Keeping it Real

After a few years of restless uncertainty regarding the direction of my artwork, I'm finally admitting to myself who I really am as an artist. Relieved with this long-overdue acceptance, I'm going on with my bad self.

For me, it's all about the horse, but it's not just about portraying the horse in pretty pictures. Horses are magnificent creatures, no doubt, but strictly idolizing them as the beauties they are is to deny their paradoxical nature. Consider this quote from my artist's statement: "...expressing the subtle with an undercurrent of volatility."

Horses have distinct personalities. Some are sweet in nature, accepting, generous and willing. Some are sullen, nasty and psychotic - not always resulting from their interaction with evil humans. DNA and genetics play a role as well as learned behavior from other horses.

Horses are dangerous just by way of their size, speed and sheer athleticism. A spooked horse can duck violently in a millisecond, sending a rider helplessly off into space. Anyone who has worked with horses can attest to the consequences of not following the rules of sensible horsemanship. I've been kicked, bitten, crushed, stomped, run-over and otherwise had my bell rung many times. Not to mention being "unseated". I accept responsibility for my stupidity and carelessness, however some of those physical encounters entailed some frightening equine aggression.

Truth be told, our age-old association with horses is wonderful and terrible. Accidents are inevitable. People get hurt and killed. Horses get hurt and killed.

I respect this aspect of our relationship and have a lot to say about it. No morbid depictions but no 4-F's either (foals frolicking in fields of flowers). It's just how I've experienced it.

Snake, 20"x24", oil on canvas. Click here for more info.

Calling it as I see it,
Sharon

Headin' Westward (ho!)

To my delight and surprise, my Indian Relay paintings have been accepted into the Phippen Museum's Western Art Show and Sale. I say "surprise" because the other participating artists are so impressive. As I drool over their artwork, I embrace a personal challenge. Whenever I encounter artists of accomplishment and considerable skill, it spurs me on (pun intended) to become a better painter.

Located in Prescott, Arizona, it's a journey of many miles taking place on Memorial Day weekend. We've booked lodging via AirBnB for a very reasonable rate and will be driving all my paintings cross-country to the show. No doubt the price of gasoline will increase due to the holiday as well as the expense of the booth fee, insurance, a required business license from the City of Pescott, meals, and not to mention the deepest expense - framing.

Also on the schedule: a reference gathering trip to one of the season's first Indian Relay races in Pine Ridge, South Dakota taking place the weekend following the show. Might as well go for it, we'll have traveled so far at this point.

So how to afford all this? I consider the expense an investment in my career revival and mental well-being. And that esoteric statement doesn't pay the bills.

Michael and I are working on a crowdfunding project to help out. You may recall a Kickstarter campaign I launched in 2013 in which I painted historical scenes of Saratoga to coincide with their 150th Anniversary at the track. It was meant to be a prelude to a bigger project and it's success effectively got my feet wet and gave me a feel for the mechanics.

This time around I have a clearer understanding of the "rewards" and can offer more effective incentives. And then there's those cool innovative techie things like going "live" on Facebook, enabling backers to travel vicariously along with us in real time.

So stay tuned for the "launch" of the funding campaign, certain to be more interactive and offering something for everyone. It's an exciting time for me and I hope you enjoy following along with my always daring exploits.

Triad, 16"x20", oil on panel

On the move,
Sharon

Chaos

I'm beyond mid-life crisis age-wise but I'm experiencing the symptoms. Bored with the muse and disillusioned over changes in the racing biz, I'm restless about the future direction of my artistic life. There's a new crowd in the paddock who possess different goals and priorities. Ownership has undergone major restructuring and the "Kings & Queens" in the sport no longer reign supreme. Race track management have their own profit-driven agendas with little respect for tradition and history within a very old and storied sport. Loud, repeated calls for proactive changes in medication use, infractions, after care for retired horses, moral responsibility, etc., are agreed upon by the industry insiders but are rarely enacted and those that attempt to implement change are confronted with bickering power struggles. It's wearisome to an old race tracker like me who dearly loves the game.

Over a year ago I channel surfed onto a PBS documentary that quickened my pulse rate. I won't spend a lot of time explaining, you can read about it in my blog post here. The abbreviated version: Indian Relay. Tribes compete in a horse race (of a very different color) that I found to be excruciatingly exciting. I was so jazzed and inspired. Re-energized, if you will.

The plan was to attend their national championships taking place in Billings, Montana after the Saratoga race meet concluded. For reasons that would require another blog post, it was not to be. Undaunted, I returned to the documentary, studying it in it's entirety - frame by frame. With my knowledge of equine anatomy and referencing the scenes illustrating this extreme, dangerous sport, I decided to forge ahead anyway.

This is the first of several planned paintings:

The title is Chaos, and for good reason. This is the thrilling part of the race - the exchange of riders as the team catches the incoming horse (at a gallop) while the rider simultaneously leaps off in mid-air and then frantically swings/jumps/leapfrogs onto the next. Collision and confusion. Pure adrenaline. The riding skills and horsemanship are superb. All bareback.

You know I'll be there this year, for sure.
Sharon

A Hint of Color

For the past couple of years I've toned down my colors and experimented with neutrals. I'd begin a painting session by making piles of cool and warm grays. Cobalt and cad orange, cad red and cerulean, different reds with greens, and my favorite: burnt sienna and ultramarine blue. Then I'd put in a surprise of high key color into my focal point to make it pop. It was a technique that was especially useful when I began painting plein air because - and please don't hate me for saying this - I think most plein air paintings (especially landscapes) are a bore.

This reminds me of a quote by the late, great, Robert Genn regarding a device he used often: "From a painter's point of view, a 'red surprise' is most effective for bringing focus and heightened interest to many works."

Then there were complaints from the partnership, even to the point of suggesting that I could possibly be developing cataracts! So, I took a scrutinizing look at my recent work and realized it was indeed slipping into the snooze category. It was therefore such a pleasure to step back and acknowledge where I'm comfortable on the color spectrum.

Orange Bucket, 11"x14", oil on panel

I've also been experimenting with transparent oxide pigments. Toning the substrate has been eliminated as I want the white surface to shine through the layers. I love them! Transparent red oxide is a spectacular color and has largely replaced burnt sienna (except in making those lovely neutrals). Even the brown oxide is beautifully vivid with an orange-y tinge (goodbye burnt umber).

Why does everything have to look so real? It doesn't. It's our job as artists to create intrigue, mystery, audacity and even a little absurdity.

Funnily (as Robert Genn would say),
Sharon
 

Two Old Ladies and a Blacksmith

My season of being a hermit never really was. The winter weather wasn't either, and that's why. However, I never feel I'm being as productive as I think I should be.

Our recent trip to Florida was warm and lovely. Road trips. Many hate them but I relish the boredom of miles and miles of tedious city and landscape passing by. My mind calms, the incessant chatter quiets, clearing the way for constructive thought. I can say that some of my best inspiration is achieved while the bland scenery blurs.

Here's my first painting since reentry:

Two Old Ladies and a Blacksmith

I'm always looking through the hundreds, if not thousands, of stable area photos I shoot every year. Searching for inspiration, I always pass over this particular image of complicated dappled light and intricate, overlapping figures. Plus, there was a big post and railing right through the middle of it blocking out the front of the horse. Maybe it was all the vitamin D absorbed in Florida that sharpened my memory of what a great story it portrayed.

Last summer as I was plein air painting by Elmer's Gap, a very old lady rode by on a pony leading a racehorse. Neither track at Saratoga allow ponying so I could only guess that this lady took her horses across the street, circled the main track over to the historic small oval that encircles Clare Court. It's a very good distance from where I was set up. I smiled as I observed her in my admiration, not only still riding but ponying at her advanced age. But what I was really thinking was: this scenario could be me if I hadn't made the shift from race tracker to full-time artist.

Fast forward a month or so, the main meet has concluded but there's still plenty of horses stabled at Oklahoma. Camera in hand, I'm walking around searching for inspiration and - there she is! Her horse, a mare, was getting shod and this old lady was doing her best to hold the mare AND keep an eye on the blacksmith. Her arm was stretched out clutching the end of the shank and in the other hand she swung a rub rag to and fro to keep the flies at bay. Then the mare turned her head to also observe the blacksmith and I fired off about six shots to capture the moment. Priceless. Rare. But affectionately familiar.

Michael and I both chuckled over this as we always agreed that the hardest thing on the track is to work for someone with only one horse. I respect the tolerance and patience of this blacksmith. And I hope to see this lady back at the track next year. I will introduce myself, ask her how the mare is doing and inform her that I was also once a member of the sisterhood of tough, tenacious and determined race track ladies.

Seasoned girl power,
Sharon

Revisiting a Subject

As I engaged in my intense plein air project last summer, I made note of several subjects I wanted to revisit. Due to extreme time constraints, some days were slap-dash and left me feeling frustrated. I was especially drawn to this back-lit fence of white bandages - promising myself that I'd go back to it with care and intention.

Bandage Laundry, 8"x10" oil on panel, plein air

It's the perimeter of what's called the wash rack, as in horses, not laundry. Horses are bathed in this fenced-off, concrete designated area after their morning workout, and when all have been tended to, the rack is cleaned and the laundry (including saddletowels and other misc. pieces) are hung to dry.

Rudy's Saddletowels, 5"x7", oil on panel

My studio interpretation would not be possible without the plein air studies. I've read over and over about these little paintings informing the studio works of  accomplished artists and now I finally understand the concept. For instance, if I relied strictly on my photo reference, the shadows would be much darker due to the contrasting nature of photographs. I can't tell you how often I stood still and stared at the backside morning light taking in all the nuance and glory and making mental notes. It's no wonder I attracted so many inquisitive looks and head shaking!

Track Laundry, 18"x24", oil on canvas, studio

This was a joy to paint. First, because of the realization of how deeply the Oklahoma stable area has impressed itself upon my psyche, but also because I love the random dance of the bandages in the light and the breeze.

Tidy whities,
Sharon

Mental Workouts

One of the advantages of plein air painting is learning to improvise. The selected scene to paint is subject to change quickly and not just the light. After spending the summer painting the Oklahoma barn area at Saratoga almost every day, I've become very familiar with the architecture of the barns. The structures basically are all alike and they're a similar putty green-gray throughout. Throw in some fall foliage and you've got yourself a pretty picture of complementary colors!

Autumn at Oklahoma, 10"x8", oil on panel, plein air

I surprised myself over the summer at what my memory is capable of. As the horses and riders were weaving themselves between the vehicles, I made a quick mental note of their height in comparison to nearby objects. That provided the scale and size they should be and I quickly and simply sketched in the figures. Try it...you'll be amazed at how it builds your confidence.

Here's a quick cell pic of basically what I was painting. Because it's the off-meet, restrictions on parking have relaxed and the cars sort of come and go.

Mere calisthenics,
Sharon

Kentucky Inspiration

Last September I participated as a vendor at the Secretariat Festival in Paris, Kentucky. It's a funky little town that exists in another time period. No chain hotels, no chain restaurants or any other tiresome mediocrity. We were staying in Georgetown, approximately 17 miles due west.

It was late in the afternoon when we tore down and packed up my exhibit. Route 460 is a very narrow road with no shoulder, just a disconcerting two foot drop from the pavement on both sides. The speed limit is 50 mph as I recall making this a white knuckle ride.

I spotted a band of mares and foals on the left side. The light was golden and glowing. Long shadows stretched as the sun sank low behind the trees. The mares were up close to the fence by the road, unusual as they are very protective of their foals and never compromise safety. I was so excited! Can we turn around and go back?

Fortunately, there was a road perpendicular to where the horses were grazing. Michael managed to pull a daring u-turn and park on the opposite road while I jumped out with my camera. At first the mares were nervous and stood in front of their foals. When they determined I was no threat, they relaxed and shimmered with highlights in the fading light. This is the heavenly manna that artists patiently pray for.

Eventide, oil on canvas, 18"x48"

I named the painting Eventide which represents the subtle period of transition from late afternoon into evening.

While I was clicking away, a lady pulled up alongside Michael and scolded him for parking on the side of the insanely narrow road. He listened patiently, pointed to me and replied, "I'm married to an artist, what can I say?"

Bless our spouses,
Sharon

Seeing the Light

It's one of those breakthrough pieces. After almost a year filled with intense self-study, dots are beginning to connect at last as I finally make sense of many, many hours pouring over numerous landscape books and analyzing paintings of artists I admire.

Walking Bridge, 11"x14", oil on canvas

What's important is that I now enjoy painting landscapes. A short few years ago I could never envision it. I'm not kidding myself though - I'm entering the domain of well-seasoned, experienced artists who have dedicated their careers to producing great paintings solely of landscape. It's a vast, wide open field (no pun intended). From genre to mainstream here I go.

In addition to the huge amount of time spent reading, looking (and seeing), listening to pod casts, watching art DVD's, picking the brains of my fellow artists and visiting exhibits, I also made a few color charts.

The chart at the top is my basic palette with a couple of colors added that I don't often use (phthalos). The bottom three are the yellows which are cadmium lemon, cadmium yellow medium and yellow ochre. The yellow charts were incredibly instrumental to help me get a handle on mixing greens and I refer to them often. My blues are ultramarine, cobalt and sometimes phthalo blue. My tube green is viridian and sometimes phthalo green. The extent of prior application of greens to my paintings were limited to jockey silks and an occasional turf course. Needless to say, earth tones figure dominantly on my palette.

Next week is my first plein air competition in Canadaigua, New York. Am I nervous? Uh-huh, you bet however I'm excited as well. Most artists are willing to share information (as moi) and I view this event as a grand learning experience.

With sunscreen and bug spray,
Sharon

A Creek Runs Through It

Attempting to get outside and paint from life is still a challenge here in upstate New York. The weather has improved temperature-wise but there's still the wind and the frequent bone-chilling rains. So, I painted this little sketch in the studio from a photograph. It's the creek that runs through the property we rented on a rare sunny day before the thaw. I painted it on Arches paper for oils purchased just for plein air studies. So here's the conundrum that most artists face and is always a head shaker: freed from the investment of an expensive stretched canvas, painting on paper or canvas paper invites lively experimentation. The pressure to produce a serious painting is lifted and the sketch becomes a simplified romp of expression. The question is how to transfer this impromptu joy and elation to the larger costly canvas?

Creek, 9"x12" oil on paper

Fun in the north,
Sharon

Studio News

My monster of a canvas is finished.

Phew!

There were effects that I wanted to play with after acquiring interesting new skills with my landscape experiments. However, because this piece is commissioned by a great client who loves my racing work and has certain expectations, I thought it best to be reliable in that respect. The entire background was applied with a palette knife providing some interesting texture that I further rubbed with thinned pigment. A very difficult angle to portray, I couldn't find any reference photos except for one very dark and blurry pic. That said, I enlisted Michael to model and did lots of preliminary drawings.

Oil on canvas, 7'x5'

In other studio news, my Kickstarter project is almost completely funded. I have only $125. more to go to reach my goal. If there are any art angels out there who would like to help me get there, please click here. Did I mention there are rewards?

More studio news: We'll be moving the entire kit and caboodle across the street on Beekman and will be in an authentic live/work environment combining the studio/gallery with living quarters. This workaholic is thrilled! Stay tuned for a more detailed update.

Mwah!
Sharon

Back to Basics

After spending the last several months experimenting with different subject matter, I'm delighted to return to the loyal and patient muse. Don't get me wrong, my foray into street scenes, ocean, snow and a bit of plein air has been a welcome change - reassuring my brain that it can still concentrate with dogged focus and even learn a few new tricks.

It was a return to the basics of value and perspective. My equine paintings are closely cropped into somewhat abstract compositions. Spatially, here's limited depth of field and the angles are as unorthodox as I can convincingly portray. It's difficult to choose a focal point when the entire surface is so in-your-face.

My artist friend Robert Stebleton generously sent me a cd of images that he scanned from one of his Richard Schmid landscape books. I drooled over these paintings. And I stared at them for hours. What impressed me the most was Schmid's simplification of some very complex masses and his suggestion to perceive these areas as patterns. Also noteworthy is his effective technique with edges, something I really need to work on.

It will be interesting to see if my return to a large-scale, motion-infused canvas will be affected by the time spent painting scenes that were definitely outside my comfort zone.

7'x5' canvas with preliminary charcoal sketch and color washes.

I think it will.
Sharon

Go to the Light

I've been fortunate to gypsy around the country with my horse-trainer husband Michael. As I scrutinize contemporary masters to expand my subject and, in the process, hopefully improve my painting skills, I've become so mindful of the light in all it's glorious lumens.

Now I'm in the north country and it's...oh so different. As winter encroaches, the sun is a diluted watery thing that mostly hangs out behind a veil of clouds. And not for long! It drops behind the tree line before 4:00 pm which makes for a very short day (and in summer the opposite makes for little time to star-gaze). With a rare, clear sun, the light produces long shadows all day long. Weird.

3:30 pm

Michael has asked why an artist would want to plein air paint here in December. Everything's brown and dead, he observes. Well, everything is more like resting and it's about a sense of place. The weak light is particular to this region at this time of year and I'm enjoying the seasons (even though snow still...STILL!... eludes us).

Holsteins, oil on canvas, 16"x20"

Because I sold the first little cow painting unframed and still wet, of course I had to paint another. It was overcast but I wanted to color the cloudy sky. The bare trees in the background say winter even though the grass oddly stays so green around here freeze after freeze. I added a slight indication of shadow to add dimension even though there were none and used a palette knife to create the hay in the mud. The cows are brightly lit in an un-sunny way.
Mooo,
Sharon

EPCOT 2012

After delivering the first three greyhounds last week to my client in West Virginia, we headed down to Florida. Green and warm, we enjoyed perfect weather. One week was not nearly long enough, especially when trying to connect with so many great friends that I dearly miss. I also pined for the river and will plan mightily for two weeks next year. Unfortunately, there are no alligators in upstate New York.

The week concluded with plein air painting at EPCOT. I'm so honored to be invited and this was my third year. Assigned to Italy, I readily pulled out my oils and got to work.

Friday's effort produced a strong painting that sold. Many thanks to a couple of wonderful new collectors, Barbara and Bruce!

Saturday was an equally great day and the piece also sold! Hugs for Cheryl Anne who was visiting from the west coast.

Although sales are a an amazing bonus to painting in the park, we're really there to engage with the guests, especially children. Most people never have the opportunity to observe the process of art-making or converse with artists at work. I find this friendly banter great fun and the day flies by with laughter.

Sunday's painting is still available for only $150. plus shipping. It's an 11"x14" oil on canvas and you'll be getting a piece of Italy!

Ciao!
Sharon

Waguar Progresses

I've chosen five logos to paint around the greyhound form. As a painter who constantly nags myself to remain loose and expressive, the logos are excruciatingly time-consuming. And knowing that this type of design entered the realm of technology long, long ago - hand detailing with plastic paint is challenging both my eyesight and motor coordination. At least the hands and eyes still speak to each other even if the dialog often veers into an argument!

Tiny brushes...ugh.

A jaguar stalks down the extended front leg. The "Y" on the paw is a color note to help me stay organized and check on the "feel" of the design as it develops. In the background on the table is the original design conceived onto the template.

The logos are laid in. The acrylic paint requires two coats to fully cover the form.

And in between: my entry into the American Academy of Equine Art's Spring Invitational.

"Last Set" oil on canvas, 18" x 24" (click here for more info)

Blessed to be busy,
Sharon

Down to the Wire

I'm very close. At this point I can clearly see some changes necessary. The horse head on the right in back of the lunging horse is all wrong...too big...just weird. It's been annoying me but I wanted to get a good feel for the water before I started fussing with it. Also, the horse being bitten needs wilder eyes, after all, he's savaged and crashed into by the two surrounding horses. The forearm on the biting horse is too long.

I added a bit of blue to the bottom water to get some color variety and pop the oranges. I was very unsure of doing this but the water was too violet. It's a combination of ultramarine and my new Gamblin Chromatic Black that I'm enjoying. The top of the splashing water is highlighted in white with just a whisper of cadmium orange. Perhaps it needs more of a warmer statement but I'm unsure and at this point don't want to make a mess of things.

Painters have to know when enough is enough. Many of us are so good at overworking a piece, myself included.

“Doubt can only be removed by action.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Water Action Begun

I've started fooling with the water. So far, I'm pleased although it needs more contrast. Taking a photo while a painting's in progress is a great way to critique it. Better than turning it upside down or looking at it through a mirror. Viewing it on the computer monitor is really helpful...all the "ugly" areas that need changing jump out at me. Although you would love to be a fly on the wall when I walk into the studio the next day. 

 

My reaction when I first see it: "ugh!".

The strength of criticism lies in the weakness of the thing criticized. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Horses are Almost Finished!

 The horses are finished, not the entire painting. Tweaking remains for the horses and then onward to create the crashing/splashing turbulent water. I've researched photos of horses running through water via the web and there's some helpful reference. But none of it will apply to the way the horse on the right is jumping out of the water and colliding into the middle horse.

It's a limited palette:
Titanium White
Chromatic Black (as I mentioned a few posts ago)
Cadmium Orange
Voilet (created with a mixture of ultramarine blue and quinocridone magenta)
Raw Sienna

"Live intensely and dangerously. The world may not depend on your efforts, but you do. - Eric Maisel

Getting Some Detail

Progress is slow. Coating giclees. Applying for grants...a most intensive endeavor. The application process is  tedious, but the satisfaction experienced from completion and sending off with a huge blessing of faith is so gratifying. I'm on a roll with the grant process. Very few individual artist grants available. Why is that?

I'm painting in some of the details on the upper part of the horses. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I have no idea why I spent so much time sketching in their legs as most of it will be obliterated by the crashing water. I suppose I'll have indication in areas of transparency. Note the chalk line still visable...above is light, below will be shadow. I like the contrast of the background with the light-filled heads.

"Everything is in motion. Everything flows. Everything is vibrating." -  Dr. Wayne Dyer

Splashing Equines, Redux and Update

A dear reader has requested more info regarding my working method. As I mentioned in the previous post, I  woulda, coulda shoulda documented the first drawings right on the canvas. You know the ones - an afternoon of work rubbed out in aggravation and re-started with heavy sighs of disgust. Ugh. No place for romance. Alas, very rough first sketches survive...the first brainstorming thumbnails whipped up in a stream of consciousness onto the pages of my journal/sketchbook.

I love these - straight out of the friendly cooperative side of the brain. They're fresh, inspired and so lively. If only to discover a way to continue that free flow into the oil paint...

The early horse on the right was supposed to be throwing down it's head into a buck, but the head would be in the water...thus that troublesome lunging beast appeared in it's place.

I'm comfortable with the composition...finally. My splashy water is fussy and will be put off until the end. I ask myself why I spent so much time drawing out the legs if they'll ultimately be undefined in water. Geesh. If you look closely you'll notice a chalk line a bit higher than halfway across. Below is shadow, above will be bright warm light to mimic a dramatic sunset. A long way to go with lots of work ahead

"The centipede has rhythm and flow in its hundred legs precisely because it does not have to think about it. Consider this the next time you move the instruments of your art." - Robert Genn