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?

Long road

When compared to painting nature, everything man-made takes on a different challenge. Unlike organic forms, these are structured and stationary. Both the mind and the paintbrush discover a change and need to adapt to capture the difference. I recently left a comment about this very subject on Jean Townsend's blog and last night, my students were struck by the difference...

I wanted to focus on the building but thought it would be better to quickly find a few simple elements on the right. "Lets put in the road quickly", was my suggestion. I must say, "quick" was no where to be found in this activity. Those two little ruts that extend only four inches up the canvas took us better than one hour to achieve!

We laughed at how little we had painted. One hour and two stripes!

My students were determined to get it correctly. (I love seeing that determination. Way to go ladies!) No matter how much I broke it down, perspective gets confusing when you put it on a hill, throw in a curve, and have it disappear down the other side. Thank goodness for the "thinner eraser"! Each rut needed to narrow as it receded. So did the space between the ruts. One rut comes towards you while the other approaches at a sharp angle. The mind tells you they are parallel. The hand wants to listen. Over and over, they redid it trying to get it right.

Finally we could move on...

I feared the building, thinking it would take us longer than an entire class after the road fiasco, but symmetry proved simpler. By the end of class, we managed to block in the remainder of our canvas. Everything is so stark and rigid right now, but its necessary when you're trying to teach it to a class. Breaking elements down to be understood by others can be an interesting challenge for a teacher. Last night felt like a mathematical lesson.

Its not the first time I do this to my poor Wednesday night ladies. Last time I had them painting a garden bench that covered two-thirds of the canvas without ever drawing it. Again I wanted the background to be free and continuous, so we painted it before ever trying to find the bench. Its a wonder they stick with me. I continue to push their limits. In doing so, they are really blossoming.

That makes me smile with pride...

Again, way to go ladies!

Posted work in progress oil 18x24" by Susan Roux

Mishmash

I got excused from jury duty!

The good Lord takes such good care of me. It makes me smile warmly. I took advantage of my good fortune and blocked in a new painting. I'm placing a performer, colored with stage lights, in an outdoor scene. The challenge, other than capturing his resemblance, will be to work the colors into a pleasing yet believable ensemble.

As I blocked it in, how to execute this came easily. I'll work the foreground in bright punched colors, to become a unit with him, and tone down the remainder of the scene. Funny how with just a sketch I couldn't see this simple solution. Yet, as soon as I began adding paint, it flowed so naturally...

I love that about art. You don't always need to see the big picture. An idea for beginning is best and let it lead you somewhere. Surprises are fun. Surprises are exciting. Surprises make you feel alive! Its the bliss of creating.

So far I haven't shown much of my work in progress. If I begin to, you'll get a clearer picture of the chaotic way I work! On other artist's posts, you can follow a painting from start to finish. Mine will be a mishmash. In the beginning it can take me a week or more to return to the same painting.

There will be so much variety it may make your head spin...

Its much like the mind of a creative person. So full of ideas they want to explode out in every direction! Fortunately, when I get passed the "washes" stage, I love to work wet into wet and can complete them individually with full focus.

It can get a bit scary for me at this point. Especially if many reach their final stages at the same time. So much time has already been invested in them. At first, I'm completely free and fearless. In the end, a much slower concentrating state takes over. Though exciting to see a work come to completion, it can become stressful.

I'm trying to find a balance. I need works going in every stage. That way, I'm not confined to only the "completing stage" on all canvases at once. The first time I tried this process, its what happened to me. I try to avoid it now. Begin new works all the time. Its my solution. If it gets too intense finishing, I can ease up with something else in the early stages. Go drip some color for awhile.

Don't you find it interesting that everyone's process is different?

As different as our completed works. No right. No wrong. The creative process can take any shape. It usually comes as a surprise when I announce this to my beginner students. At first we work so controlled. I break it down in easy-to-follow steps. Then in time I tell them anything is correct. Its what feels right for you individually. They forget that on opening day, I told them, "There are as many different ways to paint as there are artists. I'm only showing you one way, not "the" way."

I'll take full advantage of not being confined to the courtroom today and go create!

Hope your day offers you some surprised freed time too...