Read Watercolor Painting: A Comprehensive Approach to Mastering the Medium Online
Authors: Tom Hoffmann
When your gaze travels over a scene, your focus shifts to accommodate differences in depth and light. The feature you are studying at any given moment is in sharp focus—full of rich detail and a wide range of values. It is easy to fall into trying to paint that part, and
every
part, with all the information your eyes perceive. For many realist painters this is how we are wired. We want to do justice to every aspect of the scene. It all deserves to be lovingly painted, so we give it our best attention. But a painting in which every element has equal presence can be quite boring. It has not been interpreted so much as embalmed.
When should I depart from accuracy?
Part of the artist’s job is to communicate to the viewer a unique perception of the order within the image. It is up to us to decide what should be in focus, what needs to be included, and what can be left out.
Try this visual exercise: Go to a window and focus your vision on an object in the foreground. Take note of a few details on that object. Now shift your focus to something behind the foreground object, and look for detail there. Keep your focus sharp upon the second object, and observe the first one peripherally. What happened to the details you could see before? If you shift your focus back and forth between the two objects, the details in the out-of-focus object are lost. The object is still there, but only vaguely present.
To translate this kind of selective vision into watercolor, it is necessary to decide where you want the viewer’s attention to be focused. Asking a question we learned earlier—
What role does the part I’m about to paint play in the big picture?
—will help you remember what needs to be in focus. Now you also need to ask:
Is this best seen as general information or specific?
Forest or trees?
Controlling wetness is a great way to make these choices literally. Hard edges are in focus; soft edges are not. The painting at the left and the following three paintings represent very different decisions about the role of edge quality in determining how the image is focused. In each case, the artist has deliberately departed from literal accuracy in pursuit of an accurate interpretation of the experience of being in that place.
FRANK LALUMIA,
WHERE THE RUSSIAN RIVER MEETS THE SEA
, 1999
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
14½ × 22½ INCHES (37 × 57 CM)
Hard edges are sparingly used in this swiftly painted seascape. The artist allows the horizon, where sea meets sky, to blur. Even the edges of some of the rocks are soft against the sky. Notice, though, that where waves break against rock the edges are consistently hard.
TOM HOFFMANN,
I HEAR THEM
, 2008
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES HOT PRESS PAPER
10 × 12 INCHES (25 × 30 CM)
In reality, the mountains across the strait, though pale, were quite distinct. I chose to soften them to increase the feeling of space.
DALE LAITINEN,
CONNESS GLACIER,
2009
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
29 × 41 INCHES (74 × 104 CM)
As with Joyce Hicks’s painting on
this page
, the shapes here are separated by hard edges, but within most of those shapes the artist varies the color with soft transitions. Here the value range is widest where our eye is meant to linger.
GEORGE DEVLIN,
FRUIT MARKET, VENICE,
2007
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
9 × 12 INCHES (23 × 30 CM)
In a picture so clearly dominated by a single color, it would be fair to say that Devlin’s purpose was simply to celebrate red. But notice the care he has taken to use color to separate indoors from out, and the distribution of intense cool colors that serve as a counterpoint to the red. Degrees of saturation among the reddish neutrals subtly reveal the reflectivity of the stone floor.
The questions that lead to informed color decisions, therefore, are quite general. They deal with issues such as number (
How many colors do I need?
), temperature (
Does this part of the painting require warm or cool colors?
), and dominance (
How should I begin to mix this color?
), rather than specific preferences. I will not suggest the ideal component colors for your neutral shadow, for example, but I will encourage you to ask whether you have used them elsewhere in the painting, and if you want them to remain visible as ingredients in the mixture.
Make your color choices consciously, not by default. Color is mood. Such a powerful tool should not be wasted.
Color profoundly affects the mood of a painting. Being aware of the impact your choices have on the finished product is essential. If you have articulated your thoughts and feelings about what attracts you to the image you want to paint, you can consider colors accordingly. Ask yourself:
What color choices serve my main purpose?
In some cases, the effect of colors on the mood of a picture is quite obvious. Imagine one of Picasso’s Blue Period paintings, for example, done in bright red. Other effects are much more subtle. In those cases it will be especially useful to answer questions, detailed below, that will help focus your attention.
Make your color choices consciously, not by default. Color is mood. Such a powerful tool should not be wasted. How do
you
decide which colors you will use? Do you look at the scene and reach for the colors that will give you the most accurate match? Do you stick to your favorites and bend over backwards to find places for them? Do you limit the range of colors and intensity to insure an overall harmony? Do you like to make each shape in the painting multicolored? And the big question: Do you make your choices consciously, or out of habit?
FRANK LALUMIA,
MAUI,
2004
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
30 × 22 INCHES (76 × 56 CM)
It is easy to sense the artist’s pleasure in a subject that involves such rich, saturated color. No need to hold back—it’s Hawaii!
TOM HOFFMANN,
OUT LATE,
2011
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES HOT PRESS PAPER
11 × 15 INCHES (28 × 38 CM)
This interpretation of a midnight walk is more about mood than specific information. Shapes wobble and dissolve, but the distribution of colors remains stable—warm on the bottom, cool on top. This arrangement reflects the feeling of being out late, where the street level is still active but up above the city is asleep.