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Archives for November 2020

Color mixing inspired by the Munsell system

Aparna Rupakula · Nov 30, 2020 · Leave a Comment

What is the Zorn palette? What did Sargent’s palette consist of? Artists have always been intrigued by palettes of other artists. Why is our palette so important? Our paint colors define and influence who we are as artists; in particular, our painting boundaries and our color choices.

Color mixing is intuitive and unique to each of us. Yet, unconsciously, each one of us works within a small part of the 3-D Munsell color space. The Munsell color space is one of the most comprehensive collection of colors that can be mixed on our palettes, it is a collection of nearly 1400 colors. This sophisticated system accounts for value in color. Which causes it to be 3- dimensional. It also takes into consideration physical limits of color mixing.

Oil paints mixed to the Munsell scale are not widely available. As an artist I would premix my paints for each project. Realizing that there is a real need for fully customizable oil paints, I started The Grackle Studio. My goal was to bring the vast range of color, and the subtle hues of the Munsell color space to the artist palettes. I gained a lot of color experience mixing for The Grackle Studio. Some of these mixing principles can be used even in our daily painting practice. I felt that by sharing some of them, I could help simplify a little bit of the painting process for each one of us.

Custom Palette for one of my paintings.

Color mixing is like a chemistry experiment. In some ways it produces logical results, and at other times it results in unexpected surprises. To a great extent, this process can be manipulated to achieve great color precision. Every color has a value. Value is a characteristic of color that defines how dark or light a color can seem. I like to mix colors at the same value. I do this to predict the end value. For example, if I were trying to mix a dark orange, I will bring both red and yellow to the same dark value as I am looking for. Of course, I like to darken and lighten things using white or black. But for the sake of accuracy, it does help to mix at the right value. I use this principle when I am trying to mix a new color. While value is one of more obvious aspects of color, it can be difficult to predict value in highly chromatic colors. They will seem brighter than they actually are.

The chromatic yellow on the right appears lighter than its surroundings. In fact it is darker than the white and is closer in value to the background.

The second thing I look out for while mixing are the hue shifts. Paint mixing is not a linear process, it has an organic nature to it. Hue shifts can be observed when you mix primaries to obtain a secondary color. A green might look bluish or a red might have a purplish tint to it. It can also be seen when you try to lighten or darken a color. It is my opinion that hue shifts are inevitable in color mixing. Most hues shifts are very obvious and can be seen by the eye. But some hue differences can be very subtle. For example, the following two very similar-looking paint piles are actually two different hues.

Image above shows the subtle hue shifts that are useful while painting delicate objects like flowers, drapery etc.

During my early days of painting, I liked to fix my problems on the canvas rather than on my palette. My palette was overwhelmed with colors. I never got to use all of them. I now customize my palette for each painting. And I try to minimize the colors required. Five hues were used to create the following painting. I always work from life. A limited palette is useful in minimizing the guesswork.

A limited palette painting by Aparna Rupakula

Painting is an exceedingly complex endeavor. We have to think of the drawing, subject, composition, and a host of other things. It is a difficult juggle that when done right can look effortless. It therefore helps to simplify each aspect of painting before we launch into our projects. I always try to figure out my color needs before I start a painting. I like to make sure I have the right colors for the color scheme.

A custom landscape painting palette.

Artists of the past lived in a very different world than us. They did not have the distractions of the modern world. They managed to give all aspects of painting their focused attention and they were masters of their palettes. Thanks to the industrial revolution and the resulting needs of the industry we have several pigments at our behest, in order to make the most of this bounty it really helps to understand color. A better understanding of color leads to making informed choices while painting. It can also help in preventing problems before they happen on the canvas. At the end of the day a painting is nothing but a juxtaposition of color and all problems we face while painting are color problems.

The one thing we can count on is change—and sewing masks!

Shelby Keefe · Nov 23, 2020 · 1 Comment

The year 2020 started off like most years with back-to-back plans for travel to events, shows and other painting adventures. Then COVID 19 hit and we slammed on the brakes of our planned lives. All our friends we planned on painting with, and workshops we planned on teaching were suddenly stripped out of our schedules, our lives. Talk about change! A 360 for sure!

Past Life Regression by Shelby Keefe OPA
20″ x 24″ – Oil sticks on canvas

At the time I felt a weird comfort knowing that we were all in the “same boat” and couldn’t feel so terribly bad because FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) wasn’t going to be an issue because we were ALL going to be missing out. So from mid-March through May, the “stay at home” mandate actually created a kind of welcome cocoon in my creative life, when I suddenly had time to make artwork that was experimental and out of my comfort zone. I actually embraced this time and told myself that it won’t last long and that I shouldn’t squander it under any circumstance. So I set to work playing with a new medium: oil sticks. What a fun medium! It was like drawing with big fat crayons that allowed for a lot of interesting mark-making and gestural movement. I managed to be quite productive and was thrilled with all the time available, without deadlines and obligations. It had been years since I had this luxury. 

As I interacted with fellow artists online and over the phone I discovered that many of them were not motivated to paint, were seriously stuck, and sometimes downright depressed. I was feeling really lucky that my mood and energy level was good and hoped that I wouldn’t fall into the same dark place. I also felt fortunate that I could leave my small condo and go to my studio to work and didn’t have to isolate in one place. Even so, I reminded myself not to get too comfortable in this level of ok-ness because at any moment, things could change.

The production line back in May.

To mitigate my incessant need to keep busy at home while I wasn’t painting, I had the crazy idea to pull out my sewing machine to try my hand at constructing masks. I found a pattern, customized it, and became hooked! Sewing while listening to inspirational teachings became a satisfying tonic–with the side effect of helping others. 

Summer in Milwaukee came and isolation didn’t seem so harsh. Being outside kept our moods lifted with lots of exercise and a few safe outdoor activities. I liberated myself by getting in the car and driving to the Southwest to deliver new paintings to galleries and more importantly, to visit a couple painter friends. What a wonderful re-entry into something “normal.” We even did a little plein air painting which felt like a home-coming of sorts. I was in a good place.

Back in Milwaukee, I resumed my mask-making endeavors and was mailing them out to people all over the county. In late summer with the pandemic still an issue, I started getting the “I don’t feel like painting” vibe that I heard about from others. The cocooning attraction had lost its appeal, and the experimental oil stick paintings weren’t getting into shows. I was questioning myself and my work all over again. I didn’t even like going to the studio. My motivation levels were starting to take a dive. At least I did some plein air painting for Door County’s virtual plein air event and enjoyed being outside. But there was something missing that I couldn’t put my finger on. Could it be that cycle of change I warned myself about?

That’s o.k., I’ll just sew some more masks.

In August, a much anticipated trip was about to happen. A wilderness pack trip with llamas carrying all the gear and painting with friends! YAY! The funny thing about that was I had more fun doing little watercolor sketches than actual oil paintings! I just didn’t feel like getting out my oils and setting up the whole sha-blam! I forced myself to do a few little oil studies, because after all, I DID bring ALL that gear with me to 10,000 feet! Again, I questioned myself about why I didn’t want to paint. I tried hard not to compare myself with my ambitious friends who got up at the crack of dawn to paint before breakfast, but I still felt like a lazy imitation of a painter. Realizing the futility of comparisons, I decided to bask in the glories of the Wind River Range of Wyoming and concentrate on taking photos for future painting reference. It was a bucket-list type of trip and just being there was all I really needed.

Watercolor and fine point Sharpie sketches done on the Llama trip, postcard size.

When I got back to Milwaukee after my Wyoming trip, I was excited about making some paintings from those photos. But when I went to pick out images to paint from, I was disappointed by how few of those images were good enough to become paintings. Plus, they were all landscapes—not my cup ‘o tea. Should have thought of that one before! 
Mask-making becomes the balm again. 

As we close in on colder weather and shorter days, and with the pandemic still keeping us from dining out and gathering with family at the holidays, how will we stay sane and creatively occupied? Maybe find a different creative outlet like learning a new instrument? (I just bought a vintage bass guitar.) Write poetry, do some crafting, rearrange the furniture, redesign a website, remodel a kitchen, do stand-up comedy on Zoom…who knows?

My new passion!

And what about reinvigorating the desire to paint? If you’re like me and you have to make money painting or teaching, you feel a pressure that’s an awful lot like a job. The “wise self” says to just show up, get yourself to the easel and start. Eventually, we gain the momentum and charge forward by the shear act of putting the brush to canvas. Realizing that, I’ve been trying to be kind to myself and less judgmental about not wanting to paint. It’s really ok because everything changes. Even this will change.

So, why masks? Sewing masks or doing anything with your hands is a way of being present to a task with purpose. A task that involves craftsmanship, beauty and function. A task that keeps your hands busy and the mind open at the same time—a fluid state, not unlike a walking meditation. It helps us to embrace the present moment, which is exactly where we need to be.

Maybe tomorrow’s the day I paint that landscape.

More Than Meets the Eye

Susan Patton · Nov 16, 2020 · Leave a Comment

Still Stirring (At 93) by Susan Patton
14″ x 11″ – Oil (This is my grandmother that I speak of.)

Growing up, I remember walking a trail to my grandparents house that was “up the hill” from my house. I would let gravity take me down into the shallow ditch that was on the start of my journey and then scamper up the other side, trying to stay on the beat down pathway. I was enthralled with the sights, sounds, and possibilities of finding treasures around me. I would make it up the grand hill and go into the warm house that smelled of peas cooking on the stove, and see the fresh tomatoes on the newspaper on the floor. My grandmother would give me an old tablecloth and plastic dishes, and I would go through the outdoor “long room” that smelled musty and had a sink with gritty lava soup where the farmers washed up before what they called “dinner” (lunch.) This led to the back porch where I would imagine I had my own little house. 

Now that I am grown, I’m an artist. Nothing influences my painting more than this land, my childhood memories of the farm, and the people in my life. In every painting- whatever the subject- I think of them. 

One example of this is my recent turnip painting. These were planted by my uncle in a patch near my house. I would drive by the rows of green stalks and notice the bright magenta color peeking through the dirt. I decided I would paint a gathering of these, and my husband went out with me to the garden. I walked around slowly and stood looking at the dirt and the vegetation, taking in a memory of the year before, where my whole family gathered to dig potatoes by hand in that same soil, and seeing how these turnips pushed up out of the dirt in a different way. I thought of my uncle out there on his tractor or old black Ford pick up with the tailgate down and hoe in hand as he cared for the plants. My husband looked up and said, “I thought you were going to paint some turnips.” I said, “I am.” What I meant was, I had already begun. It is always more than the shape and color. It is the life behind the subject that I want to capture.

Arrayed in Beauty by Susan Patton
12″ x 36″ – Oil

Another example is in one of my still life paintings. When I was 5 years old, I had a homemade playhouse, made by my dad. It was constructed with plywood and old boards, complete with a “window” and shelves to hold my dishes. I would gather “herbs” (grass) and flour (sometimes actual flour, sometimes sand), and a pitcher of sorts with slightly muddy water in it and stir up delicious mud pies. 

 So when I was gathering materials for this still life demo at my fall retreat workshop, I started with a lovely copper pot but realized I needed something to go with it. I walked outside around the peaceful campground that fall morning to hunt for “just the right thing” to go with my creation. Memories from my childhood came back as I looked around nature. I remembered searching in the undisturbed cool air, with endless possibilities in front of me as I believed anything was possible. In the spirit of childhood belief, I picked up some large acorns, beautiful turning leaves, and set up a still life that I named, Acorn Soup.

Acorn Soup by Susan Patton
11″ x 14″ – Oil   

The subject is not the only thing influenced by my childhood. In every painting, whether a commissioned portrait, or plein air, I try to capture the essence of the person or place- the potential of the subject- to show the viewer that in every scenario there is a story and a purpose that has been going on, and is continuing to unfold.

I haven’t always been an artist. At least not technically. I initially started out as a physical therapist, where I was able to use my attention to detail, sensitive eyes and love for people to evaluate and instruct them in how to get stronger. Now I do the same things as I teach art workshops.

I am a full time artist now, and I still live near that hill I climbed as a young girl to go see my grandmother. Now I climb the shallow hill behind my house to my grown up playhouse that my dad helped build (also known as my art studio) and paint what I call “Memories to Hold On To.”

“At Your Age…?!”

Melanie Stokes · Nov 9, 2020 · Leave a Comment

In Pink Light by Melanie Stokes
20″ x 20″ – Oil

Have you been to a doctor lately and heard the comment, “At your age…”?  I have.  It left me with a rather indignant feeling.  I didn’t really feel old. 

When my husband and I decided to move from Georgia to Texas for retirement years, I couldn’t help but hear the same words in my head, “At your age?…do you really think you can pack up this familiar studio and produce paintings in a new environment?  At your age?…can you find new clients for paintings or new students of painting?   At your age?… is it worth the effort to become valued as an artist in a new place?”

In almost two years, it has been, and still is, a struggle of networking, painting, seeking, learning, and pushing myself to settle into a new place. But the new relationships, the personal growth, the experiences and revelations are always worth the effort.  

Melancholy Sky by Melanie Stokes
24″ x 30″ – Oil

As an “over 60” artist, I look back on my art journey and realize I did not begin growing in painting until my children went away to college.  Painting filled the “empty nest.”  That was about twenty years ago.  When I retired several years ago from a 26 year career of teaching Art and Language Arts in Georgia public schools, I finally had time to focus on painting regularly in my backyard studio.  Life was rocking along. I was involved with a local gallery, painting, selling, teaching, and having several solo shows.  And then, our oldest son in Waco, Texas announced that he was not returning to Georgia and that we needed to “get out here before you get too old!”  (There’s that “at your age” feeling).  My husband said he always wanted to be a cowboy, so we began making plans for a long distance move. 

Ablaze with Color by Melanie Stokes
16″ x 20″ – Oil

“At my age,” I am here to tell you there is time for developing art skills after a transition like a move!  I looked at retirement as moving from my first career to a second one, that of being a full-time artist, so I needed to report to work every day.  Exercises like accepting challenges to paint outside for 30 days, attending workshops, finding communities of artist friends, blogging about the work, watching Lunch & Learn videos from OPA, keeping a sketchbook, and painting some more, will all sharpen skills and expand knowledge. And, the networking of posting on social media, attending art events, talking with people about your work, and listening to them, is also important for getting settled in your new location. 

Nosy Neighbor by Melanie Stokes
20″ x 20″ – Oil

Painting ‘en plein air’ has been a wonderful way to experience my new environment with all of my senses.  We lived on a friend’s ranch for a year while we built our new home. Going outside daily to paint on 85 acres was a wonderful artist’s retreat for me.  I became acquainted with Texas wildflowers I had never seen, so bright with color!  The big Texas sky and the variety of clouds are a constant source of entertainment and challenge for this oil painter.  And I had never had cows for neighbors before! 

This past spring, Covid restrictions emptied the local Baylor University campus.  A new painter friend and I began going weekly to paint in the tranquil, quiet, socially distanced locations around campus.  From that, a Buildings of Baylor series reached a new following. Prints and notecards were suggested and were successful.  The knowledge I gained from this is to find what is important to the people where you are.  Paint what is important to you, but if you want to be valued in your new location, paint what is important to your new audience, also.

Neff Hall – Baylor University by Melanie Stokes
14″ x 11″ – Oil

Recently, a friend was talking with me about plein air painting.  She asked, “What are some things you have learned from it that you can apply to life?”  I couldn’t answer immediately.  But as I’ve pondered, these thoughts come to mind:

  1. Things aren’t always perfect.  The conditions we find ourselves painting in are often a surprise.  We forget needed supplies and make do.  Bugs are biting, sun is blazing, wind is blowing and yet, we adapt with creativity. 
  2. We don’t always have to produce a finished product.  Looking at the canvases as studies, rather than completed paintings freed me to just paint, learn, and enjoy the experience.  
  3. Painting is therapy.  When I am outside, listening to birds, using all five senses, I escape other stresses going on. It puts me in a meditative mode of gratitude. 
  4. Delayed gratification is good.  One of my workshop instructors, Laurel Daniel, emphasized holding all highlights to the end.  It’s tempting to rush ahead to the good part and put the light in too soon, only to lose it in the mix of color.   When we hold those highlights of white with a touch of lemon yellow until the end, they pop at just the right spot!  Delayed gratification is something I want to remember to teach younger generations. 
  5. Art is not instant.  It takes years of learning, practice, mistakes, motivation and determination, at any age. 
At Rest by Melanie Stokes
24″ x 30″ – Oil

“At my age” I enjoy painting life around me, interpreting the beauty I see, choosing what I want to paint, and sharing my thoughts with others through visual images and written words in a blog.  Often my painting sessions turn into deep conversations with myself, often they turn into worship of The Creator, often they are therapy for the heavy turmoil of today’s world, often they are accompanied by my prayers.  

Painting is my passion and brings purpose…even “at my age” and hopefully, in the ages to come!

Redemption by Melanie Stokes
30″ x 24″ – Oil

Art, the Meaning of Life, and Hummingbird Moths

Mrs. Isolde Sarnecki · Nov 2, 2020 · Leave a Comment

Once, when I was still teaching art, the new principal asked my colleagues and me, about that, which gave us the most joy. I told him that there was nothing like a snow day. A whole day given, to do absolutely nothing more than what pleases you. He seemed shocked by my irreverence. Like my colleagues, I should have taken more pride in my family, I know. But I remember those sporadic days, without demands and without time limits, looking up from the watercolor on my drafting table, at the gray and cloudy sky, and watching the snow fall silently. It was magical. 

Orange Flash by Isolde Sarnecki
Watercolor, 2020

I came late to painting. At one time, I did receive a BFA in graphic design, but back then, that entailed making fancy letters with a graphic design pen. When I graduated from college, design pens had become a thing for the quaint tools museum, because Steve Jobs had invented the Mac with all the fonts software you could possibly need.

Fifth of December, Quilt, 1993

I had my three beautiful daughters. And I made quilts in stolen moments, while they were watching Mr. Rogers and Sesame Street on a 13 inch tv. Not the kind of quilts made from patchwork blocks, but whole scenes of appliqué, mostly wistful memories of my childhood in the Netherlands. And then, as you read earlier, I became an art teacher.

“The purpose of life is to discover your gift. The meaning of life is to give it away.” Picasso? Shakespeare? anyone?

I have retired from teaching, but I often think that I should have kept my day job. After all, the children thought that for the most part, art class was fun, plus, they gave me a paycheck. The work on my easel is often anything but fun and I spend more money on my art than I earn. “You have such talent”, my friends say, after I have wrestled with all the elements of design for weeks or months and have finally produced a painting. We painters do a lot of pretending. My friends picture me sitting at my easel in a state of divine inspiration, surrounded by the things I love. That last part is true. I have a small studio and I have surrounded myself with the colors and stuff of inspiration. I do love being there.  But as you know, the activity of painting is complicated and demanding.  You can’t shake a painting from your sleeve. (Dutch proverb) Every painting presents new challenges that have to be solved and when things don’t work out, as they so often don’t, it can be a disagreeable process. The rare and stolen moments of my snow days have become thousands of hours of hard work.

Doughnuts and Fiesta Ware by Isolde Sarnecki, Oil on Canvas 2020 Virtual Juried Oil Painters of America, Salon Show

There are many days when I want to abandon the great aspiration in my life so that I won’t have to deal with the frustration. But I press on, for I know that it won’t be the end of me to overcome obstacles, which are essentially manageable discomforts, in order to find a solution. I work hard, I read and I study, because some day I want to attain mastery. But why?  

Beach Hat by Isolde Sarnecki
Fifth Place, non-commissioned portrait, Portrait Society, December 2018

“An insufficiency in the self, the need to be a snail, leaving a trail of yourself as you move through the world. Hansel, leaving a trail of crumbs to lead you home.” William Kentridge on why we make art.

A young and talented painter asked me once what I would do if my paintings would fetch 6 figures. I chuckled. She’s young. As the reader realizes by now; I am older and perhaps wiser. At this stage, I know that this is not the reason why I paint. Yes, I can see many successful young people rightly become painters of great distinction, and I can wish, but, “You’re welcome, we, art teachers, taught you well” 

Benediction by Isolde Sarnecki
Oil on Canvas, 2020   

And thus we have arrived at the part about the hummingbird moth, as the title of this blog suggested. I remember one summer looking at an amazing bug, flying around my butterfly bush. An entomologist friend told me that I had been observing a hummingbird moth. An insect with wings like a hummingbird that used its long proboscis like a hummingbird to get to the nectar in the flowers. “Some people live their whole lives without ever seeing one,” she said. It struck me as profound, because I have always felt that the eye that sees, is self aware and is a link to the great order of all that is. I paint because I want to share the things and the people that I’ve seen. I want to hold on to that moment, when my eye has become aware. And hopefully, for a while at least, I can convey that I looked for something that made you, or the world we live in, precious to me. I know that mastery is an unattainable goal. But passion and commitment is what counts, and yes, despite the struggles, it is very satisfying.

Yvette by Isolde Sarnecki
Finalist, Bold Brush Painting Competition, April 2018

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