Beating the Positive to Death!

I had lunch the other day with several friends who are also students of art. The topic of negative and positive space came up. Their general agreement was that their focus gets caught up on the positive and that they often forget about negative shapes. My comment to that was, "...one of my frustrations as a teacher is seeing students ignore the negative while beating the positive to death". Well, this made everyone laugh and they all agreed that this had to be the subject of my next post.

"The Road to Somewhere", 18x14", oil on canvas

by Sharon Griffes Tarr, copyright 2009

First, let's assume that everyone, at least intellectually, understands the difference between negative and positive shapes in art, ie: the horse, the tree, the building, etc. vs. the negative space that surrounds these shapes. Due to the way we have been trained to see since childhood, we humans naturally focus on positive shapes. This is our nature. This is also where unskilled painters get into trouble. Because they see only the positive they will continue to erase, redraw (repaint), erase, redraw (repaint), erase, redraw (repaint), or incorporate fussy fussy, dibby dabbing, and mindless pencil marks or brush work to correct a positive shape until it is beaten into submission. Unless reminded they will never look at the negative as a moderating or correcting tool.

There are certain truths in art that are, unto themselves, self evident. This is one of them... if a negative shape is not correct, the positive shape next to it will also be wrong. It cannot be otherwise. So, for seasoned artists, when a positive seems wrong the first thing they do is look at the negative space(s) and correct the shape.

James Reynolds is an American icon of western art following in the footsteps of Remington and Russell. Formerly a Hollywood screen illustrator and later fine artist extraordinaire, Reynolds passed away this past year. What I find interesting about his beautiful oils are the small passages throughout his paintings that show slightly altered color shapes and brush strokes in negative passages that clearly demonstrate his attention to correcting and enhancing positive shapes. His style of work makes it easy to find these alterations. His positive shapes remain clean, crisp and fluidly beautiful by comparison because they are not beaten to death. His adjustments are most often made in the negative. His negative shapes are as interesting as his positive shapes. Reynolds work is well worth studying, if no other reason, for this one aspect alone, simply because his brushwork is so readable. However, I would hope anyone taking the time to study his work would also recognize his phenomenal command of draftsmanship, sense of color and composition. He was clearly a master of his craft and should be studied seriously.

In "Road to Somewhere", above, I spent as much time if not more creating interesting negatives. My positive shapes are the small hills on both sides of the road and the road itself. All the remaining shapes including the fields, roadside grasses and sky are subordinate or negative. However, note how interesting each of these shapes are. They are quite clearly, part of the whole and what creates the "finished" quality and unity in the painting. Without them, this painting would have very little impact. The are effectively important to the overall look of this work.

So, the next time you find yourself struggling with your subject, take a moment and look at the negative space around it. You just might improve that tree or building by creating a better negative.

What's Happening with Your Process?

It occurred to me today that I've been writing this blog now for six months and have received precious little input by way of "comments" from my readers. Why is that? I wondered this aloud to myself then went back and re-read some of my earlier posts. Well.....it seems I've been so busy talking about me and my experience(s) and haven't clearly indicated that I'm really, sincerely, dyingly (I think this is a great word and should be in the dictionary) interested in gaining some insight into YOUR experience(s) as well. After all, give and take is a great and better way to spend a life. Don't you think?

So......"Painting in Progress vs. Progress in Painting", posted below on June 12th tells about my processes in painting in the studio vs. painting en plein air. The big question is...how about you? What is your process and does it or does it not work well for you? Does reading about my process help or hinder you? Are you even an artist or are you a non-artist interested in art? Does knowing my process help you understand how artists think, see and plot our destinies? What are you doing to find/help/hinder your own?

HELP, help, help! I'd like to know what you think about "process".

Boy! Do I feel better now? You bet I do, but I'll feel even better as soon as I read your comments about the joys of and/or frustrated lack of a process.

Have a great day and don't forget to click on the envelope below so you can email/post your thoughts and ideas for me to read. I'm waiting with bated breath and heart racing.....

The Miracle of Spring

There is so much more to painting outdoor then simply adding paint to canvas. Taking time to wonder and to really see the world around you is one of its greatest joys. The truth of this was brought home to me today as I sat in the sun next to a pond painting the tree study above.

Spring is such an extraordinarily exciting time of year. The air virtually vibrates with energy as days lengthen and new growth emerges from earth nourished by life-giving water moving through the ground on its march to the sea. As I painted near a muddy seep at the bottom of a hill I thought of the miracle of life that lay at my feet.

The movement of water in the mud was nearly invisible to the eye. Only by sitting and staring at a water filled deer track did I begin to be aware of its gentle flow ebbing towards the marshy pond in front of me. This particular pond, several acres in size, has no visible outlet. It is encircled by higher ground all around. To leave this pond water must either evaporate or flow underground.

To the east about a quarter of a mile is a large marsh with open water at its center that wildfowl love as it has been set aside as a sanctuary. On its eastern edge is a small freshet that falls quickly to a channel running north and south. Water in this channel flows north towards Vermilion Creek then to the Looking Glass River and finally the Grand River which empties into Lake Michigan near Muskegon.

As I considered the muddy deer track, I envisioned it's scant cup of water flowing along underground eventually merging with the waters of the nearby sanctuary, then racing down the eastern freshet to the channel and beyond on its trip to Lake Michigan, over 100 miles away. As a child, the book "Paddle to the Sea" fired my imagination and today, many decades later, water oozing in a muddy deer track reignited the miracle of a Spring thaw for me.

Why Studies vs. Paintings?

"Early Warm Up", 18 x 24", oil on linen

"Winter Cattails" (below) is a small study of last seasons intermingled grasses and cattails and is a good example of how valuable a "from life" reference can be during painting sessions in the studio. I create and keep many such references and use them frequently. This particular study gives me all I need to know of the natural angles of the stems and leaves and the transitional edges at snow level. I referred to this study often when painting "Early Warm Up" (above), a painting in progress (notice the lower left uncompleted corner). Without this from life study experience in the field I would have no knowledge or understanding for portrayal of grasses in the studio.

"Winter Cattails", 12x12" study, plein air oil on panel

Inexperienced artists are often confused over the differences between studies and paintings. To me, a painting is a performance. In other words it must express all the elements of painting that an artist has perfected at the time of the performance. Therefore, as a general rule of thumb, which makes perfect sense to me, one should not tackle elements in a painting that are unfamiliar or unknown to the artist.

Studies on the other hand, are executed as an examination, a lesson, if you will, of subject matter, light, texture, technique, etc. A study supports experimentation, the option of trying new things, perfecting a technique, or gaining experience with a process. There is a heightened sense of freedom for the artist in creating a study that is not evident in a painting where one is expected to perform.

It is this learning process that develops artistic acuity in observation, knowledge, understanding, and mastery of medium technique. These four elements must be thoroughly developed on the road to excellence. The only way I know of how to do this is to work often, study hard, and create miles and miles of studies. I tell my students to practice ninety percent of the time and perform ten percent. Those who take this advice advance their skills much faster than those who continually belabor over creating paintings.

Watch this blog for a one day workshop on "The How and Why of Studies" to be announced for Spring, 2010 at my Williamston Studio.

Shall We Paint From Photographs?

Since I'm known as an outdoor painter, I am often asked if I ever paint from photographs. I would love to be able to say, "no, I only paint from life", but that would simply not be true. I am a busy person with a busy schedule and don't have the privilege of devoting all my daytime hours to painting. I paint around teaching, family needs and housekeeping. HOWEVER, other than teaching, the rest of my activities remain as flexible as my painting schedule so that I can devote as much prime time to painting as possible. I have to say here that I have an understanding and encouraging spouse that is supportive of my work. He encourages me rather than discourages. I appreciate him very much.

So, back to photography. What part does it play in the scope of my painting?

When I am on location, I always carry a digital camera with me. I photograph what I am painting plus other interesting things in the area. However, I NEVER take snapshots. They are a total waste of time. My photos are carefully taken with the idea of a painting. In other words, I look for line and shapes that converge or are in juxtaposition of one another creating interesting compositions. I take time to frame the subject as though I were setting up a painting. Back in the studio I download the photos, review what I have and delete anything that is not usable. I hold very high standards for what I keep and what is pitched. Since I photograph often it is easy for me to be heartless in sorting and deleting. If you take only a few photos each one becomes precious to you and you don't feel so casual about dumping them. As a result, my repertoire of photos to work from are excellent.

This said I must add that I do not in any way consider myself a photographer. Excellent well composed reference shots are my goal, not award winning photographs.

I use my photos in two ways. They are references for subject matter or I may review groups of photos of a possible painting site to help establish a loose plan of what I may want to do once I get on location. For instance,a place where I paint often offers a lot of subject matter. There are hills with views that can be painted as vistas, cropped into smaller areas, or moved into for intimate looks. By reviewing my photos ahead of time I'm able to focus more time on painting rather than "looking".

Currently, it's winter and I am looking at my warm weather photos from last year and visualizing some of the paintings I would like to do in the coming season. This visualizing stirs my creative juices and keeps me excited about the season to come. I'm already planning on a 30x40" that I want to do come spring from on top of a hill overlooking a marshy pond with a woodsy background. I've found that some of my best work comes from those pieces I've mentally visualized for months prior to ever picking up a brush. I go there now in winter to see the abstracted view of the scene, ie: the evident contrasts between light snow and dark vegetation areas. This simplifies and makes more obvious the shapes to be added into my painting when later in the year everything is all "green".

When working from photos, I never "copy". I use the photos as references while establishing the painting but normally put the photos away once I'm into the painting process. When in the studio, I want to create a painting, in other words, express my feeling about a place not copy it. I already have a copy....the photograph.