now, I think it's even surpassed Luka Bloom! How can that be???) Don is not only my mentor, he has grown to be a very dear friend. The longer I know him, the more he amazes me. As an artist, I've admired his work since I first came upon it in the early '90's. His voice is filled with soft beautiful color and arrangements that let the viewer dream. Serolla and Sargent are among his favorites and it's easy to see signs of their inspiration in his work. Basic fundamentals are strong in all these great artists.

Nowadays, you can sign up for workshops from all sorts of "masters". I can't vouch for their teaching abilities. I can however vouch for Don's. His focus is Basic Fundamentals. Improve on those and your art improves. Plain and simple.

Are you finding yourself stagnating? Could your art use a little more Punch? Definition? Impact? Emotion? Are you having trouble elevating to the next level? 

The answer lies in the fundamentals.

I'm so excited to be hosting Don Hatfield again this year for a series of workshops in early August. Actual dates and specifics will be announced soon. Don will teach 3 separate 3-day workshops: portraiture, still life and figurative in costume. Cost for the 3-day sessions is a reasonable $300. with reductions for multiple workshops. Whether a beginner or a seasoned artists, you would benefit from his teachings. 

Aren't you just itching to come to Maine? August is a lovely month. Think about it. You could begin with a 3-day Hatfield energy boost and continue on to a beautiful coastline town for an extended stay and paint, armed with precious fundamentals and a new-found confidence. 

Does it get any better than that?...!

(Note: I can't get this photo adjusted to look as soft and delicate as the actual painting.)

For the children

Moving to the Rhythm 

(panel 1)

Original oil painting  28x22"

by Susan Roux

For some, when it rains it pours.

Imagine loosing your wife (or husband) to cancer and the following month loosing your only daughter because she was brutally murdered at the hands of her husband. Seems unimaginable doesn't it? Let's say she had three small children and you're the only one left to care for them. 

I'm sad to say this isn't a hypothetical but reality for my good friend and mentor, artist Don Hatfield. 

As if matters aren't bad enough, he's finding himself in a battle to gain full custody of his only grandchildren. It's very sad and I'm embarrassed to live in a society that prefers to put children in foster care/up for adoption rather than grant them effortlessly to a close loving relative. What has our nation come to, to make a grandfather fight for the custody of his orphaned grandchildren?

Think of those lovely adorable little ones. Big questioning eyes full of sadness, longing for their mother and their incarcerated dad. They're only babies. What do you tell them? All you want to do is hold them tightly in your arms. You cry silently... What would you tell them if the State ripped them from your loving embrace only to hand them over to strangers? As if dealing with two deaths isn't enough, you don't even have time to morn. Instead you're busy hustling trying to make some of the most important decisions of your life in order to reach the State's requirements of what's best for your babies. 

Within 24 hours of his daughter Rachel's murder, Don was required to have a court hearing. Do you know what it's like scheduling a court hearing? Friends came to his rescue and luckily he did obtain one. No time to deal with the shock of his immediate loss. No, the State won't grant you that. If you don't get your court hearing within the 24 hour period, the children are immediately put into foster care. 

This hearing granted Don a temporary guardianship that lasts but one short month. At that time, he'll be visited by social services to see if the living accommodations he's providing meet their standards. That is just one bullet point on their list of requirements. 

Those of you who follow Don's blog know he filed bankruptcy over a year ago. His credit is as low as it can go. You could say it's nonexistent. No bank will loan him the funds he needs immediately to put together the pieces necessary to meet State requirements. 

One month. 

That's all he gets. Not one month of clear level headed thinking. No, one month when he's facing a crushing emptiness that can devour even the strongest among us. How he longs for his loving wife to be by his side during this trying time. But it's not the hand he's been dealt.

Don needs financial assistance at this time. He is a wonderful loving, giving man. The sadness that overcomes me at this time is indescribable. Please consider helping a fellow artist. Any contribution is helpful and greatly appreciated. Remember the March of Dimes? Their motto was based upon if each person gave one dime, they would have enough money to help those in need. Well times have changed and one dime doesn't go as far as it did back then, but the same principle exists. Small amounts by many add up.

Please go to Don's blog to help. If his story touches your heart, please do every effort to spread his information around. We have great power at our fingertips with the internet and our computers, laptops and smart phones. Wouldn't it be great if together we could make it go viral? 

At the moment there is an effort to create an account on a fundraising website. I'll post a link to it as it becomes available. 

Thank you for reading through this post. As you know Don is very dear to my heart. Please help.

Moving to the Rhythm 

(panels 1+2)

Playing with mud

Morning Fog, Monhegan

Original oil painting  24x18"

by Susan Roux

When Don Hatfield came to teach his workshop here a few summer's ago, he showed us how he mixes paint on a glass palette. Forget the palette knives. He took his stiff bristled brush, dipped in several colors and turned it in circular fashion in the center of his palette. With that mess which appeared like mud, he showed us how he could move the puddle from warm to cool and back again by simply adding a new color to it. As he continued to demonstrate, the mud puddle grew and grew. You can mix anything in here  he told us. 

Much to our surprise, he demonstrated portraiture using this puddle of mud!

Since then, I have to admit I've learned to embrace the puddle. I even have my students using the puddle. There's something interesting about mud. All those neutralized grays... Subtle in their own right, yet clearly distinctive added to the canvas. It's amazing how many different shades of neutral gray one can make. 

Hatfield (that's what he likes to call himself) told us of his early studies with pastels. He learned to add color to a gray toned paper. It worked beautifully. In time, when he began to paint, he brought this knowledge to the canvas. I've never seen anyone like mud as much as he does. Where many fear creating muddy colors, he becomes the master in control when it happens. And just as with pastels, colors sit beautifully on mud. 

As I painted Morning Fog, Monhegan it's all I thought about. Mud. So much mud. I was painting an entire scene with muddy colors. I found myself lost in the slight variations I could create. I was being seduced by it. I was pulling and pushing shapes. My first strokes for the flowers were a simple diagonal swish of hot pink. It was a flat area of color. As I worked in the flowers, I was making decisions about which one's came forward and which ones would recede. And when they did recede, which flowers would be furthest back.

I watched my canvas evolve as I played with mud on my flowers. I felt in complete control. If I wanted a flower to push further back, I had the ability to do it in a instant. Frankly I'm surprised I finished this painting. I was having so much fun being the master of my flowers, it's a wonder I finally stopped. 

It's easy to paint drama with strong sun/shadow patterns. It's also easy to create drama with dark and light values as seen in my previous painting. What I was after here was to see if I could create some drama without any of those things. No sunshine, no high contrast areas, just mud and a bit of pure color. 

Do you ever try to challenge yourself with something new? If so, what? Do you enjoy getting out of your comfort zone? I do. It can be lots of fun. 

Note to Don: My deepest condolences for the loss of your dear sweet wife, Janey.

Critique, yes or no?

Lupines in the Sky

Work in progress

10x30" gallery wrap

by Susan Roux

Where do you stand on the subject of critique?

My last post showed a painting before a critique and where I pushed it following a critique. A good critique is priceless, in my opinion. I wish I had one for every painting I paint. I find it elevates my work to new heights. It keeps me pushing, trying to achieve something beyond where I previously stopped. Just last night Mike and I were discussing this and he wished he had to a good photographer friend who could give him a good critique.

Odd thing is, as much as we would like to be continually critiqued, there are many who are opposed to it. It takes a tough skin to listen to your creative work be interpreted by another. We become tied and connected to the things we create.

It's a reflection of ourselves. Who has the right to tell us what's wrong with it?

Rejection in any form is difficult. It can knock the wind right out of you. But I don't think of a good critique as a rejection. Quite the contrary. When someone takes the time to analyze a work they usually already have an attraction to it. The critique isn't designed to crush an artist, but to urge him (her) to think of it in different terms and possibly see it differently as well. We get very close to our work. Especially those of us who work a painting for an extended period of time. So much of ourselves is invested in it.

Though just as love is blind, so often is the artist who has a certain goal in mind. We'll set parameters for ourselves. Things like a limited palette or brushstroke edges. Some soft, some hard, some blurred, some bold and distinct. We can focus so hard on certain aspects of our work, that we'll easily miss other things. Things we already know. They slip from memory temporarily. A good critique allows you to retain what you've captured and helps you push it to an even stronger finish.

Imagine all the paintings you've ever painted. If you could take the best things from them and put it all together in one work of art, wouldn't that be wonderful? This is the critique to me. No one is teaching you how to paint it, only allowing you the insight to add a bit more and turn your work into a wow. It's never about repainting the entire painting (though Don's sent me to do that a few times as well...). It's about taking what you have and adjusting it. It might be defining something or dulling something. Perhaps adding a punch of color or contrast.

There exists a fear of loosing what we've already captured and ruining it. Loosing that look of freshness. Getting it overworked. But returning to a painting for adjustments needn't be done with your largest brushes. Often tweaking with something tiny that can be blended with the existing work will do the trick.

The other factor that comes up in conversation is the qualifications of the one critiquing.

Yes, I'm very fortunate to have Don Hatfield as my mentor and critique-er. (I can make up words, right?) Yes, he is highly qualified. But often the gut instinct of someone not highly qualified can be as helpful. Your kids can be very honest. Painfully so sometimes when they don't get what this part is. Even after you explain it to them and they tell you well it doesn't look like that.

You'd be surprised how many people can give you a good critique. Many of us have the knowledge, it's getting it on canvas that's the challenge!

So where do you stand on critique? Is it a gift or an insult?

Modern-day PIRATES

This is a painting claimed by Hugo Diaz Mapi. He's a Spanish artist (and I'll use that lightly) who claims to be a digital painter by use of Photoshop. Oddly it bears quite a resemblance to

Don Hatfield's Looking for Treasures...

This is an original Hugo Diaz Mapi. Or is it?

Here is Don Hatfield's Brothers. Does moving a few pieces around and clicking a few filters on Photoshop constitute the rights to call something your own? Notice the boy in blue overalls on the left.

Whoops... here he is again in another Hugo Diaz Mapi!

With this lady of Don's

and this beach!

Son of a beach! What is this world coming too? Are some so jealous of other's ability to create that all they can do is copy, steal and pirate?

Beware of Hugo Diaz Mapi folks!

He contacted me with compliments on my impressionist art. He mentioned Don's name and asked if I knew of any other American impressionist. Then he asked that I look him up on Facebook and send him a friend request. I didn't give him any artists names, but I did send him a friend request. It was only after he accepted that I was able to see these images and more that were copied from dozen's of artists.

Send him a friend request on Facebook to see if you're one of his victims. After a few days, let him know what you think of his "art". We can all use our voice. Together we might speak loud enough...

I'll be cutting down the resolution on my painting images from now on. It's a shame. I really enjoy being able to click and enlarge paintings to see the details. There are always those who ruin it for everyone. Hugo Diaz Mapi. He's definitely one bad apple...

Hey Mr. Mapi, I can use Photoshop too.

The endless journey

Warm Breeze

Original oil painting 20x16"

by Susan Roux

An artists journey is an interesting one to say the least. As we progress down the many winding roads of this journey, we come to realize that the end of the journey only exists if we choose to stop. Otherwise the journey is endless. Meaning that the more we know, the more we discover or are educated about art, the more we realize that there is still further to go. I don't care how masterful an artist may be, there is always more to learn.

I've been very fortunate this past year. I've seen my art evolve through experimentation and hard work. For those of you who follow me, you also know this improvement is due in large part to Don Hatfield. He has been a constant who keeps me focused and stimulated by opening my eyes to things I hadn't yet observed on my own.

If you can't see it, you can't paint it.

I repeat this phrase over and over. I feel a vision needs to exist, whether in our minds or through our eyes. Until you observe the light and the shadow, you cannot paint the light and the shadow. The same is true for all aspects of painting. If you can't see it or don't have the ability to break down what it is exactly that you're observing, it is impossible to replicate it in paint.

I'm not just referring to the representation of objects in one's work. I'm also referring to the emotion an artist has towards these objects. In fine art, it isn't simply representation that is necessary. It isn't only about a pretty picture. Fine art also captures emotion.

The emotion we capture is created by many factors. Color, brushstroke and values play a huge part. But a vision or understanding of the emotion you wish to portray needs to be present. Without the vision, the idea, it will not happen.

And so it goes... This is the great mystery, the giant labyrinth that we call the artist journey. It's a combined mesh of skill, observation and emotion. The variables are endless making the combination of the parts endless as well. So where are you on this journey?

I ran across an excerpt today by Barry John Raybould in his Virtual Art Academy. It opened my eyes to a level that I've yet to discover. It's perhaps a direction I'll need to focus on if I want to continue improving. But it seems a difficult step, so don't be expecting too much in this direction from me yet... Here is the excerpt.

Old master artists knew how to suggest a lot of detail without actually rendering it. Look closely at any of John Singer Sargent's paintings and you will notice that an elegant dress is no more than a series of abstract brushstrokes. If you make your viewers exercise their own imagination, you stimulate them to contribute their own thoughts and images to the work and become a participant in the experience. If you depict everything to make it look like a photograph, you leave nothing up to the imagination of the viewer. The other big advantage of the principle of suggestion is that once again you can say more with less, simplifying and strengthening the abstract design of your painting.

The abstract he refers to in John Singer Sargent's dresses is more than just a loose stroke. It's also a combination of loose color. Both of these combined creates the abstracts he speaks about that stimulate the viewer's imagination. Phew, do I have your head spinning yet? Mine is.

The endless journey... I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm back

Bird Watching

Original oil painting 28x22"

by Susan Roux

I've been living in Freeport, Maine for nearly two weeks now and haven't walked into LLBean. Some people would find that utterly sinful. It wasn't about shopping. It was about art. My artists retreat turned out to be even better than imagined. So good infact, that some of us chose to extend our time. I apologize to all my students for canceling classes, but if you'd seen this place, you'd understand.

Six artists in a mansion on the ocean in the heart of winter, wind howling outdoors, makes it easy to stay cooped up indoors. From sunup to sundown, there was always at least one person with a brush in hand. Everyone's process, different. Everyone questioning and talking about art. Strewn about were various art books. Excerpts were read aloud and discussions blossomed. Some of your blogs were shared as you waltzed into our conversations. Ruminating the Profundities had us all rolling in laughter, with excerpts recited by heart at random times during the day. Laughter filled the house. Creative energy bubbled and vibrated within its walls.

The fireplace was lit. Wine was poured. Art videos were watched. Gourmet food was prepared. The jacuzzi was churning. Artists began to experiment out of their comfort zone. Suggestions were made. Confidence grew. Camaraderie settled in.

Then it happened. Champagne Thursday...

I want to thank everyone who came. What a night! Artists entered with their spouses and immediately felt the energy in the house. We had been productive and there was an extensive art show to view. How amazing it was to share our experience within the same walls where it all took place. Don even called that night and felt the explosive energy over the phone lines. He wished he was here... We wished you were here too, Don.

The best way to describe it was checking out of reality. Each day was eat breath and sleep art. Nothing else to worry about, think about, stress about. Everyone who participated wants to do it again next year. I highly recommend this to any of you out there. Houses in high tourist areas rent for cheap in the off season. It's a great way to have a serious work vacation. Jennifer said it was the best vacation she ever had! How cool is that?

The beginning

Through the Grass

Original oil painting 18x24"

by Susan Roux

I almost didn't post this painting. I just completed it with my class and it looks so different from the series I'm working on in my private time, that I hesitated to show it.

It's interesting when your work evolves and you're a teacher, because what you're teaching still resembles your older stuff. I think of my galleries and wonder, what they will do with these varying looks? I'm not sure they can even hang together...

But there is a story behind this work.

Class started this painting before Christmas. It's been a long road, between cancellations for snow days and holidays. It was also a good challenge for both students and myself to direct them through this complicated scene. Fields of wild grasses are one of my favorite subjects. How I love to let my paintbrush dip in colors and scribble the canvas. Most of it is spontaneous and therefore hard to describe to a student. The other difficulty was having several figures. Those figures are where my little story lies.

My studio is downstairs. It's too small to teach in, so I hold my classes in the dining room. Every week after classes, I'd remove the plastic from my table, replace the tablecloth and assemble the chairs around it. As time passed and the number of classes increased (I'm teaching 5 a week now) my dining room became a second studio. It's a rare occasion when I pull out the wall-matching tablecloth and replace the chairs. As one class rolls into another and I try to paint on my own, the partially painted canvasses collect. I often place them against the hallway wall where the staircase is. Some of them make it all the way down to the real studio, but lately most of them line the hall. It's sort of like a floor-level gallery.

One day as my husband came up the stairs, the figures in the above painting were directly in his sight. I hadn't painted figures in my work in awhile at the time and he complimented me on them. He seemed so delighted that when Don Hatfield called that week, I mentioned having put figures in my work. I asked if he wanted me to send him an image? Totally expecting him to give me an enthusiastic yes, I was quite surprised by his response.

Rather than ask to see the figures, he began to talk to me about the danger of painting figures in a scene. He spoke of how they too often jump out at you and in actuality they should be part of the scene. I remembered how he taught us to let our strokes move from the background into our portraits and reverse. My mind started to wonder (like it doesn't already do enough of that on it's own...) and inspiration emerged.

I pulled out a fresh canvas and a photo of a girl. I had one thing in mind. Make the figure be part of the background. Frolicking is what I created and this is how my latest series started... The big difference was not drawing my figure. When I do, I want to stay within the lines. This time I began with paint, not a pencil.

So it's for this reason that I've posted this painting. Sometimes it's nice to know where and why something new began.

This brings us back to Champagne Thursday... which will be held next week, February 24 at 5:oo pm. The address is 94 Shore Drive, Freeport, Maine. Please come. Admission is champagne and an appetizer. I'll be away painting all next week. Sure hope this sinus thing moves on before Saturday!

Don Hatfield's Workshop

Hat Dance

Original oil painting 24x18"

by Susan Roux

Everything is in order. The venue is booked, the local Inn has reduced rates for you and Don Hatfield is definitely coming to Maine in July to teach you. He's laid out all the specifics on his blog, so I won't regurgitate here. Just go pay him a visit.

I will tell you that you need to sign up through me. So if you're interested or thinking about it and need an extra nudge, contact me. There are four 3-day slots you could be booked into, so in order to keep it all straight, Don has me in charge of registration. If you are interested in being in the same class as a friend, let me know.

I told you about Don's humorous side and today I want to tell you about his dedication to teaching anyone who is driven to improve. Yes, I said dedication.

We are all aware that college art degrees nowadays fall very short of teaching the real principles of art and painting. It's been common knowledge that if an artist desires to really learn the specifics they must do so through an apprenticeship, mentorship or workshops. The real secrets are handed down from seasoned artists to beginners and intermediates. As time marches on, the greats of today are sensitive to this and want to ensure that the knowledge continues through generations and time.

As I see it, it's our purpose to learn as much as we can in order to pass our knowledge along. Otherwise, art and painting as we know it will be a dying art...

Here's where Don Hatfield comes in. He's interested in teaching you. Really teaching you. I hosted him last July and he taught a workshop to the locals. Since then I've been in weekly communication with him. Phone calls, emails, skype... you name it. Anything and everything I could do to keep him informed on my progress. If you've been following me since then, you know my drive to improve has been very strong. I have Don's support to thank for this. He's continually feeding me bits of information that help me progress forward.

I never knew what it would be like to have a mentor. Now that I have one, I can't possibly tell you how amazing it is. I've been teaching for years and find it so nice to have someone I can bounce my ideas off of and get real valuable input in return. It's like having the best teacher in the world at your disposal. Wow!

When you read his workshop page and he makes mention of staying as much in touch as you desire, he isn't kidding. Aside from the initial workshop fee, he asks nothing of you except to work hard at improving. How can you beat that? It's the deal of the century!

So incase you're sitting on the fence, wondering if you should sign up or not, do so. You won't regret it. Don won't try to mold you into something else. You can still paint your way. What he will do is teach you about relationships and open your mind and eyes to things you most likely miss. He's mastered it and can offer each person what they require for advancement. Many of my beginner students will be taking his workshop, so don't think you aren't advanced enough to take it. He'll help you at any level.

Hat Dance is my latest painting. I didn't refine her as much as the others in this series. For some reason I really liked her initial block in. She looked so fresh and summery. I decided to keep her and work the background to compliment the look. Each one of these evolves. I've been having so much fun. That's not to say I don't get frustrated from time to time, but watching them evolve on canvas, taking on a life, a personality of their own is a wonderful experience. I never know where it's going to take me when I begin...

Don't forget to sign up for Don's workshop. He won't teach you tricks or gimmicks just the real fundamentals that will help you improve. (Plus you'll get to meet me!)

Don Hatfield

Testing the Waters

Original oil painting 16x20"

by Susan Roux

Have you met my friend Don yet? He's unlike anyone else I know. Of course, that could be said about most of us artists. Our uniqueness overflows beyond our canvases...

But let me tell you a little about Don Hatfield.

He may be a bit scary at first. His essence fills a room. His voice carries and the words may be gruff. He'll definitely catch your attention. I don't think it's possible for Don to go unnoticed anywhere. Busy mall, you spot Don. Crowded city street, you spot Don. Golf course, you can hear him from three holes away...

Do you get the picture? Don stops and talks to everyone. I bet he has trouble driving down the street. He must pull over to talk to every pedestrian he passes!

Is it ego? Certainly. Is it humor?

Well you tell me. Anyone who posts this kind photo of themselves over the internet, for all to see, has got to be funny. Hilarious is more the word. If Mr. Hatfield hadn't made it in life as a master artist, he could have been a renowned comedian.

I know you're aware that my sense of humor is askew. I might laugh at things no one else finds humorous, but I can assure you, Don has more than myself nearly rolling on the floor with laughter.

So how did mister comedy himself get to be such a great artist? Some people are just blessed with lots of gifts... One of mine is knowing Don personally. He's made a real positive difference in my art.

Beyond that coarse exterior lies the heart and soul of a gentle man. One could not paint amazing light-filled images such as these with a hardened soul. His understanding of color, values and technique go far beyond most. His paintings captivate us with beauty, softness and joy in timeless settings with alluring compositions.

Nowhere in his work will you see this gruff exterior he tries so hard to portray. It becomes easy to see why such a gentle soul might try to appear tougher to the world. But after just a few minutes of conversation with Don, his facade drops and the real man surfaces.

Aside from being a great artist, Hatfield (as he likes to refer to himself) is proving to be an amazing teacher. Not only can he capture delicate, dainty forms, he can explain how to do it.

Don excites when he finds artists with the desire and commitment to improve. There is nothing he prefers (well maybe golf...) than to share his knowledge about art. He's a man filled with art history and amidst any conversation can drop a list of old masters to refer to for the information you seek.

I'm proud to announce that Don Hatfield is giving you the opportunity to learn and improve. He'll be sharing his gifts by offering a Maine workshop in July. Stay tuned and I'll be posting more information...

Did I mention you should really take this?

Design, Part 4

Coming Up Rosy

Original oil painting 18x24"

by Susan Roux

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Just as I was pondering possibilities on how to adjust my painting, a special phone call came in. It was from the master himself, Don Hatfield. He offered helpful suggestions. Don't you just love a good critique? I embrace them. A non-biased opinion that recognizes your achievements and gives good advice on how to make your painting stronger. Good points and bad points, strengths and weaknesses are welcomed bits of information.

Having heard someone's opinion shouldn't mean that you jump right in adjusting what you've been told. After all it's still your painting and you make the final decisions on what actually gets changed and adjusted. Don pointed out the lawn edge. "Have the landscapers come in, cut out a corner of the driveway, put down new soil and plant more grass." Curving the lawn to draw in the viewer more gently seemed a very good suggestion. It doesn't remove it as a pointer, just swirls you in for a softer approach.

Softness. It seemed to be the overlying feeling of this painting. I'd been extremely cautious to keep my roses soft and after talking to Don, I began to notice other places that could use softening. I also found the entire painting too cool. I went in with yellows. I hit some of my flowers. I hit some of my leaves. (Key word here is some) I warmed the driveway and curved it in loosing the hard line at it's edge. I liked what it did to the painting. Softening that line just added to the softness of my blossoms. I proceeded to soften the tree shadow and the bottom of the brick wall.

I'm very pleased with this painting. I have to admit, it became somewhat of a scary thing to do it this way in front of you. I was really exposing my thought process. What if it all fell apart? I tried to ignore that crippling voice. I can do this, I told myself. I pushed on. I wouldn't accept mediocrity.

I was happy with the play in my roses. Using a variety of colors, as explained in Part 3, really helped this to happen. Some blossoms are left in shadow, others catch the light brightly, while still others are in softer sunlight. I was able to regain my focal point to the roses easily by adding lighter yellows. I also, ever so slightly, punched the darks around one blossom.

Thanks for bearing with me as I shared my journey through a painting with regards to design. Sticking to one original thought without wavering is essential for a strong design. Even when the paint begins to pull you in a different direction, as mine did in Part 3, don't let it win. Remember you're in charge of your painting. As I tell my students. You're in control of your painting even when you feel totally out of control! For beginners who struggle with brushstroke, this always gets a hardy chuckle. The decisions you make when choosing colors and where you apply them is uniquely your own. So take some time while painting to make good decisions and try to keep in mind, the power of design.

Thanks again, Don. You're such an amazing teacher...

Evolution

Little Performer

Original oil painting 10x20"

by Susan Roux

I'm not in a rush. There aren't any time limits or deadlines imposed. Its just me and the paint and the canvas. I'm experimenting. Pushing. Seeing how far I can take a painting without letting it fall apart. In July, I bought new paints and worked on portraits. Everything was new to me, my tools and my subject. I never took time to explore their possibilities with subjects I was already comfortable with. Yes, I do use them in my classes, but its different alone in the studio, moving to the rhythm of my muse (and Luka). Lately I'm exploring what these new thicker, richer paints can do for me. Or rather, what I can achieve with them.

This was the beginning of my painting. I was trying to achieve shadow on the rocks without punching the values too deep. It worked, I could clearly read shadow verses sun on the rocks, but I felt it looked weak. In fairness, I did have fun with all the colors I was using. Perhaps I'll try light shadows again on something that should be soft, not rocks. My little performer hardly showed when I stood across the room. It was in need of help.

This little seagull was a hoot. He pranced around opening and closing his wings, never flying off. He stayed atop his little rock stage as the other two sat appearing somewhat annoyed. On he flapped demonstrating every position his lovely wings could do. Perhaps the other's were just nervous, waiting for their audition...

I decided to warm things up and darken behind the birds. I really liked the direction it was going. I started to lengthen his wings to give him a stronger presence in the painting. I darkened my rock shadows, but never adjusted the lights. Some might say they looked more like sugar coated muffins than rocks.

Again I pushed.

In the end, I was happy with the evolution. I surprised myself as to how long I could continue to work it. I began this painting almost a month ago on November 10. Its had a finished look since then because all the elements were painted. Its been interesting to keep working it, all over. Oddly, I felt almost in control through most of it. How many times have we been told, or find for ourselves, that we should have stopped awhile ago? Our observation is, It looked better earlier but I didn't stop, only to ruin it in the end. I'm not sure why this was different. Am I understanding more? Is there magic in these new paints? Personally I think its my Napa Valley mentor. Thanks Don for not deserting me...

Second Lisa

Lisa (2)

Original oil Painting 20x16"

by Susan Roux

I thought I'd finish her off by late morning yesterday, but it took until 5:30 p.m. before I signed her. What is it about portraits? I couldn't seem to stop picking at her...

I was thrilled with my first Lisa. I found her fresh and alive and I was so surprised how much it looked like my sister. It was as though she was in the room smiling at me. Redoing a portrait was Don Hatfield's suggestion. He told me I would learn a lot by doing so. So I decided to try her again. I was curious as to what I could learn by redoing her, but mostly I wondered if I really had the ability to capture her again. If I could, it would tell me I knew what I was doing. If not, then it was just a fluke that the first one came out so good.

This one was challenging. Very challenging. I took a different approach for experimental sake and worked it without the first in view. I wanted to work strictly from the photo and not attempt to copy the original painting. It wasn't until close to finishing that I brought both together. To my grand surprise, I found the second painting to be much better than the first. If I think about form and 3-dimensionality, I see substantial improvement. Painterly? I can't really say that her face is painterly, but certainly the rest of her is. I question in portrait painting if painterly should be a goal. If someone were to commission a portrait would they want it well rendered?

During this experiment, what did I learn?

The first thing I learned is no portrait is easy. At least not when you're a new puppy at it like I am! There came a time when I saw more changes in color on my photo than I had before. I think this is why it was so hard to finish. Even in places were I thought I had painted all the information I could see, I kept finding more. I think part of the lesson is simply learning how to see and interpreting what it is you're seeing. As artists, once we see what it is, how its made up in colors and values, we can paint it. The difficulty is when we cannot break it down to those simple elements. I have to admit, I'm breaking it down more easily these days.

I'm exhibiting in a one-day group show at the hospital in November. Many doctors and their families will attend. I'm thinking of bringing this second Lisa and offer my services for portraits. I don't know if I'm jumping the gun too quickly here, but being able to capture my sister a second time has boosted my confidence. Part of me shivers at the thought of claiming that I can capture others. What if I'm commissioned and I really can't? The other part of me timidly whispers, "You can do this..."

I have to start somewhere, right?

Here's the first Lisa and the second Lisa, side-by-side as promised. What do you think?

Quick note: Thanks to all of you for your wonderful and helpful comments. They're always appreciated. For those of you experiencing painter's block, I received some very helpful information from bloggers. Please make sure and read each other's comments.

Thanks again.