So I’m taking a break in the middle of my storm picture. It’s really quite horrid at this point in it’s life, kind of like a troubled adolescent that’s rebelling against everything I want it to be. And as I’m reflecting on why, exactly, it’s giving me so much grief I think the analogy is a good one – like the angry kid, it’s simply reflecting all of my mistakes in bringing it to this point.
So what can I learn from it? Here are a handful of lessons.
First, get the lighting right. I’ve been fighting with glare from the time I set up my picture and positioned my canvas on the easel. I thought I had it right, but that’s because I was only looking at it my way. Once I really started checking my colors, I couldn’t get a really good match because of the glare on the paint and on the screen of my picture, so I started looking at my colors from different angles. Getting up and walking around and trying to get an angle that gave me a good view of the color with no glare. Problem is that each different angle produces a different color to the eye. Perspective in a relationship is a good thing.
Nail the black. In a dark picture like this, black sets the mood. Get the black wrong and everything goes downhill with it, like a domino effect. Not only is my lighting off, my black was really dark purple. Who wants purple instead of black? Problem is, I kept trying to make it work, even though it just didn’t, imagining that if I just go up and walked over there, it seemed to match better. The only one I was really fooling was myself. If I have to try and make myself believe it’s black, then it’s probably not.
Quit being lazy. I should have completely stopped and re-configured my setup when I realized I had a glare problem. But it was a lot of work to get it set up the first time. Then, I should have trusted my intuition that my black wasn’t really black, scrapped what I’d mixed and started over. But I didn’t want to waste paint, and it was “pretty close” and I’d have to mix more medium because I was running low and the excuses go on and on. Basically, I was being lazy. I think there’s a lot that you can do to a painting to adjust and compensate, but if you get off track at the very beginning, everything will diverge. Take the time to get started on the right foot.
Be generous with the paint. Duh. This is a big picture – 50″ x 25″. It needs a lot of paint. Mixing like I’m painting a postage stamp just doesn’t cut it. What’s the old adage… “better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it? I don’t think I’ve painted yet where I mixed too much paint. Even when I try, I still find that I’ve subconsciously mixed too little. This mistake compounds into trying to go back and match colors on the palette and I never get them exactly right, let alone when the paint actually goes on the canvas.
Know when to stop and scrape it off. But me? No, I just keep going. As though adding more milk to mud will make the mud look like milk. Not a chance. When it’s obvious it’s not working, please, somebody make me stop and scrape it off. It’s a total pain in the neck, but it will save time in the long run. I didn’t and my sky problem just got worse and worse. Don’t let the nightmare continue.
Walk away. Don’t do what I do. Keep piddling at it, adjusting, trying this and that, getting tired and frustrated but not letting go. There’s a lot of wisdom in letting a painting rest. As the picture takes a life of it’s own, it needs it as much as I do. We both need our space to sort things out and then come back at it with a fresh perspective.
Ok, so I’m going to try and stop forcing the relationship and let it develop naturally. We both need a break. There’s still so much work to do here, but it’s a little overwhelming right now with everything still so raw. Time heals all wounds (and also let’s the paint dry). I’m willing to work to salvage the relationship, but we can’t rush back into things…