I’m incredibly clumsy which is one of the reasons why I really like painting acrylic on canvas. It’s durable and it’s basically Katana proof. Once I even sliced open one of my canvases (how did that even happen?) and had to stitch it up and paint over it.
Don’t worry, a fix for a dent is a lot easier. It just happened to me so I took some photos to share the repair.
I just finished painting a landscape and put it down on a table; I didn’t even see the keys that were sitting on the table. The keys left a dent in the surface of the artwork which doesn’t look good.
Take a note of that curved line because in the next picture you can’t see the dent.
“I like that.” I’m standing behind a woman who is diligently following my instructions in one of my classes.
So of course I like it; we are painting together, sharing inspiration. I feel a warmth for each painting even more than my own. My little idea of a picture, all grown up and being shared with the world and interpreted differently by each pair of eyes.
“But it doesn’t look like yours-” Her face twists up because she can only see the shortcomings, the place where her brush isn’t practiced. “I’m not good enough,” she says;
But she ignores the little zip of red that looks like the edge of a petal, the transition from blue to sea glass green. Those little beautiful moments that I’m looking at. Or even the way that she held the brush that’s different from mine- a little more of the corner, that I’m going to try myself next time I’m experimenting at the easel. That’s what I like and that’s what I tell her.
Sure, I can recommend using more paint or a little more white (seriously, it’s always a little more white paint) or use the edge of the brush. But clarifying those things doesn’t diminish the loveliness of what’s already been painted. And a few wayward marks doesn’t ruin the paintings future.
And I know that nasty voice, I’ve heard it in my head. Wandering through art galleries, where just a brush stroke looks like a shadow, where scribbles look like scudding clouds, that voice says to me “you’ll never be able to paint like that…” I’m sure that voice is why Van Gogh cut off one ear. 😜
I hear it whenever I’m looking at artworks which have credibility because of the wall where they hang and the people who talk about them.
I remind myself that the Salon des Refusès was full of marvelous artists who experienced rejection also, that perhaps there was a time when not even the artist holding the brush believed in its brushstrokes.
There’s no way to know the life the painting will take on once it leaves the easel. Because those rejected works are now the post Impressionist masters. Or maybe your little masterpiece will become a beloved heirloom. You never know.
The factory that turned out urinals never knew that one particular urinal would one day be signed ‘R. Mutt‘ by Marcel duChamp (to say nothing of the fourteen! replicas) And if that counts as priceless art than I think our charming two hour tipsy flower paintings count as art, beautiful art, at that.
I think when you put your happy feelings into the paintings they take you somewhere happy even when the lingering sadnesses of the world are at your door.
It’s not perfect. It doesn’t look like Dali painted it, and it doesn’t look like either Manet or Monet were involved. James Gurney could have made it in half the time and twice as real. Khalo would have a better brow game and O’Keefe wouldn’t have painted a magic carpet at all, ever. The eyes are too small for Keane but so are my own. I painted it, and it has a piece of my soul in it. It’s a dream.
I’ve painted many things and had to practice appreciating my own work, looking at it and finding what I like about it, even when my blending isn’t smooth or my colors are too loud or the proportions are wrong. I’ve had to hear that voice saying “it’s not good enough” about my own work many times. Every time.
One day I was sitting looking at my paintings. I was annoyed that the clouds were too symmetrical and they were dividing the sky in half instead of leading the eye up the canvas to the stars.
My perspective shifted. Casteneda would say my assemblage point moved. Suddenly I could see they were beautiful.
The stars twinkled, the colors were beautiful. It really shone. And I could see what I needed to change in the clouds to help them sing with the canvas.
That’s the artist eye: being able to see what’s beautiful while still imagining an improvement. That something can be beautiful and not finished yet. It’s both.
That’s what I see when I look at my Paint Nite students/partygoers. I can see where their painting has beauty and where they have let the muse hold the brush for a bit- and I can see where just a little more paint would help it sing more clearly. And that, being able to see both the beauty and the room for growth, is why I’m never bullshitting when I say I like someone’s painting.
I am still wondering, How is it possible that this beautiful painting has appeared in front of my paintbrush? That’s the great mystery that artists are after- Like Van Gogh’s high yellow note and Bruce Nauman’s Divine Truth.
I think that, like the people who paint them, every painting contains beauty, regardless of technical skill. I’m not looking for skill- I’m looking for feeling.
At the end of Paint Nite the woman I spoke with poses for photos with her finished work. The photo gives her some distance to see the truth of the painting, separate from the physical paint marks on canvas. Then she realizes it really is beautiful and the negative self talk evaporates into a joyful giddiness over her beautiful painting.
She’s laughing, I’m laughing. It really is beautiful.
Sometimes I have so many paintings in my head- until it’s time to paint. Here’s how I get creative without getting side tracked.When I just jump right into painting, I don’t feel settled and don’t focus as well. I also like to set aside three or four consecutive hours.
A Clean Work Space.
Nothing is more appealing than neatly laid out art supplies, a clean surface, and brushes that are ready to go. It’s also good for clearing your mind and getting excited about what you’re about to do without jumping into the deep end.Being organized as a painter is a challenge but it feels so much better to be busy when there’s not a lot of mental clutter in my space. This is also an invitation for the cat to join in.
Put on some music
More often than not my background noise is the television in the other room, so I’ll put on some music or an audiobook or a guided meditation to listen to while I’m painting, so I get the calm happy thoughts into my paintings.
Pour a drink.
A pot of tea, a glass of juice, a glass of wine, or a cup of coffee; water’s healthy as long as you know which one is paint water and which one is not. Drinking acrylic paint won’t kill you (I’m still alive!) but it tastes terrible.
Get to work!
By now my studio area is looking so appealing that it’s easy to let time vanish and create with my paintbrush.
This is the second Monet painting in a series that I’m creating to teach at my Paint Nite events. This new one is called “Impressionist Monet Bridge Over Lilies.” You can search the title + ‘Paint Nite’ to find out if it’s being taught in your area.
I created the City of Angels and it is now licensed to Paint Nite for other Paint Nite artists to teach it across the continent!
Here are the main steps. While I was painting it, I started with a smoggy gray but went back and brightened all the colors near the end (not shown). Learn from my process and paint yours with fully saturated color from the beginning!
Beginning this year, Mary Malinski, the Prosperity Priestess at Walks Within, and I, have been working on our deck of Tarot Cards. Every Thursday we are releasing a new Tarot card. If you’d like a chance to model for a tarot card (the more variety of persons the better the deck will be!) than send a few poses and faces to us. It’s helpful if you are posed as the figures on the card may be, but I can amalgamate images as well. Costuming is not necessary.
The idea is to fill the cards with art, love and light, and they are all digitally illustrated to create a clear story to help you read the cards accurately.
A dark figure kneels beside an organ and a pile of cardboard boxes. A door glows like an ember behind them. An inexplicable red dot hovers over the bench.
I created this painting in 2006, one of the darkest times of my life, alone in Vancouver Canada with a hostile roommate, a part time job and a bleeding bank account. Even then, hope glowed, appearing in my artwork as this door of glowing light.
I painted this on the living room floor of my apartment, using the floor to ceiling windows in the apartment as a reference. I am the darkened figure kneeling on the floor to paint.
I thought I was using a purple and yellow palette. I was painting in a dim room, which means I couldn’t see the range of colors accurately. I realize now that the painting worked out because the dim light desaturated the colors and I was painting by value (the range of dark to light) instead of hue (ROYGBIV the fully saturated colors of the rainbow). The colors were substantially different when I moved out of the dark room and into the light. Teal and orange are now one of my favorite color schemes.
I consider this one of my best works from this time period and sold it for $325 in 2007. I see in it the beginnings of my current series Gates of Lights.
This Mer-Goddess is a drawing I did a few years ago. I decided to have it printed on some watercolor paper so I could create a watercolor painting.
A good drawing yields a better quality watercolor painting and so preprinting the drawing made my painting/coloring more relaxing. I was happy I didn’t have any problems with the black ink running. It stayed put while I gently painted in between the lines.
I’m going to be bringing this mermaid goddess to Spring Mysteries: I’m going to be one of the vendors this year. I think, framed and finished she will sell for $85 once I’ve signed it.