Iâve been teaching a plein air workshop this week, and the air is unusually hot and heavy for Maine. Being a lifelong resident of the northeast, I donât like heat and humidity. In addition, I promised my students from Virginia that it would be cool here, and Mother Nature made a liar out of me. (To be fair, itâs still cooler than Virginia.)
Years ago, my friend Sâ moved to Maine from California with the assistance of her mother. She loved her new house until the first really hot day. She flipped the switch on her thermostat to âcoolâ and waited. And waited. âMom,â she wailed, âthe air conditioning is broken!â
Beth and Libby painting on Beauchamp Point.
âWelcome to the real world,â her mom said. âYou donât have air conditioning.â My California born-and-bred friend had no idea that there were houses in America without it.
Yves painting a house in Camden.
Our old New England farmhouse doesnât have it, and I generally donât care. Itâs insulated, which helps a lot. We use fans, we cross ventilate, and shower in cool water. That works great for in the house. But outdoors is a different story.
Outdoors, hydration is key, but I couldnât keep ahead of it this week, as hard as I tried.
Jeanne-Marie achieving perfect balance on a rock.
Student show, Friday July 12, from 5-7 PM
Today will be warm but breezy, so it should be perfect weather to come by my gallery for a show of my studentsâ work from this week.
We are located at 394 Commercial Street, Rockport. If youâve ever wondered what kind of painting gets done in a workshop, this is an excellent opportunity to find out.
Prom Shoes 1, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435.
I own one skirt and one dress, but I must combine painting and public events over the next ten days. I Googled what to wear to an art show to give myself ideas. The consensus was:
Men should wear a blazer or sport coat, dress shirt, nice trousers or dark jeans, and polished shoes. For contemporary work, they should wear trendy shirts, slim-fit pants or jeans, and stylish sneakers or shoes.
Women should wear a chic dress, skirt or stylish pantsuit, paired with heels or fashionable flats. For contemporary work, they should wear fashion-forward dresses or outfits, statement accessories, and stylish shoes. I don’t own any stylish shoes.
Libby and Sharon discussing the Neolithic stone circle at Beech Hill (okay, I made that up).
This all reminds me of Chelsea back in the day. My goddaughter and I had gone to Brad Marshallâs and Cornelia Fossâ openings, and were catching our breath on the street. We started to count how many people were wearing those heavy black plastic glasses that were then so cutting-edge. We stopped at a hundred. These people were deeply concerned with what to wear to an art show. Being seen is some people’s raison d’etre.
In Maine, people are not such slaves to fashion. This is a state where we have flannel and Sunday-go-to-meetinâ flannel. At any rate, I donât care what you wear, just mark these three dates on your calendar, and come out and support us.
I am very grateful to Coastal Mountain Land Trust for being so welcoming to my students.
Iâm teaching my first of this seasonâs workshops this week. Since my gallerage (my own coinage, and I like it) is now open, I will be showing their work on Friday evening from 5-7 PM.
The gallerage is located at 394 Commercial Street, Rockport, and weâd love to see you.
This group is keeping me alert, as theyâre all very able. I go home every afternoon wondering how Iâll organize the next dayâs material to keep them interested. (I never want anyone to go home feeling bored, or worse, ignored.)
If youâve ever wondered what kind of painting gets done in a workshop, this is an excellent opportunity to find out.
Galleries and shops are open all through town. Iâll be at Lone Pine Realty, 19 Elm Street (next to Zoot Coffee). Last monthâs Art Walk was rained out, and I went home with cookies, wine, and lemonade, none of which are on my diet. This month, donât make me drink alone!
âTwenty-one notable New England landscape artists will paint en plein air.â I like repeating that, because I am one of those painters. Weâll be at sites in Camden and Rockport from Friday morning, July 19, to noon on Sunday, July 21. I havenât decided exactly where Iâll paint, but Iâve narrowed it down to either Curtis Island (bring your dinghy) or Fernaldâs Neck, unless I change my mind. You can find out exactly where I and the other artists are by visiting the Camden on Canvas Information Tent outside the libraryâs Atlantic Avenue entrance. Or check my Facebook or Instagram feeds.
The wet paintings exhibit will be open to the public at the historic Camden Amphitheatre, Sunday, July 21, from 1-3 PM. After that, thereâs a reception and live auction from 4-6 PM. Tickets can be purchased online for $75 each or by calling 207-236-3440. Proceeds are shared equally between the Libraryâs Campaign for the Future and the artists.
Early Spring on Beech Hill, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, 12X16, $1449 framed includes shipping in continental US.
This past weekend, I sat down with a pencil and a template and signed and numbered 75 prints of Early Spring on Beech Hill for Coastal Mountains Land Trust. Iâm happy to do this little thing; Iâm on their properties almost daily. If Iâm not up Beech Hill, Iâm on Ragged or Bald Mountains. If you look at a list of their preserves, you realize how much they shape everyday life here in midcoast Maine.
Back in the day, I sold a lot of prints. They are a great way for people of modest means to start collecting art, and they can introduce young people to your work.
Signing work with a template. If you think you can’t misspell your own name, try writing it over and over again.
What is a fine art print?
A fine art print is a high-quality reproduction of an original artwork. Thereâs overlap between fine art prints and the art of printmaking. For example, until the turn of the last century, etching was both an artform and a way to reproduce other artwork for publication.
The gap between fine art prints and what you can get from your ink-jet printer has narrowed. Even the cheapest art book published in this century has better illustrations than an old Jansonâs History of Art, which was once the preferred text for art history classes.
The goal being to handle the paper as little as possible, I used a paint stirrer to push the pieces in place inside their acrylic sleeve.
Fine art prints are made with an eye to durability, color accuracy, and aesthetic integrity. They are often produced in limited editions and signed and numbered by the artist. The main printing methods for fine art prints include:
GiclĂŠe Printing: This is the most common method of making small-run art prints. GiclĂŠe printers have higher resolution than standard inkjet printers, and use a 12-color printing system instead of the standard 4-color CMYK system. They use high-quality inks that can last a lifetime, and the prints are resistant to damage from smudging, sun, and humidity.
Commercial Lithography: Thatâs the traditional printing process used in bookmaking and periodicals, and is done on an offset press. Itâs suitable for mass runs, so if you were to buy a print of, say, Constableâs The Hay Wain from the National Gallery it would be made in this manner.
Screen printing, where ink is pushed through a mesh screen onto paper or canvas. This is how youâd reproduce your paintings on textiles, pens, coffee mugs, or huge signs, if you were so inclined.
Seventy-five prints signed and ready to rumble.
Limited edition prints
Collectors often seek out limited edition prints due to their rarity and because they might appreciate in value. There is no difference in quality between the limited edition print and its open-run cousin; the value rests in the artistâs signature. For example, I can never make another limited-edition run of Early Spring on Beech Hill, because Iâve already done a set run of 75 copies.
The quality question
My color laser printer does a fine job of printing, and with the proper paper its output would be highly durable, but I wouldnât use it for high-end prints; itâs too small and there are visible differences in quality. There are many sources online for archival-quality giclĂŠe prints at a reasonable price.
Most of the quality of your print rests in the photography, not the printing. In the past, Iâve had my paintings shot by a service, but I now have a high-end camera. If you go that route, however, you need to understand color correction, compression, and other issues that affect output.
Should you sell prints?
Thatâs a question only you can answer. Prints can increase your market reach and give you a more consistent revenue stream. If your print becomes popular, it can generate revenue over time.
However, thereâs still the initial investment of time and money to consider. And you never get away from marketing. Prints are an already-saturated market, although a much larger one than the market for original paintings.
Our Banner in the Sky, 1861, Frederic Church, private collection
Normally on Fridays I introduce readers to one of my own paintings, but all day yesterday I was thinking of Frederic Churchâs Our Banner in the Sky. Itâs tiny compared to much of Churchâs work: just 7.5X11 inches and done on paper. This is the same painter whose show-stopping The Heart of the Andes is a whopping 5.5X10 feet. Our Banner in the Sky is from the heart, and The Heart of the Andes was for the pocketbook. Both are wonderful, but theyâre very different.
Church painted Our Banner in the Sky just weeks after the fall of Fort Sumter in 1861. The nation was electrified by the story of our flag being removed by rebel forces. At the time, nobody had any idea how the Civil War would play out.
Church was inspired by a sunset that glowed red, white, and blue. He took that as a sign that âthe heavens indicated their support for the United States by reflecting the nation’s colors in the setting sun.â Whether or not you share his theology, it certainly points to a faith in the enduring nature of our country. Thatâs why I think itâs such an important painting for today.
In my travels in England in May, strangers talked to me about their fears for American democracy. These are sentiments Iâve heard here as well.
In two years, weâll be celebrating our national semiquincentennial. (That amazes me, since I vividly remember our bicentennial in 1976.) In the 248 years since our founding, weâve suffered small rebellions, a full-blown Civil War, multiple economic depressions, two world wars, and 9/11. None of these were pleasant, but our nation endured. Our social compact is stronger than we credit. As long as we continue to love our fellow citizens, that will continue.
It seems like it’s taken forever, but it’s really only been about three weeks…
I usually open my gallery on Memorial Day, but I was mucking around in Britain until early June. (I don’t regret that one bit.) When I got home, I still had to build the darn thing from scratch. My absolute drop-dead date was the 4th of July, and I’ve made it by the skin of my teeth.
When I moved to Rockport, my gallery was in my studio, which is a lovely, airy, large space on the back of our house. Visitors got a behind-the-scenes look at what I do. However, when COVID came to town, that space was closed down. My solution was a tent in the driveway.
Window frame, by little old me! Good for setting your drink on, but I wouldn’t lean on it too hard.
In the meantime, I started teaching on Zoom and recording how-to-paint classes. When social distancing disappeared, there was no longer room for a gallery inside my studio.
There were things I loved about the tent gallery. People could see it from the road, and there was enough fresh air for even the most dedicated social distancers. But there’s a reason we don’t store paintings outdoors. Wind and rain have done real damage to my inventory. Plus, there was no space to gather people and host an opening.
I researched using a tiny house (not handicapped-accessible) or another structure (difficult to place on this lot). The best solution was to put my gallery in the first 11 feet of our garage. I’m very grateful to my friend Barb Whitten and my husband. If it were up to me, we’d still be trying to figure out places for all the stuff that was in there. My husband worked with me every day since. It’s the most time we’ve spent on a project since we built our first house in 1987.
These are fake walls, in sections so they can come down if necessary.
Coastal color combination
You’d think after all that work, I’d enjoy picking out the paint, but instead I punted to my kids. I made about a half-dozen photo montages of my paintings in front of various paint chips and asked them to choose. The blue you see was not my first choice, but seeing it with the paintings, I think my kids were right.
“This house is becoming fifty shades of blue,” I told my daughter. But that deep blue-violet is a perfect foil for landscape paintings.
I’ve never installed a door before, let alone a door in a false wall. These are interim views of my theater set.
How to find me
My gallery (and studio) are at 394 Commercial Street, Rockport, ME. Hours are noon-5, Tuesday-Sunday until at least Labor Day. See you soon!
Heavy Weather (Ketch Angelique), 24X36, oil on canvas, framed, $3985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
âIâve done a lot of drawing in pencil and charcoal, and anime and computer art, but I donât know how to paint,â a young man told me. He wanted to know how to learn painting starting from the very beginning.
I checked his drawing portfolio (because if you canât draw, you canât paint) and he has good chops, including work from real life. He is ready to start working in color. But since he canât break free to take one of my workshops this summer, what can he do?
Skylarking II, 18×24, oil on linen, $1855, includes shipping in the continental US.
First, I signed him up for Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters, my self-directed how-to-paint class. Iâd rather people took the first section before they ever bought a single tube of paint, because Step 1: the Perfect Palette, explains in detail why I recommend paired primaries to my students. Then I gave him a mini-kit of QoR watercolors in quinacridone magenta, nickel azo yellow and ultramarine blue, a Pentel water brush, two bound Strathmore watercolor pads, a soft flannel rag and a small bottle to hold water. Even though heâs interested in oils, that is a cost-effective first introduction to color. (And, no, I canât afford to send you all starter kits; he just caught me on a good day.)
But hereâs a step-by-step guide on how to learn painting for the absolute beginner:
Gather Supplies
If youâre unsure whether you want to pursue painting, go with the kit I outlined above. If you know you want to paint, here are my supply lists for oils, watercolors, pastels and acrylics. These are based not only on my own usage, but on decades of studentsâ comments.
Breaking Storm, oil on linen, 30X48, $5579 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Learn the basics
Youâll need to understand color theory, how to mix colors, basic brush techniques and fundamental rules of composition. In addition, you need to understand the basic steps from drawing to value study to final painting. You can get that from my classes and workshops, or from the self-directed Seven Protocols, above. If you prefer to read, I recommend Kevin MacPhersonâs Landscape Painting Inside and Out for oils and Gordon MacKenzieâs The Complete Watercoloristâs Essential Notebook for Watercolors. However, there are many good books out there. (And Iâd love your recommendations in the comments if you have favorites. Iâm not that âbooky.â)
Find a group of fellow enthusiasts and practice regularly.
âIron sharpens iron,â and youâll learn from your fellows at least as much as you do from your teacher. Investigate plein air groups, figure painting groups and urban sketchers for opportunities to paint from life. Plein air painting with a group isnât just about becoming a better painter; it changes how you see your home turf. Iâve learned about many great parks, museums and gardens from my fellow painters.
Study art
Read about art history and visit galleries and museums. There are many ways to put down paint, and art history gives you a capsule lesson in all of them. You will also start to understand why modern artists paint the way we do, and where you fit in on the great continuum of art.
Sunset sail, 14X18, oil on linen, $1594 framed includes shipping and handling in the continental US.
Seek intelligent feedback
Iâm a little nervous about social media groups or local art clubs for critiques, because some feedback is worse than none. Sometimes people repeat untrue cliches about painting. Others have axes to grind.
However, there are some very smart people out there, and theyâre worth cultivating. My best feedback comes from my students (who arenât afraid to tell me when I go off the rails) and my family. And I apply the same rules of formal criticism to my own work that I teach.
Speaking of my students, this is Rachel Houlihan from Camden:
Keep plugging
Learning to paint takes time and practice. Donât be discouraged by initial challenges. If you focus on the product, youâll never be satisfied, but the process of learning is sublime.
Marshall Point, oil on archival canvasboard, 9X12, $696, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
If you paint at the Marshall Point Light, someone is bound to ask, âDid you know this lighthouse was in the movie Forrest Gump?â Itâs a lovely lighthouse and deserves its status as an American icon. Iâve painted it and its approaches many times. There is nothing wrong with painting lighthouses (despite what art snobs say). However, that doesnât mean you have to be obvious about it. Spend enough time with any lighthouse and you start seeing other things that interest youâthe ubiquitous brick oil house, or the porch, or the surf spraying onto the rocky headlands.
Marshall Point Light stands on a bedrock outcropping that can be completely awash depending on the weather and the tide. Itâs connected to the land and the keeperâs house by a long wooden walkway. Visitors usually walk out to the white brick tower, stop at the steel door, and turn around and walk back. Thereâs really nothing to see out thereâunless you lean over the railing and examine the bedrock.
A basalt dike.
Most of what is exposed is metamorphic rock that has been highly deformed by geologic pressures. Interlayered quartzite and gray mica schist are wildly contorted. Dikes of younger black basalt crosscut this metamorphic rock. Even though I donât want to paint those formations in detail, Iâm still fascinated by them every time Iâm in Port Clyde.
On this day, Poppy Balser was visiting. We didnât have a lot of time before the tide turned, so we set out to do quick sketches. Iâm happy that I focused on the rocks.
How to paint a lighthouse
If I were visiting Maine Iâd want to paint a lighthouse. Theyâre iconic, beautiful, and historic. As with any new subject, Iâd start with a view of the scene in its entirety. Some lighthouses, like Pemaquid Point, or the Portland Head Light, have keepersâ houses attached. These create a very pretty roofline rhythm. Others, like Owls Head or Marshall Point, have separated keepersâ houses. After I did one overall scenic painting, Iâd start looking for details that interest me.
The Late Bus, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
âI want AI to do my laundry and dishes, so I can do art and writing, not for AI to do my art and writing so I can do laundry and dishes,â wrote Joanna Maciejewska, in what is probably the most apt comment of our times. Iâm inundated with AI images. Their funny imperfections are offset by internal biases that are downright scary, especially when casual observers canât tell them from reality.
Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Wabi-sabi art says that the maker is human
Wabi-sabi is a Japanese aesthetic that embraces the imperfect, impermanent and incomplete. It is trending right now in interior design and in the preciousness of Meghan Markleâs American Orchard Riviera, but thereâs a legitimate heart call there. If youâve ever attended a wedding in a barn or had a drink in a Mason jar, youâve lived wabi-sabi art, American-style.
Wabi-sabi occupies the same position in the Japanese aesthetic as the Greek ideals of beauty and perfection have occupied in western art for more than 2000 years. Itâs the perfect antidote to the increasingly slick imitation of reality that AI represents.
The Logging Truck, oil on archival canvasboard, 16X20, $2029.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Most of us, if we think about wabi-sabi art at all, think of it in terms of kintsugi, or the art of repairing broken things that makes them better than they were when perfect. Thatâs cool, but itâs only one aspect of wabi-sabi. How can thinking about the imperfect, impermanent and incomplete improve our art?
Thatâs a real bummer if youâre painting in the hope that your fame will outlive you, but that goal is a trap. It stops us from focusing on communicating with our fellow men in the here-and-now. âYesterday’s the past, tomorrow’s the future, but today is a gift,â as they say.
All Flesh is as Grass, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Art history is replete with examples of paintings that never seemed to get done. Leonardo da Vinci picked away at his Mona Lisa for sixteen years; he only quit working on it when his hand became paralyzed. That is less painting than obsession.
âFinishedâ presumes that all the questions are answered. That sounds boring to me, but luckily I canât say Iâve ever gotten there. I just get sick of working on things.
Nothing is perfect
The more technology gives us perfection, the more we embrace imperfection.
This is hardly my idea; itâs been the general thrust of painting since the advent of photography. Photography explains tangible reality faster and better than paintings do. What we do far better than AI and photography is reveal the hand (and therefore the psyche) of the maker.
Is this an excuse for half-hearted work?
Of course not! You still are being held to high standards; youâre just not required to be perfect. And as we all know, perfect is the enemy of good, which is why Iâm ending this essay on a clichĂŠ.
Lobster pound, 14X18, oil on canvas, $1594 framed includes shipping and handling within the continental US. I drove by the place where this used to be on Friday; it’s so depressing to see a new building, now empty and for sale.
I like living in an old house. Itâs small and worn, but itâs also charming and durable. Itâs only when I want to fix or replace something that it annoys. Nothing is straight. Some walls and ceilings are plaster-and-lath, some are drywall, and some are board. Channels have been cannibalized for water or power lines, so youâre never sure what youâll find inside a wall. For most of our remit here, weâve been able to hire professionals to experience those âoh, no,â moments. But not for this project.
This house was a classic New England farmhouse: a barn was attached to the main structure through a series of sheds. In the 1940s, the barn burned and took out the sheds and the kitchen ell. Charring can still be seen in the main sectionâs rafters.
Evening in the Garden, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
The owners replaced the barn with a detached garage on the same foundation. Other than a new service panel and new doors, it stands as built 80 years ago. Itâs no straighter or less quirky than the house; itâs large and has a plank floor. My friend Ken DeWaard suggested I use part of it for a gallery. This year, I dived in.
Most artists are good with their hands as a matter of necessity. That can be a rabbit hole at times; for example; Iâve wasted lots of time and money in making frames when itâs just cheaper and faster to buy them.
But there are jobs you canât get done in a timely way, and small construction projects are high on that list. My recently-retired husband is my helper. When Iâm done, Iâll have a 20X11 space with new lighting to showcase my work. Thatâs just about the size of my former tent gallery but it will be much nicer.
This is where I got to as of Friday afternoon.
Some of these jobs, like building window frames, Iâve done before. Some are new to me, like rough-framing and hanging a door. For those I turn to YouTube. Watch five videos and youâll see five different techniques, but common sense helps you sort them out.
Then there are the jobs that you wonât find on YouTube because thereâs no audience for them. The back wall of my new space is removable like a stage set. At the same time, it should be as solid as a real wall, as it will have paintings hanging from it. I wonât take it down often, so a lightweight false wall seemed, well, cheesy. The whole thing is held onto a beam with a lot of lag bolts, and a couple of strong guys should be able to tear it down in an hour.
Can you take this approach with learning to paint?
Well, yes and no. There are lots of good how-to paint videos out there about specific techniques, like brushwork. Longer videos tend to be demos, which are fun to watch but not great at developing skills. Videos that deal with something I already know about are more useful than ones that deal with new concepts. For example, I watched several videos about stretch ceilings, but I still wonât try putting one up.
Last light at Cobequid Bay, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Just as nobody would mistake me for a master carpenter because Iâve built some things after watching YouTube videos, nobody is going to learn to be a master painter from watching how-to paint videos.
When people tell me, âIâm gonna take one of your workshops someday,â I sometimes feel like asking them if they think Iâll live forever. Iâve filmed the seventh and last of my how-to-paint interactive classes this spring. Unlike Zoom classes or workshops, they have the potential to keep teaching long after Iâm gone, unlike how-to paint videos.
Home Farm, 20X24, oil on canvas, $2898 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Iâm off to an opening at the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde this afternoon (4-7 PM) If you want to join me, drive to the foot of Port Clyde Road, turn right on Cold Storage Road and it’s on your right.
Having just returned from Britain, Iâve contemplated the 18th and 19th century estates that the du Pont family were copying when they dreamed up Winterthur. Winterthur started as a small Greek Revival mansion, expanded until it contained 175 rooms and more than 2600 acres of land, and is now a public museum. Thatâs the same trajectory as followed by many British Great Houses, except that their transit took hundreds of years, not a mere century.
Henry Francis du Pont was a shy, awkward man. After studying horticulture at Harvard (really), he came home to manage Winterthur. Although he was an autocrat in many ways, itâs to Henry Algernon du Pontâs credit that he didnât force his only son into the shark-infested waters of early-20th-century business.
The younger du Pont styled himself a farmer, and became one of Americaâs premier breeders of Holstein Friesian dairy cows. But with 250 field employees, he didnât have much in common with the typical American farmer of the early 20th century. That fellow and his family were doing grinding chores, often in terrible weather, and always one jump ahead of crop failure. In contrast, Du Pont was a gentleman farmer, insulated from disaster by his familyâs wealth.
Winterthurâs estate was assembled by buying up a few dozen local farms. By 1925, the estate was raising turkeys, sheep, chickens, hogs, cows, vegetables and flowers. Winterthur also had greenhouses, a sawmill, a railroad station, and a post office. There were the show-stopping gardens and the du Pontsâ premier collection of Early American interiors.
The lovely stone house I painted above was the home of one of the farm managers. It is not the fanciest of the 90 outbuildings on the estate, but itâs my favorite. I imagine it is far pleasanter inside than the manor house, which is now our premier museum of American furniture and decorative arts. These artifacts, sometimes including whole rooms, were bought up and salvaged when nobody much cared about Early American design. That, rather than farming, was Henry Francis du Pontâs great contribution to our culture.
