Watercolor Painting: A Comprehensive Approach to Mastering the Medium (32 page)

Refining a painting is more than a process of solving a succession of problems. At the same time that we are untying knots, we are also building on our strengths. The parts of the painting that work well are what keep us hopeful, after all, so it is good for morale to acknowledge them. If we intend to create a feeling of harmony in the painting, as is usually the case, it makes sense to identify the successful aspects and use them as a guide. So by all means ask yourself:
What worked well?
In the plein air season, this assessment happens right on the site and often involves a series of versions of the subject. Each interpretation lends its successes to the next.

At the end of the outdoor painting season, I look through my plein air work for images that might make good studio paintings. By definition, this activity focuses on positive aspects of the work. Sketches, studies, and paintings that were not entirely successful can still stand out as good source material in the studio. It is informative to see what the pieces that rise to the top of the heap have in common. By the time you have sorted through the pile, you may have discovered that something you now do quite well was hidden among the blunders.

Since I
value economy of means in my work, I usually respond to the paintings that are full of the feeling of the location but have relatively few brushstrokes. I want these qualities to also be present in the studio paintings, but working from a secondary source, like a sketch, is very different from painting on site. For me there is always the danger that I will get wrapped up in copying my own strokes and lose touch with what I saw when I was on location.

TOM HOFFMANN, STUDY FOR
BEACH GRASS,
2011
WATER
COLOR ON ARCHES COLD PRESS PAPER
11 × 15 INCHES (28 × 38 CM)

This study of the beach grass at the outermost edge of land seemed to have potential. I especially liked the abstract qualities of the image—the pattern of gray strokes overlying the green and blue wash, the long horizontal rectangle of yellow-green. I wondered how it would work to amplify the features I most enjoyed and tip the form/content balance more toward form.

TOM HOFFMANN,
BEACH GRASS,
2011
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES COLD PRESS PAPER
11 × 15 INCHES (28 × 38 CM)

The feeling of solitude suggested by the preliminary work has been developed in the second version. The simplicity of treatment is intended to allow the viewer to see the brushstrokes as both subject matter and paint at the same time.

TOM HOFFMANN,
DRIFT,
2011
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES HOT PRESS PAPER
11 × 15 INCHES (28 × 38 CM)

In this plein air sketch, the complex shore and wooded hillside have been distilled to a handful of strokes. This is what pleases me most about the piece, so I want to be sure to keep the larger studio version very simple.

As you can see from examining the painting opposite, I’m struggling with the process of turning my plein air study into a larger painting. I still haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly what the problem is, but here’s what I come up with when I go down the list:

That is a lot to take on in one try. If I get this to come together before the book goes to press, I’ll include a photo. Otherwise, wish me luck.

I am very good at convincing myself, for a while, that what I have just painted is quite good. I impress myself with how effectively I have translated a subject into paint. When some time passes, though, I can see that I have gone only a little way
toward a convincing representation. Somehow, even a small step in the right direction can briefly seem like the whole journey. I can look at the painting from across the room, turn it upside down, or view it in a mirror, and if not enough time has passed, I am still susceptible to an overly rosy assessment. This happens often enough that I am skeptical of my first impressions of fresh paintings. If I want to see the strengths and weaknesses clearly, I have to wait a while. Or, I can bring them in to class. As soon as I know other painters will be looking at them, the veils are lifted, and I can see objectively. Isn’t
that
interesting?

Why is detachment so elusive? Ideally, we would have that precious objective clarity in the instant that we are watching the brush make its stroke. Wouldn’t the painting process be more effective then? It would certainly be more efficient.

Or perhaps not. Maybe it is best that we paint half blinded by delusion and confused by contrasting emotions. Could it be that we need to feel equal parts of enthusiasm and disappointment to remain passionate about painting? Coming back for more despite the setbacks does seem like good practice for life. Still, it would be nice not to waste so much paper.

TOM HOFFMANN,
SORRY EXCUSE #5
, 2011
WATERCOLOR ON HOT PRESS PAPER
15 × 22 INCHES (38 × 56 CM)

This is the fifth try at making a big version of my plein air painting. So far, nothing is gained and much has been lost. I seem to be painting
in
the manner of
Tom Hoffmann, but the spirit is missing. I need to slow down and identify the aspects of the painting that need refinement. You probably have the detachment to see just what is eluding me.

In my painting practice there always seem to be subjects I am putting off till some later date. For example, I keep meaning to take some time to focus on the finer points of transparent and opaque pigment, but it somehow hasn’t ever been the right occasion. And then there’s the question of people. The world my paintings describe is strangely uninhabited. Even all the animals seem to be in the barn when I come around.

You may be perfectly content with the range of your subjects. There is no law, after all, that says we all must be adept at painting everything. But there may still be images and scenes you reject even though they attract you, simply because they look too hard. Ask yourself the tough question:
Am I avoiding something?
If there is something intimidating that you would really like to know better, I strongly recommend getting around to it sooner, rather than later.

I live within walking distance of Puget Sound and spend much of every summer on an island, but I managed to spend my first twenty years here avoiding painting water. It was such a daunting subject, I would push the horizon down to within an inch of the bottom of the page to keep from taking it on. As a teacher, it became increasingly difficult to justify not practicing what I preached. I finally had to get to work on water.

It was every bit as hard as I thought it would be, but it turned out to be fun. And, after a couple of years of staring hard at the bay and countless sheets of paper, I began looking forward to scenes that included water. Expanding the range of subjects that engage you is like making a new friend. The world feels larger and more promising.

An important part of the process for me involved looking at the work of artists whose water I especially admired. If you identify a subject or an aspect of the medium that challenges you, take advantage of the resource that other artists represent, and don’t be shy about copying their work. Studying the water in the paintings of Winslow Homer, John Singer Sargent, Anders Zorn, and Eliot O’Hara revealed a succession of layers that added up to an effective illusion, and copying their work gave me a glimpse into how they knew that it would work.

The layers often progress in this order: an overall wash representing the reflection of the sky; a series of darker, often soft-edged, horizontal strokes representing the side of the wave or ripple that faces the shore; then reflections of offshore objects (such as boats, landforms, clouds, and so forth). Now, when I consider a scene that includes water, I look for the layers. More often than not, some variant of the familiar progression is there.

TOM HOFFMANN,
NOW ROW,
2008
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES HOT PRESS PAPER
14 × 20 INCHES (36 × 51 CM)

Water is a daunting subject because of its complexity and its refusal to hold still. But once it becomes visible as a series of layers, it is possible to predict where all those components should be located.

TOM HOFFMANN,
LOW WATER,
2007
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES COLD PRESS PAPER
7 × 13 INCHES (18 × 33 CM)

Not long ago, to me a narrow strip like this along the bottom of the page represented a daring venture into water as a subject.