THE TRUTH about plein air painting.

 July 9, 2010

    I had such good intentions…..full of ideas for blogs and newsletters, excited about painting at the Zapata, relaxed and ready…..then everything changed. Artists, engineers, homemakers, lawyers, bakers and Indian Chiefs - we are all in this together. Life throws curves, we duck and recover, but precious time has escaped. All it took this time for me was 4 days at Zapata followed by a long holiday weekend making two very short weeks indeed. On top of that I am off next week for 4 more days of plein air painting – this time around Frisco, Colorado. So catch-up is not possible for me in the month of July which as far as I am concerned is already over. I promise to show you work from the next plein air painting outing in a more timely way.

Buffalo Water 9 x 12 plein air oil from the Zapata Ranch 2010

Notice the mosquito stuck on the canvas at the left in the mountains? And the water spots – now not so visible? I found this great view way up the road into very sandy conditions, but when the lightening got too close, I had to seek shelter. You are looking across sandy grasslands where the buffalo roam toward the Great Sand Dunes and the Sangre de Cristo mountain range. I think I will complete this with some work on the bank, removal of insects and sand and then put the buffalo back into the distance.

    As usual the Zapata Ranch experience delighted my senses. We had a few showers, mosquitoes were abundant, but the views were awesome, the group of artists very interesting and humorous indeed and the food and hospitality exceptional. You need to check out this Nature Conservancy property near the Great Sand Dunes National Park!

These two little paintings of abandoned homesteads on the Zapata I find intriguing. Soon they will be totally demolished by the elements and the buffalo rubbing against them. As I set up to paint, I find myself asking permission to do so from the inhabitants of long ago. Sometimes I think I can read their stories of hope, loss, love, joy, tragedy and finally abandonment written on the walls. That’s why I paint them - to keep their stories alive.

  In my last blog post I wrote about the importance of plein air painting. The buildings above prove the value immediately. You can never ‘read’ the emotional stories of places from photographs… you need to be there feeling the breeze, breathing in the air of the place with its fragrance and remaining spirit of family. You can hear the words written in the air here, if you spend an afternoon listening.

Log Shed; The Boiler Room 9 x 12 plein air oil

It’s just about dinner hour, but the rain has stopped so I set up just outside my quarters to paint this old log outbuilding – now named the Boiler Room. Not enough time to finish the cottonwood trees’ branches and foliage as cocktail hour was being announced and I couldn’t possibly miss that! Think I will complete this one too as I like that log cabin feel.

   On this particular plein air gathering for artists, I managed to paint 3 – 5 paintings (all small mind you) each day. Some are pretty bad, some have really good elements. I get better as the days progress and I re-learn the important lessons on getting the subject down FAST. In the early morning the light changes so rapidly you have maybe 15 minutes – that’s it! From then on you are working from memory – that is if your brain is awake enough and you had time for your morning coffee.

Storm Approaching 8 x 16 plein air oil

Having just been disgusted by my inability to capture anything of value in a plein air painting begun earlier, I decided to drive up the road seeking solace from the awesome views. I was driving slowly, passed these buildings, when my brain clicked in, confidence soared and I backed up to grab this scene. Next thing I knew rain was pelting the canvas and I hurried back to the steaming car for safety. Although I painted stormy clouds, I was unaware of the approaching storm. That’s plein air painting for you. In my alpha state of painting, I neglect to check my surroundings for danger signs – like storms, buffalo and insects! No, those aren’t birds in the sky, they are gnats stuck in the paint!

  Sometimes I wonder if it really is appropriate to call a painting “plein air” if you return to the studio with one incomplete and finish it from memory? The above painting has good bones and with few changes and some finish work on the foreground, I will complete this in the studio. And I will call it plein air as the composition, colors and general definition (as you can see) were done in the field. Now you know, so keep it a secret, please.

  Plein air paintings are frequently just kept for their accurate information about color, value and ambience – our encyclopedias sort of. These plein air sketches become our source for reality, keeping our studio work more truthful and real. This week, I checked out my photographs from Zapata and in many cases I compared them to the images I painted. The color of the adobe in the Adobe Homestead painting above, for example, looks nothing like the photograph. The photo shows no blue in the adobe wall shadow and no warmth in the adobe in the sun! The camera saw warm shadow and cool light. I saw it as cool shadow and warm light. In fact, I had trouble getting the color of the adobe in the light correct – it was yellow/orange, nearly white, sparkling in the sunlight, while the shadow seemed to be the color of the sky! All of my photos show details I didn’t bother to paint – simplification is so important in the studio and out – and most show the relationships of shapes different from my paintings. This is a new realization for me. When I am on location, I make compositional changes which are good choices. I must remember to do that when using photos – I already do that frequently, but I need remember to see beyond the photo in major shapes and their relationships to each other. Good lessons!

  That’s enough for today. 

   Ciao,

  Ginger