I've become addicted to online challenges. They keep me honest. I say I'm going to do something, like post a new Apple painting every day for thirty days, and I actually do it. Why?

Because You Are Watching.

That's it; it's that simple. If I don't post, you notice. Since letting people down hits about six dozen childhood hot buttons, I pull myself together at some point each day and climb the studio steps and get it done. Hey. It works for me. A daily post can get kind of old for the receivers after three or four challenges, though, so this is me taking a deep breath and committing to an ongoing, weekly blog. This month it's all about Thumbnails because--you guessed it--that's my current 30-day challenge. Some of my fellow Thursday Painters are joining me, and we're texting our results to each other. (Yup. To keep me honest.)

Thumbnails are those little 3- to 4-value studies that a lot of really great artists do of their next painting before their brush ever touches the canvas or, in my case, the paper. They are a phenomenal tool, helping you solve all kinds of problems ahead of time so your composition really sings. They take five to ten minutes. On top of that, the process can yield several absolutely excellent, exciting designs for the same subject if you care to take a bit more time. I dearly wish I could remember which Big Workshop Artist said it was her favorite part of the entire painting process.

So it's fast; it's exciting; it teaches you to see abstract shapes and use them well...and very few intermediate or advanced artists do them regularly. Including yours truly. Hence the challenge. Here are the "rules" I'm going by:

  • Mine are no larger than 4" on a side, and smaller is better, say 2" or 3". 
  • The goal is Not a value study.
  • The goal is to find and arrange the big, main shapes in my painting-to-be, so I'm only using three values: black, white, and medium gray.
  • Detail is death here. It will lure me onto the path called a value study, which only leads back to my comfortable, old habits. Habits teach me nothing.
  • If it's taking me longer than 10 minutes, it's becoming a value study. Stop that.

 I hope you give it a try. See you next Monday.

Old Soul, Dear Heart

Several years ago in Reno, NV, I took the first of two workshops with Ted Nuttall. In a workshop setting, he’s a quiet, thoughtful man with a deep well of understanding when it comes to painting people. Specific people. Real people with hopes and dreams and hurts and loves. He teaches care-fully as he paints and he taught me several things I needed to know. Some of them involved how to think about painting people. Others were techniques.

 

By far the most important, though, was The Most Dangerous Thing. Here’s how it works. I’m working on a portrait of a dear friend whom I’ve wanted to paint since almost the first day I met her, and I’m excited. Her hair is wonderfully, wildly curly, and her smile is deeply knowing. It’s going so well! I move from her figure to the background, an architectural scene that forms a solid composition with her figure, and I paint the first wash. The joy fades a little, so I work on bringing the buildings up to snuff, trying to find it again. I step back, and the joy is…. Gone. It looks like everything else I’ve painted recently.

 

It’s a lovely painting. The thing is, I’m bored with lovely paintings. I want more. I want different. I want the excitement back. So I stand back and ask myself Ted Nuttall’s million dollar question: “What’s the most dangerous thing I could do? 

“Red!” my Artist Child shouts gleefully. “Abstract! No lifting. Do it like Brian Rutenberg!” 

 

And I do. Years of painting give me the knowledge to try something I’ve never done before and do it right over the top of staining pigments I can’t lift easily anyway. Scary? You bet. Might I ruin a lovely portrait? Oh, yeah. But the excitement is back, and I can see it in my head. I take a deep breath and plunge in.

 

The result? A personal best. John Salminen gave “Old Soul, Dear Heart” the top award in this year’s Tennessee Watercolor Society Biennial Juried Exhibit, only the second time I’ve gotten a Best in Show. It was also a purchase award, making this the most I have ever been paid for a painting. And this isn’t the first time; every time I choose The Most Dangerous Thing, wonderful things happen.

 

So hats off to Ted Nuttall for giving out one of the most important pieces of painting advice I’ve ever received . Now you go try it and see what it does for you.

 

"Dreamer" at 40% complete

Deadlines are a hairy thing for me. Actually, time in general is a hairy thing for  me. I may have things written down, included on all my cloud calendars with multiple reminders set, but sit me down in front of a painting, and time is toast. 

 

Last week, I let you in on the start of a new painting, “Dreamer”. I began the painting in hopes of meeting the deadline for “Dreams”, this year’s themed members’ exhibit at the Fountain City Art Center. This photo shows how far I’d gotten by last night. I still think I can manage it, but I’m not positive anymore because, for me, the painting is more important than the deadline, especially once it starts to speak.

 

Yes, speak. At some point in the painting, usually well before it’s half done, your painting discovers it has needs, and it starts to tell you about them. Or it tries. Sometimes paintings use their inside voices. Sometimes they shout. No matter which voice they’re using, though, you can’t hear them if you don’t stop to listen. You get so caught up in forcing this technique or that idea that you miss the glorious opportunities water, paint and paper together offer up.

You label it a Mistake, grab your paper towel, and blot like a fiend! So let me tell you something Stephen Quiller taught me:

 

A Mistake Is Just An Opportunity.

 

Yup. Say it again. A Mistake Is Just An Opportunity. So when my heart took over control of the brush and painted something I hadn’t planned, I stopped. I looked. And I looked some more. This took some time. Then I asked my heart, “Is this right?” It answered, “Yes.”

 

So I reworked my plan, which also took time. This deadline might be missed. But it’s worth it, you know? Because my heart is where my best work comes from, and my heart told me it’s right.

Dreamer

At last. The finished painting I wrote about in my last two, and the funny thing about it? The part that looks hardest was easiest. Yup, the dreamer, herself just flowed; it was keeping the background loose while darkening it that took the most time, thought and effort. That and achieving the final balance, which merits an entire blog on its own.

 

The whole premise of the painting is how rooted we are in reality, yet how free we are, how far we can go when our hearts and minds work together. It’s about the wonder of it all. Usually, I don’t get too hung-up on marks already made, even when they’re beautiful. How many of you have heard the dreaded words, “You must kill your darlings” from my lips? When they lead the eye astray, the design is compromised, the painting diminished. Sometimes the painting is just better off without them.

 

In this case, however, the first wash was so very much exactly like I felt about dreaming and did its compositional work so well that I kept everything I could hang on to, glazing one section at a time, encouraging each drip’s second and third layer until it had the balance and the feel I wanted. A couple of drips argued with me, but they bettered the balance instead of worsening it, so I kept them, as well.

It was a very tip-toe affair, and it took quite a while. If you’d been watching, you would have died of boredom.

 

But wait! It didn’t take me all this time to finish “Dreamer”. I did make the deadline, shout “Hallelujah”, and the show is great — lots of imagination and fun to see. I hope all you Knoxville folks get the chance to see it at the Fountain City Art Center before it’s over.

 

Take care, and happy painting,

Kate

"Dreamer" - First wash

I’ve had to face it. I’m not one of the artists people write how-to-get-inspired books for. There are so many paintings I dearly want to paint that I’m not going to live long enough to do them all. And that’s today. Tomorrow there will be more; and the week after that, and the week after that. 

 

The more I learn as an artist and a person, the more paintings I see. They come knocking in my dreams. They adorn my yard saying, “Paint me. Paint me again. I’m different from yesterday. You’re different. See?”

 

That means I don’t have time, usually, for themed shows, even though that kind of challenge is great fun. I’m too busy painting my current loves. Every now and then, though, a show theme comes up that snags me, pulls me around, then matches me up with an inspiration that’s been on the back burner. That’s when magic happens.

 

This time, it’s the “Dreams” show at Fountain City Art Center. I knew right where to look: my last Cape Cod photo shoot with J, one of the best models on earth. This pose has pulled at me since the day of the shoot; I just couldn’t match it up with the right feeling. Now I can. I’m going to call it “Dreamer”. It will be a part of my Unveiled series, and this is how it has begun.

 

I’d better hurry, though. It’s got to be framed and ready for entry on January 12th. I’ll let you know how it goes!

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