Last week we had fun going into the details of one of my most recent paintings with Hollyhocks, and discussed their intrinsic beauty. For the first time in our training we broke down the process into 10 steps with pictures and videos.
This week we get to dive a little deeper, past the steps and the process of painting, and into the value of art and my changing views and styles over the years.
If you have been painting for a while, you can probably relate to the stylistic or technical changes we artists go through. My work has experienced some dramatic shifts over the last 3 decades.
Monet and Childe Hassam, as well as Van Gogh, were at the top of my list in high school because I was enthralled with the optical blending of colors they used to form shapes.
That visual blending, rather than physical blending, is what helped me create ‘Reflections’ with pastels that won the Congressional Art Award when I was a Junior in High School.
To an extent, I’m still seeking the success of the way the colors played with one another and the wonderful division of spaces in that early pastel.
In college I fell in love with the vigorous brushwork and color shapes of Sergei Bongart.
The Spori art building at Ricks College, now BYUI, had a room entirely devoted to about 15 or 20 of his paintings. If you randomly chose a day in 1989 you would probably find me in there studying his paintings.
All of that glorious brushwork I wanted to emulate was contrasted by the exacting drawing required by Leon Parson’s exceptional illustration, head drawing and figure drawing classes I was taking.
Blending the two seemingly disparate approaches was at times exasperating psychologically because I was attracted to both.
The skill required to replicate objects from life in realistic values and proportions was very alluring because it was so easy to impress others with photographic renderings. And there’s something innately satisfying in knowing we can draw well and create accurate figures, landscapes and other objects from life.
But the swashbuckling style of Sergei was just so much fun.
A book devoted to Carl Rungius’ paintings my parents gave me for Christmas in 1985 simply compounded my love of simple forms and strong color.
Then I visited the Jackson Hole Wildlife Art Museum in 1989 and had the privilege of sitting in a rounded room surrounded by at least a dozen of his larger paintings. They are just wildlife paintings, right?
Maybe, but there is a power in art that transcends the sometimes difficult endurance of daily living. The feeling I had that day was so overwhelming I found tears slipping down my cheeks. In that moment all I could think about was that I wanted to create something that would touch others the way his paintings had touched me.
That is not a faint hearted pursuit.
Even today I get befuddled by my split artistic personality, wanting the skill of realist draftsmanship to show proudly while coupled with the flamboyant style of a Russian Impressionist. Unfortunately, I often get too much in my head and the painting falls flat like it did with this early hollyhock piece that exhibits very little of either approach.
When that happens I have to call a cease fire and let go of my inhibitions and head knowledge and just start painting with abandon. At those moments something I can’t quite describe happens – my instincts seem to guide my hand, time ceases to exist and the painting suddenly appears (with me physically and mentally drained).
That unconscious consciousness (couldn’t think of a better description, sorry) doesn’t happen as often as I would like, and the process is not as simple as writing about it might suggest. Getting to that state is not like turning on and off a switch.
Long hours of consistent training and practice seem to be at the root of it – yet they are not the totality. The courage to risk ruining a painting is a key component.
In that desired state of painting, the academic requirements of the painting don’t disappear, but for some reason I don’t have to think about them – they are simply evident when the painting is successfully completed.
And that doesn’t mean that I don’t have moments when I need to stop and think about what comes next. Sometimes I even have to backtrack and redo a portion that was too vigorous or out of harmony with the overall painting.
But the fluid movement and harmony of color and value that I love only happens when I reach that state. When I get timid or cautious, or too attached to detail, my paintings become stiff and lack vitality.
Most of my paintings are a combination of the two states – areas of beautiful reality and fluid movement running through the painting and areas of stiff overworked objects and spaces and rushed inaccurate drawing.
In Sunday Best I felt I came pretty close to the best of me.
At Home on the Range, the video we just added to the Master Oil Painting monthly membership site details my process for developing a hollyhock scene. It is closer to the ‘best of me’ than the lifeless look I describe, but there are a few areas I would change and I discuss all of that in the 5-hour long video.
Learn and study from the best artists you can find and practice drawing and painting from life in a realistic manner so you can reproduce anything you see in exact detail. Then let yourself forget it all for a moment and paint with abandon and experience true magic.
How do you get into the state that allows you to paint using the best of you?
(: Thank you for this sincere, touching and insirational words. I must say that i like this first holyhocks not less then last one (:
First, as a retired competitive equestrian athlete and trainer your words about being in the “Zen Moment” for lack of a better term are consistent with my own experiences during some of my very best competitive rides. Your painting style is very different then my own but what your teaching me is invaluable. Thank you for your honesty and hard work.
I personally really respect and appreciate your efforts and talents. Thank you
Blue Hollyhocks is my favorite and I think it is the misty background and the solitary rocks being dominated by the beautiful blue hollyhocks, that takes my breath away and really speaks to me. I have never seen hollyhocks and your arts make me wish I could see them. It is interesting thinking on how our arts have evolved and who inspired our styles throughout different stages if our ‘growing’ process. The funny thing about art is that each stage works together in bringing us to where we are today and serves as the stepping stones to the artist we will become tomorrow. If we dont allow those stages to happen, then our skills never evolve…and our art becomes boring.
I love the blue hollyhocks. This painting is very romantic and mysterious and transports me into another time. The colors are soothing to me. Great job.
Lianne
Thank you for this wonderful post. I loved reading it and seeing your journey. I too battle between loose painting and the details. I too love the style and paintings of Bongart! I intend to paint loose and expressive and when I get into it the paintings become tighter and tighter as I do when I draw. I want to create something more expressive… There are times when I lose myself in the painting as you expressed and forget about funndamentals. It’s wonderful! Sometimes I am so excited with the outcome and other times I have to wipe it all out and start over… Either way it’s a great feeling…. Music helps to move me to my right brain and forget everything I’m studying. I am motivated by you, your thoughts and your art, so please keep sharing! Thank you.
I can identify with the split artistic personality. Especially, when trying to create your own artistic footprint. And the Zen moment gets interrupted too often. Thank you for words of inspiration and lets me know we are not alone in this struggle to become the best we can be.
Lyn
Bill,
Seldom does one of your accomplishment openly offer such intimacy as a means to guide, instruct and encourage.
For infants in the arts, as I, what you offer is invaluable.
Thank you for sharing your journey…
I love your paintings and really appreciate the time you give to your students. I’ve already learned so much from watching you and listening to you share what you are thinking while you paint. It’s very helpful to know that even accomplished artists still struggle some days! If I paint more often, have soothing music, free my mind from worries and have some kind of plan for the painting, it comes more easily. But I’ve also had wonderful spontaneous days when there was no plan and everything worked….so who knows? If the “flow” comes, it is a gift!
I am new to painting yet I can relate to the feeling you describe of unconsciousness and the brush creating something that somewhat surprises you …almost like where did that come from when you snap back to yourself and apainting is there. There is no effort, no conscious thought, no concept of time passing..it is a wonderful place.
Thank you for this blog.
I think you are correct Bill when you tap into consciousness… Didn’t the Greeks call it you’r genius? … You can also call it GOD.. All those would be correct.. I seem to hold the brushes and the color’s pop into my mind.. We stop thinking and just let BEING paint… Its all like “be still, and know I am GOD”…
I have been painting for years but I work full time and only have 2 evening a week that I can paint. I know that if I could do a little bit each day I would get better, but I don’t know how to work it in. Any suggestions? I love your work and love to watch your videos.
Thank you so much for your insightful reflections on your journey as an artist. I like that you know “At Home on the Range” is a painting has many elements of the best for you. It is a beautiful and vibrant painting.
I’m learning from you that it is okay to paint from memory and our imagination rather than only what one sees. I find that as l put more of the “rules” of painting on the shelf (for aspects of the painting) l’m often more satisfied with the outcome.
I look forward to seeing the details of how you developed the hollyhock painting.
Shirley
Bill, you say that Blue Hollyhocks eventually morphed into Sunday Best. The Sunday Best you show on this page has the middle flower rising up with green buds in front of the rock behind.
But there is another version of Sunday Best with no green buds in front of the rocks. And the other version’s background is more bluish, whereas the one here is more greenish.
Which Sunday Best came first? What prompted the changes?