Ironies

Last week I participated in the Seneca Lake Plein Air Festival. Prior to the event, the weather was gorgeously warm and sunny. On the first day of painting the temps dropped into the low 40's with brisk winds to boot. Michael urged me to pack long underwear and I was soooo grateful that I did. Concluding the event on Sunday, the temps went back into the warm and sunny 60's. Go figure.

I struggled with the cold as all of us artists did. The first morning at 7:00am, I set up in a pretty marina. Because the water was still warm (70 degrees I was told) and the air temps were rapidly descending, an ethereal mist rose off the surface. I went big, 16"x20".

Temperature Change, 16"x20", oil on panel

I didn't win any prizes but I thought this painting was decent enough. I managed a couple of smaller pieces but they were so-so. The organizers encouraged us to bring extra work for the Sunday public display. I brought the better plein air pieces recently painted at Oklahoma. Guess what? I sold horse paintings. Horse paintings! It was all anyone was interested in. The marina painting brought barely a passing glimpse. Go figure.

In hindsight and giving this situation lots of thought, I compared it to horse paintings in Saratoga. Equine art saturates galleries, restaurants, banks - you name it - until everyone is sick of them. In Geneva's culture of water and lakes, perhaps a similar scenario holds true, and, when I recall what the other artists were selling, it was the rolling landscapes of farms, nocturnes and urban scenes with a possible sliver of lake way in the understated background.

Isn't it ironic?
Sharon

Miles of Canvas

I completed a couple of experimental paintings this past week in between my equine commissions (and canine to come). As an artist friend wisely told me not long ago, sometimes it's about painting miles of canvas to achieve your vision. I think of her sage advise whenever the restlessness sets in. Whenever I'm uneasy because the paint isn't doing or looking the way I want it to. My thoughts have returned to wondering if I should take a workshop with an artist who's accomplished in landscape, who's wrestled with values and edges, perhaps someone who can help me find my voice within this cacophony of uncertain thought.

Indian Summer, 11"x14", oil on textured canvas

In the painting above, I wanted to loosen my brushwork. I may have gone too far as I used big brushes on a small textured canvas. One thing I am pleased with is my return to a brighter palette. For a while I limited and toned down my colors. Don't ask me why. We all love happy colors.

Studying other artists continuously - the modern masters, plein air painters, or just keeping track of what my peers are up to - I've observed that unless a landscape painting has an unusual focal point, or any focal point for that matter, it's boring. A pretty picture yes, but where's the intrigue? Even some technically excellent pieces are just that.

In the other piece, I struggled with the waterfall, cooled it, warmed it, brightened, toned it back, added rocks, spray, rivulets, scraped, smudged and generally worked the thing to death. In contrast, the deer took about two minutes to apply with a few simple brushstrokes that I got right the first time. A nod to all those hundreds (if not thousands) of horses I've painted.

 

Wahconah Falls, 11"x14" oil on canvas

So thank you to my artist friend Sue Johnson for assuring me about all those miles of canvas I'm determined to crank out. You're so right. Just this morning Michael and I did an inventory on what to scrap heap in order to reuse the stretchers. Now that's an accomplishment from the days of wrenching a bad painting out of his reluctant arms.

It's a bittersweet symphony,
Sharon

Genre to General

After the race meet ends, Saratogians express little to no interest in equine art, especially horse racing. Either they've had their fill of it during the summer, aren't particularly inclined toward the sport, or it reminds them of huge crowds, insane traffic and the hopelessness of obtaining a dinner reservation.

So, what's an equine artist to do? Many of my peers are expanding their artistic repertoire in the wake of the stifling recession that put the kabosh on more than a few thriving careers. Experimentation's necessary course of action has produced these recent inventions:

Islands of Lake George, oil on canvas, 8"x10"

Simplify has become my new mantra and the word loops over and over in my head. Here, I'm playing with atmosphere and pushing the color expression. I feel like I want to re-work the value of islands to bring it closer to the air and water.

Lobsterman, oil on canvas, 11"x14

From my now infamous Maine vacation, I awoke early on the shore to observe the laborious hauling and inspection of lobster pots. The canvas ground is a cool, light yellow mixture of cadmium light and yellow ochre. The background was a wash of  pthalo blue and white. I was going to work in some water action behind the boat but decided to simplify and left it as is with the yellow showing through. It may not work but it was an interesting decision for me.

Sherman Farm, oil on canvas, 8"x10"

This plein air piece is a feel-good stretch. It was rendered quickly and simplified as it was only in the upper 30's outside. I've been studying landscape painting and pining to be good at it! It may be a matter of practice, practice, practice - or not. I've got a long way to go before I make friends with the greens. Whatever, it's good to get out and paint directly from life. A great help has been Landscape Painting by Mitchell Albala.

Untitled (as yet), oil on canvas, 22"x24"

I simplified these brushstrokes with a deliberate application...no unsure back and forth blending like I caught myself doing in the landscape pieces. It has an abstract feel to it and I'm especially pleased with the composition. Thrusting, powerful bodies in space...gee, that's familiar.

I feel like I'm starting over in some respects. It's uncomfortable and although it's interesting to try new subjects, I'm not very secure regarding my motives and direction as an artist. After a couple of decades of branding myself as a "dynamic equine artist", where am I going with this? Will I still be able to apply an aesthetic of striving for excellence, a dialog of visual communication and convincingly convey my ideas in paint that will translate as...me?    

It's good to step out of the box (I guess),
Sharon

Even Too Hot for a Gator

The heat is on. It's time to curtail some outdoor activities when the indigenous wildlife look for refuge. No relief on the river unless you don't mind jumping in the water with the gators. Our summers in Florida are the equivalent of northern folk's winter cabin fever.

If you keep a watchful eye, you can watch these eyes as the alligators stay afloat in the cool waters of the Silver River.

There's always someone who doesn't mind the ninety-eight plus degree sizzle. Good thing hunting is prohibited when you're sporting that big fat meaty tail.

This Little Blue Heron quietly bears its discomfort in the stifling heat. Still pretty despite the agitation.

“If you saw a heat wave, would you wave back?” - Stephen Wright

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

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