Watercolor Painting: A Comprehensive Approach to Mastering the Medium (29 page)

TREVOR CHAMBERLAIN,
FALMOUTH DRY DOCK,
1992
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
13 × 9½ INCHES (33 × 24 CM)

Following the outline of the deck of the tanker, it is clear that the artist is using more than one variable to separate the ship from its surroundings. There is a noticeable color difference between the warm deck and the cool water, but they are quite close in value. Maestro Chamberlain kept a crisp edge between the two to ensure that the ship maintained its imposing substance.

TOM HOFFMANN,
ETLA, OAXACA,
2009
WATERCOLOR ON VISTA HERMOSA PAPER
15 × 22 INCHES (38 × 56 CM)

Space is deliberately made ambiguous in this
composition. The planes of the buildings have come unhinged, creating the feeling that they are being shuffled, like cards. There is still a sunny side and a shady side of the street, which anchors the scene somewhat, and the stability of the mountain in the background helps contain the chaos.

Not every painting relies on a believable illusion of space for its success. Before you start painting be sure to ask:
What role does composition play in this picture?
You may decide—as I did with
Etla, Oaxaca,
above—to compose the elements so that space is not represented in a traditional manner. Composition serves the order and balance of the page at the level of pure form first, and then as a tool for creating an illusion of space.

At the same time that we are working toward an illusion of reality, we are also arranging strokes and washes on the picture plane. Even when the viewer’s attention is focused on the illusion, at some level he is observing the brushwork as an abstract pattern. It seems like a good idea, therefore, to stay aware of the appeal our marks have apart from whatever they are meant to describe.

BETSY CURRIE,
GRASSES WITH SKY,
2005
GOUACHE ON PAPER
4¼ × 6¾ INCHES (11 × 17 CM)

The grass seems to have simply “grown” on the page, but conscious decisions were made to ensure this feeling of natural order. The stalks that curve to the left balance those that curve to the right, and the yellow and green strokes are alternated to suggest space. While all the strokes are actually on the same plane, it feels like the grass is several feet thick. How do you think the image would change if no sky were visible?

In many cases, the effectiveness of the illusion depends on decisions we make regarding how the strokes are distributed. With
Seaweed 1
(opposite)
, for example, a kind of circular irony is at work. We experience the illusion of brushstrokes on paper becoming seaweed. If we were actually standing on the beach, however, we might describe the seaweed as being arrayed on the sand “like brushstrokes on a piece of paper.”

CYNTHIA HIBBARD,
SEAWEED 1,
2011
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
16 × 12 INCHES (41 × 30 CM)

This distribution of shapes seems as if it happened by itself—a result of the movement of the waves. But, seen as a composition, it is clear that the artist has taken care to create both a casual array of forms and a balanced page.

As we approach the line between realism and abstraction, more of our attention is consciously devoted to the paint as paint. Without the distraction of an illusion, it becomes increasingly important to make sure that the fluid nature of the medium is not compromised. Keeping the composition simple and purposeful can free up the viewer’s attention to be devoted more to what the paint is doing.

PIET LAP,
NORTH UIST HEBRIDES 5,
2010
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
15¾ × 21¾ INCHES (40 × 55 CM)

The artist invites us to enjoy the flow and granulation of the paint at least as much as we pay attention to the story it tells. The placement of the relatively few shapes immediately describes what we need to know about content, leaving us free to savor the medium.

Balance in a
composition is a tricky concept. It hinges on questions both subjective and universal. On one hand, every artist has his own sense of what makes a painting “hold still.” Having more weight on one side may feel awkward to some, but provide a desirable feeling of tension for others. At the same time, it is clear that we all share some fundamental sense of what makes a composition click into place. In class, with a group of a dozen painters assessing the same painting, I often ask that critical question:
Is the painting balanced?
It is remarkable how frequently everyone agrees about where the image needs a little something more. Should you trust your own instincts, then, or stick to the classic standards? Below are a handful of suggestions, starting with rule number one.

As students of painting, we all encounter rules along the way, many pertaining to composition: “Always have the subject touch the edge of the paper in three places,” “Never have a vertical in the center of the page,” “Always place buildings with an edge forward,” “Never run a hard edge all the way from one side of the page to the other,” and so on. These are all good advice, as long as you replace the “never” and “always” with “consider.” The teachers who made the rules were really saying, “This is something that often serves me well. Keep it in mind.” By all means, gather as many effective suggestions as you can. Just don’t become bound by them.

How you decide what your painting needs will be a combination of what has worked in the past and what the immediate situation suggests. In the relatively calm moments of translating the subject into paint, such as when you are deciding where to place the horizon, you can weigh the alternatives in terms of the feeling you want the painting to embody. If you have learned that raising the horizon tends to ground the viewer and lowering it elevates the point of view, you can make a considered choice. But once the paint starts flying decisions are much more intuitive. Who’s got time to ponder with a brush in each hand and another between his teeth? Trusting your feelings is the foundation of developing your own style. It is certainly riskier than following the rules, but it is also much more fun.

If the painting feels balanced, it probably is. When something seems wrong, however, there are some simple devices that may reveal the problem.

Do you tend to leave one or more of the corners of the page empty? This can throw the whole composition off. Thinking minimally, you can add a soft-edged stroke or two to activate the empty area and see if that is enough. If not, turn up the value of a stroke, or make an edge harder. Increase the impact of your additions by increments until you have done enough. You can play it even safer by painting a scrap of paper and placing it where you think something is needed and moving it around until something clicks.

TOM HOFFMANN,
XOCHIMILCO,
OAXACA,
2011
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES ROUGH PAPER
11 × 15 INCHES (28 × 38 CM)

Try covering this image in quarters to see if the balance improves.

TOM HOFFMANN,
LAKE UNION DRYDOCK,
2010
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES HOT PRESS PAPER
11 × 15 INCHES (28 × 38 CM)

I have never been one to put the prosaic seagull in a water scene, but in this case the temptation to launch one in the upper-right-hand corner is strong. Or maybe a small airplane.