Plein air, or outdoor painting, has been a consistent part of my painting career since the mid 80’s, and I struggle as much or more today as I did when I first ventured outside with my paints. That isn’t to suggest that I haven’t learned anything in 35 years – my skills have certainly expanded and I can capture aspects of the landscape today that I didn’t think to look for then, but experience doesn’t make it easier on me.
That, I believe, is the reason painting is a lifelong pursuit. It remains challenging and engaging even as our mastery multiplies because our vision experiences a compounding effect – the more we paint the more we see, and our newly enhanced view intensifies our desires to share what we see with others – which in turn requires increasingly heightened abilities to convey our broadened vision elegantly.
Reading and studying are part of my daily routine – at least an hour a day. One of the culminating realizations produced by consuming thousands of instructional books, DVDs, podcasts and videos is that the products we love and that make our lives comfortable and convenient, that beautify our homes and enrich our experiences, are not generally never-before-seen, groundbreaking or revolutionary. They are simply incremental improvements and modifications of existing thoughts, movements, practices and products.
We don’t need to reinvent the painting wheel.
Studying the old and new masters and immersing ourselves in paint and canvas, whether in the studio or out on location, is the quickest way to master the craft of landscape and floral painting and produce what just might become one of the incremental expansions of the already breathtaking array of masterworks found throughout the world.
My hope is that sharing experiences I have as an artist will inspire and inform your ideas so that you can then improve and build upon what I have accomplished. Of course, I will then hope you share what you have discovered so I can learn from you!
Before we get to the step-by-step instruction, let me tell you a bit about the preparation for filming and painting this piece.
Filming my painting process adds a lot of complication to the whole experience. I haven’t used an umbrella for a couple decades, preferring to paint with the light source right on my painting and palette, mainly because umbrellas are inconvenient – they take time away from what I really want to do – paint.
Unfortunately, I discovered on our cross-country painting excursion last March that just because I can see my canvas perfectly doesn’t mean the camera can (which I didn’t discover until we got home and I started editing the filming for our community and found more glare than painting staring back at me).
So, for the filming of this river scene, I bought a large 7-foot photography umbrella that would cover both my painting and palette at the same time. It worked great for about 15 seconds until a tiny gust of wind toppled it over the river bank and snapped the hollow shaft near the top – I in turn snapped one of my smaller Rosemary brushes in half to splice the shaft together and using some twine jerry-rigged the umbrella so it would remain open and shield my painting.
You can probably imagine my disappointment when I discovered I had set my supplies on a strategically placed patch of poison ivy.
Such are the travails of outdoor painting.
Fortunately, like many of you know already, the hardships pale in comparison with the joys of painting surrounded by sounds of rustling leaves and the rush of water across shallow river beds as geese announce their arrival with nasal trumpeted greetings.
Each of those inconveniences ended up costing me painting time. Between the malfunctions and the normal setup of cameras and equipment – my 4:30 ‘catch-the-late-afternoon-sun’ painting slot shrank from a solid 3-4 hours to less than 2 hours each day, before the fading light forced me to pack up.
In retrospect, that might have become an advantage because it compelled me to concentrate on the essentials and paint quickly, not overworking or adding unnecessary details. This painting was completed with two nights on location (about 1 ½ hours each evening) and a day in the studio to finish the bridge. I would have gone out a third evening, but it rained steadily the next day and continued for several days. The rain wouldn’t be a show stopper for normal plein air painting, but it wreaks havoc on camera equipment, plus the lighting – and thus the values and colors – is altered dramatically.
Let’s go ahead and jump into the 9 steps, including some of my struggles and discoveries as I painted White River Crossing for our East Coast Plein Air Experience art training course. After we conclude the 9 steps we’ll pull it all together in a fast motion training video found at the end of this post.
* If you’re passionate about Plein Air painting, and want to continue learning past these 9 steps, I recommend continuing your training in the East Coast Plein Air Experience. The training includes this painting as well as 2 others, 12 hours of professional instruction, application challenges to increase learning, and other helpful resources. You can learn more about the training HERE.
9 Steps to a Plein Air River with Railroad Crossing
My primary goal in the early stages is to capture the large color and value shapes, and position them compositionally so they guide the viewer effortlessly around the painting. Detail at this stage is not important. Notice the absence of any type of overall toning color – nope, no particular reason I didn’t tone the panel first – it might have sped up the process had I done so, and with all the blues and greens everywhere, a wash of transparent oxide red or orange would have been a nice harmonizing backdrop. You might want to experiment with that – come to think of it, I may need to revisit this spot and experiment myself.
Late evening light shifts so quickly values are difficult to pin down. I decided I better place some of the form shaping shadows in the trees, water and grasses before they blended too seamlessly into a twilight flattened scene. I was interested in the saturated colors of early evening while also maintaining some strong contrast of light and shadow.
The largest shadow under the right bank of trees needed to be wiped off so I could paint a much darker and warmer shadow than I began with. Since the light source was warm sunlight, my direct cast shadows would be on the cooler side, but the deeper shadows under the trees would be the result of filtered ambient cave like light which creates much warmer shadows. That was as far as I got the first day.
With a fresh eye and the basic structure of the painting in place at the start of the second evening, I could observe some nuances and value structures I didn’t see in the faded light the night before. So, I scraped off some paint and texture that I thought might interfere with my adjusted thinking about the direction of the painting. Surprisingly, most of the paint had dried, leaving only a few spots of cad yellow still wet.
I like to paint alla prima because wet-into-wet offers me a wealth of blending options – which is why I paint with oils. The dried paint wasn’t too much of a hindrance however since I generally reserve the thicker paint application for the final stages, and that new paint would give me plenty of blending choices.
You can see here that I quickly punched up the color and contrast. I love, love, love sunlight slanting through water – the colors are mesmerizing. The warm yellowish glow in the middle right water was mixed using some Michael Harding quinacridone red, transparent oxide orange and cad yellow medium and lemon. I am also playing with bright lavender and white rapids to give movement to the water. With all the fun I was having with the water, I failed to notice a large circular shape swirling near the left bank that needed to be broken up.
The brown egg shape was now gone, but a new formidable force emerged. For some reason, I struggled with repetitive patterns in this painting – finding them everywhere from start to finish. You can see in the trees the identical size and treatment of the 3 color shapes positioned like dominoes ready to topple the success of my painting. In the water two ripples and a rock form an awkward line cutting the river in half.
Small shape patterns and large besieged me constantly – I would eliminate a small bright dot from a square of 4 dots and realize I had created some other obvious shape that demanded too much attention from the viewer. We can get so caught up in the thrill of color changes and dazzling details that we miss the geometric shapes or repetitive patterns we create. That’s when it’s nice to have a mirror behind us or a friend who can point them out to us.
By this point the light was so far gone I was struggling to see anything clearly and knew I would start making major mistakes if I didn’t head home.
Since the rain was falling in buckets outside, the rest of the painting was completed indoors.
Yep, my outdoor palette is sitting on my studio palette. I could easily mix the same colors from scratch, but my paint was still wet and I saw no reason to let a perfectly good set of color mixtures go to waste – at least until I ran out of room for new mixtures.
Here I began to alter the trees – happily I quickly saw the arrow quiver I was forming with the lighter green color in the upper right corner (Step 5), so I shifted gears and broke up that shape fast as well as the repetitive color shapes.
I made great headway in getting the structure of the bridge painted – and then thunder boomed ominously overhead – the bridge wasn’t going to work. The top of the bridge was too close to where the frame edge would be which would be a very annoying tangent. I either needed to enlarge the bridge so it would go right off the top of the painting, or shrink it so there would be plenty of room below the lip of the frame so the bridge wouldn’t feel crowded.
The smaller version appealed to me as it felt more intimate and would help the river and the trees feel relatively larger. The top of the bridge had some thicker paint that was already drying – I scraped it with a palette knife to eliminate any lines that might show later through the sky and cloud colors. Shrinking the bridge meant I also had to invent some modifications that would work with the new dimensions. That took quite a bit of drawing with paint and scraping off periodically when something didn’t look natural.
The bridge is close to the finish line. The rusting, weathered patina of the metal seemed magical to me – painting it was definitely a magical moment. I went back and forth between greyed down blues and dirty oranges and yellows to produce the patina. The thin shadows on the edge of the metal beams are what give the structure it’s 3-dimensional quality – although, I don’t want those shadowed edges to be hard and solid from top to bottom since the bridge is quite a ways from where I was painting.
At that distance, I can easily see the structure and some of the details, but the atmosphere here in humid Indiana will affect the clarity of edges. So, I took my palette knife and roughed up the edges here and there which added nicely to the weathered look and helped the bridge fit back into the distance more naturally.
Here, at the final stage of the painting, I noticed a few areas that bothered me (and Kristie). I still needed to break up that line in the river I mentioned earlier; the group of rocks was too heavy and didn’t allow a gentle flow through the water; and that beautiful architectural wall at the top of the grasses on the left side that seemed to compliment, while on location, the distant bridge, was neither beautiful or complimentary in my painting. Kristie pointed out that it was so strong and bright that it pulled her attention to it.
So, I scraped down the paint and left ambiguous remnants that added a compliment to the colors in the distant bridge, but were unobtrusive enough to not distract the viewer. I also scraped away some of the rocks in the water to break up the dam and allow the water to flow unencumbered and the viewer’s eye to travel happily up the river. The light greenish blue brush stroke on the right as well as one of the white reflective sparkles were modified to break up the distractive patterns.
I was left with one more area that I was dissatisfied with – the lower left corner. While I enjoyed the brush textures and colors, it felt too disheveled for an area that close to the viewer. Instead of starting from scratch though, I used one of my mongoose rounds and with a swift diagonal movement gently blended areas of color together to form a saturated middle value backdrop that I could place some brighter strokes on top of to form grasses and other plants – using much less directional change and texture than before.
Completed Painting (mostly)
Now the lower left corner feels congruent with flow of the painting and the upward movement of the plants adds an energetic entrance to the rest of the scene while still offering something interesting to look at.
While preparing the fast motion video of this painting I noticed that the two right diagonal posts on the bridge are too low – I did not keep them consistent with the angle of the other beams. Looks like an artist’s work is never done – thankfully!
Fast Motion Video
Watch the full 6-hour training video for this painting, as well as 2 additional Plein Air painting training videos, in the East Coast Plein Air Experience.
Tell me about your plein air adventures and harrowing moments capturing nature with paint. Why do you love to paint outdoors?