Inspiration and practical advice for aspiring realist artists
I read recently (I can’t rememeber where) a quote that went something like “your last painting will tell you what your next painting needs to be”.
That’s why I’ve kept this one in the studio for a while. It was telling me something about where I was heading, and how I might get there.
I didn’t know that apples could be an endangered species.
In fact, I realise now that I knew very little about apples before I met my friends the Brent-Smiths, who manage traditional English orchards at Day’s Cottage Farm.
In fact, I’m just beginning to realise how little I still know.
Today I’d like to ask for your help.
My teaching studio project is moving forwards. The big decision I’m facing at this point is the space itself.
I think it’s important that anyone who learns with me, and travels to do a workshop with me feels at ease in the space we’ll be working in.
This one started out as a demo on edge handling which I did as a live stream as part of our Threads artists’ community.
Somewhere along the way, a lot of the things I’ve been thinking about and working through lately came together in one piece.
My big project of this year is opening a permanent teaching studio.
As I move forward with it, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to different approaches to learning to paint.
I think there are broadly four approaches to teaching skilled representational painting these days:
Everyone who paints regularly knows that, on some level, painting means going willingly into the unknown.
To put it like that seems a little exciting. Romantic, even.
But uncertainty is anything but romantic.
It’s uncomfortable. It means constantly facing the spectre of failure, and sometimes living with it when it happens. Fear is not fun.
So why do we do it?
We all want to improve our painting. But often, I think we try to do that by just…painting more.
I don’t think that’s the best way to do it. There is a better way. Here’s how.
I’ve been a bit quiet for a while.
As you probably know, I very often paint live, streaming on facebook and switching camera views, describing what I’m doing as I go.
If you’re interested, you can see all my past streams here.
But for the last couple of weeks, I’ve broken my usual habit and painted in private.
What matters most to me in a painting is feeling.
What do I mean when I use the word “feeling”?
Perhaps we don’t have the vocabulary in the English language to talk clearly about feelings.
They are elusive, mysterious, insubstantial.
Sometimes, good things happen by chance.
These roses are a small, rambling, climbing variety called Warm Welcome. Fittingly, they grow up the side of the house just before you get to the front door.
I’ve been looking at them and wondering for a long time. Could I hit that chroma? Would they translate well into paint?
