Critiquing Your Own Work OR "Is it finished yet?"

Whenever I go "off" blogging and return, I am shocked at how long it has been. February, huh? Well, a lot HAS happened since February. Since then, my son decided what college to attend, we found out we were moving to an unexpected location, I sold our house (myself), negotiated a crazy summer of planned travel, packed up two houses, bought a boat, moved into a new house, took son to college, picked daughter up from camp, and started unpacking. Months later, we are almost through. The last dozen or so boxes are waiting on my attention, but making artwork had to start happening to maintain my own sanity.

I've done four watercolors and one mixed media piece since the move. My style is starting to change, but that is a post for another day. Today, I want to share a bit about how I decide when a painting is finished and how crucial those last decisions can be.

My latest painting is titled Lots of Spots. I was so excited to paint this stingray when I took his/her photo in September. The challenge this would be started to dawn on me as soon as I began drawing. A yellow spotted stingray is all dots. ALL DOTS. Hundreds of dots (thousands?) are not fun to draw. I realized that they would not be fun to paint either. I completed the drawing and set it aside. Weeks passed.

Eventually, I decided I was ready for the challenge of painting this guy. I sat for a long time considering how to go about it. In reality, this stingray is brown. A bazillion different shades from ecru to golden brown to caramel to almost black. I could have painted it that way. But, I didn't. The palette that I had open was one that I got in preparation for Jane Paul Angelhart's portrait workshop. I've added a few personal favorites to her recommended palette, but I still think of her instruction when I look at the brilliant orange and the permanent green #1.

So, I decided that all "browns" would be created by layering complementary colors AND I would leave the edge of each color showing on purpose. I probably should have taken more photos along the way, but once I'm in "the zone," I hate to stop painting. I usually on take a photo when life causes me to put down the brush.

Here is the first photo:

As you can see, most areas only have one or two layers of color. I choose the colors rather randomly from the palette, knowing that almost every area of the painting will have several layers.

The next time that I sat down to paint, I thought I would be able to finish the painting. Above is the second photo that I took (for Instagram, hence square). I was pleased with how I was beginning to create dimension and a sense of depth on the back fin.

The following day, I really thought that I had only an hour or so left to complete this painting. About three hours later, I decided it was done.  I hung it on the wall and took the photo below:

 Something about it was still bothering me. My first method of analysis is to stare at the painting from about ten feet away. Often, things that seem great when you are ten inches from the paper are glaringly wrong from across the room. Most artwork will be viewed from a distance, so be sure to keep this in mind.

When staring at it on the wall didn't quite work, I pulled up the thumbnails on my phone. when the image is a half inch square, lights and darks are compressed and colors are muted. Solutions to visual problems are frequently revealed when you do this. I'm starting to get clues now! The foreground fin needs more contrast in value.

To better see where the darks are most needed, I saved the photo in black and white. Below, the flatness in that area is apparent, especially when compared to the background fin.

 So, I painted a little more. I experimented with losing the front edge into the background, but decided I didn't like it. Then I decided the background itself needed more richness and depth. I added several layers there. Then, I felt like the background didn't "match the image. It was dark and brooding. I decided it would benefit from tiny bits of bright color. At one point, I thought I had lost my mind and ruined the entire thing, but then, it started to make visual sense. The stingray began to belong in the painting instead of merely float in a rectangle. The flow of the background values began strengthen the composition.

To complete this post, I'll add the final version as a black and white photo too.

Can you see the increased depth and improved composition?

And....just for fun, here is a detail of the painting, so that you can see all of the layers of bright color that build the overall image.

Pointillistic in some ways I guess. Painting so many dots ended up being fun after all!

I hope that this post will give you ways of seeing your work with fresh eyes and help you know when a painting is completed. Additional methods for evaluating and critiquing your work that you can also try:

Look at your work in a mirror. 

Look at the work upside down. 

Put it away or facing the wall for several days and then look at it again.

On the Bike Circuit

This is my friend's teenaged son. He is on the racing circuit. I can barely stand my son driving a car flat on the ground. I'm not sure how she manages to be "heart attack-free" watching him fly through the air, but as in all things, I am sure it happened by degrees.

Several months ago, she posted some photos online and I commented on them. She commissioned me to paint one as a gift for him.

I love the image. I love the painting. I hope they like it too!

Reworking

What happens when you let a painting sit around the studio? Sometimes you decide to take another shot at it. Wednesday was one of those days. There were things I liked about the original take, but overall, it felt flat or cutout or something. I think the visual flow is improved and I really like the red in the trees. I'm still trying to figure out "how" I like painting acrylics. I like the staining watercolor look as well as the impasto "oil-like" look. I'm trying to develop "my style."

Below, are my favorite acrylics of 2013. What do you think they have in common? Comments desired!

The Next (Big?) Thing

I look admiringly at people who are able to stick to size or style or medium over an extended period of time. I was unable to make myself stick to the same size for even a few weeks during January's 30 in 30 Challenge. I know that I am not alone in this. My studio partner paints both abstracts and landscapes. He is currently teaching an abstract class and told me that he always wants to do the opposite of what he is teaching.

Since February, I've been painting in watercolor. No acrylics. No printmaking. On March first, I put alcohol inks away too. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE watercolor. It is probably my favorite thing to paint with. But, for me at least, it is a bit like the thought of eating only your favorite meal every day. I still like it, but I have been dreaming of paint abstractly in acrylic, or working on a new printmaking series.

My watercolor show has been painted and all of the new pieces have been framed. I have two commissions to complete and then, I will begin my new series...

I've been taking photos with my phone while driving and occasionally riding in a car or metro. (Don't freak out. Traffic crawls here and I'm not trying to take good pictures. In fact, the worse they come out the better.) Here are images that are inspiring me to paint a series. I haven't decided what size, but not small. I have no idea if I will even be able to match the finished works back to the photos, but it gives me a starting point for expression!

“Never, never, never give up.” ― Winston Churchill

It is so strange how alcohol ink paintings can go from one thing to another is barely more than the blink of an eye.

This "poor painting" started out as part of the Color Field experiment that I was doing for a call for entry. I had high hopes for the concept, but it just didn't end up looking like I had hoped.

Then, I reworked it and came up with this painting. Compositionally, the sun is too big and is competing with the grove of trees that actually looks pretty good. I decided to leave the trees and wipe the rest of the board clean and start over. On yupo paper this works well. On clayboard, the board doesn't release the ink as readily. As I wiped, I thought, "Wait a minute here. I like what is happening!" So, I stopped wiping, added a few drops of blender and paint and took a look.

It's one of my favorite alcohol ink paintings to date.

"Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time." - Thomas A. Edison