What Is Art?
December 15, 2009
With squinted eyes we study our subject, comparing shadow to shadow, light to light. We use a visual vocabulary and time passes, virtually unnoticed, as we put brush to canvas, expressing emotion through the constructs of thought and reason. We live in the world of shapes, values, colors and edges. We build form with the raw material of it’s constituent parts. Our vision gives birth to a new reality in paint. We call it art!
But what is Art? The painter is required to find good answers to difficult questions. How many of us have a good answer for that one? It’s worth some thought, especially if we plan to continue the journey from painter to artist.
Not long ago I posed the question to a group of students. Their quick, unanimous reply surprised me, “Art is anything we say it is”. “Then a crucifix in a bowl of urine really is art”, I wondered aloud. Can the definition of art be completely relative? If so, the logical conclusion is that snail trails on the sidewalk might be art. Relative thought leads to exhibitions which include garish color, poor drawing and confused perspectives. It’s thick, lavish, expenditures of paint, straight from the tube, no mixing involved. It’s gallery wrap painted on the sides and mixed media with giant over-sized anything with flames. It’s painted collages of blue feet with wings. Refinement? What’s that? Who care’s? It’s all relative. It’s a free country. Many purveyors, collectors and lovers of visual expression think this way. It is their right. What if some of us dare to be different? Well, that’s OUR right!
How about the modernist credo, “Art is what I do”. Does that definition make sense? Only if the adherent is indeed an artist. What if our slimey snail friend could speak and he said, “Art is what I do”? Then snail trails would be art! I can’t live with that. Besides, I have seen art that I did NOT do. If art is also what others do then there must be more to it’s definition.
The Modernist movement, according to Thomas Wolfe, author of The Painted Word, featured paintings and sculptures exhibited alongside placards written to explain what the thing was or what it’s creator intended. Forty years earlier, landscape artist John F. Carlson wrote, “In good art, the results do not have to be explained. As a matter of fact , there is but one kind of art and that is good art. There is no comfortable halfway station; it is either fine, or it is not art.”
What adjectives, then, when applied to visual expression raise it to the category of fine art? How about a list of potentials? Fine Art is:
- tasteful
- beautiful
- dignified
- interesting
- intelligent
- simple
- complex
- expressive
- inviting
- soulful
- decorative
- valuable
Fine Art is also how we respond to it. It is:
- felt
- enjoyed
- contemplated
- understood
- purchased
The lists are by no means exhaustive. No doubt you will want to add to them. I hope you do. The more we expand them, the more we realize, this is a deep well. These adjectives describe a whole. That’s another attribute of art. It is whole. It is not it’s parts. Carlson said, “Art is the expressive putting together of parts into a beautiful whole…” This makes sense considering that a whole is an idea supported by the harmony of it’s subordinate parts.
Still, no definition of Art could be complete without mentioning what art does. What does art do? Again, I defer to the voice of John F. Carlson who said, “A work of art possesses a calm dignity that waits quietly to enthrall the eye and soul. It does not scream out, nor yet hide behind cryptic or esoteric symbols. Its beauty appeals to all, the difference is in degree. It’s strength lies in the felt fountain of reserve and not in breathless exhaustion.”
For those of us aspiring to produce this kind of art the mountain seems steep and tall. Our heroes, whose works inspire us, exist in some rarified air. It was through hard work and perseverance that they made their ascent. It is also through hard work and perseverance that we will make ours. Some of us will approach the summit, many of us will not. We will all reach new heights. We will behold previously unperceived vistas. We will make artful use of our visual vocabulary to convey the beauties beheld to those not called to behold. Art is beauty beheld and communicated to others!
Always Put Warm Sky Color Down First!
October 18, 2009
In my last post, When Fall Color Turns Values Topsy Turvy, the readership suffered my lamentations over a seemingly endless summer. Well guess what, after intensifying over the last two weeks, the summer heat has finally given way to some cool weather. Today’s forecast high is in the upper 60’s. It’s time for all you Florida artists to get out and paint in the “open air”.
I have been absent from the blogosphere for a couple weeks because I was participating in “Painting the Region: The Bartram Trail”. It was a plein air event that took place along the St. John’s River in and around Switzerland, Fl. The already beautiful scenery which included parks along the river and a working ranch was enhanced by dramatically cloudy skies. Not be confined by “suggested painting” territories I ventured into other areas and found a marine painters heaven. I’ll write about this gorgeous location later this week.
Today I want to show you two of the eight pieces I painted during the 4 day event and talk a little about color and value in the sky mass. Here they are:
The painting of the dock with “Old Glory” is, obviously enough, facing directly into the sun. The one of the sailboat in “Haul-out” is a face lit subject with the sun at my back and slightly off to the left. Let’s talk a little about how value and color behave given these two different lighting situations.
Facing into a sun which was fairly low in the sky everything was imbued with an orange yellow tone. The glare of light “washed out” the color making it less intense. I actually under-painted the sky with a pale orange yellow. I graded the under-painting to contain slightly more red away from the sun and almost no red near the sun. I then painted cool blue sky color into the still wet under paint. As you see, the result is a subtle vibration of pale warm and cool. Perfect for an evening sky.
This particular scene included the effects of some dense humidity which not only cooled and subdued all of the colors but brought the values of sky, horizontal and vertical planes, with the exception of the back lit tree mass, into a fairly close range. The result is a very tonal and simple four value painting. If I were to use this study as reference material for a studio painting I would probably try to wash out the colors in the sky and water further and put more intense color into the back lit tree.
“Haul-out” was painted at the same time of day at another location on the other side of the river. Since the sun is behind me all of the colors are more intense. The ground and upright planes were endowed with a certain warmth. The sky is bright and intense with the abiding presence of purplish blue. I actually under-painted this sky with a pale red. I graded the value of the under-paint getting slightly darker from left to right and slightly lighter from top to bottom. While the under-paint was still wet I painted the sky blues into it making sure to include a temperature change from green-blue to red-blue as I moved from left to right. These subtle gradations in color and value were mainly because the sun was not only behind me but slightly off to the left. The daylight sky is always lighter and warmer nearer the sun.
In his book, Gruppe On Painting, Emile A. Gruppe says, “With paint, it’s always easier to make a warm color cool than it is to make a cool one warm. So always put down your warm sky color first.” (page 40 - Color in Nature). He recommends putting down yellow when looking into the sun, orange when the sun is off to one side, and red when the sun is behind. “You’ll be surprised how little cool color is necessary to make the sky look natural“, he says. He also says that students almost always use too much blue. Interestingly enough, John F. Carlson said the exact same thing about student’s skies.
Later this week I will be traveling to the east coast of Florida for the Crescent Beach Paint Out. It’s a great event and I will be staying in a cabin just one block from the Atlantic Ocean near a ramp that allows cars to drive onto the beach. I hope the surf is up!!! I luv me sum wave paintings! Why not come check out the event? The weather is great for a road trip.
Painting the “Essentials”
September 28, 2009
The “essentials”, also called “the critical information”, which I mentioned in the the previous post, are so called because our paintings will not work without them. The Four Value Planes and the Five Types of Light are the pieces of information that we need to look for as we paint. We need to state them effectively as they relate to each other in life. Notice in Sorolla’s painting how definite he was about his three value planes (no slanted planes in this one). The sky is the lightest, the flat lying plane of the water is second and the uprights of the men and boat are comparatively dark. Failure to understand this point will mean that our paintings will not “read” properly. Anyone who has taken his or her supplies outdoors to paint a landscape from life can attest to the fact that it is possible for things to get out of hand. Winston Churchill put it this way: “The pictorial battlefield becomes a sea of mud mercifully veiled by the fog of war. It is evident there has been a serious defeat.” (LOL) Usually this happens because we have lost touch with the critical information.
In his “Guide to Landscape Painting“, John F. Carlson said, “There probably never was a picture that was poor because it lacked detail or subject matter; rather the opposite. Bad paintings are usually so overloaded with useless detail that the essentials are obliterated.” That is not to say that detail is bad a thing only that useless detail will detract from your work. The statement also implies that bad paintings suffer from a lack of essentials. Which of course begs the question, “How can I proceed in a way that avoids missing this critical information?”
I don’t want to lay down rules of procedure for starting a canvas outdoors but I feel I should give a hint for beginners to follow. You can start by arranging your four value planes in a flat poster-like design. Give them unequal weight, in the light and dark sense, trying to follow nature as you go. After these value masses are clearly stated you can proceed to their beautification through the painting of form (the Five Types of Light) within each mass. We’ll pick up there next time. For now I am going to leave you with another field study done at my favorite place in Ft. Desoto Park, Pinellas Co., Fl. This was done on a completely overcast day. I started it in the way described above. This scene has only three value planes mainly because there are no mountains in Florida. (Although if you watch any of the old Elvis movies which were set in Ft. Lauderdale or Miami their are always beautiful mountains in the background.) Within in the three value planes there are five different value masses. The sky is one, the horizontal plane has two (water and muck), and the upright plane has two as well (distant trees and foreground trees).
The Form Principle Part II
August 29, 2009
Last week, with the help of the late 19th century still life painters William Mason Brown, William Merritt Chase and John Singer Sargent, I began to explain the Form Principle. You may recall that I quoted Andrew Loomis’ definition of the Form Principle from his book Creative Illustration. Here it is again:
The Form Principle is the rendering of form as to its aspect at any given moment with regard to its lighting, its structure and texture, together with it’s true relationship to it’s environment.
I also introduced a set of abstractions called the Five Types of Light to help with the discussion. Here those are again:
- Light
- Shadow
- Midtone
- Accents
- Reflected Light
Last week I also promised a rare figure drawing. It’s rare only because I don’t do a lot of them. Even though it was never finished I think it will help me explain the Five Types of Light.
You will notice a strip of dark value which meanders down the right side of the model’s torso. Everything to the left of this line is in the light. Everything to the right of this line, including the line, is in the shadow. Some call this line the “terminator” (not in reference to AHHrnold) because it marks the point on the form where the light “terminates” and the shadow begins. Another way to think of it is as the point where the form finally turns away from the light. The terminator is always, the darkest part of the shadow for two reasons. One, it receives no illumination from the main source of light (in this case, upper left). And two, it also receives the least amount of reflected light (more on that in a moment). The division of the form into light and shadow seems a little obvious but it is often overlooked, especially by student artists. I emphasize light and shadow, as well as the other three types of light, because it is important that we develop the conscious habit of working in terms of these abstractions. The Five Types of Light are a kind of visual language that can be used to describe all subjects. As soon as the student learns to paint lights, shadows, midtones, accents and reflected lights instead of peaches, heads, trees, etc. their confidence in handling all types of subject matter will increase.
Notice that within the “light” side of our model’s torso, as the eye moves left to right, there is a gradual darkening of value such that; the darkest part of the light is next to the terminator line. This darkest part of the light is called the midtone. Midtone is considered part of the “light” because it is illuminated by our main light source. It is the part of the form that is starting to turn away from the light. It is the darkest part of the “light” because it no longer receives the light directly. It receives the light obliquely. I always think of midtone as part of the light especially with regard to still life, portrait or figurative work. There are times in landscape painting outdoors when I think it makes sense to think of midtone in shadow, too. But that is a subject for another post.
(I am posting the drawing again so you won’t have to page up and down to refer to it.)
That brings me to accents, which are fourth on the list of The Five Types of Light. Accents are divided into two subcategories. There are light accents and dark accents. The light accents are easily recognizable and always exist in the light. They are the highlights on the form. Because they are the lightest lights they would have no place in the shadow. Indeed nothing on the shadow side of your form should be as light as anything on the light side. In this drawing you will find the highlights mainly on the model’s pectoral muscles, near the areola. Dark accents are a little more widely dispersed in our subject. They are often completely surrounded by shadow the way light accents are surrounded by light, but not always. The dark accents are the little darkest darks that we can easily find by squinting at our subject. In the drawing above I would think of the navel as a dark accent. There is also one in between the shadow of his right arm and the light of his torso. There is another in the arm pit area of his left arm. I think the hair, for the most part, could be considered a dark accent. When the discussion comes around to landscape painting we will see how significant dark accents can be.
Last, but not least, we have reflected light. For the sake of discussion I feel it necessary to make the distinction between reflected light and reflections of objects. Reflections of objects are a type of reflected light and they can occur in the light or the shadow. Reflections are not integral to the transmission of form but are helpful in the painting of certain textures. For instance, painting of reflections is usually essential to the painting of metallic objects. Reflected light, on the other hand, is essential to the transmission of form. It is a secondary light source that is evident in the shadow. It is caused by light from the main source reflecting off of something and back into the shadow. Whatever reflects the light back into the shadow can be outside of the picture frame or not. It is the reason that a shadow gets lighter in value away from the “terminator” line. Reflected light is always lower in value than light, midtone or light accents. Student artists, not yet accustomed to judging values with “squinted eyes”, always tend to overstate the value of reflected light. Overstating the value of reflected light will cause the form to flatten out. In my unfinished figure drawing the sense of volume in the form could be helped by reducing the value of the reflected light. If I were to work on the drawing again I would start there.
That concludes the explanation of the Five Types of Light, but only in regard to value. That is to say, how light and dark they are relative to each other. In the next post I will begin to discuss how color behaves in the context of the Five Types of Light. All this is leading up to their application in landscape painting. Here again is Sargent’s self – portrait, so you can look at the Five Types of Light especially in the form across his forehead. I offer intensive study of the Five Types of Light in my class at Suntan Art Center on St. Pete Beach.
Effective Positioning of Values
August 13, 2009
Here is another painting from the Museum of Fine Art in St. Petersburg, Fl. This piece by Thomas Worthington Whittredge is either a new aquistion or fresh out of storage because I had not seen it before. Whittredge (1820-1910), a Hudson River School Artist, was friends with Sanford Robinson Gifford and John Frederick Kensett. (Their names tempt me to insist that everyone call me Robert James Simone all the time!) During the ten years (1849-1859) he spent in Europe, Whittredge studied at the Dusseldorf Academy and met Albert Bierstadt and Emanuel Leutze. He posed as both George Washington and as a steersman in Leutze’s famous painting Washington Crossing the Delaware.
Like other Hudson River School Artists, Whittredge often produced large scale paintings. However, this one in the St. Pete collection is small, about 18″ x 14″. Despite its small size I think it contains a key learning point. To put it in the words of Stapleton Kearns, Whittredge “stacked his values”. That is, he positioned different values one in front of another. Notice the dark value cypress tree in front of the medium value house which is front of the light value clouds. Simple, I know, but very effective. It helps create depth and interest. The painting “reads” clearly because of it. We can employ this strategy whether we paint landscapes, still life, portraits or figures. We can use it working in the studio or en plein air. Today’s plein air artists often forget to take advantage of design techniques like this. Many believe plein air painting is about capturing “a moment” and so they work to record the scene in front of them without changes. Others, myself included, believe the artist’s job is to create a work of art using nature as reference material. Those who hold this viewpoint are more likely to rearrange and design the scene before them.
These different viewpoints remind of that story about the monkey…The one where they tied a bottle to a tree and put a peanut in it. When the monkey reached in to grasp the peanut he couldn’t get his closed fist out of the bottle. Then they put a pile of peanuts just out of reach of his other hand. All the monkey had to do was let go of the one peanut so he could get his hand out of the bottle and reach the whole pile. But he wouldn’t do it.
The mention of this story is not to deride or ridicule those of you who like to maintain complete fidelity to your scene. It’s only to encourage you to let go once in awhile. Those times when you do take liberties will strengthen your ability to select dynamic scenes when you want to “capture the moment”
I hope this helps. Until next week….
Obtain Brilliant Color in Your Paintings!
August 6, 2009
Here is another one of my all time favorite paintings. This one is by Louis Remy Mignot. Mignot was an American Creole and member of the Hudson River School. He enjoyed a brief but well traveled career as an artist until his death in 1870 at the ripe old age of 39. This stunning piece is in the permanent collection at the High Museum in Atlanta, Ga. If you have not visited the High you should check it out next time you do Hotlanta.
There are a lot of wonderful things I could say about this painting and numerous learning points to be had from it for sure. But for now I want to focus on its overall sense of saturation and bright color.
Viewed in person it is easy to tell that Mignot held his value range in reserve. He had room to go darker and lighter. Nothing in the painting approaches black or white. Extreme values are not making it look bright.
Mignot held his colors in pretty good reserve, too. The colors of both the upright and ground planes are pretty gray; as are the cloud shadows. The band of yellow across the sky is washed out and somewhat neutral, too. The key to this paintings bright color lies in how Mignot placed those bands of orange, his most intense colors, in the light but right next to shadow. (How many of you think it happened this way while Louis was out plein air painting and he “captured the moment”? I digress, that’s another post altogether.)
In his book, Creative Illustration, the famous illustrator Andrew Loomis put it this way:
It is not necessarily true that the color in the brightest light is always the strongest color. Light, being white, can dilute color, just as can the white on your palette. In order to reach the high value we may be forced to to lighten the color. Yet on the next planes, which are the halftone planes, color may be more intense, being still in the light. So then, the halftones may contain the most brilliant color….Here is one of the best ways in the world to obtain brilliancy of color: Keep your color most intense on the edges of the lighted areas, where it merges into shadow. (p. 152-53, C.I.)
This is a universal truth. It works for everybody. All top artists employ this strategy to some extent or another. (Check your favorites and see if they aren’t using it.)
Those of you whodo a lot a still life or portrait painting are probably keenly aware of the fact. You probably realize that the halftones are where you see, not only the most intense color, but most of your local color, too. It came to me in the form of an epiphany while painting a still life. Since that day great paintings and great books on painting continually validate the insight. It was probably something I had read numerous times and failed to comprehend and until that day it finally pierced my consciousness.
Here is a recent, 8×10 field study done at a favorite location. Beaches are a great place to paint but the glare off of brightly lit sand can obliterate color. Here I placed some warm pinks at the edge of the light, next to the shadow. This was done back in the studio. Prior to these minor touches the painting looked colorless. I think it works a lot better now.
Loomis-An Excellent Resource for Developing Artists
July 21, 2009

Not surprisingly there are labels given to artists that describe their state of development, their place on the totem pole. There are student artists, emerging artists, artists to watch, and master artists to name a few. I suppose, or least I hope, that out of all the different labels given to artists, the one I will never outgrow is developing artist. I never want to stop learning, growing and accumulating knowledge. Discovery and new understanding are central to the adventure of being an artist. With understanding and practice we reach new plateaus, without one or the other progress is slower. Finding a new book, or in most cases an old one, is like unearthing a precious gem. One such precious gem that I am quickly wearing out the pages of is Andrew Loomis’ Creative Illustration.
Loomis (1892-1959) was born in New York but spent most of his adult life in Chicago working as an illustrator. He authored six (6) books which continue to influence realist artists today. Loomis’ family owns the rights to his books but has not expressed any intention to republish them. Used copies of the books seem readily available online and most of them are expensive. For instance, Drawing the Head and Hands by Andrew Loomis, starts around $125. Creative Illustration, however, is another story. This highly sought after title routinely goes for prices starting at $180 on up. I have seen it priced as high as $950. Another, well written, highly prized Loomis title, Eye of the Painter, is also difficult to find and pricey when you do.
So in tough economic times what’s a starving artist to do? Take heart there are viable alternatives. There are a couple of places online where the books can be downloaded for free. Click here for one and here for another. Download the pdf to your computer or a disk. I downloaded to a disk which I took to a local printer. He printed Creative Illustration and bound it for me for less than $50. This way I don’t have to sit at a computer or laptop to read it. I can enjoy it the old fashion way. (With a flashlight in bed!)
Creative Illustration really is a great book. Although directed toward illustrators there is nothing in the book which would be dispensable for fine artists. Loomis sets forth the truths of visual representation couched in a basis for approach called “The Form Principle”. Then the function of such concepts as Line, Tone, Color are explained as they pertain to the form principle. But he doesn’t stop there. Loomis also goes in depth offering techniques for developing ideas, practice and study.
It’s my intention to use the next few articles to highlight this formidable and definitive text as I read through it.
Jocularity from Winston Churchill!
June 9, 2009
One of the perks to being a fine artist working in St. Petersburg, Florida is the presence of Haslaam’s Books. This locally owned, one of a kind establishment has tons of great used books at reasonable prices. Recently my monthly excursion to their section of used art books turned up a copy of Painting as a Pastime by Winston S. Churchill. Yes, THE Winston Churchill! For those you who haven’t heard the famous statesman took up painting later in life. He was extremely passionate and understood it well even though he hadn’t mastered it. In this brief, 31 page essay, Churchill uses the vernacular of war to relate the experience of painting. I thought the following passage absolutely hilarious and poignant:
….it is in the use and withholding of their reserves that the great Commanders have generally excelled. After all, when once the last reserve has been thrown in, the Commander’s part is played. If that does not win the battle, he has nothing else to give. The event must be left to luck and to the fighting troops. But these last, in the absence of high direction, are apt to get into sad confusion, all mixed together in a nasty mess, without order or plan- and consequently without effect. Mere masses count no more. The largest brush, the brightest colours, cannot even make an impression. The pictorial battlefield becomes a sea of mud mercifully veiled by the fog of war. It is evident there has been a serious defeat. Even though the General plunges in himself and emerges bespattered, as he sometimes does, he will not retrieve the day.
I can hardly stop laughing! “…sad confusion, all mixed together in a nasty mess….It is evident there has been a serious defeat.” A little plein air painting anyone? Those of you who have traveled to Idaho for a Scott Christensen workshop will recognize the quote. Anyone who has ever painted has “Been There Done That”!
Until next time, keep laughing and keep painting!
Wise Words From Andrew Loomis!
February 10, 2009
In his book “The Eye of the Painter” published by Viking Press ca, 1950, the famous artist and illustrator Andrew Loomins offers these wise words:
“It is foolish for the artist to try to compete with the camera in achieving fidelity to detail. Better that he use his creative and imaginative powers and direct his efforts toward design. Even if he uses a camera for working material, the artist can still concentrate upon the things that a camera cannot do; he can subordinate and eliminate, design and rearrange, simplify and take other liberties to project his idea more forcefully.”
In my own teaching experience I find the biggest downfall of student work is in the attempt to record every nuance of detail. Most developing, and even some experienced artists fail to understand how the human eye works. I think it is an outgrowth of photography and a “snapshot” mentality. The electronic eye of the camera tends to record detail evenly across the frame. Having seen tons of photos we easily fall into the trap of thinking we should paint that way, too. In reality the human eye doesn’t see that way. The human eye sees detail in the narrow frame of things it is focused on while details are “sketchy” in the things we see out of our peripheral vision. Basically, you can’t focus on the dirt on your windshield and the car 25 yards ahead of you at the same time. You can only focus on one or the other. (Try it if you don’t believe me but please, do so while parked at a museum, not while driving and using the cell phone!) What happens to painters is that we forget this truth and paint our subordinate elements with same amount of detail as we do our center of interest. This is extremely prevalent amongst students in my still life classes. It happens when they shift there attention from the center of interest. The don’t realize that they shifted their focus, too. We can avoid this mistake by remembering to paint subordinate elements the way they look to our peripheral vision while we focus on our center of interest. Keep your sharpest edges, most intense color and highest contrast on your center of interest and generally in the light rather than shadows. Don’t spread them all over the canvas.
Robert Henri sez…
March 25, 2008
It is harder to see than it is to express. The whole value of art rests in the artist’s ability to see well into what is before him….If the eyes of a Rembrandt are upon the model she will rise in response and Rembrandt will draw what he sees, and it will be beautiful. Rembrandt was a man of great understanding. He had the rare power of seeing deep into the significance of things….A genius is one who can see. Others can often draw remarkably well. There kind of drawing, however, is not very difficult. They can change about. They can make their sight fit the easiest way for their drawing. As their seeing is not particular it does not matter. With the seer it is different. Nothing will do but the most precise statement. He must not only bend technique to his will, but he must invent technique that will especially fit his need. He is not one who floats affably in his culture. His the blazer of the road for what he has to bring. Those who get their technique first, expecting sight to come to them later, get a technique of a very ready- made order



















