The Teaching Component

Papaver

Original oil painting  14x11"

by Susan Roux

As the last of our snow melted this week, I found myself painting reminders of my garden from last summer. This lovely poppy was a new addition and I'm wondering if it survived the winter. I was so attracted to the delicateness of it's petals. They're thin and floppy much like fine transparent rice paper. It was fun trying to capture that quality with paint. I wonder if the name papaver has to do with paper? It seemed the appropriate title for this showy, dainty blossom.

As you well know, I'm in the process of opening an international fine art gallery. It's been consuming most of my time and the prime reason why my posts here are so far apart. Don't worry though, I'm still painting.

I'm so happy to announce that the gallery will have a teaching room. My classes will move from my home studio to Portland. I'm really excited about that component. Not only will it give me the opportunity to continue inspiring lots of people to paint, it offers a space to conduct workshops. My plan is to have some of my represented artists travel here to Maine and teach directly in the gallery. How fun and a wonderful opportunity for you!

Until everything is set in stone I don't want to formally announce our intended workshops just yet, but keep your calendars open for late summer, early fall. If you're curious to know right away who's tentatively coming and when, you can contact me personally. As soon as everything is definite, I'll let you know.

One of the great things about teaching at the gallery is all the wonderful art that will serve as examples of the concepts being taught. Often at home, I pull out my own work to help explain things. Now there will be a whole range of works from many different amazing artists to refer to. I think it will elevate the teaching component and offer such inspiring stimulation for all the students. It will do everyone good to be experiencing diverse works of quality art, including myself. When the bar is set high, people tend to strive for higher achievements. It will be an honor to teach in such surroundings.

Please stay tuned for future announcements of upcoming workshops. There'll be lots of exciting news in the near future!


Keep painting everyone. It's wonderful for the soul...

Workshop week

Midday Warmth

Original oil painting  16x20"

by Susan Roux

It's a crazy busy week over here. School's starting, my workshop begins on Wednesday and I'm hanging an exhibition on Saturday. Life glides along so smoothly at times, but on weeks like this, everything collides and culminates all at once. It leaves me spinning.

Not much time for easel staring...

I'm sure you understand this. I miss painting and find myself almost aggravated for not planning well enough to still include painting time. It's moments like this when you realize just how much you need to paint. It isn't just a desire, it feels as necessary as breathing.

Midday Warmth was painted from a photo. It's the back porch entrance at The Wright Gallery in Cape Porpoise where Charlie hangs many of my paintings. I know the photo is a bit fuzzy. I've been trying to experiment with the camera lately, in attempt to rectify my continuing problem. I photographed this zoomed out a bit to get some of the surrounding objects and colors. I found the colors registered much closer in accuracy to my painting, however clear definition was sacrificed. I thought my camera could handle it...

As artists we need to do so many things right. Paint, photograph, write, frame, curate. Which reminds me, I still need to do a bio for my exhibition... I better get to work. Have a good day and thanks for stopping by. I love when you leave me comments!

Ready, set, action!

Evening Light - Monhegan

Original oil painting  16x20"

by Susan Roux

Somedays are just special. They stand out above others for what they held. You know what I'm talking about. Those days when you're doing nothing particularly special when suddenly something far beyond your imagination happens, transforming it into an incredible day that will remain in your memory forever.

Well, to be fair, it wasn't exactly like I wasn't doing something special. I was on Monhegan painting at the time...  But that in itself is a typical thing to be doing on Monhegan. Lavina, a student of mine had come to join me and this particular day, we planned to paint from the front lawn of her rental. It was located up the first hill just as you arrive on the island.

Three boats a day bring people to the island. I found it quite fascinating to see how many people arrive in a very short time. It wasn't a problem to stay focused on my work, because I had set up with my back to the street and also to this lovely scene depicted in Evening Light - Monhegan. Lavina laughed and commented on how many times I'd been photographed by the day trippers. I had been totally unaware of them and their clicking cameras or phones.

Out of an arriving cluster, a student in her mid-20's approached us. She was from the Rockport Film School and on the island for the day on assignment. I need to make a quick documentary that coincides with an older painting I've selected and would it be ok if I filmed you painting? 

What do you say to that?

I was just there doing my work. She could film me if she wanted. Sure, why not?

Well she neglected to tell me she would interview me.

Seriously??? I felt myself wanting to back out...

The next thought that passed through my head was, how was anything interesting ever going to happen to me if I didn't take risks when the opportunities presented themselves? I swallowed hard and agreed to participate. Meg and her friend went through quite some trouble wiring me, concealing everything. Only to have it all completely exposed in the final video...

This experience definitely falls into the category of special moments as described in a previous post.

Here's a series of photos taken during our film session. I had the insight to hand my camera to Jerry Cable who lives next door. Thanks for taking the shots Jerry.

Meg would ask me questions, but I had to reply like I was just talking about it on my own. It was difficult to do at first. You automatically wanted to just reply to her question.

The filming went on for quite some time. I was surprised at the shortness of the final film with all the interviewing they did.

Here you can see a passerby clicking to capture the action going on. 

So here I am in a film debut. (I tried to attach it directly here, but it kept malfunctioning.) I'd been outside painting since 7:00 am. Hair blowing in the ocean breeze and raw as it gets for an artist. No time to comb my hair or fix myself up in any way. Why don't these things happen in our youth???

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?

But... what's in a title?

But...

Original oil painting 28x22"

by Susan Roux

This is the final painting I completed while away on my artists retreat. A week has passed since my return and that amazing carefree feeling slips away a bit more each day. Soon I suspect it will be but a memory. As I talk to the other artists who shared this wonderful experience with me, transition back to normal has not been easy.

I hesitated painting this red-skirted female after the thrashing Scarlet the tartlet gave me. Somehow my fears stepped aside because something about her pose sucked me in anyway. I approached her differently. Being keenly aware of the power of red this time around, I began by instantly adding lots of it in my background. I even kept her skin quite red to balance her skirt. Since the focus is directly on her red bottom, the color aided pulling the eye. She actually fell into place easier than I expected. I wonder, did being in the presence of all those other artists give me the nerve to attempt another red skirt? After the last, I didn't think I'd ever paint another one.

What do you think of the title? Is But... too severe? I had quite a few other titles come to mind, but somehow But... stuck. One of my other potential titles was Dry Skirt. Not nearly as catchy. I feel like I need to explain myself. (I'd go swimming) But... (I still have my clothes on). Do you think a potential buyer would cancel the sale because of a title? I wouldn't want to offend anyone. Perhaps they'd see the title as cute and sassy as my sweet model is? I'd love your opinion on this.

Do you have subjects or colors you shy away from because of past difficulties they've given you? It can feel good to face your fear head-on and keep in control to the end. It's very empowering. Why not give it a try?

And I don't want any But's for excuses...

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!)

Maine Mutt Mansion

Lazy Afternoon

Original oil painting 18x24"

by Susan Roux

Why would 5 artists chose to lock themselves up in a strange house in the middle of winter for a week?

I know it sounds a bit crazy, but coming from me, you're really not surprised. Right?

It's official. All the money is in and the week is paid for. In less than a month we'll be hard at work on our Artist's Retreat! Yay! People often wonder what we do in Maine all winter long. Usually we come up with wild ideas to keep ourselves entertained. It gives us something to look forward to. Yes there are winter sports, but as the years go by, I find myself doing less and less of that. My cross-country skis are blocked in a corner, collecting dust...

Our plan is simple. Bring paint supplies, wine and lots of canvas. We want to work without the interruptions of day to day life. (Enough W's in that sentence?) The group is pretty diverse. Our subject matter, level of ability, mediums and painting process span a wide range. One thing that connects us is laughter. ...well of course art. I think it will be a stimulating, productive week.

So here it is. Our home away from home. Look at all the windows to bring light to our easels!

Did you happen to notice it's on the ocean? It's tucked in a cove in Freeport. There's a famous osprey nest at the state park and it's in our view directly across the water.

The bedrooms look spacious with glorious windows and balconies everywhere.

Of course we may need to shovel them off before we can step out on them... Maybe if the weather is mild (yeah right!) we'll bring our easels out and paint in plein air. Or perhaps plein cold!

At night we'll curl up in front of the wall size fireplace sipping red wine and charging our batteries for the next days round of painting. Not such a crazy idea after all, don't you think?

How do you get through the long winter months?

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...

Design, Part 3

Work in progress

(still not done...) 18x24"

by Susan Roux

Part 1

Part 2

Color and value. Those magical tools that keep artists addicted. Make a color change or a value change and you can redirect the viewers eye instantly. How do you keep it all in control?

First of all, don't loose sight of your initial plan. Second, when it comes to color with respect to design, repeat it. Color has the ability to hop the eye from one place to another. To keep your viewer exploring the entire canvas, repeat colors and their eye will bounce around in rhythms.

If you don't get too caught up with local color and build your darks throughout your painting using the same colors, you'll establish a color harmony. Some people like to limit their palette to ensure harmony, but others like myself paint with a palette-full. Either way can work.

With harmony in mind, I worked the rosebush. I used shadow values. This allowed me to take my time establishing where I want sunlight to move across it.

Notice how color was added randomly at this stage. This keeps the eye interested and moving. Even in this close-up, where there isn't information to identify the subject, the eye dances around in varied movements. Had I chose to paint each blossom identically, the eye would quickly tire and the exploration would cease.

Next I began adding sunlight to the blossoms. I took my time, stepping back frequently, making sure to retain variety. So far so good.

It became trickier as I added sunlight to the greenery. The deep rich darks that added contrast to the blossoms were being lost. To bring the painting to completion, close attention to value is necessary. Adjustments need to be made. This is when being able to critique yourself becomes critical. You need to ask yourself, what's wrong and how do I fix it?

The answer isn't always easy to find. The eye will travel to the place of most contrast and the sharpest edge. Unfortunately, as I lost the high contrast around my blossoms, the spot of highest contrast and sharpness became my top window pane. Oh man, what a pain!

So here is my dilemma. I've purposefully kept my blossoms in loose edges to project their softness. Each time I would crisp one too much, I didn't like the stiff feeling it created. Now to keep with my initial idea of the roses being my focal point, I must figure out a way to retain the attention there. I do like the idea of the blossom reaching out to the window. It helps in the exploration of the canvas. As my eye goes to this window, it picks up on the tree shadow and swoops back down to catch the blossoms on the ground.

I thought I was posting a completed painting today, but as I review the many photos I took, its clear to me that my painting lost drama along the way. I've never photographed a series of my work in progress before. It's proving to be a very interesting tool. Also I'm finding that talking about my process is a good learning tool as well. I hope you'll follow along as I push myself for improvement...

Design, Part 2

Work in Progress 18x24"

by Susan Roux

Part 1

After establishing the lines, blocking in the big shapes was next. Paying attention to what's in light or shadow and blocking it in accordingly will give you a quick visual of your plan. It's sort of like your blueprint for the painting you're creating.

At this point, you've invested very little time and if your design is flawed, things should jump right out at you. Adjustments can be made easily and painlessly now. Look at the sizes of your shapes. Are they varied enough? Are they interesting to look at? Think of your original idea. Is your painting still supporting that? So far so good. I noticed the shadow on the lawn also points to the roses. Though it's good supporting motion, I must caution myself on not directing the viewer too abruptly or the painting will loose interest.

We want the viewer to explore the entire painting, not just one spot. Keep their eye dancing all over, that's the plan.

The big shapes were a bit difficult to completely establish, since the rosebush is airy. I made certain to carry my background shapes beyond where I thought they belonged to allow room for some play with the rose edges.

I began placing my roses with a value darker than its final highlights. I found patterns in sun/shadow play in both the fence and the house. Stepping back helps you identify potential problems before you develop too much detail. Adjustments are always easiest in the early stages. I was focusing primarily on the outer shape of the rosebush, trying to keep it interesting and varied. Stepping back helped me notice a snow storm effect. Before it turns into a blizzard of pink and white, swallowing the entire canvas, adjustments need to be made.

I keep thinking of design throughout the painting process. How is my eye traveling on the canvas? As soon as I put in something that becomes too confusing for my eye to differentiate one thing from another, a caution flag goes up. At any point during the development of your painting, when you've just added something that doesn't support your original idea, it's time for an adjustment.

I made certain to calm the white snowflakes in the background. The further I developed the rosebush, establishing some of its density as a form, the less conflicting my pink and white dots became.

To keep the eye moving, I'm painting in directional strokes as I work my dark values. Notice the repeated movement from upper left to lover right in both the darks in the rosebush and the tree shadows on the house. While this movement in the roses is supporting the focal point, the house shadow is pulling you away from it. It works well because it's creating a new rhythm and a bit of tension. The movement is no longer just pulling you towards the roses as in the original line drawing. Now the eye begins to dance diagonally as well. To prevent the eye from completely going off the canvas on the right, the tree trunk directs you down and small dark strokes in the greenery calmly pull you back towards the center.

Color and value also play an important part in moving the eye around. They are the elements of design that are the most noticed. Unlike the first lines of design that remain stable throughout, color and value continue to be adjusted right to the very end. I'll talk about that in my next post...

Design

Work in Progress 18x24"

by Susan Roux

Good design. How important is it? Is it important to you?

Artists will tell you of the importance of good design, but often have trouble explaining it. That's because there are many elements that affect design. Elements such as line, proportions, value, patterns, color, texture, etc. In a way we can think of this as complicated or as I prefer to see it, giving us lots of tools to help achieve a good design.

A good design will hold your viewers eye, sending them on an exploration of your entire canvas.

It isn't extremely complicated. As a matter of fact, it can be quite simple. Keep your viewers interest. How do you achieve that? Shake it up a bit with variety to keep the eye stimulated and traveling about. You can focus on any of the design elements, use them in proportions near 2/3 to 1/3 and you're already off to a great start.

Design comes in right from the start. It isn't something that just happens on your canvas. Consistent good design is planned. When you select a photo or arrangement to paint, there's always something about it that struck you, otherwise you wouldn't have chosen it in the first place. Identify that. Know why you've chosen a particular image to paint.

Here is the image I'm working from. It's quite obvious by the way I took this photo that the rose covered fence is what struck me most. If you think in terms of thirds, it's covering about 2/3 of the canvas. Rather than begin with an intense drawing of this complex scene, I chose to place my basic design lines first.

As I painted them in, I adjusted them. Though I was putting lines, my mind was imagining the bulky shapes these lines represented. I had to move several of them. It's a great time to back away and imagine your image within the boundaries you've created. At this point I was concentrating solely on design. Where am I going to place the components in my painting and how will they interact with each other in this placement?

Notice how the lines already travel your eye in a unified direction. As I stepped back to imagine my scene, I thought of the direction things were pointing. Keeping in mind that my floral fence was my center of interest, I could see the movement in my painting was already supporting that. Don't loose sight of your initial idea. If it remains your goal throughout the painting process, the result will be more powerful than if you switched ideas on yourself along the way.

Next I looked at intervals. To keep the viewers eye interested, variety is necessary. Were my intervals varied enough? Not at first. I had to move most of these lines, because as I followed my photo, the lines seemed to be evenly spaced. For the sake of a painting, even if representational, it's better to create interest than to copy an image precisely. (Save that for when you're doing portraits.)

Paying attention to the bare bones of your painting is simple. By doing so, it allows you to concentrate on what you've created that is already working for you. In this case I identified direction. Don't you just love pointers? Make sure their helping you and not pointing the viewer in the wrong direction...

As I continue to develop this painting, I'm keeping in mind this directional movement. I'm supporting it with the colors I'm choosing and the values I'm placing. The bare bones are there to help me, but it's necessary to keep adjusting things as I go along. This will help me build upon the initial structure. Concentrating on good design is a good way to improve your work.

I'll continue to show you the development of this painting, explaining my thought process as I make choices. You'll see how the various elements of design come into play individually. Breaking things down simplifies the process. So rather than have to concentrate on all the elements of design at once, thinking of them one at a time and adjusting them, just as I adjusted my initial lines, becomes easy to understand.

In Awe...

Lupine Cottage

Original oil painting

by Susan Roux

In June, I rented a house on Deer Isle, Maine with other artists to paint for a week. My intensions were to go paint lupines. Unfortunately Spring was very early this year and though we did find lupines, most were on their way out. I took lots of photos including the one I worked from for this painting.

I remember coming around a curve on a narrow winding road. The wooded area I was driving in opened up to a spectacular view of a causeway with the ocean on both sides. The sun was shining that morning and the green twinkling forest I was in bursts into a vista of blue. I slowed my car in awe, taking in the view. It was early. I was in search of a place to paint. I had left a sleeping houseful behind and ventured off in excitement, so thrilled to be on a painting holiday. It was day one.

I wasn't accustomed to causeways. This was the second one I'd found on the island. I liked them. They were curved roads, built up in round rocks, that connected two adjacent islands. Not at all like a bridge that passes you in a straight line above the water. No, this was more like kayaking. You know what I mean. Its like being at water level as oppose to above it like in a typical boat.

I wanted to pull over, but there was no place to park. I suppose it really didn't matter. There was no traffic. I could have left my vehicle in the middle of the road. But it was day one and I didn't yet realize just how rural this place was. At the start of the causeway, across the street, was a tiny spot were I could park my car. Having spotted it at the last minute, I quickly veered and pulled in rather crooked. The tail end of my not so small car (my family calls it a boat...) was still protruding out into the street. No problem. I was just stopping momentarily to snap a few pictures of the view.

I stepped out of my car and as I did I looked back towards the woods where I came from. Tucked up on a hill was this spectacular house. The sun brightened it like a shining beacon. A field of lupines, passed their prime, embraced it. What a romantic looking house. What a view.

I laughed at myself for almost missing it. If I hadn't stopped to take a picture of the ocean, I wouldn't have seen this house until my return at midday. The sun wouldn't have dramatized it like in morning.

Day one. Stopped on the roadside, stunned in awe at the beauty that surrounded me. Where was I? I think I landed in paradise.

I just noticed, today makes a year I've been blogging...

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...

Thankful

Returning

Work in progress 18x24"

by Susan Roux

Thanksgiving being tomorrow, its hard not to stop at this time of year and reflect on all we have to be thankful for. Yes, many of us have struggled. The economy hasn't made it easy for a lot of people. Sickness and hardships may have hit you hard in 2010. But even through the difficulties life throws at us, there is still much to be thankful for.

I have many. I won't bore you by listing them. I do however want to take a moment to thank all of you who frequent my blog. This has truly been one of the things I give thanks for: the opportunity to have met all of you. Recent hardships in our family have kept me away from painting and posting. My last post was 14 days ago, yet you still continue to visit. You amaze me...

Posted is a painting my Tuesday night class is doing. We should finish it next week. I don't expect to change many things on mine, but I'm leaning towards developing a few of the flowers. Perhaps cutting into some of the round balls of the peony. I also want to identify the irises a bit clearer in spots.

This painting moved along quickly. We didn't draw anything, just hopped in with paint. My class followed along splendidly and with Luka Bloom playing in the background, everyone's work fell into place. Luka has that effect. You should really try it sometime...

This image is special to me. Its a scene in Cape Cod, though it isn't a typical Cape painting. The photo was taken on Memorial weekend, when I traveled there to the Blue Heron Gallery's opening. The female in my painting is none other than the well-known Martine-Alison! Certainly someone high on my list of people to be thankful for. Painting this brought back wonderful memories of her visit to the States. My last post was about painting your passion. This image stuck to that suggestion. Perhaps its why it fell into place so easily.

Note: The darks beneath the flowers are with transparent paint and in reality tuck deep under the flowers. They don't jump forward like in this photo.

I hope you can all find lots of things to be thankful for. I'm certain they exist...

Happy Thanksgiving.

Follow your passion

Orange Roses

Original oil painting 18x14"

by Susan Roux

I received these lovely roses from my dear Anastasia this weekend. What a beautiful surprise to see her and many others at the exhibition. If you're reading, thanks for coming...

I was up way before the crack of dawn yesterday, even with the time change. I'd been lying in bed painting in my mind. Does that happen to you? It seems lately I've been painting in my mind more than on canvas. Juggling life and your paintbrushes can often be challenging.

I decided to make yesterday a painting day. I had a class to teach at night and aside from a few loads of laundry, I made a date with my easel. Sometimes I just have to overlook everything that needs to be done around here and allow myself painting time. So from the early hour, I was perusing my extensive photo library in search of a picture I could be passionate about. I was tossing a variety into a new folder as a means of narrowing my choices down. There were lots to choose from and the folder was filling quickly.

Daylight finally broke, so I went to this folder only to find my inspiration for any of my choices had fizzled. By now the house was up and I told Mike, what I should do is paint those roses. Why don't you?

Ever notice how we argue with ourselves?

Well... my excuses began, I never paint roses.

He knew that. Mike buys me flowers all the time and I watch the roses slowly droop and die off. I even keep them in the vase because I see beauty in the dead blossoms. Sometimes he buys me more just so I'll finally throw away the crispy ones... How many times has he heard me say, I should paint the roses?

Beautiful as they are, they're in a constant state of change. At first opening, then sagging and slowly fading. I've never had a day observing them without change. The thought of painting them was a bit terrifying. There are people like Nora who paint them so well and honestly I hadn't a clue how to begin. But there they were staring me in the face and my most stimulating inspiration at the moment.

As you can clearly see, I attempted it. It turned out to be lots of fun and not the nightmare I expected. I stopped thinking about them as roses and not knowing how to paint roses. Instead I focused on how wonderful they made me feel and that feeling is what I painted. It didn't take long that I practically stopped looking at the real roses, so if they were changing, it wasn't an issue.

I even brought it to completion and began another painting all before my class arrived. Then I painted again with them. I was on a roll. Sure hope it lasts...

Go paint what you're inspired to paint. Even if you don't think there exists a buyer out there for what you're painting, or if you don't think you have a clue how to do it. Its the passion that counts. Paint what you're passionate about and you'll be the most successful with that subject.

If only I'd remember my own advice...

Impressionist

The Window

Original oil painting 14x18"

by Susan Roux

Don't you just love it when you're relaxed, just blogging around, and you come across a post that makes you want to sit down and write? You know what I mean. Those posts that put some idea out there that really gets you thinking and you're compelled to explore it deeper. That's just what happened this morning as I read Paint Dance.

Maryanne wrote, " I love impressionism. I am a little sad that it has not reached the level of popularity that we currently see in styles like representational realism." It was a lovely post with a John Singer Sargent's Breakfast in the Loggia pictured.

Loving impressionism...

Now there's a common thought among many artists. Put me at the top of the list! I have adored Monet's work for years and over half of my rather large art library is publications on him and the impressionist. I've read everything I could get my hands on about Claude. So much so, that in time I came to feel like we were close friends.

How I loved the dreamy strokes, dashes of color, that came together in amazing reality! The light the Impressionist captured drew so many of us into their world. I tingle just thinking about it.

I never tried to paint like Monet though. I was a firm believer that you needed to be true to yourself and paint in a way that felt natural to you. For me, that which poured out of my soul was a colorful fairly-detailed representation with an acute appreciation for light. Painting in my own natural style worked for quite a few years.

Then it happened.

I exposed myself to more and more art and fell in love with lots of it. So many soft dreamy strokes, laid on impasto thick, I wanted to pass my finger atop it and lick it like frosting. I was so drawn to this look, I wanted to paint like that too. How many of us have started out tight and then struggled to loosen our strokes? I think its pretty common.

So for years I pushed myself in this direction, never being satisfied with my work. I'm still there struggling with it to this day. But recently something has changed in my mind. Like my eyes have been opened anew. It goes back to my original way of thinking, how you must remain true to what comes out of your soul naturally. My thoughts go deep and many questions arise. Questions about improvement and pushing yourself in the direction you admire. It can feel like its coming from within, when with all our being, you love these works you see. But what's in the mind and in the soul are different.

Its been difficult for me to understand. In the past year, I feel like I've come full circle, painting in a way that resembles my original process. Yes, those years of easel time have improved my work, but to think how far I could be with it had I only continued with what poured out naturally.

So the thoughts in my head intrigue me. I feel there is something very natural and in control that wants to come out. I'm ready to embrace the representational part of me, that for years I tried to suppress. But somewhere in there I believe there is a softness too. When I go off to the art retreat in February, I hope to explore this concept further. I feel its at the tip of my brush and is ready to pour out. I only need time to devote to it. I think, or better yet, feel I have a balance of dreamy and tight and they will come together on canvas. I've fought the representational side of myself for so long. It feels good to get to a place where I can be comfortable accepting it.

Unlike Maryanne's statement, I've felt an embrace for looser work over representational work in today's society. I do however think impressionist of today feel its work done quickly. Capture that first impression with bold strokes in a limited time. But the real Impressionist only gave the illusion of it being quickly executed. Monet returned over and over to the same spot, in search of the same light, to continue his paintings. When the light wasn't just right at the same time of day, he would begin a new painting. He returned daily and would progress the one canvas that had the same light, never working it for longer than 20 minutes. If he didn't find the same light within two weeks time, he could no longer continue because with the orbit of the earth, the light had changed visibly for him. This made it impossible for him to capture that moment in time he devoted his life to.

So why is it, I wonder, that the impressionist of today came to feel it needed to be painted within a short period of time? If today's impressionist spent the same amount of time and energy on a painting as the original Impressionists, would they rule in popularity?

Posted: The Window will be one of the paintings in Saturday's exhibition at CMMC, Lewiston, Maine from 10-4 in the main lobby. You're invited to come. If you're around, please do!

Art talk

I flew down to the Cape this past weekend. Well not literally, but almost with the way traffic flows. It took four hours to our hotel on Cape Cod and another half hour or so to the Blue Heron Gallery. Its end of the season and time to pick up any unsold art. Sadly there were a lot to pick up. Sales continue to be a struggle, not only for me, but for all the artists in the gallery.

I traveled with my friend Sandy. Conversation through two days of driving was stimulating to say the least. I don't know what it is with Sandy and me, but get us together and we discuss art, our goals and desires deeper than with anyone else I know.

I think it has to do with the questions she poses.

Sandy lives an hour away and is an elementary school art teacher. (Those lucky kids. She really teaches them a great foundation!) Consequently we don't get to see each other frequently. Conversation always starts with, What have you been painting lately? ...but goes much further. Short term goals. Long term goals. How have they changed since we last talked about them? Why have they changed? Desires to travel to different places to paint. Workshops. Workshops you need to travel to. Sandy would love to take one in Scottsdale, AZ. She tried to talk me into joining her, but my desires lie somewhere else.

We both expressed a feeling of being on the brink of something very good and wishing we had time to just paint without the typical responsibilities of life. For myself, its as though a deeper understanding of what I'm trying to do with paint is circling in my head. I feel if I had the time to devote to it, I'd create something at a higher level than my usual. It all makes sense in my brain. I just need to make my paintbrush do it! I talked about wishing I was on an art retreat. Nothing to block my mind, just there to paint. Somehow I'm sure something would break through and emerge from within.

We wished we were painting.

All this talk about our desires, yet stuck in the car...

Wouldn't it be great if at the end of our drive we would be on a painting retreat? Our suppressed desire to paint would burst out on canvas! Why don't we rent a house during February school vacation and do just that? Paint without interruption. We wouldn't even have to go far. Stay in Maine and paint indoors. Just be out of our homes so laundry, cleaning and errands are far from our minds. Paint. Paint all day and keep each other stimulated with conversation. What a great idea!

After returning home, I scoured the internet in search of the perfect "home" to do this at. I think I found it. It has four bedrooms, so we need to get two other artists on board. I don't think that'll be hard to do.

The house in question is on the ocean with lots of windows for good light. There's plenty of room to set up easels everywhere. The plan is to bring drop cloths and paint our brains out! Well its not really our brains we want to pour out, more out hearts, but you get the idea...

Karen Choquet laughed when I invited her to join us. "You're always up to something, aren't you?"

Oh, for certain!

(Posted are a few of the tiny 4x4" paintings I did for the November art show.)

Sun versus shade

From the Shade

Original oil painting 14x18"

by Susan Roux

My weeks been crazy. I've been running around everyday and it won't stop until after the weekend. I suppose you all get weeks like this too. I find myself wishing I had three days of solitude to just paint...

Thank goodness for my classes, at least they force me to stop and pick up a brush!

I finished From the Shade with my afternoon class yesterday. I chose this scene so we could focus on shade versus sunny passages within a painting. We took a very different approach than usual. I had them block in the shady foreground area, in monotone, to remind them that everything they developed in this section needed to be in shade. Any color they placed within this area, if it looked sunny, needed to be changed. The class stayed focused on this idea. I find if you simplify things enough, everyone can easily understand what you're trying to get them to achieve.

It proved to be an extremely successful approach. Everyone's paintings leaped with sun and shade.

I decided to try this approach with a few of my other classes. I thought you might like to see the odd beginnings. With the painting posted, we began working on the light area, because it was further back. In the following two, the background is deep and in shade. I'm finding it challenging keeping the students from painting too much light. The photos we're working from have beautiful sunlit flowers in the foreground. They want to paint the light, but as you can see, I'm holding them back.

Its been a great way to have them recognize the difference between foreground, middle ground and background. This painting has yellow flowers against a fence post. In the photo the middle ground was sunlit as much as the foreground. I worked with them to keep it toned down so our final subject will appear to leap forward. Getting them to paint the feeling of sunlit foliage while keeping it subdued and void of detail was a bit unsettling for them. By the end of class this week, they had finally managed to capture this look and they left happy. I've been pushing them pretty hard lately. This class has been painting only a year and the results I get from them are pretty amazing.

My Wednesday night ladies were very happy with the new photo I chose for them. A sunlit garden makes this entry so inviting. Unfortunately I didn't let them paint any of the fun stuff. Keeping them in the darks to capture the house in shadow was difficult. It felt like we were painting a Halloween painting, the haunted house...

Keeping everyone's values in check has been tough. I think after these paintings are done, they'll understand how it all worked and it'll be easier to keep them in the dull deeps next time. Frustration was a visible emotion, but by class end, they had captured the deepness I was proposing. Another group left happy. Its not always easy to do. Especially when you push them out of their comfort zone.

I've been preparing a list of which paintings my students will exhibit in December. I want to know how long they were painting when they did the piece they chose. Its been astounding to us all when I get told 4 months or 6 months or even it was my second painting. It makes me step back in surprise at the achievements they've accomplished. I'm so proud of my students. I'm going to be thrilled to show them off in December!