Month: October 2018

Prints and Mugs of this painting are available on Etsy.

I took a two hour break from my day job today to do a demo painting over at the open house at Bedlam Farm hosted by author Jon Katz and Fiber Artist Maria Wulf in Cambridge. The open house was already in full swing past the time I got there. Some people were watching a sheep herding with Jon’s dog Red, while others browses Maria’s Gallery, shopping for art by one of the ten or twelve artists she’s brought together for this event.

I had to be back at work promptly at two, so I set up my pochade box to get started. It took two seconds to realize I had forgotten the canvas. I panicked for a second, then texted the Thing1 to see he could bring me one. he was waiting for his girlfriend her to arrive before he came over to the open house, so I went searching for Maria to see if she might have a piece of scrap wood i could paint. as luck would have it, she had fence post it looked like it turned into a sign with raised lettering on one side. It was perfect. I took a few minutes to decide if I should paint on the side with the raised lettering or the flat plank but finally figured painting on board was enough of a new experience and dusted off the flat side start painting.

It was a new experience. The brush and would feel different, so I got out my pallet knives, which are usually use for tree leaves or grass but have never used to complete an entire painting. Are used a stiff brush to sketch out a little bit of a roadmap, and then begin mixing my sky.

I didn’t know exactly where I was going to go. My palette knife technique still needs work, so from the moment I slept first bit of paint on the board, the painting was an experiment. It was a series of what my favorite painter, Bob Ross, would call a “happy accidents.” The thing about letting happy accidents happen is that you start to let go of the idea that a painting needs to be perfect or even good, and just focus on the scene in front of you and trying to connect to it, trying to hold the connection.

it was amazingly fun, and different from what I usually do. I go with the philosophy that I may not be doing the right thing, but this is how I’m learning to paint, and actually kind of like the results today. If they still like it after having slept on it for 24 hours, I’ll be giving the painting to Jon for having giving me a kick in the figurative backside earlier this summer to get my painting back in gear and to Maria for being the fairy god-sister (she’s way too young to be a fairy godmother) to all of these creative people that she has brought together over the years.

I’ve watched a lot of watercolor videos over the years. Many of them tell you that you need to plan when you start painting so you know where you’re going to go. Even books and videos on oil encourage artist to create that road map, and it is helpful. What I found today, and what I found quite a few times in the last few weeks, is that the roadmap can be a guide, but sometimes you just have to get off the main road to learn and make something new.

Under the Apple Tree, Oil, 11×14

This weekend is the open house at Bedlam Farm in Cambridge, New York. It’s hosted by Maria Wulf, the fiber artist and best-selling author Jon Katz as a celebration of art and brought life.

It’s become a semi annual ritual for me, a chance to show and sell art and connect with other artists friends connected by a love of rural life.

Wednesday I started to practice paining because I’ll be doing a demo on Saturday. I’ve just started painting outside, and experience is phenomenal. I had the boys with me when I started this painting so I had to take a few notes with my brush and a bit of ultramarine finish the bulk of it at home.

One note I made sure to take what is a clump of orange in the middle of the field turning yellow and brown. It was a cloudy day, and it seem to be the main source of color, but, even three days before the start of the open house/festival, surrounded by artists arriving with their work and chatting with Maria who has been waving her wand and share in the work of local artists for many years now, the day seemed pretty colorful.

Tree1 & Tree2

One of the things I’m loving about oil is how easy it is to fix things you don’t like. If you don’t like a fence, paint over it. If you don’t like a shadow, add a little light to it. If you really don’t like a painting, put the canvas to the side to be painted over and made into a new clean slate. If you set one painting aside and try to start over, you may even end up with two paintings for the work of one.

Both of these, and a few of their friends, will be for sale next weekend at the Open House at Bedlam Farm in Cambridge, NY.

Sunday after work, I grabbed my DIY pochade and headed out towards West Arlington chase the last bit of light for the weekend. It’s almost sweater weather, the sun was filtering through leaves it up just begun to turn, and Vermont looks like a fantasy land at this time of year.

I was having hard time deciding, so I finally pulled into the parking lot near the Norman Rockwell covered bridge walked by the nearby church to set up my easel. I knew I had about an hour before the sun dove behind the mountainSo I started blocking in color quickly, trying to keep the leaves of the tree in front of me between me and the setting sun.

A Leaf peeper Wandered over to my spot and murmured, “Lovely color.”

“Thank you,“ said, smiling but can you bring my brush moving.

“Oil?“

I nodded. She smiled. “I paid with oil too.“

We started chatting about oil and watercolor and the fall colors coming in. She was up from Massachusetts for the day getting ready to head back. Exchanged names and I got her card. She asked if I was showing my work anywhere. Then, looking at the sun sinking quickly, she realized she needed to go.

I had about five minutes of sun left after our little exchange, So I painted in the mountains and the closer hills as quickly as possible, knowing I have to do the barn at home.

It was my first time trying plein air. I wish I’d had more time, but standing in the cold all night by the river chatting with a complete stranger about things that were completely non-technical and apolitical, I knew that one hour well spent was worth as much as an entire day painting in the perfect spot.