Author: Carol L. Douglas

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A great painting workshop starts with great students

Bob Torgerson and his painting, courtesy of Beth van Gorp.

At the end of every workshop week, people say, ā€œThank you for a wonderful week.ā€ I appreciate that so much. Teaching painting workshops is one of the great joys of my life, but a good workshop doesnā€™t begin with the instructor. It begins with the students.

The best painting workshops happen when a group of painters arrives enthusiastic, curious, and ready to work. Iā€™m not a big believer in ā€˜talent.ā€™ It matters far less than attitude. What really shapes my week is a collegial group of people who want to learn.

Demonstrating a 20-brushstroke painting.

That energy is contagious. It was there when I was teaching at the Sedona Art Center last week. It seemed like a split second between our hellos and goodbyes.

Enthusiasm beats experience

Some students arrive with decades of painting behind them. Others are picking up oils or acrylics for the first time in years. Unless a class is specifically designed for a certain skill level, that doesnā€™t matter.

Karelina Wilkening, courtesy of Beth van Gorp.

The students who get the most from a painting workshop are the ones who show up ready to try new things. Theyā€™re willing to change their approach, experiment with new ideas, and arenā€™t afraid to fail. They understand that learning to paint well is a process, not a performance.

Those painters ask questions. They compare notes. They learn from their mistakes and keep going. By the end of the week, their work almost always improves dramaticallyā€”not because of any magic on my part, but because they were open to learning.

Lunch break, courtesy of Jean Hoekwater.

Painting is better together

There is something uniquely energizing about painting with other artists. You see how someone solves a problem with color temperature or simplifying shapes. You overhear a discussion about brushes or medium that sends you back to your easel with a new idea.

Bonny Wilson, photograph courtesy of Beth van Gorp.

In my experience, painters tend to be generous. Last week, Jean shared canvas paper for brushwork exercises; Bonny gave me something to calm my ratty gut, people were quick to offer Gamsol or boards. In a good workshop, students encourage each other as much as the instructor does. People share snacks, trade stories and look at each otherā€™s work. That shared experience creates the supportive atmosphere where real learning happens.

Jacob Johnson and me, thinking deep thoughts about art, courtesy of Beth van Gorp.

Curiosity drives improvement

The students who thrive in workshops want to understand why ideas work. That curiosity pushes painters forward. A workshop is never about producing a masterpiece in five days, or being the best in the class. Itā€™s about building skills you can carry back into your studio long after the week is over. When students come with that mindset, the results are remarkable.

Sometimes students have what Jacob Johnson jokingly called an existential crisis: a moment when nothing works and they wonder why they ever took up painting. I keenly feel their nerves. But thatā€™s balanced by my joy when they pass through the crisis and things click.

Scouting for views, courtesy of Karelina Wilkening.

Join me for a workshop

When students thank me at the end of the week, I also thank them. A great workshop is a collaboration between teacher and students and the enthusiasm you bring makes all the difference.

If youā€™ve been thinking about taking your painting to the next level, or simply want a week immersed in art with other painters, Iā€™d love to have you join us.

A sweet note, courtesy of Kelly Flint.

My upcoming workshops bring together artists who are curious, supportive, and ready to learn. Whether youā€™re refining your process or rediscovering the joy of painting outdoors, youā€™ll spend the week surrounded by people who share the same passion.

Bring your brushes, your questions, and your enthusiasm. The rest will take care of itself.

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Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Monday Morning Art School: a small-space home studio

One of my students at last weekā€™s plein air workshop at Sedona Art Center lives in a small space in New York. She wants a home studio but is worried about how to fit it into her apartment. When I first started painting professionally, I worked in a corner in my kitchen.

I recently got an excited video from another workshop student giving me a tour of her new studio in a spare bedroom in her house. I was thrilled because Iā€™ve noticed that my students with a designated painting spaceā€”no matter how smallā€”always work more consistently

A home art studio can work in a spare bedroom, a corner of the dining room or even a spot in the basement. Almost any space in a modern home beats the garrets in which some of artā€™s greatest masterpieces have been made.

Pink Carnation, 8X10, oil on Baltic birch, currently on hold for someone.

Natural light or the next best thing

Natural light is the gold standard for painting, but in its absence there are excellent LED full-spectrum bulbs available today. My last studio had north-facing windows. My current one faces east, but itā€™s not much of a hardship. I just close the blinds if thereā€™s glare. The vast majority of us donā€™t live in purpose-built studios, so we work with what we have.

Even with the best natural light, youā€™ll need supplemental lighting. Fixtures should be positioned so the light falls across your canvas and palette, not creating glare into your eyes.

Your light shouldnā€™t be too close or it will be uneven. Check that it doesnā€™t cast shadows across your canvas and palette, and that the light is more or less balanced between the two. Uneven light makes it difficult to judge your painting accurately.

Toy Monkey and Candy, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 framed.

Protect your walls and floors

Iā€™m the messiest painter ever. I had a brand-new laminate floor in my kitchen, so I had a hard plastic floor mat and checked regularly for spills that escaped it.

I also had a small plastic rolling cart next to my easel in which I kept my brushes, paints and supplies. Efficiency mattered more than aesthetics. Everything was within easy reach.

Ventilation

For pastelists, a HEPA filter will keep dust down, which reduces the health risk of powdered pigments. That doesnā€™t work for volatile organic compounds (VOCs) so oil painters will need an exhaust fan. It doesnā€™t have to be complicated; your kitchen fan will probably be sufficient. Or, simply crack open a window.

Donā€™t wash your brushes in the kitchen sink

Iā€™ve had utility sinks in all my houses, and Iā€™ve washed my brushes there. On the road I sometimes wash them in the shower. If you have no choice, be sure to wipe out the sink thoroughly when youā€™re done, and donā€™t wash brushes over your dishes.

Prom Shoes 2, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.

Choose the right easel

Your easel should hold your work securely and at a comfortable height. I started with this style single-mast easel (the exact model is no longer available) and eventually graduated to this model, which I still use today. If you have a pochade box or plein air easel, you can always use them in the house as well.

The smaller the space, the more organized you have to be

Nothing kills momentum like hunting for tools or supplies. Keep your brushes together in jars or where you can see them. Store paints in a shallow box or drawer so colors are visible at a glance. You donā€™t need lots of materials. In fact, less is usually more when it comes to art supplies.

Leave room to step back

You must be able to step back to judge your work. Arrange your workspace so you can easily step back six or eight feet away from your canvas. That may mean standing in front of the stove, but you can give the risotto a quick stir while youā€™re there.

Make it a place you want to work

You donā€™t need a grand atelier for serious work. What you need is a functional space where painting becomes a habit rather than a logistical challenge. Make it comfortable and inviting and youā€™re more likely to develop a regular painting habit.

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Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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The mysterious shortage of hog bristle brushes

Desert View, 9X12, oil sketch on linen. This is one of four oil sketches I did at the Grand Canyon last weekend.

I recommend hog bristle brushes for oil painters, but recently my friend and student Jeanne-Marie told me she couldnā€™t get them at her local art store. ā€œThereā€™s a worldwide shortage of hog bristle brushes,ā€ she told me. It turns out sheā€™s absolutely right.

Hog bristle brushes really are getting harder to find. To understand why, you have to look far beyond the art supply aisle.

Where hog bristle actually comes from

The stiff, springy hairs that make a good oil painting brush usually come from hogs raised in northern China, where cold climates produce the strong, resilient bristles prized by artists. These hairsā€”often called Chungking bristleā€”are sorted, cleaned, and bundled before being shipped to brush makers around the world.

China produces the vast majority of the worldā€™s natural hog bristle; estimates run as high as 80% of global supply. That concentration means any disruption ripples through the entire brush market.

Mojave Point #2, 9X12, oil sketch on linen. This is one of four oil sketches I did at the Grand Canyon last weekend.

Disease, farming shifts, and shrinking supply

African swine fever devastated pig populations in China, reducing the countryā€™s hog herd dramatically and cutting the supply of usable bristle. Some estimates suggest the herd fell by about 40% during the epidemic, which pushed bristle prices sharply upward.

Even after herds recovered, the market never quite returned to normal. Pig farming changed, supply chains tightened, and the amount of high-quality brush hair remained limited. In recent years, exports have dropped by more than 12%, tightening the market for manufacturers who depend on those bristles. If youā€™re a brush maker, that meant an unpleasant choice: raise prices or compromise on materials. Or both.

When demand rises but quality falls

The shortage isnā€™t just felt by painters. Hog hair is also used in cosmetic brushes and industrial products, which increases competition for the same raw material. The demand for cosmetic brushes has increased significantly (thanks, Mary). This growth is driven by rising interest in professional-grade, high-quality brushes, social media-driven makeup trends and growing consumer awareness of beauty hygiene.

When demand rises and supply shrinks, manufacturers sometimes resort to blending in lower-grade bristle or shortening the hair bundles. That can produce brushes that feel scratchier, lose their shape sooner and splaying more quickly.

Some artists report that modern bristle brushes simply arenā€™t as durable or consistent as older ones theyā€™ve kept for years.

If you have a fine hog bristle brush, care for it carefully. Above all, keep it clean.

Colorado River from Moran Point, 9X12, oil sketch on linen. This is one of four oil sketches I did at the Grand Canyon last weekend.

The rise of synthetic alternatives

Some modern synthetics claim to mimic the stiffness and paint-holding capacity of hog bristle, though Iā€™ve yet to meet one that replaces the spring and stiffness of Chungking bristle brushes. For painters who love muscular brushwork, especially in alla prima oil painting, hog bristle remains the gold standard.

What painters should do

In practical terms, the shortage means a few things for working artists:

  • Buy good brushes when you find them.
  • Take better care of the ones you have.
  • Be open to trying synthetics for certain tasks.

Mostly, this shortage is a reminder that painting materials are part of a much larger world of agriculture, manufacturing, and global trade. The pigments, canvas, linen and brushes you use are all products that start in the natural world. Your humble brush has traveled a long way to reach your studio.

Mojave Point #2, 9X12, oil sketch on linen. This is one of four oil sketches I did at the Grand Canyon last weekend.

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Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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What makes a painting a masterpiece?

Serenade 1628, Judith Leyster, courtesy Rijksmuseum

I have a student who asks me, ā€œWhat makes this painting a masterpiece?ā€ There is no easy answer, but Iā€™ll try.

A masterpiece was, historically, a work made by a journeyman to obtain full membership in a guild. (Women masters were so rare that the Dutch painter Judith Leyster is an oft-cited exception.)  Diego VelĆ”zquezā€™s The Waterseller of Seville is an example of such a masterpiece.

Guilds were very careful about this; for example, to prevent cheating the 17th century Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths made apprentices create their masterpieces under supervision at a workhouse.

Today, we use the term ā€˜masterpieceā€™ to describe a work that has gained widespread critical praise, especially one that is considered the greatest work of a person’s career.

Girl with a Pearl Earring, c. 1665, Johannes Vermeer, courtesy the Mauritshuis

The word itself is slippery

First off, whether we like a work or not doesn’t matter. I am completely unmoved by Pablo Picasso’s Guernica, but the majority of critics disagree with me so for now it stays in the canon.

Masterpieces arenā€™t defined by style, school or trend. Theyā€™re not necessarily big or larded with meaning; Johannes Vermeerā€™s Girl with a Pearl Earring is a simple Dutch tronie, a mere 17.5 x 15 inches. But it has inspired many other works of art.

Innovation within tradition

Many masterpieces are revolutionary, but they emerge from tradition and then push it forward. Ɖdouard Manetā€™s Olympia scandalized Paris not because it depicted a nude, but because it stripped away the tissue of mythology that had legitimized earlier nudes. Its flat planes, direct gaze, and contemporary setting were outrageous at the time. Today, we see Olympia as a logical step in art history.  

Olympia, 1863, Ɖdouard Manet, courtesy MusĆ©e d’Orsay

Cultural resonance

Masterpieces crystallize the anxieties or aspirations of their time. ā€œEverything that is made reveals the beliefs and preoccupations of the people who made it,ā€ wrote Stephen Bayley, and thatā€™s particularly true of masterpieces.

Mastery of the fundamentals

A masterpiece shows technical command. Whether youā€™re looking at Rembrandtā€™s The Night Watch or a Peter Doig landscape, you can feel the structure underneath the style.

Emotional resonance

Technical excellence alone isnā€™t enough. There are perfectly competent paintings that leave us cold, but a masterpiece engages our minds and hearts. It makes us feel somethingā€”wonder, sorrow, awe, joy, recognition.

Think about Wheat Field with Cypresses by Vincent van Gogh. The drawing is idiosyncratic. The brushwork is restless. The color is exaggerated. And it pulses with intensity. It feels alive. A masterpiece connects the artistā€™s inner life to the viewerā€™s. That connection is what people remember.

Wheat Field with Cypresses, 1889, Vincent van Gogh, courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art

Unity of vision and execution

A masterpiece feels mature, almost as if its execution was inevitable. Thereā€™s nothing that jars. When you stand before a Claude Monet painting you are able to lean into his total immersion. The color, scale, and repetition all serve the same visual idea, even when heā€™s experimenting (as he so often was).

Time is the final judge

Artists are the worst judges of their own work, and seldom know if theyā€™ve created a masterpiece. And that isnā€™t their primary goal anyway.

Time is the ultimate arbiter. Work that continues to move viewers across generations are masterpieces. They survive changing tastes and critical fashions. They speak beyond their moment.

A masterpiece alters the trajectory of art, reflects its historical moment, demonstrates extraordinary command of form and continues to matter long after its maker is gone.

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Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Monday Morning Art School: why a repeatable painting process matters

Mather Point at dawn (Grand Canyon), oil on canvasboard, 9X12, , $696 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

I put a premium on repeatable process. Thatā€™s not because Iā€™m rigid; itā€™s because a consistent painting process delivers consistent results. Every noted artist in art history has had one.

Study the working methods of masters and youā€™ll see variation, of course. Claude Monet worked serially, revisiting the same subject in shifting light to explore optics, color and atmosphere. John Singer Sargent was famous for his bravura brushwork, but beneath that flair was a disciplined structure of drawing and value control. Georgia O’Keeffe simplified and distilled her subjects through careful design and a deliberate studio practice.

They had different approaches, different temperaments and lived in different places and times, yet all were grounded in method.

Grand Canyon at sunset, oil on canvasboard, 9X12.

The bones donā€™t change

Color and design principles donā€™t change. Theyā€™re the bones of painting. You can glaze or paint alla prima, work from life or from photos, but you cannot escape the fundamentals of color harmony, value structure, and composition.

How you get there, however, will become increasingly tailored to your own painting approach and personality as you grow and evolve. These are workflow decisions. Over time, you will discover which sequence of steps makes you clear-headed instead of flustered.

Learn a process before you break it

If youā€™re serious about improving your painting, find a teacher who suits your personality. That doesnā€™t mean someone whose finished paintings you admire, but someone whose method makes sense to your brain.

Learn and treasure that teacherā€™s process (and enjoy learning while youā€™re at it). Practice it until it is second nature. Build muscle memory around it. A structured painting process gives you something to fall back on when youā€™re tired, discouraged, or staring at a blank canvas.

That is how artists move from dabbling to building a body of work.

Just as with painting style, your process will evolve over time. Youā€™ll streamline steps and discover shortcuts that donā€™t sacrifice quality. That evolution isnā€™t rebellion; itā€™s maturity.

Grand Canyon, late morning, 8X16, oil on archival linenboard, $722 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Haphazard in, haphazard out

There is a pernicious myth in art that spontaneity equals authenticity. But haphazard approaches deliver haphazard paintings. Yes, there will be a few happy accidents. Chance always plays a role in creative work. Serendipity is real.

But if you rely on accident as your primary strategy, your success rate will be low. A consistent painting workflow gives you a framework. Within that framework, you can take risks. You can experiment with brushwork or color temperature or edges. You can push yourself compositionally.

Without a framework, you are reinventing the wheel every time you paint. Thatā€™s exhausting, and it makes it nearly impossible to create a cohesive portfolio or professional body of work.

Pensive 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Build your own normal

Adopt a repeatable art process. Follow it faithfully. Track what works. Notice where you stumble. Refine gently.

Over months and years, that method will bend toward your temperament. It will begin to reflect your visual priorities and technical strengths. Eventually, it will feel less like a borrowed system and more like your own studio rhythm.

Thatā€™s when youā€™ve found your normal. And from that normalā€”steady, disciplined, evolvingā€”youā€™ll produce not just better paintings, but a happier, more confident artistic life.

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Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Structure, not spray paint, makes better paintings

Rachel’s Garden, ~24×35, watercolor on Yupo, museum-grade plexiglass, $3985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

After getting rid of advertising on my blog, itā€™s hard to believe Iā€™m directing you to this ad. Itā€™s artist-as-romantic-archetype, and itā€™s annoying. However, she does have great hair.

It starts with a young woman at an easel, looking dissatisfied with her careful, controlled daubs. (Of course she is; thereā€™s no structure there, and no sketchbook. She clearly hasnā€™t worked out her ideas.) She stalks off in frustration; she chances upon a graffiti artist. Suddenly our painterā€™s canvas is enlarged, as is her studio, and sheā€™s embracing the freedom of spray-paint art.

The penultimate scene, showing her finished work, had me confused until I realized it read ā€œfree,ā€ not ā€œFred.ā€ But thatā€™s not the point. Itā€™s that the ad sells a lie.

Apple Blossom Time, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

The myth of instant artistic freedom

In thirty seconds, weā€™re told that careful painting is stifling, structure is oppressive, and freedom comes from throwing out discipline. If you feel stuck in your painting practice, what you need are bigger gestures, looser marks and more art supplies.

Thatā€™s a seductive story. Itā€™s also wrong.

Order spray paint, gouache, pastels, sumi-e ink if you want a change, but youā€™ll find them all as technically demanding as whatever youā€™re using now. Large scale is not the same thing as vision. And spontaneity without structure is just noise.

The young woman in the ad wasnā€™t frustrated because she was painting small. She hadnā€™t done the hard work that undergirds all strong painting: drawing, value studies and compositional planning.

Spring Greens, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $652 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Structure is not the enemy of creativity

Students sometimes seek expressive brushwork without first understanding value. They want bold color without mastering color temperature. They want freedom before fluency. But they have to flip those things around and master the basics first.

Technique in painting isnā€™t a cage. Itā€™s a scaffold.

When you do thumbnail sketches in your sketchbook, youā€™re not killing creativity; youā€™re clarifying it. When you work out a value study, youā€™re not being rigid, youā€™re building a framework that will support expressive paint handling later.

The reel implies that discipline is a phase you outgrow. In reality, discipline is what makes artistic freedom possible.

Palm Tree and Sunlight, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Bigger isnā€™t better

The transformation in the ad hinges on ā€˜moreā€™: bigger studio, bigger canvas and bigger gestures. Thatā€™s a very modern American way to think, but if your composition is weak at 12×16, it will look even worse at 48×60.

Social media encourages the sizzle over the steak, confusing spectacle and substance. Weā€™re encouraged to think that scale means significance, and that visible energy equals authenticity. But energy without clarity is exhausting. Expressive brushwork without design is chaos.

Real growth in painting doesnā€™t come from swapping mediums. It comes from wrestling with composition, refining your drawing skills, and figuring out what you actually want to say.

Do the unglamorous work

The adā€™s heroine doesnā€™t appear to be looking at any reference, real or pictorial. She just looks into her mind, finds it vacant and abandons the easel for something flashier.

Art supplies are about a $4 billion annual market, and how much of that is down to frustration? If youā€™re unsatisfied as a painter, the solution is rarely to start over with new materials, no matter what marketers might suggest. Itā€™s to slow down, draw more, study objects more deeply, plan better, and above all confront your weaknesses honestly.

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Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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The purpose of art

Midnight at the Wood Lot, oil on archival canvasboard, $1449.00 framed includes shipping and handling within continental US.

George Eliotā€™s Middlemarch is one of my favorite books. So romantic, it also touches on many important themes, including her desire for the improvement of the human condition. Eliot is famously quoted as saying ā€œif art does not enlarge menā€™s sympathies, it does nothing morally.ā€ She believed that art lacks worth if it doesnā€™t broaden a personā€™s capacity for empathy. Conversely, she argued that we, as consumers of art, owe the creator ā€œthe extension of our sympathies.ā€

A lot of hay was made Monday about the Washington Postā€™s obituary for Ali Khamenei. “With his bushy white beard and easy smile, Ayatollah Khamenei cut a more avuncular figure in public than his perpetually scowling but much more revered mentor, and he was known to be fond of Persian poetry and classic Western novels, especially Victor Hugoā€™s ā€˜Les MisĆ©rables.ā€™ But like the uncompromising Khomeini, he opposed moderatesā€™ efforts to promote political and social reforms domestically and to secure rapprochement with the United States.ā€

Ravenous Wolves, oil on canvas, 24X30, $3,478.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Iā€™m not here to trash the press

Iā€™m here to ask a harder question for artists and collectors alike: what, exactly, did culture do for Khamenei? What did it do for the cultured Nazis who still sent people to the gas chambers? If art is supposed to engage our sympathies, what happened with these men?

One of the hallmarks of 20th century western art has been nihilism, the idea that life is meaningless, moral values are relative and absolute truth is impossible. Itā€™s easy to see how Nazi leaders might have embraced that. Conversely, a young Khamenei, in his strict religious viewpoint, could find that the same ideas reinforced his distrust of western culture. The responsibility for that emptiness rests squarely on creators and the marketplace that encourages it.

Still, there’s a lot of meaningful art out there waiting to be found. Art appreciation is not the same thing as moral transformation. You can read great literature and remain unmoved. You can listen to sublime music and still choose cruelty.

Thatā€™s where Eliotā€™s second demand comes in: connoisseurs owe art ā€œthe extension of our sympathies.ā€ It’s good to be moved by great art, but it’s also okay to dislike art when we don’t like the artist’s worldview.

Technique is the bones and sinew of painting. But if the purpose of art is to enlarge sympathy, then technical mastery is a means, not an end. You can paint a flawless painting that says nothing, or worse, says something reprehensible.

In Control (Grace and her Unicorn), 24X30, $3,478 framed, oil on canvas, includes shipping in continental United States.

How do we, as artists, do better?

Eliotā€™s characters and narrative arcs were symbols but they were also very real. She resisted caricature. It is easy, especially in polarized times, to flatten our subjects into symbols. But painting is at its best when it insists on complexity. Art that acknowledges contradiction enlarges sympathy.

Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Art must work on us before it will work on others.

If you are not wrestling with your impatience, your bias and your assumptions, and if youā€™re not questioning the meaning of your painting, then your canvas will likely remain mute.

The purpose of art is not propaganda. It is a slow enlargement of ideas and concerns. That widening is not guaranteed, of course (as evidenced by my mass-murderer examples). It requires effort from maker and viewer alike. But when it happens, something shifts.

I frequently told my kids that moral values and a nice manner are not synonymous. Ali Khamenei may have had a nice manner and still have been a mass murderer. Conversely, a person can be prickly and rough and be a moral paragon. Itā€™s often hard to tell.

(A special thanks to Sam Leith of The Spectator for first discussing this question.)

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Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Monday Morning Art School: perfection in painting is impossible

Camden Harbor from Curtis Island, oil on canvas, $2782 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

The thing that trips you up will almost always be unexpected. It wonā€™t be the sky or figure you feared. It will be something small and stubborn. If you let it, that tiny snag can hijack your whole painting. But in painting, as in life, perfection is a pernicious mirage that can keep us from trying or finishing anything.

The ugly side of perfection

We talk about perfection as if itā€™s synonymous with beauty. It isnā€™t.

Think about the strange results of extreme cosmetic surgery: tight faces, overfilled lips, pneumatic breasts. Enormous sums of money are spent in our culture chasing youth. And yet, we gravitate toward faces etched with experience and humanity: Corrie ten Boom, Mother Teresa, Georgia Oā€™Keeffe.

We value bravura brushwork in part because it photographs well for social media. Quieter virtues like solid drafting, subtle value control, and compositional integrity might be dismissed as dull. But bravura without structure is just noise.

Spring Allee, oil on archival canvasboard, 14X18, $1594.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Cultural blind spots in painting

One of the great conceits of our times is that modern ā€˜rationalā€™ people have fewer blind spots than our benighted ancestors.

We are all the sum of our upbringing and our culture. That includes aesthetic preconceptions. We think weā€™re being objective when we judge art, but all judgments are freighted with assumptions.

In the studio, blind spots can keep us from seeing real problems. For example, we value color but denigrate drawing, so we polish color harmonies while ignoring bad drafting. Sometimes we canā€™t see the issue at all, because it doesnā€™t fit our internal narrative of what matters.

Brooding Skies, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

The moment

The goal is not perfection in the abstract. Itā€™s getting as close as we can for the moment of that painting. It might stretch over hours, days, or even weeks. Itā€™s the point at which the painting coheres under the specific conditions in which it was made: skill level, materials, emotional state, light, deadline and more.

The real danger is not imperfection. Itā€™s failing to recognize your achievement in that moment. If you keep telling yourself, ā€œI suck,ā€ youā€™ll never get better. Youā€™re trying to fix something that ainā€™t broke. That usually means turning a resolved work into a labored one. Instead, set it aside and see what it tells you in a year.

The four paintings I included in this post are all examples of work I thought failed at the time I painted them, but that I quite like today.

A painting exists as a success or failure within its time and context. Your job is to nurture it into clarity, not force it into something it was never meant to be.

Hare Bay, Newfoundland, 12X16, $1159 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

One minor variable

I am making my daughterā€™s wedding dress, and was recently tripped up by something I never thought would be a problem. Iā€™ve worked with tulle and beading before, but Iā€™m using a ā€˜new to meā€™ sewing machine. The pearls kept catching, so I kept stopping and clipping them farther from the seams. What I expected to take an hour stretched into two days. Despite my great care there are pinholes where I nicked the tulle removing pearls. Which means a fine mending job.

That happens in painting, too. A small, unanticipated issue can derail momentum. You canā€™t eliminate all variables; you must accept that theyā€™re part of the process.

Perfection in painting is impossible. But presence, discipline, and the humility to recognize the moment of enough? These are always within reach.

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Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Painting process matters, but so does serendipity

Carol L. Douglas painting workshops 2026
Larky Morning at Rockport Harbor, 11X14, on linen, $869 unframed includes shipping in continental US.

In painting, process is everything, except sometimes.

If youā€™ve taken one of my classes or workshops, you know Iā€™m a firm believer in structure. A strong painting process keeps you from getting lost in the weeds. It helps you design before you render, block before you noodle, and solve value problems before you chase color. Thatā€™s true whether youā€™re working in oil painting, watercolor, acrylic, pastels or gouache. A repeatable painting process builds consistency. Itā€™s the backbone of good studio practice and confident plein air painting.

A chance conversation in my Tuesday evening class got me thinking about the role of serendipity in painting. (Thank you, Jay.) As important as process is in painting, you must leave room for serendipity or it stops being art.

The Logging Truck, oil on archival canvasboard, 16X20, $2029.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

What is serendipity in painting?

Serendipity in painting is not laziness. Itā€™s not skipping steps or hoping things will magically work out. Itā€™s the willingness to recognize when an accident is actually better than your original plan. A loaded brush drags across the canvas and leaves a broken edge more interesting than the one you carefully constructed. A color you mixed in haste vibrates in a way you couldnā€™t have engineered. A palette knife scrapes a passage with more energy than the careful modeling beneath it. Thatā€™s not failure. Thatā€™s opportunity.

Painters who improve quickly understand that a structured art process is a framework, not a cage. You begin with intention: clear value structure, strong composition, hierarchy of edges, color harmony. You follow the process, but along the way, you stay alert and open to possibilities. You watch what the paint is doing. You respond.

Victoria Street, 16X20, oil on linen in a hard maple frame, $2029 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Serendipity vs. intuition

Intuition in art (as in all thinking) is real, but it isnā€™t mystical. Intuition is simply thinking that happens so fast your conscious mind canā€™t keep up. For artists, years of drawing, studying color theory, making dumb mistakes and observing nature get compressed into split-second decisions. When you say, ā€œI just knew that edge needed softening,ā€ what you really mean is that your brain processed thousands of similar visual problems before and offered a solution instantly.

However, artistic intuition isnā€™t automatic. Itā€™s earned through disciplined painting practice.

Serendipity, on the other hand, is external. Itā€™s what happens when the medium pushes back. Watercolor blooms unexpectedly. Oil paint mixes optically on the canvas. Pastel dust catches in the tooth of the paper in a way you didnā€™t predict. The artistā€™s job is to not eliminate these surprises but to recognize when they serve the painting.

Downtown Rockport, 14X18, oil on archival canvasboard, framed, $1594 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Danger comes when we become so committed to our original plan that we fix the life out of a piece. We smooth lively brushwork. We correct the slightly offbeat color that actually made the painting sing. We overwork passages because they donā€™t match our mental template of how things should look.

A strong painting process gives you control. Serendipity gives you vitality. Intuition ties them together. If you want stronger paintings, cultivate all three. Develop a clear, repeatable painting process. Train your intuition through steady, focused work. And then step back often enough to notice when the painting is offering you something better than you planned.

Want to strengthen your painting process without losing freshness and spontaneity? Join me in my painting classes and plein air workshops, where we focus on structure, design, value controlā€”and yes, learning when to let the paint surprise you. Whether youā€™re a developing painter or a seasoned artist ready to break through a plateau, youā€™ll leave with practical tools, sharper instincts, and more confident brushwork.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Is it cheaper to make your own canvases? The real cost of DIY for artists

Geraniums, pastel, ~24X30. Available, but has to be collected in person as itā€™s glazed in non-reflective glass.

Thereā€™s an idea among painters that DIY saves money. Stretch your own canvases. Build your own frames. Cut your own panels. Control the art materials cost and keep more profit.

But is that actually cheaper? Sometimes. Often, no. Art supplies are expensive, but so is wasted studio time.

How to save money on art supplies without sacrificing quality

Standard painting sizes save money. When you work in standard canvas sizes, you benefit from mass production. Manufacturers stock them. Frame companies produce moulding for them. Art supply sales frequently discount them.

Odd sizes reduce options and increase cost. Custom framing and mats become inevitable. Shipping costs rise. That quietly erodes your profit margin.

I knew a watercolorist who stocked only one size painting. She moved them in crates that she packed in a fraction of the time I was wasting wrapping each work separately. The crates stacked easily in her van. She only had to order one size frame and one size paper. And her booth always looked effortlessly elegant.

For professional painters, standardization isnā€™t dullā€”itā€™s smart business. It improves studio efficiency and reduces friction from easel to sale.

Pink Carnations, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Are DIY canvases and frames cheaper?

Raw materials and tools arenā€™t cheap. Quality canvas, linen, boards, stretcher bars, hardwood moulding, corner clamps, biscuit joiners or v-nailers, miter sawsā€”these all add up fast.

Woodworking is its own art form. After investing $1,500 or more in tools, you will almost certainly be bad at it, at least at first. Miters wonā€™t close. Corners donā€™t stay glued. Youā€™ll be off by a 16th of an inch. Finish will run. And stretching canvas to the right tension is a skill.

Meanwhile, youā€™re not painting. Is this the best use of your creative energy?

Oil painting medium is a great example. I learned how to make my own using damar varnish, turpentine, linseed oil and cobalt drier, but if you look at mid-century paintings done with that combination youā€™ll see cracking and crazing. The cost of the materials will set you back more than many jars of better, modern mediums.

Daylilies and lace-cap hydrangea, 11X14, $869 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Buying art supplies on sale changes the math

Art supply sales are not trivial. They can run twenty to forty percent off frames, panels or canvases. When you buy professional art materials at those discounts, the gap between DIY and retail shrinks dramatically.

ā€œI walked into Jerryā€™s one day and saw this ridiculous saleā€”40% offā€”on square wood frames that my buyers seem to love,ā€ my student told me. ā€œI bought a bunch but will always regret not buying every single one. They were so cheap and look so good, and I only have a couple left!ā€

Thatā€™s art business cost control.

Be a cheapskate buyer of quality materials. Watch for sales. Stock up on standard sizes. Plan ahead. Buying canvases and frames during art supply sales is more cost-effective than DIY.

Forsythia at Three Chimneys, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Professional vs. student-grade: donā€™t cut the wrong corners

A workshop student asked me why I recommend professional grade painting boards. For an absolute beginner they donā€™t matter. But once you get past that, cheap boards sabotage your results. And cheap paint is never a bargain.

The goal is economical framing options and efficient supply purchasing without compromising your work. Use professional-grade materials, but buy them intelligently.

One reason artists love to DIY

Sometimes DIY isnā€™t about economics, itā€™s about avoidance.

Researching moulding profiles feels productive. Building stretchers feels industrious. But they donā€™t answer the harder question: what are you going to put on that blank canvas? If your mission is to grow as a painter, sell more work, and build a sustainable art practice, then focus on the thing that matters. Paint.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters