Israel

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Israel is growing up on a farm where chores start early and the summers are filled with playing in the creek, in the barn, or with his brothers climbing on anything off the ground. On this day, he took me to his favorite place to play, a corner of the barn loft where he could climb up through the open doorway, the wide opening where you can toss the hay bales into a waiting truck.

The farm is busy throughout the year, but no more than during the warm spring when the bees are buzzing quickly overhead and there is preparation for planting with plenty to do. And every Saturday morning starts very early as the family loads up to head to the farmer's market with as much as they can load in the van. Not only will they sell fresh vegetables, honey, and flowers, they also bake incredible breads and breakfast rolls that will go fast. Faith Mountain Farms is a place where a young boy learns how to work and how to make money from his efforts.

Israel was the first figurative painting I did and took far longer than I had planned. Of course, I wanted the results to be so unmistakeably Israel that I labored over the likeness until I got it just right. I think I captured him.

Plein Aire Painting Woes

As I collect more instructional DVDs from artists I admire, I consistently hear them challenge painters to paint more from life to improve their abilities. But I have a hard time getting models who will sit for several hours while I practice (I have not been able to get anyone to sit for hours while I paint, not even my own family). So, I've determined that the best I can do for now is to paint "en plein aire" I am surrounded by the beautiful Appalachian mountains with winding rivers and pristine scenery, so I packed up the stuff last night and waited to hear back from a friend who agreed to paint with me on an overcast, cloudy Saturday.

The Watauga River winds through the mountains and provides some of the most majestic scenery you can imagine. Rocks, trees, deep pools, fly fishermen... this river has it all. You can pull over as you are driving on the road right next to the water, then carry your stuff down a steep embankment, holding on to branches and sliding a bit as you navigate your way to a rocky and sandy spot along the bank.

My painting friend was late so I set up at a spot where I could imagine a simple composition: a large rock with the water rushing around it and the opposite bank framing the verdant scene. I pulled out my easel and supplies then ate a lite lunch I had packed before I got paint all over my fingers. I am careful these days not to mix my food with paint. I think that is the least I can do to adhere to some safety standards in my painting practice.

The day's weather was intermittently overcast then sunny so I started blocking in a small 9 x 12 in linen canvas mounted on foamcore, the kind I like to pack because they are lightweight and seem to provide a good surface for the paint. I get a bit frustrated with them at times because I like a smoother surface for faster paint application and when I am sitting outdoors, speed is one of the goals I keep in the forefront of my mind.

My painting companion showed up and walked down stream to find a spot where he could paint. He was using a borrowed French easel and was just starting with oils after years of painting in acrylics. There is plenty of scenery to choose from but I have found that simple compositions are hard to choose. When you are in a candy store with so much variety, picking out just one piece can be a challenge and so it is with taking care that your paintings don't become a massive effort in futility because you have tried to paint too much.

And that seems to sum up my frustrations with composition these days. I have such a drive to simplify and show the essence of a subject that I wrestle with paring the scene down to its simplest parts. That, I believe, is the secret to lasting impact in a painting and capturing the viewer's attention right away. I sit in front of all this beauty and I want to paint it all but I later regret such a venture as I don't even like what I rendered. There is a danger to that kind of unbridled artistic lust and it produces lousy paintings. I think you have seen plenty of them.

Simplify, simplify, simplify... is the mantra rattling around in my head as I sit by the water's edge.

That is why composition is so important to me in my pursuit of learning and improving. Simplify, simplify, simplify... is the mantra rattling around in my head as I sit by the water's edge.

Well, it didn't take too long before the rains came and my painting partner got soaked. I had my sun umbrella packed in my gear so I pulled it out and deployed it to protect myself from the drops and kept going for another hour. But alas, I too was overcome after a bit and decided to pack up and go. I knew I had taken enough photos of these scene that I could finish it at home, and so, I did.

Is plein aire painting the answer to learning that magical touch called, "painting from life?" I don't know. But I am not about to give up. I want to make sure I learn all I can from this venture and I have plenty of material around me to experiment on.

The Art Around You

Painting at Wilson Gorge near Lenoir, NC.

If you're like me, you have seen advertisements for workshops in foreign exotic locations and wished you could go there and paint. Who wouldn't want to go to Venice or Paris and set up your plein aire easel on some quaint side street for the afternoon to capture the classic sunlight on those buildings that were painted by bygone masters. When I go to the website of painters like CW Mundy and see the latest paintings from his European trips, I wonder if I could pull it off like he does–venture in Europe for a month painting every day and selling them like hotcakes before he even returns. Would I chose to paint the Venice gondolier like generations before me have painted, or would I shrug off such a subject matter because by now I feel it is cliché? Would just being in Venice with a paintbrush make the subject matter extraordinary and worthy of the canvas?

Scott Burdick and his wife Sue travel to exotic places around the world and then present travelogues showing images of peoples and lands far away to a room full of ardent admirers. Their paintings are a selection from the images they captured and the cultural influences they absorbed while circling the globe on adventures. They appear very successful to me and I have thought about what it would take to be able to do what they do. Of course, I have to wait until my kids are gone so that my wife and I can be as unencumbered as they are.

Does the location make the subject matter special? Am I longing for the chance to go somewhere far away so that I can gather material and paint a series that will somehow catapult me to success? Or is there enough around me to fill a life-time of canvases if I just look for it. Today I was introduced to a local resident who is not unusual for this area, and easy not to notice as I drive by her house everyday, but whose little world holds a treasure chest of things that can keep me busy painting for a long time. Mary's life is simple and it seems is complete. She complains about nothing, welcomes everyone and is well cared-for by family, friends and neighbors who stop by and make sure she is fine.

Mary has lived in the same house all of her 92 years and will smile as she tells you about growing up in this area. I'm sure she has repeated these stories to many like me. I did not spend much time with her today but I was fascinated as I heard about a life lived by a common person of uncommon resilience and spunk. Her little wood house has no running water, no indoor plumbing, no refrigerator or television (she was offered one recently and refused it) and yet she seems so content, so satisfied. The few small rooms she lives in are heated by a large cast iron wood stove and the pile of cut and split wood outside tells me I don't have to worry about her when the temps dip down below 10 again like they did last week.

Ninety two years ago the US was just entering World War 1. Today she showed me the photo of a black man standing next to bee hives and she told me he worked for her family until he died in 1925. He was captured as a boy by Confederate forces in South Carolina until he escaped to the mountains where he was able to live among the farm families of the Appalachians. I have never talked to someone who had listened to stories of the Civil War and it gave me a strange sense of connection to the distant past.

As I looked around the simple home and the things that are everyday life to Mary, I saw meaningful compositions for paintings. Sometimes the simple things in life make the most attractive things to paint. They invite the viewer to identify with the surroundings or relate to the symbolism inferred in them. Mary's home is full of such things.

Do we need to go far to find subject matter for painting? Look around and I think you will find that you don't. I will write more about this as I explore the notes and images I have in my mind for future works.