Painting Sunsets: Part Two

A few nights after my first sunset painting, my husband and I were about to go out to dinner. He waited out in the living room while I went to the bedroom to get my shoes. Suddenly he hears my squeal: "Wow, look at the sunset! Hold on, sweetie! I just have to take a quick picture of the sunset, and paint it, and then I'll be ready to go." Poor guy.

Once again, it was so liberating to not worry about making a great--or even good--painting, but just getting down as much as I could for a fast study.

After a bunch of these twilight/sunset paintings, I'm a lot better at painting from memory when I need to recreate this light. Here is another twilight painting that I started on site and finished at home, mostly from memory. The actual painting is a little more mellow and less contrasty than you see here.

"Fleeting Light" - oil on board - 8"x10"

Here's the best photograph I was able to get of that sky right when I started the painting. When you compare the two you can really get an idea of the color and subtlety that you lose with the camera.

Here's how much the light had changed by the time I finished my study--somewhere around 10 or 15 minutes. Don't you love that purple light?

Here's a close up so you can see how little painting I actually got down on-site. But it was enough to get down the main elements of color in the sky (which you can't really see here) and jog my memory when I got back to it.  Once dry, I painted right over the existing study.

And here's one more I did for fun, just from my noggin. :)

Painting sunsets: Part One

Recently I've painted a bunch of sunset/twilight paintings and I can't get enough. I really feel it's something that can't quite be captured on camera but can be translated so beautifully with paint.

For awhile when I was driving around and would see an amazing sunset, I would actually get angry that I couldn't pull over on the freeway that second and paint it. It really kills the natural enjoyment of a sunset, let me tell you!

Well, a couple months ago I was in my studio working on a painting, and the sun started going down. I saw how pretty the sky was and felt sad that I wasn't outside painting, and I finally decided to do something about it! I don't have the greatest view from my living room window, but enough was enough! I turned my easel around to face the window and grabbed the first little canvas I could get find, and I painted furiously for about fifteen minutes. When the light changed too much, I grabbed another canvas and had another 15 or so minutes before all the light was gone. Somewhere in there I yelled for my long-suffering husband to grab my camera and take a few pictures for me. 

Here's the second painting I did. 

After it dried the next day (thank you, Los Angeles heat), I painted over it, using a photo to remind me what it looked like. 

I mostly worked from memory, but the photos were helpful as a reminder. This is the view from our window:

I have to remind myself all the time that painting is all about designing and distilling, not just copying what you see. I don't necessarily get inspiration from this scene with all the distracting details, but there is a lot of good information to grab and use for your own composition.

Anatomy for artists -- écorché with Rey Bustos

An écorché is a painting or sculpture of a human figure with the skin removed to show the musculature.

I had the privilege of taking an écorché class with Rey Bustos last Summer at the Los Angeles Academy of Figurative Art (LAAFA).

Over 10 weeks, we built a 16" tall man in Sculpey clay, getting hands on, 3-dimentional knowledge of the human figure. It was a very challenging class for me, but definitely worth it. You can see Rey's website at www.reybustos.com. He's a great teacher--so passionate about what he does, and generous with his time. I hope I'll have the opportunity to do another workshop with him sometime soon.

Week one -- starting with the armature

Starting to come together, lots of blood, sweat and tears later.

Clay has been baked and painted, now starting to lay the muscles on.

Finished ecorche -- front view

Finished ecorche -- side view

Finished ecorche -- back view

Plein Air in Malibu, El Matador State Beach

"Cormorants Watching the Sunset" - 8"x10" - Oil on linen

I started this little painting at the end of a relaxing day at El Matador beach in Malibu. The sun had just started to set, cuing my favorite time of the day to paint.

At this time of day, I usually spend between 10-20 minutes roughing in the general tones and colors, and finish it with pictures and memory in the studio. I always love the challenge of painting fast and getting an accurate representation of the light, while it changes constantly. You have to learn to stick with your choices, because within a few minutes things will look very different.

FUN FACT: Minutes before the commencement of this painting, Logan bumped into Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which is one of his favorite bands. Logan is the second person in his family to meet Flea by random circumstance. So, in addition to the good luck this painting will bring to it's collector, it will also make the lucky individual pretty much famous by association.

More cormorants, hanging out. 

Plein Air Painting in Zion

It seems that I have a little theme going of having a great time on my painting trips, despite ridiculous things happening. Well, to be accurate... it is less "things happening" and more "me causing." This time, it was going to Zion, UT, home of the most beautiful red rocks, and forgetting the color red. I don't even know how. Don't think about it too much.

I enjoyed a hearty chuckle about that one and was about to head out on our first painting hike with 7 kinds of brown and almost-reds, when I discovered I also left an important part of my easel at home. I was not quite as good-humored about that one, let me tell you!

Luckily I had this little cigar box, which I brought as an afterthought, and I was able to use my friend's French easel. Which felt a little ridiculous for the little paintings I was doing, but oh well!

So after that fun little surprise, I proceeded to have 4 amazing days of non-stop hiking and painting with my dear friend, who is good at every single thing in the world and made much better paintings than me, even though she hasn't painted in 5 years or something.

It rained on us every day, which in some ways made the trip even better. It kept us cool and made all the colors deep and beautiful. It also helped us greatly in the body odor department, since there were no showers at the campsite.

Stinkiness aside, I was so happy on the last day when we finally got some sun and shadows to paint! Here are a couple paintings from the trip:

 After the Storm - 6"x6" - oil on linen

Sun on Their Backs - 5"x7" - oil on panel


Zion at dusk - 6"x6" - oil on panel

Deer munching on sunflowers by the campsite.

Trying to paint in the car on a particularly rainy day. Still need some practice with this one! Need shorter brush handles, or shorter arms.

One thing about the wilderness, is that it has bugs. This gigantic bug with gigantic antennae flew onto my easel and reminded me why I like living in the city. (Melissa, who is good at everything as previously mentioned, was not afraid of the bug.)

Big hat: check. I'm really turning into that dorkiest of plein air painters. And it feels good. Kind of.

I leave you with a couple more pictures which I hope will inspire you to make the trip to this incredible national park! It is probably the most beautiful place I've ever been.

Ray Roberts workshop

A few weeks ago I had the wonderful opportunity to assist Ray Roberts during a workshop, through the California Art Club's mentorship program. It was a four-day workshop called, "From Field Sketch to Studio Painting." The first 2 1/2 days were spent painting on location, in Eaton Canyon near Pasadena, and the last day and a half were spent in the studio, where we learned how to utilize those little sketches and make a nicely composed and interesting picture.

I'd never received any instruction on landscape painting before, even from a book, so I was really excited to get acquainted with this area. Although I still have lots to learn, I really got a LOT out of this workshop. By the way, if you aren't familiar with Ray Roberts, here's an example of his beautiful work:

I have to admit, I find it pretty difficult to get excited about landscapes, even though I love the process of plein air painting. But Ray is one of the handful of landscape painters that I just love.

So during the workshop I did five paintings over the 2 1/2 days on location. The first four were "learning experiences", and I'd rather not tarnish my large and impressive reputation by posting them. We didn't have a lot of luck with the sun--it was sort of hazy and cloudy for most of the time, so it was trickier for me to find an interesting subject. Luckily, the sun came out on the last outdoor day and my fifth painting was one I was happy with and interested in turning into a larger painting during our time in the studio:

Plein air sketch, backlit tree in Eaton Canyon

I probably painted for about 45 minutes to maybe an hour. You can see at this point the light was totally different and wasn't lighting up the tree at all anymore. This is what makes plein air painting fun. And frustrating, if you don't work fast. 

Here's how my painting began once we were in the studio--figuring out a light and dark composition that I liked:

It's amazing how much of a difference it made to have that color study on hand to refer to. It's so easy to lose the essence of what you saw in person that made you want to paint something, when you're just going off a photograph alone.

Here's the finished painting!

The Golden Hour -- 14"x18" --oil on canvas

Painting in Provence

I learned a lot on my recent trip to Provence, even before I left the last airport on my three-plane, one-train journey. The first thing I learned, and the most important lesson I think, is that there is at least one European man out there who sprays his crotch with perfume in duty-free shops.

The next very important lesson is that some French people really do say, "Ooh la la!" I also learned the circumstances that will make me cry like a 5-year-old in public. Namely, traveling for 36 hours without sleeping or eating more than a bag of potato chips, having my luggage lost, consequently missing my train and then not understanding French well enough to operate the pay phone. After explaining this to certain information desk ladies, you may hear an exclamation of, "Ooh la la!"

I took 2401 photographs on my 10-day trip. 359 of these were taken of the clouds on my first plane ride, from Los Angeles to Boston. I took a break after the man sitting next to me slit his wrists, driven to insanity by the incessant clicking of my camera shutter. But really, can you blame me?

At any rate, it was all worth the trouble once I got to the beautiful Châteauneuf-de-Gadagne. Our chateau was incredible--almost 2000 years old, with a beautiful view.

Our communal area 

A couple of artists painting in the courtyard.

A gorgeous day painting in Gordes.

One of the first things that struck me about Provence was the light, often creating an intense lavender sky in the evenings. Here is one of the many "Are You Kidding Me?" moments brought to you by the average Provencal sunrise:

Every morning was different, but continually breathtaking. I wanted to paint the morning light, but it wasn't until one of my last days that I finally got up early enough. I had a false alarm the day before when I set the alarm for 6:30, poked my head out the window, said "The light's not right," and went back to sleep. Before I left, I was blessed with the golden light I had been waiting for. I scouted out a good spot and did the drawing on my canvas in advance, and set up my gear the night before so I could capture that light in the short time I would have. I started painting as soon as light broke and really only had about 20-25 minutes before it had changed too much to keep going. I finished the painting when I got home, mostly from memory.

"Sunrise Over Provence" - oil on linen - 8"x10"

I had a bit of a struggle painting while I was there, which I eventually realized was because of the solvent I was using to clean my brushes. (You can't bring your own solvent on the plane). I'm used to cleaning my brushes with a solvent that evaporates in a few minutes, whereas this thinner took DAYS to dry. The result was something like painting with soup, which is not an easy endeavor! I brought a wax medium that was good for thickening the paint and speeding the drying time one day, but the next day I was painting in the full 90 degree sun, and sadly my wax medium melted and succeeded only in making my painting soup into more of a stew. But it was still a lot of fun, and always educational to paint from life.

I will leave you with two more paintings completed on the grounds of our chateau. The second is a portrait of a fellow artist staying with us who was nice enough to pose.

"Afternoon Ruins" - oil on linen - 6"x8"

"The Gentleman" - oil on panel - 8"x10"

Resident cat standing in during a break.

Bonus: here's a painting I did after coming home from the trip. 

Waiting for Juliette - 16"x20" - oil on canvas